lysatoru

He didn’t snap. It’s so much worse than that. At least in the eyes of the arrogant boy who got bested by, what he assumed to be a grade two curse because of how pudgy and stupid it looked. The thing that caught him lacking looked like a fucking blob fish that struggled with crippling anxiety, how the hell was he supposed to know that it could mess with timeof all things? 

One moment he’s laughing at the way it looks, the next he’s in the complete dark. 

That was the first time he’s smiled in months, by the way. 

“Huh?” Satoru huffs out, trying to look around before eventually realizing that he has a blindfold on, and rips it off in annoyance. “Don’t tell me that thing knocked me out,” he begins to grumble to himself. It’d explain why he had a blindfold on… but then he realized he was in a completely different outfit, one that you didn’t put on someone who was currently in rest and recovery. 

He highly doubts Shoko would even change him, anyway, at least not for this. 

“Oh hey, you’re home.” 

Home? 

He looks around, and all he knows is this isn’t the dorm he’s continued to stay in after graduation, purely due to the fact that he was already out on missions for up to 18 hours each day. Not to mention that the penthouse he was currently standing in was too clean to be his. Too warm. Way too comfortable.

You already knew there was something deeply off in those first few seconds of looking into his eyes. This wasn’t your husband— this was the hot mess you met and still fell in love with all those years ago. 

You tilt your head to the side, more curious than cautious, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he snorts, literally the worst liar ever. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, holding eye contact long enough to leave him feeling a bit unsettled. “You tell me.”

First of all, who the fuck do you think you are speaking to him like that?

Second, who even are you?

Something big and shiny on your finger catches his attention, then he looks at his own hand that has an equally shiny band around his ring finger. 

Fuck.

“Honey–”

Satoru physically cringes at the pet name, giving himself away once again. 

“I’m not Satoru,” he blurts out, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “I mean, I am, but I’m not— FUCK– some fuckin’ curse blasted me into the future, and I need to go back.”

Well, that was quick. He’s always quick to fold under pressure when it comes to you— it’s something he’s unaware of though, as he fights back the urge to start pacing back and forth. 

There’s a light smack from your mouth when you go to open it, only for the words to never even come, let alone die out. Nothing about this surprises you. This is not the craziest thing that’s happened since you’ve met Satoru. 

Your lips thin into a smile as you take a deep breath, knowing you had no choice but to accept your new circumstances. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He raises a brow at how you just… accepted it.

“Yeah… I believe it.” You respond flatly, then point at him, casually motioning your finger up and down. “Your attitude kinda sucked when we first met.”

He grimaces, taken aback by the statement. “No, it doesn’t–”

“You also liked to argue, too.”

“Okay— whatever,” he waves a dismissive hand, not at all interested in hearing what else you had to say. At this point, it just sounded like you wanted to shit on him, something he actually doesn’t have any fucking time for right now. “You’re a sorcerer… right?” 

“No.” 

“Christ.” Satoru sighs, turning on his heel. “You’re fuckin’ useless—“

You scoff, more humored than offended. “Where are you going?” 

“To figure this shit out!” he snaps, throwing his arms out as he turns around to face you. 

“Okay,” you shrug, still way too calm for Satoru’s liking, as it pisses him off even more. “If you don’t get it all figured out tonight, you can always come back. We have a guest room.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” He huffs out a bitter laugh, as if that was the dumbest suggestion he’s ever heard. “I appreciate the offer.” 

– 

“Yaga” Satoru storms into the principal’s office, ignoring all his cursed stuffed animals, but noticing what he’s done with his hair. “What the fuck happened to you?”

The principal's brows pinch together, wishing he had locked the door to his office. Satoru fucked with him enough today by showing up to a meeting 20 minutes late with some sugary frap in his hand, and now he’s storming into his office, insulting him out of nowhere. 

“Actually, nevemind.” Satoru waves a hand to stop him from even answering his question, reminding himself not to get sidetracked right now. “Look, I need your help. I got sent into the future by some curse, and I need to get back.”

Yaga inhales sharply. “What are you even talking about?”

“Exactly what I just said! I’m from 2009! Not whatever age I am now—”

“31.”

Satoru throws up a little in his mouth. “Send me back.” 

Yaga lets out a long, disappointed sigh. It’s always something with Satoru. Always. Having to deal with the younger version of him was a painful reminder that he’s been dealing with his bullshit for well over a decade now. Nothing surprises him anymore.  

“Let me see if some other windows would be willing to help look through the library. I’m sure you’ll be able to find information on what kind of curse you got hit with.”

“Thank you,” Satoru groans, still not very pleased by everyone’s reactions thus far, but grateful that he can at least get somewhere with Yaga… unlike a certain somebody. 

Hours later, he finds himself at the school’s dusty, unkept library. It looks worse than it originally looked before he walked in. Books sprawled everywhere. Research papers were scattered all over the tables and floor. Assistants running around in every direction, more than half of them terrified at the total 180 in Satoru’s attitude. 

“W-we can’t find anything,” Ijichi says, too old to be acting this scared in Satoru’s opinion. 

He hums, elbows still resting on his knees, not bothering to sit up. “Hey, Ijichi?”

Ijichi gulped loudly, managing to annoy the world’s strongest sorcerer even more. “...Yes?” 

“How are you even more incompetent now than you were before?”

“I tried my best! I swear!”

“Well, it’s not good enough— I’m still here!” he snaps at the nervous wreck of a man. Thank fucking god Ijichi listened to him and just became a window. He sucks at it too, but at least it’s easier for this dumbass to avoid death. “God— what the fuck am I supposed to do now?!”

“This is just one of the libraries, there’s more! And some in Kyoto too, that we’ll have the Kyoto branch check out.”

“Do whatever you need to do. I’m just letting you know right now that if I'm not back by tomorrow, you better watch the fuck out.”

The threat is followed by complete dead silence, aside from a certain someone's breath catching in horror.

“Me?!” Ijichi squeaks out.

The sorcerer doesn’t bother answering that and instead walks away, grumbling something insulting under his breath, just in complete and utter disbelief over how Ijichi truly hasn’t changed. 

—

You figured your husband would eventually come back, so you set some food aside for him, and now you’re sitting at the dinner table, trying not to laugh at the pout on his face as he picks at his dinner with the chopsticks in his hand. 

“Is the food good?”

“Sure.”

“I can warm that up for you, if you want?” you ask, barely trying to hide your amusement. 

“No thanks,” he curtly responds before shoving another piece of karaage into his mouth. He’s known to have a sweet tooth, but chicken karaage’s probably his favorite food, savory wise. You almost want to tell him that he’s allowed to enjoy food even if his day hasn’t gone the way he had planned. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring.” 

Your lips twitch, threatening to break out into a fit of laughter. “Right, sorry.”

“Mommy…? Is Daddy home yet?” 

Oh great. As if the day couldn’t get any worse— now there’s a child.

“Yeah,” you respond in a tentative tone, shooting Satoru a look that screams ‘behave or else’, and even though you are currently a stranger to him, it intimidates him enough to behave for the time being. 

A little girl, no older than 4 years old, walks into the kitchen and Satoru’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head upon seeing his daughter. It’s pretty obvious she’s his with her baby blue eyes and stark white hair. Her facial features are entirely yours, though. It’s strange to see.

“Hey… kiddo—” he awkwardly says, not really sure how to address the little girl. You clear your throat, mouthing ‘princess’ when he looks at you, because your daughter also happens to have her dad’s attitude. “I mean princess.”

It’s hilarious how unnatural it sounds right now when he was the one who started calling her that the moment you two took her home from the hospital. 

“You pomis to wead bedtime stowie,” she starts to pout— same exact way he does.

“Did I?” He gives the girl a sympathetic look, albeit fake. 

“Yeah,” she frowns as she walks up to you, giving him the world’s nastiest side eye. “Liar.”

Why is that the one word she’s able to enunciate correctly? She didn’t even stutter.

“Yeah— I was a little busy with work today,” he murmurs, as if she knew what that even meant. With the glare she was giving him, he doubted she’d even care if he broke down what work and the importance of it was. “Maybe mommy can read to you tonight?”

Sai wasn’t having that. 

Satoru spent the end of his night reading her favorite book to her. Multiple times. He almost asked if it was some form of punishment for not upholding a promise he didn’t technically make himself, but decided against it in fear that she’d make him read it one more time. Sai fell asleep… eventually. Despite there being no way to prove it, he knows that the little girl forced herself to stay up out of pure spite. 

But still, he finds himself smiling as he thinks about his nightmare of a future, not wiping it off quickly enough when you lightly knock on the guest bedroom door.

“Here’s some jammys for the night.” You smile back as you walk up and hand him a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt, both neatly folded up. “Figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in your work clothes.”

“Oh uh— thanks.” He clears his throat and forces out a laugh, pushing through the embarrassment of getting caught smiling to himself. 

You’re giving him that look again. The one that’s mixed with amusement and a bit of fondness, where you look like you’re about to start making fun of him, but never do. Satoru would rather die than admit it makes him nervous. 

“What?” 

There’s a small pause as your smile grows. “Do you like your kid?”

“She’s weird.”

“Yeah, no— you wouldn’t believe who she got that from.”

“Fuck off.” A laugh easily slips through his lips this time, unable to stay serious at the thought of her inheriting even just a quarter of the traits he had as a child. Then it grows quiet again as he realizes she probably has the freedom to be a kid. 

He wants to ask, but you beat him to it with a statement that answered the question he had in mind. 

“Your duties as her father don’t end just because you managed to time travel by the way,” you say playfully, though he knows you’re being dead serious. 

He can only guess what other horrors that little girl will subject him to for the rest of his time here. To put it simply, she’s not afraid of Dad. 

For once, somebody doesn’t look at him as a god to fear. 

—

It’s been over a month. 

Ijichi and the rest of the windows are just as useless as they were when they first started trying to find answers. All that’s changed is that Nanami knows, and doesn’t seem to be too thrilled about the fact that he is now involved.

But still, the search for the fix to his predicament continues, turning every library and warehouse upside down. That’s all they could really do— aside from asking the elders for assistance of some sort. 

Over his dead body. 

Knowing they’d most likely do more harm than good, everyone’s agreed to keep this all a little secret from them.

So all that’s left to do, or rather forced to do, is to be patient. It’s hard. Satoru doesn’t do patient— he’s the type to snap his fingers and have a solution magically appear right before his eyes. You can only imagine how difficult it’s been for him to accept that he can’t immediately get what he wants right now.

Not to mention the fact that he had to continue working throughout all of this, but that wasn’t very surprising. 

Now, what was surprising was learning that he has his weekends completely to himself. If anything, he assumed he’d just work more as time went on, but no. Turns out he threatened to kill the higher-ups if they didn’t let him have that when you two got married. 

Satoru looks over your body once. 

Twice. 

He totally understands his future self. 

He looks again for a third time, and you just so conveniently turn around, showing off your cute, frilly little apron covered in flour streaks. 

It’s Sunday— you’ve been baking sweet treats all morning, and he wishes he had been a little nicer to you. Especially a couple of days ago when he snapped at you. 

You had found him sitting alone on the balcony, head in his hands from yet another day of failure. 

“Hey… any good news?”

“No,” he said impatiently. “If there was, I wouldn’t fucking be here right now.” 

“Fair enough.” Your voice took a dip as you looked at the ground, allowing yourself to feel a little hurt for a moment before trying to lift the mood again. “Well… me and Sai stopped by your favorite bakery and got you the cookies you like if you wanted some—“

“No— no,” Satoru cut you off. “I don’t want your fucking cookies. I don’t want to do a family movie night where all we watch is Ms. Rachel. I don’t want to read some book about a mouse trying to become a fucking painter over and over again. I don’t want ANY of it. I want to fucking go home— what part about that do you not get?”

You tried to stand as straight as possible despite your shoulders growing heavier, pushing against the small frown threatening to carve itself across your face. You forgot how mean he used to be, at least during that first year of dating him. It only stings more because the man you married would never raise his voice like that, and you remind yourself that this isn’t him.

After a long pause, he looked up at you and immediately felt guilt wash over him.

“I didn’t mean that,” he tried to meet your eyes as he began to backtrack. “I’m sorry, I just— fuck. I didn’t mean any of that—”

“It’s fine.” You forced yourself to look at him again and smile. “I’ll uh… give you some space.”

The one thing about Satoru is that he doesn’t apologize. Like ever. So, one could only imagine how painfully awkward it was later that night when he knocked on your bedroom door to say he was sorry. It didn’t help that you were in a paper-thin silk slip, skin glistening from the lotion you rubbed all over it— he spent half his time trying not to stare at your tits. Had you been anyone else, it wouldn’t have felt as genuine. 

But thank fuck he apologized, you probably would’ve spent all day ignoring him. 

You raise a brow, and his cheeks start to pink. “What are you staring at?” 

“Nothing, you just–” he awkwardly gestures at your entire body, “there’s flour all over you.” 

It almost sounds like he’s offended by it. He kind of is. You keep your foot on his fucking neck— he doesn’t even know why he came out here. 

“Oh, right— 'cause messes have always bothered you,” you lean over the island ever so slightly. The pink on his cheeks darkens as you do, unable to control his eyes from drifting down to your cleavage. And while he’s not exactly ashamed of looking— you are his wife after all— he can’t help but be a little flustered. 

He’s always had a thing for milfs.

Especially when said milf is talking about messes— he knows a couple of places he could make a mess on right now. 

“Nah,” he rests his elbows on the marble counter as a playful grin stretches across his face. “This is nothing compared to how I like it.”  

You tilt your head, a small laugh escaping you as you rest your chin over your palm, curious to see where this conversation will get you. 

“How do you like it?” you ask, as if you didn’t already know how filthy and depraved he could get when he’s alone in a room with you. 

And you fucking miss that. 

He opens his mouth to respond. 

Then you hear your daughter whimpering about waking up alone. It’s nothing new, and you revert back to mom mode as you watch her turn the corner and waddle towards you. 

Satoru, on the other hand, is not used to this. The slightly bruised laugh he lets out just barely masks his desire to fucking scream. What a fucking cockblock— no wonder you only have one kid. 

His kid completely ignores his existence as she wraps herself around your leg, continuing to whimper despite no actual tears streaming down her cheeks. “I had a nightmawh.”

Meanwhile, there’s Satoru, who has yet to wake up from his very own nightmare. He internally sighs, then attempts to grab her attention because it doesn’t feel very good watching her give it all to you. “You wanna share a muffin with daddy?”

It’s starting to sound more natural.

“Y-yeah,” she sniffles. 

Minutes later, she’s sitting on his lap, absolutely demolishing the blueberry muffin they ended up splitting— a complete 180. He couldn’t be mad, even if he tried. 

His little girl was a dream. 

—

Month two. Ijichi is still as useless as ever. He stopped complaining to you about him, though. You noticed he doesn’t talk about going back to his original timeline all that much anymore.

It’s not like Satoru’s given up hope, he’s just more present, as if he finally realized that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to send him back any faster. He’s unknowingly more like his future self— laid back, not a care in the world. 

He’s even sleeping in for once. It’s not that hard though when Sai’s gone for the day. She seemed to care more about getting the hell out of the house with her grandparents than greeting her father a good morning. You didn’t push her to, either— figuring Satoru needed the sleep. He always does. 

It’s too bad that his phone started blowing up at around 10:00 am. Unfortunately for you, he left his phone in the living room, leaving you to get up and grab it since the master bedroom was the closest room to it. With how thick the walls are, you doubt he’d even hear it.

With a long sigh, you rise from bed, rubbing the sleep off your eyes as you snatch the stupid phone off the coffee table. 

The snores coming from Satoru reach your ears before you even open the door. You have to hold back a laugh as you walk in and take a look at him. Face down, his long limbs sprawled over the bed, messy white hair sticking out in all directions. 

You reach out and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, surprised infinity is off. 

“Toru?” He stirs a bit, and you cautiously attempt to wake him up again. “Toru— someone’s been trying to call you for the past 10 minutes now.”

He lifts his head, eyes still sealed shut as he murmurs, “Who?” 

“Uhh,” you look at the screen, unsure of who it might be. “Your contact name for them is nerd.” 

You know it’s not Ijichi because his contact name is “courage 🐶” in his phone. Someone else must've annoyed Satoru for him to change yet another contact. 

Satoru shoves his head back into the pillow and groans before taking the phone off your hands.

It’s Nanami. He, of all people, should know now is not the time to be blowing up his phone right now because he is fucking sleeping. It’s a Saturday for fucks sake. 

Satoru sighs and accepts the call, grumbling into the phone. “What?”

Nanami cuts straight to the chase, as he would rather be doing anything else right now. 

“How long are you planning on hiding your secret from the higher-ups?” he asks in a clipped tone. 

Satoru rubs his eyes, too tired to return the same sense of urgency his friend seems to have at the moment. “Forever.”

“Don’t give me that.” A vein pops up on the side of the usually stoic man’s forehead. “They asked me about you this morning. They know something’s up. I can’t keep covering for you if it means my own safety’s on the line.”

“You really haven’t changed, have you?” It’s more of a statement than a question.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—“

“You’ll be fine,” Satoru cuts him off. “They’re always up my ass anyway. I doubt they’re even suspicious. They just don’t know how to mind their own fuckin’ business. Seriously. You’re worrying over nothing right now.”

“I swear to god Gojo, if you—“

“Kay’ good night.” 

Click.

Nanami’s probably fuming right now, but he’ll get over it. Satoru wanted to enjoy this. Lying in a comfy bed, surrounded by nothing but peace and quiet. He closes his eyes and stretches a bit, then rests his hands behind his head. 

He would’ve forgotten that you were still sitting at the edge of the bed had you not lightly cleared your throat. One eye opens to look at you, then closes. The last thing he wants to do is share the reason why Nanami had been blowing up his phone all morning. 

“Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not here.” You cross your arms. “What was that all about?” 

“Nothin’,” he easily says. “Just Nanami being Nanami— the guy’s a fuckin’ stickler for no reason.” 

“That’s a little rude, no?” you chastise him. 

“So is waking me up.” 

“Sai wakes you up all the time, though.”

“Sai’s a ball of sunshine,” he says, quickly coming to her defense. “Not a grown man with depression— where is she by the way?” 

“She’s spending the afternoon with my parents.” 

Both eyes open this time, and stay open. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

“No way,” you wave a hand. “I need a break, too.” 

“Yeah, no— I’m sure,” he agrees, feeling flustered all the sudden. 

And Satoru being Satoru, he doesn’t do a very good job of hiding it, once again forgetting that you can read him better than anyone else can.

You smile, scooching closer, “You good there?” 

“Yeah, m’fine,” he murmurs, trying not to shift around too much.

“I can take care of that, you know.” 

“What?” 

“That.” You look down at the boner he’s been trying to hide since finding out it’s just you two here.

“That’s not—“ His brain straight up short-circuits. “You don’t think that’s weird?” 

“No.” You continue to inch forward, getting closer to him. “Do you think it’s weird?”

“No— never,” he shakes his head, answering a little too fast. “Fuck— won’t future me get mad?” 

“Not at all. The most he’d probably do is make me show him what we did.” 

“Make you show him?” he repeats after you in disbelief. 

“Is that a problem?” 

“No, that’s— that’s fuckin’ hot.” 

Minutes later, you’re leaning forward with your hand wrapped around his base, and his breath catches as you start to slowly pump his cock. 

“Feel good?” 

His lids lower as he hums, “yeah— keep going.”

You lean forward, letting a string of spit fall from your lips to the tip of his cock, letting it mix with the precum that was already beading down from it. The wet sounds of you stroking him begin to grow, making the heat in between your legs start to pool.

“Can I sit on it?” You look up at him, batting your lashes as you innocently ask. 

“Please,” he blurts out, just about ready to start begging you to.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t just as eager as him after all the weeks spent pretending like you don’t notice the way he stares at you. Lustfully. The slip you’re wearing happens to be extra short today, so you forego stripping down and practically pounce on him. Your soaked panties grazing over his rock-hard length as you straddle him, letting yourself get comfortable while Satoru grows impatient. 

His hands find themselves planted on your hips and pull you down. A low groan escapes him as he grinds you against him. “God— fuck me. Please.”

“Well, since you’re being so sweet—”

You reach down, hooking a finger into the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side. He’s already lining himself up with your entrance, teasing your hole as he runs his tip through your folds, collecting all the slick. His lips part as he watches in awe at how damn wet you are. 

His head tips back as you lower yourself, groaning and rambling to himself as if you weren’t there to hear it all. 

"Fuck. You’re so hot.” His words come out strained as he watches you start to take him inch by inch, slowly working yourself open. “So fuckin’ tight, too.” 

“Mmm— forgot how big you are.” Your voice is all soft and breathy from the fullness, nails slowly digging into his abs as you bottom out.

It takes a minute to adjust— it has been 3 months after all. But then you finally roll your hips, and Satoru almost starts singing praises at how good you are at that—  lifting your hips all the way up and throwing them back, taking all of him. 

"Fuck yeah– just like that," he breathes, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Feels so fucking good."

You murmur back a measly, “kay,” already dizzy from the stretch. You’re able to keep up the pace on your own for a bit, until you feel his grip on you tighten and the sounds of skin slapping against his start to grow as he starts to help you out. 

You wouldn’t exactly call it help though, not when he ended up doing all the work— holding you steady while he practically bounces you on his cock, pulling more and more moans out of you as the head of his cock repeatedly kissed your sweet spot with almost no effort. 

"You take it so good," he groans, pupils blown wide as he starts to feel himself lose control, snapping his hips up a little harder than the last. He wants more, he always wants more— so he pulls you forward and pulls your straps down far enough for your tits to spill out. "Perfect fuckin’ tits. Been thinking about these for weeks."

You let out a surprised gasp as he pops a nipple in his mouth with no warning. You fully believe him with the way he starts sucking and swirling and flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud, all while snapping his hips up harder. 

He pulls back with a pop, looking up at you for approval. “Was that good?”

“Mhm.” There’s a fucked out expression on your face as you weakly nod. “Harder.”

“You want me to fuck you harder?”

“Yeah.” 

Something in him snaps. Eager to please you, he flips you over and folds you underneath him— grabbing the back of your knees and pinning them to your chest so he can drive his cock into you deeper. 

“Better?”

He drives his hips forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs. “God— yes.”

“I can’t— fuck— can’t believe you’re all mine, can’t believe I get to have you,” he starts to ramble as the sounds of him absolutely pounding into you fill the room. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect— all of you.” 

He crashes his lips into yours— the kiss is messy, powered by hunger. Satoru’s always been overwhelming, but it’s been years since it’s been this emotionally intense. He fucks you like he needs you, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. 

Your walls begin to squeeze and flutter around his cock, pulling another groan out of him. “You close?”

“Yeah,” you whine, feeling the pressure begin to coil. “Keep going.”

He’s close too, you can tell by how sloppy his thrusts have grown, no longer trying to control himself as he starts chasing after both of your releases. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck and fucks you faster, harder— balls slapping against your ass with each lewd wet squelch. 

Your orgasm hits you hard after one particularly rough thrust. Scratching at his back as a cry tears through you, and it only goes straight to his dick, not even realizing just how overstimulated you are from the way he drills into you. 

“Fuck.” It’s just one word that comes out of his mouth after realizing how hard he’s about to fucking cum. He bites into your shoulder as his balls start to tighten, squeezing his eyes shut as he braces himself. 

When it happens, it’s a lot. He shoves himself deep inside of you, unaware of all the weight he puts on you as hot spurts of cum begin to flood your walls. Slowly grinding against you, letting your tight pussy milk the rest of him. 

You’re wrecked by the end of it. You both are— lids tired and heavy, bodies sore and out of breath.

And in the end, you just let yourself fall asleep, unaware of the soft kiss pressed against your temple as he watched you.

—

It’s month three, and Satoru doesn’t want to go back. 

What was the point? It’s not like he had anyone or anything to go back to. Jujutsu Society never crumbled from him getting shot into the future. Would it really be that bad if he just never went back and continued on with his life from here?

He hasn’t uttered a word about it out loud, but the way he completely stopped asking Yaga and Ijichi for updates was telling of where he was at mentally.  

Acceptance. 

He likes his life here. 

You’ve come to your own conclusion after these last three months.

No wonder why he was so hot and cold when you were trying to get to know him. Satoru got a little taste of genuine comfort, only for it to be ripped away from him sometime before you two actually met. It explains all the times you wondered why he even tried with you, despite being too emotionally inept to even be in a relationship. He probably went through the beginning of your relationship thinking you could disappear at any second. 

With that being said, he can’t stay here. As much as you’d love to continue being the source of comfort for this version of Satoru, he needs to experience the last year he spent alone before meeting you. He needs to feel cautious around you. He needs to try and fail at opening up a handful of times before getting comfortable with the idea of truly being vulnerable with a person. Getting over that element of fear he had towards getting close to others is what made him a husband and father— he couldn’t just skip that part of his life. 

You have no idea how you’re going to tell him that, though. You’re not one to kick a sick puppy, especially one as cute as him. He’s so happy here with you and Sai that the thought of doing so makes your chest ache. 

He’s having a tea party with Sai right now, limbs way too long to sit in the little stool she pulled up for him to sit in. He drinks imaginary tea from the plastic pink cup she hands him, and your chest aches some more. You force yourself to look away before the tears start. 

You’d do the next 11 years all over again if you could.

“Hey, Honey?” Satoru calls out to you.

There’s a pause before you whip your head around— it’s been months since he’s called you that. There’s nothing but warmth and fondness in his eyes as his gaze meets yours. “Why is Nanami’s number saved under ‘nerd’ in my phone?”

He’s back.

“I don’t know,” you laugh, despite the tear falling down your cheek. “You tell me.”

—

Satoru didn’t want to believe it when everything around him went dark once again. It’s not until his feet touch the ground with a soft thud and he finds himself back in his messy, cold dorm when reality slapped him across the face.

Something between a sob and a gut-wrenching scream rips from his throat. Grabbing the round shades he had hoped he’d never have to fucking wear again, he rips them off his face and sends it crashing into the wall, breaking into a hundred little pieces. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t give himself a chance to even breathe or think before raising his hand and releasing a purple orb with just a flick of his fingers. 

Impulsive. Reckless. Deadly. 

Satoru was fucking devastated. 

Nobody knew what triggered him that night. All they knew was that the east wing of the school looked like it had been hit by an asteroid by the time he calmed down. He didn’t speak to anyone for a good two weeks following the incident. Everyone wants to think he was lucky the explosion didn’t have any casualties, but then they remembered who he was: Satoru fucking Gojo. 

God’s don’t get punished, nor do natural disasters— it’s hard to tell which one he was at this point. 

One Year Later

“If it’s that small of a curse, why are you sending me there?” Satoru continues to argue with one of the new managers over the phone. 

It wasn’t that small of a curse. It was a grade one. But still, given the sorcerer’s title as a special grade, he was overqualified for the job. 

“I’m sorry, we just don’t have anyone available to take on the case at the moment.” The young woman continues to apologize over the phone. “I think we might have a grade 3 available for the job. I- I can check—”

“Save it.” Satoru cuts her off. He wasn’t that heartless to push the case off to some 15 year old. That’s exactly how Haibara died. “Send me the address.” 

The mission was nothing short of an inconvenience for him. He liked a challenge when exorcising curses, and the damn thing didn’t even put up a fucking fight. He traveled 2 hours to get here just for that? Unbelievable. 

He wasn’t ready to leave and sit on a train for another 2 hours just yet, so he decided to walk around the town for a bit. 

It was a cute place, a little quiet. Kinda boring. That’s never a bad thing, though. Lots of mom and pop shops, a few coffee shops scattered around, one of which he decided to try. A little sugar’s always good, at least to him. 

The smell of vanilla and roasted coffee beans hit him as he walked into the place. There was a decent amount of customers inside. Not too much to feel crowded, but enough to stay busy. He keeps his eyes on the menu the entire time. The line moves fast, and he figures out what he wants just in time. 

“And what can I get started for you today?”

His eyes are still on the screen, reading the item off the menu.

“Can I get a white chocolate mocha frappuccino, with an extra pump of…” his words die out, and his eyes widen as he finally looks at the girl taking his order. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You laugh at the way this stranger loses his train of thought. “Extra pump of white chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah.” He exhales, unable to rip his eye off you as you write the words down on the plastic cup with a sharpie. 

“Name for the order?”

“Go– Satoru,” he corrects himself. “It’s Satoru.”

He’s a little awkward, but you still find him quite charming and smile. “Alright, Satoru. Your order should be ready in about 10 minutes.”

“Awesome. Thanks,” he nods rather pathetically, then goes to sit in an empty corner of the shop with only one thought in mind: 

He has 10 minutes to come up with what to say to get your number. 

you should feel bad. you do. you know it's awful. know you're using satoshi in a way that disgusted you to your very core— but what did it matter?

he probably fucked more girls than you could count. probably had them in this position. squeezing their thighs and calling them his babydoll while he rubbed their clit and told them to cum for him.

you knew guys like him too well. unfortunately well. you wouldn't be fooled again. so really— were you in the wrong for imagining his nerdy twin?

you're sure it didn't matter to satoshi anyway. as long as he had a warm pussy to fill and a hit for the night. guess you're both using each other, huh?

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ was eating up all of your attention. he thought he'd have to go back to chasing you down again after that night. but to his surprise, two days later you were giving him eyes in an empty hallway and batting your lashes.

. . . should he really be at fault for the way he shoved you into the lockers with a hand buried in the back of your hair and a hand squeezing your ass? could he really be the one to blame when he crashed his lips to yours and shoved his tongue in your mouth when you were looking at him so sweetly?

"babydoll," he groaned, whined, as he sucked on your tongue. "keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna make sure we get expelled."

and when you nipped at his lip piercing and called his name so softly? he just had to dive back in and kiss you until your knees were shaky. not caring in the slightest for the footsteps that stopped at the foot of the hall.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ for the second time, has never wanted to break his brother's jaw more.

or should he blame you? surely you knew by now that he took this hallway to get to quantum physics class. surely you knew that there was a chance he'd walk down this hallway and catch you face-fucking his brother. right?

the assignment sheet he'd been reviewing in his hand crumpled. fist shaking and jaw tight. fine. fine. if you wanted his brother so bad? you could have him.

it's hopeless anyway. satoru wouldn't even know how to treat you if he had the chance. too inexperienced. too emotionally inept.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ made sure to avoid you like the plague. he never should have let impulse take over. never should have kissed you in that library. fucked you on his fingers so clumsily and made you realise how useless his hands were when they weren't practising equations and flipping through textbooks.

he hated how he still wanted you. how he still thought about you. how he'd bury his face into a pillow and hump on another until he was grunting and cursing your name into the fabric. until he was whimpering it— like some pathetic boy who got his candy stolen.

"I hate you—" he huffed, voice shaking as his hand still had the nerve to squeeze around his tip and rub another pitiful spout of cum out of him.

"I hate you. I h-hate you— fucking hate you." his head tips back, breaths fogging his glasses that hang off his nose. thighs twitching from three orgasms spilled all over his sheets just because he can't get you out of his fucking head.

what did it matter? you're the kind of girl only satoshi would know how to please. and it seemed you knew that.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ was confronted by his best friend, sukuna, one thursday morning. yanked into some empty classroom with his helmet still tucked under his arm and cursing at the pink haired jock.

"the fuck's your problem?" he grumbled.

"should be asking you that shit." sukuna huffed.

he found out very quickly what sukuna was on about. asking if he was okay, if he was on something, if he finally gave in to peer pressure and decided to snort a line of some shit because he absolutely was not acting like himself. not looking at girls, denying numbers, missing parties. it wasn't like satoshi. not the campus heartthrob who just had to smile and wink a pretty blue eye to get whatever he wanted.

"you've been all over that girl." sukuna said. "you've never been this hooked. heard you last night too."

satoshi had to bite back his smirk. right. he had you bouncing on his cock last night. grinding your hips up into his and whimpering for him to help since he's just too big and your poor pussy's struggling. wait—

sukuna's rough hand shook him by the arm. "see? you're fucking spacey. what the hell's going on with you?"

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ got a firm talking to. got told he was actually falling in love— and that vulnerability scared the piss out of him. love? he didn't know how to love— not really. girls liked his dick and his bike and the filthy things he'd whisper in their ear when no one was looking. but love. . . fuck.

the way his heart was hammering said it. the way his chest fluttered when sukuna brought you up.

"what the fuck do I do?" he mumbled, hating how soft his voice was as he raked a hand through his white tuffs. "yeah— okay, maybe I like her. but what the fuck do I do?"

"take her out. maybe somewhere to eat. somewhere fun. can't be fucking her every time you meet up." sukuna flicked his arm.

satoshi winced. then considered it. maybe he could finally take you for a drink like he'd first offered. or maybe a party? a midnight ride?

"yeah well, she wants to fuck me whenever we meet up." he mulled, then shrugged. "guess I can combine the two. maybe that's just her style, y'know?"

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ thought about it a little more than he'd like to admit. spaced out in his classes, spent his lunch scrolling through food joints, hell— he even made a note on his phone. he wasn't good at this stuff. wasn't sure when last he went out on a date. girls usually wanted him for his body and that was it. they cried on his dick and scratched up his back but he never really offered them to hold their hand in some romantic coffee shop or whatever.

it hit him in the dead of night. when he was in bed and on his routinely hour of thinking about you. he phone has buzzed with a gallery memory. a picture he'd snapped from the photo album, of a kid him and satoru at a fair with their parents. satoru was hugging some big stuffie while satoshi lingered behind with a half-eaten funnel cake.

and that's when it hit him. . . a fair. they're fun, there's food, they're cute. that's what the couples in the movies do, right?

he sent you a text immediately. then flopped his phone down onto his chest and grinned at the ceiling like an idiot.

well. until a cold realisation washed over him, and he had to call up his best friend in the dead of night to awkwardly ask for some pointers.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ couldn't believe it. you actually agreed. you were actually standing right beside his bike and holding the helmet he'd handed you. with a cute little dress on and that lip gloss he had the urge to smear in heated kisses. but he held back.

"so you just had another helmet lying around?" you asked, brow arching as you fiddled with the straps.

"nah." he waved his hand. "just snatched one from the store."

he blinked at the look you gave him, then grinned as he took the helmet. plopping it on your head and clasping the strap beneath your chin. "meant I bought it baby. whatdya take me for? a delinquent?"

he flipped the visor up. crooned at your little glare and stroked his thumb on the side of your neck. "you really want me to answer that?" you huffed.

"don't look at me like that."

"or what?"

he pressed his lips to your temple. hand squeezing on your waist as he hoisted you up against him.

"or I'm gonna have to do some nasty things to you right over my bike, babydoll."

he always loved how flustered you got. the way you shoved at his shoulders and huffed at him as you turned away. but despite his wide grin and his low words— he didn't want any of that tonight. he just wanted to take you out. treat you right. if you initiated, well, he guessed he couldn't deny you but. . .

tonight he wanted to try to love you the way that you deserved. just for tonight.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ sent you a text. he couldn't help it. he saw you leave capmus with satoshi. saw the way you were bickering and he was grinning. what, were you off somewhere to fuck like rabbits again? off somewhere to forget about how it was his dick you were begging for in the library? the insecurity, the hurt, it all spilled over into harsh thumbs and harsher words.

gojo satoru: he's good for you. you're both whores.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ got you whatever you wanted at the fair. sweet treats? drinks? that oddly shaped teddy bear that he caught you glancing at when you passed one of those overpriced ring toss games? he made sure to win it for you. had no problem catching the rig in the game. he remembered when his parents would take him and satoru to these fairs and his dad would win the prizes. satoru often got them but— whatever. satoshi didn't wanna focus on that now.

all he cared about was the way you tried not to smile as he victoriously handed you the deformed plushie. "guess that means you owe me a kiss huh?" he hummed, leaning over you like some lovesick puppy.

he didn't catch the way you hesitated. nor the itch in your palms. he was too distracted by your gloss on his lips and the kiss that he melted into. shoulders sagging and heart fluttering as you hooked your arms round his neck. pulled him in deeper. gripped his hair.

he was all dazed. so drunk on your lips and the idea that he was here. kissing you at some fair with butterflies in his stomach and his heart in his hands. he didn't even process your mouth that slipped to his ear.

"I spotted a photobooth not too far. wanna go make some memories?"

as you nipped on his lobe. his chest fluttered.

wait.

that didn't sound very cutesy romantic.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't aware that the only reason you pushed him into that photobooth and climbed into his lap was because you were thinking of his brother. had no idea that satoru had even texted you. that the only reason you started humping on his lap and whining his name into his ear was because his twin had pissed you off and your pussy was throbbing for satoru. not him. but satoru.

he was a fool, really. gripping your waist and drowning on your lips. groaning into your tongue as he bucked up into you. catching on your clit just right and gripping the back of your neck as your pretty moans pitched.

"hah— gonna get us caught." he mumbled. too high on the way you ground on his cock to focus on how he was distracted by lust rather than love. on how you'd turned a sweet kiss into a filthy makeout session in a photobooth.

"that what you want? wanna get caught bouncing on my dick?"

his words were muffled by your heated lips. the hot tangle of your tongue and the dirty grind of you hips. blissfully unaware that you just needed him to shut up so that you could imagine his twin while you ground yourself to an orgasm.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ felt his knees shake as you both eventually crawled out of the photobooth with a strip of filthy pictures. unbeknownst that it was a testimony of you wanting his body because he looked like a man who actually held your heart.

he still folded it. fixated on the perfect shot of you both kissing. then tucked it away in his wallet.

he should have known better. he really should have.

but he was so lost in the fantasy of this date. in the idea that he was doing well for once— treating a girl in a way he never has before. outside of sex. outside of what his fingers, tongue or dick could do. no technique, just tenderness. he gave you his jacket at some point in the night. his heart throbbed at how pretty you looked in it.

yeah. satoshi was a bit oblivious to the way your hands were all over him at the haunted house attraction. he had to push you against one of the walls and kiss you stupid. but it's just because you needed him so bad— right?

yeah. he didn't think much of the way your hand crept on his lap while you both sat down to share a sundae. he just slipped his fingers down and wrapped them around yours. gave you a little squeeze.

he surely wasn't paying attention when you'd kissed him hard as the ferriswheel stopped at the top. all he heard was the fireworks above. all he felt were your hands pushing under his shirt. the way you climbed back into his lap and gripped the back of his hair.

no. satoshi didn't care. all he cared about was that you were kissing him. and it was beneath the fireworks. doesn't get more romantic than that, right?

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ was all loopy as he drove you both back home. his head spinning cause your head felt so warm laid between his shoulders as he steered the bike back to campus. he skipped a red light. didn't even care about the speeding ticket that'll probably await him.

all he cared about were your arms looped around his waist and the fluttering in his chest.

he walked you up to your dorm. told you to keep the helmet, and the jacket. smiled— not grinned or smirked or anything smug of sort.

he smiled when he told him goodnight.

"don't I get one last kiss?"

he couldn't help it. he was greedy for what he thought was his.

and here you both were now. with him pinning you to the opened door. hands gripping your thighs that plushed on his waist. his mouth on yours. hot and hungry and the kind of desperate need that he hasn't felt before with any other girl.

your hands were in his hair again. they always were. holding your mouths together as you rutted your hips into his.

"babydoll," he groaned, withdrawing so that saliva webbed both of your lips. a few messy strings caught on his tongue piercing. his white lashes fluttered over blue eyes practically shaped into little hearts. "you don't know what you do to me."

his breathing was ragged. something clenched in his chest. then lodged in his throat.

something he couldn't quite name but wanted to say anyway as he looked into your glassy eyes and felt your hot cunt throbbing on him through his jeans.

he sucked in a breath. one large hand cupped your face and tilted it up. he drew closer. breaths bated. heart stuttering. "I—"

bzztt!

he cleared his throat. something told him to pull his phone out. the text floating on his screen had him blinking.

toru: dude I need your help.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ set you down. smooched you for good measure and apologised. called you his babydoll one last time and told you he had an emergency. satoru never texted him for anything. and as much as he'd love to spend another night between your thighs— his brother came first.

he rushed off. leaving you panting and with a heavy stone in your heart as you shut your door and pressed your back into it.

did you really just do that? did you really just use a man because he had the face of your rival who you fell in love with? because his voice sounded just like satoru's when he said the right thing in the right tone?

you looked at the helmet in your arms. remembered the jacket wrapped around you.

you felt sick.

but you shoved it down. told yourself that satoshi only wanted sex. that you'd never love someone like him. that this was fair transaction.

as you plopped the helmet on your desk and drew a heavy sigh. still hot and bothered between the legs as you flopped onto your stomach into your bed. pulling your pillow closer and burying your face into it with a muffled, exagerated whine at your own heart.

his jacket still felt so warm around you.

sleep. you just needed some sleep. needed to stop thinking about the twins that you were caught in some messy triangle with. your eyes hung heavy. fluttering shut as your breath slowed. body easing into the sheets. you allowed sleep to drift you off somewhere warm.

that was until. you felt a weight press down on top of you.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was shaking. actually shaking. his hands were shaking as they snatched your waist. his knees were shaking as they shoved into the bed. he watched you panic. watched you squirm. watched you jerk up— only to freeze when you saw him.

"sat— satoru?"

and he kissed you. harder than he had in the library. harder than in any of his dreams. it was clumsy and fervent. a clash of teeth and tongue.

the worst part? you kissed him back. fuck. you kissed him back. you want him. some part of you wanted him. even though you keep giving yourself to his bastard twin.

he gripped the back of your hair. shoved your face down and rutted his hips against your ass. slow, and rough and haphazard as groans caught in his throat.

he lurched down. nose pressing into your cheek and his cock throbbing against the back of your thigh.

a part of him thought his heart would stop from how hard it was beating. thought he'd pass out from pure hyperventilation with how heavy his breathing was.

his voice was ragged. it didn't sound like him. he didn't feel like himself. didn't know what he was doing— only that he was so. fucking. tired. of seeing you with satoshi.

"you wanted it?" he jammed his hips harder into yours. grinding in frantic bucks. "then you're gonna take it."

teeth clenched. eyes glossy behind his glasses. he shoved your head into the pillow further and nearly whined at your muffled moans as he pressed his panting mouth against your ear.

jaw ticked. breath jagged.

"even if I don't know how to give it. you're gonna fucking take it."

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cursed-carmine. art cred: @/_teaforgods (ig).

♡ ₊˚‧ enjoyed this piece? consider joining my patreon or commissioning me <3 I appreciate all the support!

“I’ll require so much merch, in fact you’ll have to come to the con with me – all dressed up as one – if you want a kiss before I have to.”

“You’re so bratty, Satoru Gojo,” he exhales when you pull back, realizing he’s now throbbing under his damn jeans in a coffee shop with his best friend. “Fine, we’ll wait until we have to.”

“We’re staying three days, right?”

“Yes, mom and dad love you anyway.”

“How will you break it to them when they find out it’s not real?” You wrack your brain, sighing then.

“I’ll think of something, but at least for this wedding, I'll be in your debt forever.”

“That’s tempting, I can’t wait to take advantage.” You both laugh, and Satoru tries to figure out just how he’s going to handle ‘pretending’ with you. 

*****

“I’m never letting you drive again.”

“I wasn’t that bad!” Satoru pouts at you, damn near running out of the car when you all step out.

“Horrible, god how’d you get a licence,” you glare, and he snatches your keys up, holding them high. “Hah! Can’t reach?”

“Who can, you giant!” You’re hopping while he laughs, but then your tits just bounce too much, so he falters, letting you tug his arm down. “Got 'em!”

Satoru tries not to focus on that, quickly looking away and rubbing the back of his neck, the last thing he needs to do is let his gaze linger longer than it should. “You really almost killed me, I’m driving back.”

“That’s fine, eight hours sucked anyway,” you stretch just a bit, and so does he, turning and avoiding how your shirt lifts just a bit. “Are you ready for this?”

You walk up next to him, he’s snatched up your bags on one shoulder, you hold his other hand, feeling it tense in your grip. He pauses, looking down at you then, gripping your hand just a little tighter, memories flashing of all the times he’d snatched your hand and run out of class when you were younger. Why does it feel so different now that you’re both older?

“Make it look real, remember? I have the merch all picked out,” you wave your phone around just a bit, earning him squeezing your hands just a bit. “There you go, we got this yeah?”

“Yeah…” You both walk up and are greeted with your very surprised parents, the house just full of your entire family, all bustling and fussing over your sister and all the planning. “Hey there.”

“Satoru Gojo!” Your mom tugs him in for a hug, your dad snatches the bags and sets them down in the living room. “Look at you, you’re taller!?”

“I know,” he laughs a bit, slipping up his black shades to rest on those snowy locks, while your dad hugs him too. “Hey pops. Ah, hey sis.”

Your sister comes out, hugging you tightly, then peeking over at Satoru. “Gojo, you finally admitted you’re in love huh?”

“What!?” He pulls back, your dad and mom are laughing behind their hands, and you mouth to Satoru silently.

Remember!?

Digimon!

“Oh, hah – yeah I guess we really have been in love,” he snatches you up, arm wrapping around your shoulders, smacking a kiss on your cheek. He feels it warm under his lips quickly, the little breath catching in his ears. “Aren’t we, pookie?”

Pookie, huh?

You wanna laugh at that, but you instead put a hand on his chest and tiptoe, giving him a kiss on his chin. You wonder if you’re imagining the blush that decorates his cheeks for just a moment, but it’s distracted by all the commotion.

“You’re finally dating someone!”

“Mom!?”

“I’m just so happy baby,” you want to fall into a hole, as aunts, uncles and cousins all come to just express their surprise. Satoru’s snickering so you decide to ‘accidentally’ stomp his foot, earning your six foot four friend hopping one one foot.

“Oops, sorry baby.” Satoru’s so gonna get revenge later on you, with your bratty little smile.

“It’s fine, sweet sugar bear!” You almost snort out loud, he smacks a kiss on your cheek and damn near slobbers on you.

It’s a flurry of action while everyone sinks their teeth into Satoru and you, all nosy and curious, many of them making comments like you’re an old maid when you’re still young. Your family is a little too traditional, and they’re all in love with Satoru so much you’re damn near ignored, he eats up the attention like he always does at these sort of things.

You can’t say anything about it, Satoru’s parents have been so distant his entire life, you actually love that your family is so close to him.

“Do you wanna freshen up before dinner?” Your mom asks, you nod gratefully. “Perfect, we set up a room for you two.”

“Um… one room?” You ask, seeing Satoru chuckling, slinging an arm around your neck.

“Show us the room, mama.”

“Of course Toru!” You roll your eyes a bit, no one loves Satoru as much as your mom does – aside from you.

But you can’t admit that.

A part of you starts enjoying just how easy it would be to make this a part of your life, at least this aspect, your family, and likely all of your friends. Yet you know fully that it’s a bit of a show, yet it makes your mind drift off – imagining too much, so much so you almost bump right into his back when you all come to a stop in front of the stairs.

“Oof!”

“Clumsy,” he teases, catching you before you tumble back with ease, one arm shooting up and wrapping around you. “Clumsy little pookiekins.”

Oh jesus.

Does he have to feel this good?

Your mom leads you up the stairs, their new house is still a little unfamiliar, you’ve only been there a couple of times since they moved. It’s a pretty room you’ve slept in before when you stayed, cream colored walls and perfectly clean, even the little throw pillows are all arranged. “Do you need extra pillows, Satoru?”

“No, that’s perfect, I appreciate it.” Your mom doesn’t ask you if you need anything, but then she’s always loved Satoru – you joke that it’s more than she loves you all the time.

“The shower is right in there,” she points to where the room connects to a little bathroom. “Get washed up for dinner, I’m ordering your favorite Satoru.”

“Um, hi? What about me?” Satoru is snorting practically.

“Honey, you know I’m just excited, I haven’t seen Satoru in a year!”

“I see how it is.” You narrow your eyes, earning your mom kissing you on the cheek.

“I will order your favorite dessert.”

“I’m an afterthought.” She laughs and shuts the door, leaving the two of you alone, Satoru sobering up just a bit as he sits on the bed, you turn and look at him then, suddenly feeling so nervous.

He’d spent plenty of nights on the floor or couch at your childhood home, but not in the same bed, taking it over when he lays down, crossing one ankle over the other. “Nap time.”

“Nap time, huh?” You sigh and scooch his big body over, lying down next to him, yawning just a bit when you snuggle against the pillow. “I’m tired too.”

“Are you?” You nod, eyes fluttering shut, leaving Satoru to study you carefully. “You think they bought it?”

“With ease,” you snuggle a little too close to him, making his heart race in his chest, fingers itching to caress your cheek. You look at him with sleepy eyes, breath right against him, tickling his neck. “They were convinced I had a crush on you when we were younger, sis tortured me about it.”

“Aww, that’s because I’m so pretty,” Satoru bats his long snowy lashes, you snort a bit, whacking him with one of the pillows. “What, not gonna admit it?”

“You’re conceited is what you are,” he smacks you with a pillow hard then, you gasp, getting on your knees and whacking him back. “You’re also the biggest brat to exist.”

“That’s you! Hah, and you’re weak.” Satoru yanks the pillow from your grip, tossing it on the floor and then smacking you with one again. “Can’t win against me, can you?”

“Don’t count me out, ruining my nap!” You hop down on the floor, grabbing it and hitting him right in his pretty face. “I’ll make your face prettier.”

“Swear to god-” You pounce on him, the bed springs creak just a bit, while you smack him again, only for him to yank you down and start tickling you. “Hah, I know all your spots.”

“Stop, stop!” You’re trying to get out of his grip, the tickles on your waist too much, you can’t stop laughing, wriggling until somehow…

You land right on top of him.

Satoru’s laughing softly, before he realizes it, that you’re straddling his lap, thighs pressed on either side, and your heat is against him. You’re still giggling, his fingers pausing then, looking down nervously and swallowing. “What is it, my turn?”

You lean over and begin to run your fingertips teasingly over his lower abdomen, he’s always ticklish there, but he just grips your hands in his hold, not making a sound. You blink a bit in confusion, breathless from the battle – one you both frequently had as kids – until you feel it.

You follow his suddenly intense gaze down, to where he’s pressed against you, hard and thickening by the moment, your breaths come even quicker, hands still in his grip as you feel him. Your eyes both lock then, his dilated in a way you’ve never seen, lips parted just so, and it’s not like he’s ever looked at you.

You should get up, you should move right? Yet you’re stuck there, unable to do more than blink rapidly and open your lips to say something, anything at all, but both of you don’t speak. The silly laughter has quit spilling from your lips, left with hot desire clenching your tummy at the sensation – at just how good Satoru feels against your cunt, aching for more.

You try not to roll your hips, you try not to shift, when he lets go of your wrists, and his hands slide down, across to your hips, an exhale escaping his mouth. You watch his chest rise and fall with his breaths, his fingers curling around the curve of each hip, and you realize you’re soaking wet embarrassingly fast.

“Satoru, I’m sorry…” You shift to move, earning a little moan from his throat, cock leaking pre against his boxers as his cock insistently nudges between your lips, just your panties as a barrier.

“Fuck, don’t… don’t move,” he whispers then, you tense, struggling to just stay still. “You’re making it worse.”

“Making… what worse?” He sighs, leaning up on his elbows, your breaths both mingling together, in a way that makes you question everything.

Could Satoru feel the same?

He doesn’t speak, instead he gently presses you down, watching your eyelashes flutter, your hands gripping his shirt so tightly the material is balling up in your grip. You move your hips just a bit, making him groan again, ever so softly, noses touching, foreheads resting together. You swallow, throat gone dry at what you feel, the nerves, the desire, the worry for ruining the most important relationship you have.

“Toru, um- ah!” You jump when your sister just opens the fucking door, and you fall right off the bed with a thud since Satoru jumps too, like two kids caught.

“We were… talking!?” Satoru covers his bulge with a pillow, and your sister just bursts out laughing, wearing a tiara and a sash that says bride to be.

“Get out!” You throw a pillow at her, knocking her tiara clean off, Satoru would laugh but he’s still throbbing and it fucking hurts.

How would he ‘pretend’ to kiss you!?

“Rude, it’s my wedding you know.”

“Why are you barging in?”

“I wanna see my sis and her pookie,” she’s giggling, while you start shoving her out the door. “Don’t you miss me?”

“Not really, annoying little sisters still suck, even when they get married.” She winks over at Satoru now, laughter still coming out and making you heat up in embarrassment.

“Looks like you two are next, I could feel the tension!”

“Out!” You shove her unceremoniously, resting your back and the door and huffing, you’re far too cute like that, and doing nothing for his situation. Your eyes meet his, before you look down a bit, pushing off the door to stand. “Sorry, she’s as much of a menace as ever.”

“She certainly is,” he teases, smiling a bit at you and feigning ease. “Um… I’m sorry that…”

“No, no it’s cool, um… it’s just a normal reaction for a guy, right?” You’re so clueless you wouldn’t even know. “Aren’t you experienced?”

“Callin’ me a slut?” He raises a brow.

“Not a virgin, is all.”

“You’re… are you…” You blush furiously, this whole thing is more embarrassing every freaking second. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” You sink down and cover your face, Satoru wills his damn cock to fully go down so he can get up, but he’s toxic and thinking of having you first.

Stop that, stop it, go down.

Down boy.

He finally just adjusts it up into his waistband and comes up to you, sitting right on the plush carpet and wrapping an arm around you. “Why be embarrassed, what’s wrong if you’re picky?”

“I’m twenty three, that’s what’s wrong,” you peek at him then, and he just looks too good in that moment, your body still throbbing from sitting on him. “I’m the forty year old virgin.”

“You are not,” he’s snorting in laughter, playfully pulling you close, tilting two fingers under your chin. “I could fix that for you.”

You pause just a moment, lips parted, eyes wide.

“What!?”

“I was kidding,” he lets your chin go, before raising a brow. “Unless?”

“You’re annoying!” He gets shoved away, laughing at himself like he’s just so funny, but all he does is embarrass you more, confuse you more.

What dumb idea was this?

“Do we need to practice kissing too?”

“I’ve kissed, you know.” Why are Satoru’s lips so glossy?

“Plant one on me, rockstar,” he taps his lips with that annoying smirk of his. “Don't want the first to be in front of them, what if they know?”

“Oh fine, you brat,” Satoru smooches his lips all dramatically, when you get on your knees, hands on his shoulders. “Pucker up then.”

“I'm scared!?” You both laugh then, you've always been so comfortable with each other, until your lips land on his.

You both pull back, his hand slipping up your back. Your lips tingle, this little shock you can't explain, looking down at glossy lips. “There, I kissed you.”

“You did, a little peck. That's all you know?”

“You're an ass,” he chuckles, trying to ease the tension, but you felt too good. “I can kiss.”

“Lemme see, bet I'm better.”

“You always think you're the best at everything,” you roll your eyes, then your little hands are on either side of his face, kissing him deeply. He exhales, tongue slipping against the seam of your lips, you damn near squeak, pulling back quickly with a gasp. “What're you doing?”

“Kissing you,” he captures your lips again, hungry as he pours all of the desire he's had into it, tilting his head to the side to dive deeper. You’re trembling, hands gripping in fists at your sides, struggling to collect yourself. Your tongue moves back against his, lashes fluttering shut, letting him drink up your little sighs.

His hand entangles in your hair, tongue dancing along your teeth, his taste so sweet it’s intoxicating. Slipping closer, a hand on his thigh, letting him overtake you completely, gripping his thigh and clinging for some sense of normalcy. Whatever you’ve imagined this kiss would be like over the years couldn’t have prepared you – your heart hammering, desire clenching your tummy.

He pulls back a bit, just as lost as you it seems, but only a moment – then it’s a little smirk and a raised brow. “Mmm. That's how you kiss.”

“Not in front of people you don't,” you stare up at him, dazed, seeing a blush form on his own cheeks. “You wanna have your tongue in my throat in front of them?”

“What!? No… I was showing you for… later.”

“Later.”

“Mmm,” he brushes the air next to your cheek before he gets up quickly, clearing his throat. “I need um… a shower.”

“Right, go ahead,” he darts to the bathroom, leaving your legs trembling, your lips tingling from him. Just what was that!?

****

“So, when did you two know you were in love?” Satoru almost spits out his drink the same time you do, simultaneously panicking and looking at each other.

“We didn’t figure out a story!” You whisper in his ear, trying to look like you’re being loving, a hand on his thigh driving him to insanity.

“Well, she confessed her love to me,” you scowl, Satoru holds your hand with a devious grin, keeping it on a well muscled thigh that’s fucking your sense. “She told me she’d loved me since… let’s see, kindergarten!”

“Called that,” your sister says, snuggling up to her fiance while she sips on champagne. “She said you were - the cutest boy she ever- hey!?”

“That’s quite enough,” you mumble, launching a little garlic knot at her head, Satoru’s snickering and it’s hard to pretend you don’t wanna punch him. “So yeah, kindergarten, but he’s the one who confessed first.”

“I did?” You stomp his foot, he hisses and scowls. “Oh yeah, I did… I told her I love how mean she is.”

“That’s an odd love confession,” your mom says, looking between you both with an amused expression. Satoru kicks you back under the table and you yelp. “Are you two… good?”

“So good mom! Aren’t we Toru?” You nuzzle his cheek but that little act makes his heart race, his stomach tense from just how good it feels. “Answer.”

Your whisper reminds him of the goal here, he smiles and turns then, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, and the two of you freeze. You’d practiced in the room, he was curious if it was the nerves of the first time together, but nothing felt like that, like the sweetness of your lips under his, eyes looking right at him in shock when he wraps an arm around you.

“Aw!” They’re all cooing over you both, Satoru pulls back and you both fail to compose yourselves for just a moment, before Satoru grins.

“We are good, aren’t we pookie?” He murmurs, you shake yourself out of it, remembering what you’re doing here.

“Yes, for sure. When is the rehearsal dinner?” You ask, looking at your sister now, who launches a garlic knot back at you. “Hey!”

“You started it,” you both stick your tongues out at each other. Satoru snatches the flung knot and pops it in his mouth, sighing.

“Yummy.”

You giggle at that, but he licks the buttery garlic off his lips and fucks up your head instead. You’re trembling just a bit at his tongue rushing across his lips, yeah it affected you before – you’ve had it bad for Satoru for a long time, but now it was even worse than before.

“Want a bite, little shnookums?” Satoru teases, forking the spaghetti and swirling it around. You go to say no when he raises his brows.

“Oh, of course pookiekins!” He snorts just a bit in laughter, but when your lips wrap it and you take it in your mouth?

Fuck.

You have just a little sauce on the corner of your lips – Satoru wipes it without thinking, making your eyes dart up to his contact. “You’re messy, sugar shnookums.”

“Thank you, pookie bear.” You murmur teasingly, ignoring how good his fingers feel on your face.

“Oh you two are disgustingly in love,” your sister makes a face, Satoru just feeds you another fork full. “When are you gonna pop the question?”

“It’s new!?” You say in between bites – at this point Satoru is feeding you. Your aunt and uncle start going on and on about how much they love him – who doesn’t love Satoru?

The plan is working perfectly, they aren’t bothering you about dating someone, and they buy the friends to lovers story easily. Overall, it’s already a big success, which Satoru can’t help but gloat about when you step into the room, wearing your pajamas, which are just a shirt of Satoru’s you stole and a little pair of shorts.

He pauses as you step out of that bathroom, running a brush through your hair, the lights soft from behind you, making your skin look that much prettier, every inch revealed where that shirt hits mid thigh glowing. Your nipples are pressed against the thin, soft material, he struggles to rip his eyes off them.

You can’t get your eyes off him either, just wearing a pair of sweats with little digimon all over them and nothing else - chest bare. You’re used to that, his chiseled frame and narrow torso, however right now it makes you press your thighs together just a bit, tension so thick in the air it’s hard to even breathe.

Act normal.

This isn’t real.

“You stole my shirt?” He breaks that silence, raising a thin brow at you, you manage an eye roll, heading over to the bed and lifting the cover.

“Of course I did,” it makes you feel close to him, god it smells like him. “I love your bougie ass shirts, so comfy.”

“Tch,” you giggle, looking far too cute when you snuggle, and Satoru hesitates just a bit. “You want me to sleep on the ground?”

“No, no that’d be so rude, we can share right?” He eyes the bed again, sighing at how narrow it is.

He’d be pressed against you if he turned one wrong way.

Satoru slips in under the blankets next to you, laying on his back, studying your face carefully before flicking off the lamp on the bedside. “Think they bought it?”

You look at him, yawning a bit. “I do, pookiekins.”

Satoru snorts in laughter, ruffling your hair annoyingly, you smack at his hand and sit up a bit. “What’s the plan when you have to tell them the truth?”

You frown a bit then, brows drawing together. “I haven’t thought that far, I hope it won’t hurt them…”

“Can’t pretend forever, y’know,” you nod a bit, turning back to your side now, ass damn near touching him, making his heart thrum in his chest. “We can just tell them we’d rather stay friends?”

“We could,” your fingers trace the sheets in front of you, contemplative while the soft cotton runs under your fingers. “Don’t worry I won’t make you keep doing this or anything, I know it’s already annoying.”

“It’s…” not annoying. “I actually…” love this too much. “It’s not a big deal, you’d do the same for me.”

You look back with a pretty little smile – almost a sad one, making him contemplate that expression far too much. “Of course I’d be your fake girlfriend.”

“Aww, we’re bonding,” he rests on his side, grinning at you, making something in your heart flip before you turn back around. “What if I kick you off the bed by accident?”

“Psh, wouldn’t be an accident, you’re evil,” Satoru chuckles, feigning an ease he no longer feels, when your shoulders gently move up and down, falling asleep quickly. “Night Toru.”

“G’night…”

He slips the covers over your shoulders as you fade out.

One bed.

You’re both sleeping in the same bed.

Satoru can inhale your scent, feel the heat of your body when you're so close, hear your light little snore, and everything in him aches to tug you closer, to feel you against him. How would it feel to hold you in his arms? It’s like you belong there, truly, he can’t imagine how you’re not then, how he restraints himself.

Life moved on for you both, once inseparable, but you both always made time for each other, whereas when he’s had break ups, it was done for good. Satoru can’t risk losing you just because he can’t hold back anymore, he has to remember you just wanted to get your parents off your back, and that the kisses were just for show.

Everything changed when your lips met.

His fingers hover just a couple inches away from where the blanket covers your skin, tracing the curve of your hip, where he'd love to tug you against him, wrap his arm, before he lets it fall and turns to face the other side.

It's impossible to fall asleep next to you and not hold you.

*****

You wake up with Satoru Gojo’s heavy arm and thigh wrapped around you like a monkey, trapping you down with his heavy weight. You wriggle just a bit, blinking sleep out of your eyes while soft light filters in through the slots of the blinds.

Turning, you see his Adam's apple, his chin, pulling back to look up at him, far too pretty to exist. His snowy lashes are long and lush, the sharp plane of his jaw illuminated by the sun, his plump lips just the tiniest bit parted. He shifts just a bit when you try to disentangle yourself, a hand pressing on your lower tummy and tugging you against him.

That’s then his thigh comes between yours, and the hard muscles press against your cunt, you gasp and wriggle again, only enhancing how fucking good he feels. Satoru murmurs your name softly, you worry he’s awake - but he’s still knocked out, while you’re drooling down his bare skin.

Fuck.

You push at his big ass arms, ignoring how good those biceps feel underneath your fingertips, but Satoru just increases how tightly he’s squeezing you, burying his face against your neck like you’re a body pillow. You’d laugh if you weren’t stupidly wet against your best friend in the world.

“Satoru, wake up,” you manage to murmur, despite him squeezing you so tightly you can’t breathe damn near. You take several breaths, shutting your eyes and trying to ignore how good it feels here. This was your idea – to fake date, to put yourself in a position like this, acting as if your feelings were gone.

They’re clearly more prevalent than ever.

He shifts once more, his scent enwrapping you just like his long limbs do, steady thrum of his heart and his deep breaths against your back moving ever so slowly, pressing his thigh higher. At this point it feels so good you can’t help but flutter your eyes shut, just stuck with him, biting your lip to try to hold back a filthy little moan when your slit drags against him.

Fuck, stop moving!

“Hmm,” he’s humming in his sleep, hand slipping up now until one grips your breast. “So soft.”

“Satoru!” You smack at his hand, hissing damn near when he squishes it in his grip, just making you wetter. “Get off!”

Satoru finally stirs away, realizing just how compromised your position was, blinking sleep out of his eyes and leaning up, feeling your soft breast in his hand, your heat against his thigh. He’s already throbbing just waking up, but then he feels you dripping against him? He sucks in a breath, frozen behind you, hand no longer gripping but not moving.

“Shit,” he grumbles, pulling his hand off reluctantly, ignoring the fact that your nipple grazed his palm like it did. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re suffocating me,” you shove his arm off you, but his leg stays, and you heat up when you realize how wet you got, embarrassingly so and there was no denying it. “I um… you’re… it’s…”

“Natural,” he murmurs softly, sleep making his voice raspy, making the situation a million times worse between your thighs. “I must have just wrapped around you, I usually hug like three pillows.”

“Yeah,” you can’t say anything else, his hand hovers over your hip, not touching but sitting there. He pulls back a bit, eliciting a whimper from your throat before you can stop yourself, covering your mouth and shutting your eyes. “Let the earth fucking swallow me now.”

He laughs just a bit, hand finally settling on your thigh, pressing it up against his hard muscles again, pressing right up between your folds. You look back at him with a glare, his smirk widening. “Need some help?”

“I swear I’ll beat you,” your lashes flutter when he moves again. “I didn’t make fun of you yesterday.”

“You were wet then too,” you glare now, just looking far too pretty. “Do you need me to take care of you?”

“Take care of… you’re Satoru and… fuck stop that!” You’re whining out again, slamming a hand on your mouth again, when his hand drags you on your thigh. “This is mortifying.”

“Been a while?” He’s acting like he’s not dying, leaking so much pre his shorts are stuck to him, an easy grin on his face.

“You’re a dick,” you sigh, burying your face in your hand now. “Your fake boyfriend skills do not need to extend to this.”

“I see, you don’t need any help at all,” he brushes his thigh up again, pushing down on your hip so you’re grinding on him now, you’re trembling, wanting to punch him as much as you want to hump his leg. “You could use me while I’m here.”

“Use you?” You look back at him, shifting your hips and watching his pupils widen, the only sign he’s affected at all.

“Mmm, could be a perk of the fake dating.”

“Fake orgasms?” You tease, then he leans low, lips almost brushing yours. Your heart hammers in your chest, you know he’s teasing you, but it’s impossible to maintain any calm right now.

“No, they’d be very real,” Satoru’s fingers slip up a bare thigh under the blanket that’s all askew and half kicked off, keeping that smirk on even though if he touches your pussy he’ll probably just cum. “I can show you how and everything, what are friends for?”

“You think I don’t masturbate because I’m a virgin?” It’s his turn to barely be able to form a sentence. “Just because no one has gotten me off doesn’t mean I don’t.”

“Ah,” the thought of you touching your pretty pussy is enough to make him bust and leak out all over that ass nestled against him. “So you’re good then, no need for my best friend services?”

“You joke too much!” You turn and shove him, until he flops off the bed, scowling up at you, you just giggle, trying to forget the fact that you humped his leg damn near. “Stop playing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stays on the floor, just leaned back on his hands, legs crossed at the ankles, studying you, suddenly quiet.

“What is it?”

Satoru opens his lips, then shuts them, then opens again. “It’s just that… I didn’t agree to this for-”

“Who’s ready for a shopping trip!?” Your sister annoyingly bangs on the door, you roll your eyes and shake your head, getting up and walking over to open it before looking over at Gojo.

“What was it, Toru?” You ask softly, he stands then, looking far too good when you study his muscled back, making you ache in ways you can’t admit.

Satoru was going to tell you he didn’t agree to this for ‘merch’ or just because you two were best friends.

He wants more, he wants this to be real. Fitting in with your family like a glove, feeling loved from you and them, the closeness you two share that leaves a void any time he ever tries to date. What you don’t realize is he has been dying to get the courage to ask you out, but he’s always hit one road block.

Losing this forever.

Best friends can get through anything, but relationships scatter, they fall apart – they drift away, and he can’t imagine not having you near.

“What is it?” You’re smiling curiously, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s nothing,” he pats your head with a sad little smile, making the inner workings of your brain fire off in a myriad of signals. “Better get that.”

“Right,” your sister soon drags you out to shop, bombarding you about Satoru while he relaxes at home with your parents.

“Should we get lingerie?”

“Oh god,” you’re grumbling when you two pass a lingerie store, the mannequins up front wearing the most delicate lace that covers nothing. “No way.”

“Don’t you two…” You’re a flustered mess, your sister’s brows raising. “You’re not fucking yet?”

“Shut up!?” You cover her mouth, embarrassingly looking around to see who is within ear shot, she’s laughing against your palm.

“He must be a gentleman, well I’ll get you the sluttiest-”

“We’re here for you, not me, I already have my dress.”

“I’m the bride,” you roll your eyes at her. “What I say goes. Ooh! That screams - fuck me daddy.”

“I’m so done with you,” you’re laughing though, your sister is anything if not a fucking trip, younger and more experienced, a free bird truly. “Fine, one outfit.”

“Yay!”

*****

“Make a toast!” Everyone is urging you that afternoon at the rehearsal dinner. As the maid of honor you absolutely had to do just that, prepare the first toast.

You look over at Satoru, who’s sipping on champagne while you all sit around the banquet table, his Adam's apple bobs with his swallowing of the bubbly, fruity concoction. You smile at him, earning his little wink that just didn’t feel fake at all, a hand squeezing above your knee gently.

How could you separate what’s for show, what’s friendship, and what could be…

More?

Shaking that off, you focus on the bride and groom to be instead, who are both nuzzling each other’s noses. They’re sickeningly cute, naturally doing the things you and Satoru are pretending to, the longing fills you then and you despise it. You should be happy for her, not envious because you’re scared you’ll ever get that.

Not when Satoru exists.

“I’d like to toast to our soon to be newlyweds. To the two lovebirds, who have shown us all what it means to love someone unconditionally, and who have had the nerve to make it look easy,” your sister gets a little teared up then. “I don’t know how you deal with her crazy ass – but you do it well.”

“Hey!” They’re all laughing a bit, you smile over at her.

“I love you, and I love to see your relationship blossom,” a little more serious again, everyone settles in. “You both make me want that love.”

Satoru’s heart hammers in his chest while he watches you, in that pretty pink dress you’re wearing, the same shade as the blossoms decorated along the white tablecloth. You’re soft like this, usually so feisty and cracking jokes – this is a more serious side of you, the side that’s always pulled him in and intrigued him.

He’s avidly listening to every word that lingers from your lips, lost in how much he wishes they were for him, about him. He puts on a perfunctory laugh when he has to, mingling in with your family, trying to ignore how perfect and easy it all feels, but everything was easy with you, it always had been.

It was terrifying, how easy it was to hold you in his arms.

“How’d I do?” You whisper, leaning close – too close.

He gives you that easy grin, leaning over to press a kiss on your cheek, feeling it warm under his lips. “You did great sugar plum.”

You snort at the nickname, but all you can think is one thing –

You should have taken him up on his offer.

Soon the dance instructor is guiding all of the bridesmaids and groomsmen, along with your sister and her groom, but they of course set their sights right on you and Satoru. You could swear your sister was part demon – how could she at one moment shove you both together, then the other quite literally cockblock, you’ll never know.

“Dance you two,” your sister practically shoves you and Satoru to the wide space in the banquet hall, and the instructor steps up. “They don’t know how to dance, can you give them the basics?”

“Says who!?” You and Satoru demand at the same time, she snickers a bit.

“Says me seeing you two awkwardly shuffle every school dance.” You and Satoru flush then, he clears his throat a bit when the dancer takes his hand.

“One on her waist,” he murmurs, all seductive with some french accent that makes this all the more intimate. “And one on her hand, like this. Ah, so romantic!”

Satoru looks at your entwined fingers for a moment, how his hand swallows yours with his long, thick fingers, before he looks down into your eyes, seeing how dark they’ve gotten. Your heart races so quickly he can feel it when the instructor presses you both close together, his fingers squeezing your waist just a bit, feeling your skin burning underneath your dress.

“Ah, that is young love,” he blinks back tears, you’re so embarrassed then, even emotional when your mom is almost crying. You start to feel terrible for this little game, knowing it will hurt them.

You were so selfish, dragging Satoru in this too, who’s looking at you with those blue eyes that you could never figure out the shade of, holding your hand in his while pressing you against his firm, hard frame. You’re hardly able to form a word or a typical joke you two usually share, not like this, not when you believe this dance instructor’s flowery words.

Love.

You’ve loved Satoru for so long in so many ways, as a friend, as damn near family, as a confidant. Yet the love keeps changing, shifting and just growing with every moment you exist next to him, drinking up every bit of what Satoru Gojo had to offer – which was so much, too much.

Over the years watching him date, you tried your best to remain detached, and he never let your friendship go. You have been a priority to him since you both made friends on that playground back in first grade, he makes you feel so…

Special, seen, heard.

Even when he’s joking, teasing or annoying you, he’s been there to hold you when you cry, to distract you from your low times, whether he helped you study or he just sat there next to you in the quiet. Yet he never crossed the line, never even touched you like he has this week, in your little game that feels too perfect, making you realize that you’ll never have this with someone.

How could you feel this, the length of time you’ve known each other, the comfortability even as you’re physically on edge. The familiarity when he spins you on the floor tentatively, you misstep just a bit, yet he catches you with ease. He always has caught you in your clumsy bouts, usually teasing or making fun, but when his arm wraps your waist?

He’s too stunned to think.

You already look too pretty in that dress, you’re so serious tonight – not the goofy girl he usually spends his days with. That flush that spreads across your cheeks and nose, the lights dancing across your bare skin in that dress, he avoids looking too fucking long at it, at the pretty necklace resting between your collarbones.

He wants to trail his lips across them – then lower, to the pretty breasts he had in his hand this morning, the mere memory almost makes him misstep, narrowly catching himself beforehand. You look up at him as if you’ll say something, the eyes of the entire rehearsal dinner on you, before you look back down at his chest, worrying your lower lip with your teeth.

“Am I a good partner, sugar bear?” He teases, lightening the mood then, you sigh and plaster on a smile and a nod, but it feels fake.

This is fake.

Why are you so absorbed, so lost in the cerulean depths that look down at you, twinkling just a bit with playfulness, yet when they briefly sweep down across your chest, you heat up under their gaze. Satoru spins you as instructed, bringing your back against him, hands joined while you look at each other, ending the dance.

Everyone is clapping, earning the slight embarrassment of the two of you, but it’s worse when your mom pulls you aside, hugging you tightly. “I’m so happy for you, to see you both so in love.”

Ouch.

You’re gonna hurt her.

You’re gonna hurt yourself.

You and Satoru sit through the rest of that dinner with ease, his arm casually thrown over your chair, leaning close to pull off the roll that will be done soon. You don’t want this to end, the way he treats you, looks at you – as if he truly does feel the way he’s merely pretending to.

“Everything all right?” You look at him then, concern on his features. At your little nod his lips press together, eyes narrowing. “No you’re not.”

He knows you too fucking well.

“I’m good, promise!” You put a hand on his thigh and squeeze just a bit, smiling brightly up at him.

He doesn’t buy it of course.

*****

Later that night back at home your family is still enjoying drinks and talking, you two are thoroughly exhausted. Satoru is setting up blankets and pillows on the floor, you guiltily sit in the bed, tugging the covers up to cover your chest and sitting up. It’s probably fucking better he does lay on the floor for your own sanity, yet you can’t stand the thought of not enjoying him in your bed for this short amount of time.

“Satoru, I can take the floor.”

“No way I let you do that,” he looks up at you, shirtless and wearing his pajama pants only, the way that makes you ache. “I clearly in my sleep grab your tits and cling like a monkey.”

“Yes you do,” you laugh a bit, and so does he, self deprecating as always, then a quietness settles in the room. “We could put a pillow between us?”

“I’ll probably still attack,” he’s teasing, eyes glittering with humor. “Should probably keep me on the floor.

You want him in bed.

You want him to ‘help’ you, as he called it just this morning, taunting and teasing you until you almost begged him. Yet you can’t just blurt that out – what part had been kidding, and what was serious? What crossed the line with the two of you anymore, could things just be at some ‘friendship’ level truly? Or would it just ruin everything to have a taste of him?

“Is it because I was so wet?” The word almost makes him whimper, eyeing you with those baby blues gone round.

“Is it… huh!?”

You press your legs together, looking away nervously. “Wet, I was soaking wet on you this morning.”

He swallows then – as if he needed a fucking reminder, as if he didn’t desperately run his finger down his own thigh and lap your juices clean off it the moment he was away. Sucking it so desperately and pathetically it was damn near laughable, just how badly he wanted you.

Why do you have to look so pretty on that damn bed?

“No, no that didn’t bother me at all,” he rubs the back of his neck, cursing the way you make him feel like that nerdy little boy he was the first time he ever tried to kiss you, way back during junior prom. The sweaty palms, the shaky hands, the awkward shifting of his feet. “I promise.”

You exhale, shutting your eyes. “I am making things all so weird.”

“You’re not,” you cover your face then, wincing a little bit at yourself. “Hey, promise you aren’t.”

The bed sinks underneath his weight, Satoru sits next to you – brushing your hair back softly, before grabbing your wrists and lowering your hands, making you meet his gaze. It’s quiet, so quiet you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, the gentle sound of his breathing mingling with your own.

“Your offer to help, is that off the table?” Satoru almost cums at the mere thought of touching you, but he’s so in shock he just stares, mouth wide open, until you feel so embarrassed. “Shit, forget I said that…”

“What do you need help with?” His voice is hoarse, just a bit scratchy, he clears his throat, still holding your hand, thumb brushing across your knuckles.

“Won’t it make it awkward, weird? I don’t want to fuck our friendship up, ever Satoru. It’s important to me.”

He cups your face gently. “Tell me what you want,” his raspy command almost destroys your resolve. “I’ll give you it.

You almost say – ‘fuck me please’ – Almost.

“Some relief you have so graciously offered,” you tease him a little, hand slipping up and down his chest. “I could return it.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He’s staring at your mouth now, picturing it wrapping his cock for a moment, then he pictures busting inside your mouth in one fucking second. He quickly shoves that idea out the window, he damn sure wasn’t gonna waste the moment he’s been waiting for since high school being embarrassed.

Your lips would feel so good. He shakes that off, pushing your back down on the bed and spreading your thighs before you can think. You gasp, his arms on either side of you, silky white locks falling over a brow, so close you feel his heart thrumming against your breasts, feel his heavy weight, touch burning your thighs, fingers pressing in.

“Satoru?” You manage a whisper, his hands slip up under his own shirt you stole, biting back a gasp when he realizes.

“Nothing under this?” You flush, looking down now. “Look at me.”

Fuck.

You just follow what he says when he’s like this, all the years of sweet nerdy best friend Satoru culminate in the man before you – still every bit Satoru Gojo – but this side of him you have never seen. A side you imagined so often, but nothing even prepared you for his fingers gliding up your thighs, causing them to tremble, slick dripping from your cunt from just the proximity.

“I’ll never not be here for you,” he whispers softly, as if sensing your every fear. “If you want to have a little experience with me, I’ll gladly give it and expect nothing in return.”

Your throat goes dry. “But why?”

“Why?” He reveals your cunt then, bare and glistening for his view, failing to control his hands from gripping you so tight you wince, from exhaling at how pretty it is. “Fuck… why what?”

“Why would you?”

“Hah, why would I?” He doesn’t even know where to begin to answer your nonsense.

“You’re looking at it!”

He laughs softly, nodding then, eyes affixed to how pretty your pussy is, touch trailing along your inner thigh, at the apex of it. “You want me to stop?”

“No.”

Your eyes are locked, his fingers grazing little trails up and down smooth skin, until he almost touches your core, teasing but not fully, making you throb with need. “Then tell me what you want me to do.”

“Make me cum – oh my god I just said that! Out loud!?” You cover your mouth and he almost bursts into laughter, even as he’s pressing his cock against the bed for friction, at how cute you are, instead his lips quirk up.

“Shh, want your parents to know I’ve got you spread wide?” His words are too much, the way he says them, the way he moves lower, so low you tug at his hair. “Do you not want that?”

“You’re… down there… and…”

“It’s so pretty.”

You ease a bit at those words, eyes shutting in relief, Satoru sees the tension ease just a bit. “It is?”

“God, yes.”

You swallow nervously, breaths coming in little pants. “We will always be in each other’s lives, this won’t fuck it all up, will it?”

Satoru kisses your thigh then, tongue flicking up to lap up a little of the slick that’s dripped down, a sensual mark of his saliva glittering when he pulls back. “I’d never let you out of my life. You think I’d not be your friend?”

“Just can’t lose you,” you whisper, before moaning softly, the sound so sensual Satoru almost can’t handle it. “I thought you could um… finger me?”

“I can do that too,” he kisses even higher, breathy moans escaping his lips. “But I am very, very fucking good at this.”

“The best at everything, hmm?” You manage to tease, acting like his nose brushing up your folds wasn’t almost enough to end you, your fingers gripping the sheets underneath you.

“I am the best at everything, it’s true,” he smiles all devious and cute, while your hands slip up his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense underneath your touch. “Wouldn’t I be the best friend in the world if you came on my mouth?”

Your own mouth goes dry, your answer lifting and spreading your thighs for him, he inhales your scent still looking at you. “I want you to, please.”

Satoru uses this as the permission to do something he’s been dying to for as long as he’s known what it is – to lick your pussy, the prettiest one, the yummiest one, a stripe straight up your slit. He maintains eye contact, you’re struggling to keep them open, his tongue soaking up the juices that start pouring then, until the tip of his tongue flicks your little clit.

“Ah!” He shushes you with a little shh that tickles you more, your teeth grip your lip, watching your best friend start lapping at your cunt. “Oh my god…”

“Mmm,” Satoru’s tongue is filthy as it runs up and down your slit, collecting every drop like it’s precious – and it is to him. The taste of you on his thigh hadn’t come close to this, to just how sweet you were going down his throat. He eyes you, parting your folds, watching your face screw up in pleasure, brows drawing together.

Best friends just don’t eat pussy like this.

He’s fucking you with that tongue, nose bumping your clit that’s aching for more, twitching in response, and you know this is so dumb, you know there’s no coming back from having those blue eyes look at you like that. Signing your death sentence – your cat lady sentence – with three more flicks, until the wet muscle is gripped by your gummy walls.

“Satoru,” you’re whispering out his name, struggling to hold back all the moans that threaten, instead releasing them in little shaky spurts under your breath. Your core is tightening with every fuck of his tongue, gasps escaping your lips when he shoves your thighs up, smiling down at you for a moment.

“Hold ‘em up f’me.”

You’re so exposed, holding your thighs as he orders, opening up even more for him, he moans at the sight, pressing messy kisses to your clit now, over and over in little circles, causing your hips to jerk. He smacks your cunt, looking down at you under those snowy lashes, lips coated in your gloss.

“Stay still,” he swirls two fingers in that arousal that’s pouring, running them up and down your slit ever so slowly, inching them and stretching you out. “Fuck, you’re so tight…”

“Mnh…” You are gripping him too much, he eases his fingers out with a wet sound that echoes, spreading you wide again and spitting right on your cunt, using that to sink his fingers back in.

“Better?” He murmurs, you nod quickly, eyes rolling back in your skull. Fingers pressing up on that soft spot over and over, earning your weak little mewl as a response, he smirks down at you. “That’s a yes, I take it.”

You nod again, words escape you, how can you talk when he’s flicking his tongue over your clit and moaning against your skin?

He’s so focused, so intense, his blue eyes never leaving yours, even as his mouth works you over with a hunger you never knew he had, one he’s just held back. You’re mad anyone ever got this. Stupid thoughts, selfish and greedy, your fingers now entangling and tugging at his hair, just making his moans vibrate on your little clit again, sending jolts of pleasure up your body.

Satoru’s thick fingers slide in and out with greater ease despite how fucking long they are, curling inside you, pressing that spot that makes you want to scream out – barely muffling it with teeth that are sinking into your lower lip. His tongue is relentless, swirling around your clit, then flattening to give it a firm lick that almost undoes you completely.

“Taste so good, fuck,” he whispers then he fucking just dives back down.

The ecstasy makes you weak while the pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, your thighs start to tremble while you hold them up and he adds a third finger, stretching you even more, filling you up until you can’t take it anymore. You arch your back, your hands tightening their grip on your thighs as you open more for him, gasping out.

“You’re close, huh sweetheart?” The way that word feels, the way he’s watching you, fingers still pumping in and out.

“Please, Toru,” Satoru almost cums at that little plea, so sweet and pliant, holding your thighs up like a good girl. He presses a kiss on one of them, rutting his cock against the mattress for any pressure.

“Mmm, then cum for me.”

Like some obeyed command it hits, your pussy clamps down on his fingers, pulsing around them as you ride it out, screaming into your palm, white hot stars behind your eyelids. You’re barely able to contain those pornographic little moans, so sensitive you’re jerking when he pulls those fingers out.

He doesn’t stop, though, continuing to lick and suck you hungrily, desperately, drawing out every last bit of your climax until you’re a writhing mess, twitching underneath him, clinging to his hair to pull him off. Satoru’s so drunk off your taste, your scent - you.

He almost can’t unlatch his mouth until he realizes how overstimulated you are, your aftershocks die down but he slips a finger back in just to feel you pulse, moaning softly before he finally slips it back out, plush lips giving your clit one last gentle kiss before sitting back and sliding up.

“So, how amazing am I, hmm?” He drags out those words, chin coated in your slick, you swipe some of it off just for him to nip at your thumb.

“Fuck… you are amazing at it,” you earn his dopey grin, he licks the rest of you off his lips, making you flush. “Don’t get so cocky.”

“I knew you’d admit it,” he eases your shirt down, your fingers trail across his abdomen, watching the muscles tense, tentatively touching him. He grips your wrist then, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do all that.”

“Don’t you want me to?” You ask curiously, his gaze zones in on your mouth again, picturing just brushing his tip on it and cumming.

“In what world wouldn’t I? But I don’t want to overwhelm you, you’re a cute little virgin you know,” he taps your nose, chuckling at your glare. “Pussy is perfect, in case you ever worry.”

“Oh,” you snuggle up to him while he wraps an arm around you. “Thank you, that was insane…”

“I’m at your service.”

“More figures incoming.”

He chuckles, hugging you tightly, you feel so good in his embrace, as you both feign an ease you don’t feel. “Are you all right with what happened?”

“Yes, very,” you look back and smile sleepily. “Are you?”

“Mmhmm,” he can’t very well say he’d die to be inside you, he doesn’t want to push this too far, unsure of where you all stand. “I’ll miss this weekend.”

It’s quiet, save for your breaths.

You shift a bit, hand running up and down his veiny forearm, tracing a few of them, hearing the hitch in his rhythm. “I’ll miss it too.”

Satoru just holds you tightly, inhaling your scent in his lungs and sighing. “Are you excited for the wedding?”

“Very, they’re so happy, you know?” You yawn a bit, it’s too comfy here, so comfy you wonder if you’ll ever sleep good again, knowing he’s here.

“They are,” he leaves it quiet, scared and unsure what to say, aside from murmuring - “Good night.”

“Night, Toru.”

Satoru can hardly sleep, remembering the way you felt underneath him, it takes a while to let himself drift, when he knows that he won’t get you in his arms again, and he just wants to savor every moment. You’re lightly snoring, turning to face him, slinging an arm around his waist, your cheek against his chest.

He just holds you close, studying a face too precious, wishing he wasn’t so afraid to just admit what he feels.

*****

You woke up in Satoru’s arms again this morning, and it felt far, far too good to be there.

You’re not even sure where you stand with him, exactly what last night was for you both, but you know it wasn’t normal to feel that way. It went beyond any pleasure or skill, the way you fucking felt when that man looked at you was inexplicable. Not just a product of beautiful eyes, no there was something in the way you felt last night that’s lingering.

You heat up with the memory even now, you’re both at your sister’s reception – the game is almost over, the show is almost done. You’re struggling to keep it together when you watch your sister dance with your dad, when you watch your new brother in law dance with your mom, then with each other.

Love.

You love your best friend, Satoru Gojo, and you knew going into this how bad it would hurt, yet you set yourself up like a glutton for punishment. This morning he’d smiled so sweet, teasing you and joking before you all were basically summoned with the sheer insane amount of things that had to be done before this wedding began.

It was too perfect being held by him, as much as you loved him licking you, you loved him holding you, grinning against your skin. He was in full ‘fake boyfriend’ mode, full best friend mode, just being Satoru Gojo, the boy you’ve always known. Yet now there was more shared between you both, more than you can even comprehend and it fucking scares you.

A boy from your childhood strikes up a conversation while many of your old friends go talk to Gojo, a part of growing up together meant you both knew almost everyone here. The boy asks you to dance, holding out his hand then, you hesitate though, looking over at Gojo, who’s watching you while he sips on his drink.

What were you two?

You’re overthinking it, maybe it was just fun for him, maybe it was curiosity that had him worshipping you like that. You eye his glossy lips across the elegant ballroom, him in this sleek black suit looking far too handsome, so handsome he takes your fucking breath away.

You can’t do this.

You can’t stand to see a girl’s hand on his shoulder, something you’ve seen plenty of times before, but now it was different. Now it didn’t feel okay, it didn’t feel right, and you know it’s foolish. You smile and let the boy lead you out, trying to remember that this was all ending tomorrow night, and would just be a memory.

Satoru can’t stand to see you in someone’s arms.

He almost crushes the glass in his hand before he sets it down, catching your gaze when the boy is stumbling damn near, probably due to how pretty you are. And god you’re beautiful under these lights, glimmering off your hair that’s all done up, the dress molding to your body in soft, shimmery satin, making him want to fucking rip it off you then and there.

Last night meant too much – was it just experimental for you, just that you trusted him to be your first in that way, comfortability? He was overthinking it, he knows that when he is dancing right across from you, hand on a waist he doesn’t want, other hand entwined with a hand that’s not yours.

It fucking hurts.

He got a taste of what could be his, and he’ll play it off like it’s fine, like you two are just the best friends in the world and he wasn’t hopelessly in love.

You look up at your sister dancing, she’s getting bent over her new husband’s arm, giggling and waving at you. You smile at her, wanting to feel more joy and not this envy, before your eyes lock back to Gojo’s seeing him spin her in his arms. You don’t expect it to hurt like it does in that moment, to see his arm around someone else’s waist.

He’s looking at you over her shoulder, blue eyes lowering just a bit.

Your heart shatters.

Your mom comes up to you, smiling and cupping your face then, “I feel soon we will be planning your wedding.”

You pause, mouth opening then shutting, tears burning the back of your eyes, when you realize you’ll have to hurt her. You’ll have to hurt them all, because you’re so fucking selfish, and mostly you’ve hurt yourself. Getting a taste of what it would mean to have the boy you’ve loved for as long as you can remember, being greedy with all of those tastes.

Satoru would move on from this, live his life, but you’re not sure you can, how do you get over him, over his touches, his kisses? How he held you, how he looked down into your eyes? Even now, he’s watching you, like he’d rather dance with you in his arms – utter nonsense in your fucking head.

You’re mistaking it all.

“Honey, are you crying?” Your mom frowns, brushing her fingers up and down your cheek, and you realize you are.

“The wedding, it got me so emotional, um…” You’re lying through your fucking teeth right now. “Can I have some air?”

“Of course,” she looks at you concerned when you run out. Satoru excuses himself and rushes to her curiously. “I think this wedding is making her a little emotional, Satoru.”

“Yeah, I’ll go check on her, okay?” He touches her shoulder affectionately, she nods and he rushes out, seeing it’s drizzling out – looking at your retreating form in that frilly pink dress just standing against the lit gazebo, head resting on one of the wooden pillars. “You’re gonna get sick out here, it’s gonna downpour soon.”

“I’m fine,” your voice is weak and hoarse, and Satoru swallows down the pain he feels when you look at him. “Go have fun, this is almost over, you don’t have to ruin opportunities.”

“Ruin what now?” His teeth clench together, the rain spattering gently over the two of you, dripping down his hair as it pummels you. “You danced with someone too.”

“Yeah, I did, that’s what we should do. Right?” Satoru’s hands come to grip your shoulders, chilled from the night air, the lights from the gazebo dancing across your skin.

“Is it what we should do? Is it what you want?”

“It’s what you want.”

“You don’t even know what I want,” he presses your back against that wood pillar now, a hand against it braced, taking the pummeling rain on his dress coat to protect you, making you cry even more. “Was last night the only time?”

“Was it… you want to do it again?” You’re heated up, looking down shyly. “I thought you regretted it.”

“Regretted? Hah,” Satoru tilts your chin up now, making your eyes meet his, brushing a thumb over your lip. “All I regretted last night was not sinking my cock inside you.”

“Satoru…” You blink tears down your cheeks, a hand coming to his chest, he takes it and holds it close, while your body responds. “But it means too much, I can’t just do that as a… friend.”

“So be more,” he lifts you before you can blink, holding you with one arm around your hips like it’s nothing, carrying you up those steps. “And stop getting soaked, unless it’s from me touching you.”

“Fuck,” you grip his face, kissing him deeply, he sets you down, walking you back until the backs of your legs brush against the bench. “Toru…”

“I love you, okay?” Satoru’s voice is muffled by the pounding rain on the gazebo that shelters you both, droplets of water slipping down his skin, you’re sobbing then, so overwhelmed. “I have loved you.”

“I love you, so fucking much, it’s why I’ve never…” You trail off, he’s leaning down and cupping your face, studying you with eyes glassy with emotion. “There is no one for me when you exist.”

He kisses you deeply at that, you shiver as he slips your straps down, eyeing the pretty white lace and exhaling. “You’re wearing that underneath this?”

You say nothing, speechless as Satoru tugs your sopping wet dress down your chest, pulling out a pretty tit and moaning. You gasp out when he sits down, pulling you to straddle him, sucking one nipple hungrily in his mouth. Hands entangle in damp white locks, heat building, that heat that’s pressed against his thick cock, pressing so insistently.

“Wanna bury myself inside you,” he murmurs, looking drunk off you, sucking on the other nipple, his hands slipping across your hips. “I want her to know my shape only.”

“Satoru,” you kiss him again, he’s hastily slipping that dress up over your hips, sinking two fingers in with ease. “Ah!”

“Soaked,” he whispers in wonder, curling them up and looking up at you the way only he does. “Stop me before I fuck you the first time in this gazebo.”

“I don’t want to stop,” your whisper is met with a sharp whine, fingers curling in your messy hole. “Want more.”

“Want me to eat you out again?” He whispers, pumping those fingers while you hastily undo his zipper. “Fuck, you need more prep, don’t pull him out, I’ll fucking shove it so deep.”

“Good, do it,” he’s whimpering when you touch him, stroking your hand up and down, finding that pre and swirling your finger. “He’s so pretty.”

“Don’t praise me too,” he huffs, you manage a little giggle, and in that moment – you all are still best friends, every bit of the comfortability – but there’s more. So much more. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You would never,” he pulls out his fingers, sucking them and moaning out at your taste, before kissing you again.

“You wanna take me?”

You’re a flustered mess now, overheated and damp from the rain, chest rising and falling while lightning flashes all around you both. “The first time?”

“I’ll help you,” he grips his cock at the base, running that velvety tip against your soaking wet cunt, moaning. “You can take as much as you want of me this way, I won’t hurt you.”

You’re emotional again, how much he cares. You’re kissing him while tears fall, rocking against his tip while he whispers your name. “Ah!”

You’re barely taking the tip, stretching your cunt out so good, the burn something you’ve never felt. You pull back to look down at him, his hands are gripping your hips under your dress, thumbs pressing into your pelvis, the sweet ache and pressure building, he eases you up a bit, then down, sucking in a few inches of him, your head falls back, scream echoing quietly in the rain.

“You all right, sweetheart?” He kisses up your collarbone, cock wrapped by your tiny little cunt, already milking him.

“Need help getting… it in…” He exhales, lifting you again, pressing the tip back in, then further, this time it burns less – but the pressure. “So much… too much…”

“Relax baby,” he’s calling you baby. You blink rapidly, letting him guide you up again. “Sit down on it, take what’s yours.”

Your hands grip his shoulders, fingers grabbing the soaking wet material of his jacket, eyes locked while you take more, his gaze lidded and dilated. “That’s it, look how fucking pretty you are.”

You feel so pretty, working up and down again, whining out at how full you are, how deep he’s getting, cunt leaking more and more arousal to accomodate. You feel him everywhere, so deep in your tummy, he’s kissing your chest, your throat, lapping up the rain from your skin, whining out softly under his breath when you roll your hips.

“Is that good? I…”

“It’s perfect, god,” he guides you again, his lashes fluttering shut at the ecstasy of your cunt rocking up and down. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart.”

“Mnh!” You’re taking more, easier every time, your thighs tensing with each thrust, taking more and more until you bottom out, screaming.

“Fuck,” he rests his forehead on yours, hands slipping to grip your ass, a cheek in each of his big hands. “Can’t hold back.”

“Don’t.”

Satoru moans, kissing you again, pulling you towards his chest and leaning back on that bench, starting to fuck up into you now, slamming your cervix. He’s whispering your name while he’s got you stuffed, stretched out on his thick length, he’s just as lost in it as you are, whining out right with you against your lips. Hands pressing in bruisingly while he drags you down.

“Using you like my pretty toy, you like that baby?” He’s completely done for when your eyes get wide, lips parted while you whisper a little yes. “Feel her stretching out?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp again when Satoru slams you down hard. “Toru!”

“Hold on t’me,” you do just that, clinging to Satoru when he flips you to your back on the plush cushion of the bench, tie hovering over your skin so silky. You tug it, bringing his lips to yours. He lifts a leg, sinking back inside you, you’re taking me easier and easier, messy cunt opening for him. “Want you to cum, can you sweetheart?”

Your nod is his answer, he exhales, already close with how tight you are, trying to hold out so you can chase that high, because he wants to see it, wants to feel it. Satoru shoves in deep, rolling his hips just so, when the pressure is too much, fucking unbearable. You shatter underneath him, pleasure rolling over your body even more intense than his mouth had given you.

Violently shaking, you’re drunk off him like he is off you, kisses and mumbles, while his cock works you, wrecks you with every stroke, slower and more calculated, letting you ride that orgasm out. And fuck you’re beautiful underneath him, damp hair splayed, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks, exposed breasts all littlered with marks from him.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he whispers, kissing you again, softer strokes slowing down and feeling those aftershocks grip his cock. “Mnh, baby m’close.”

“Cum inside me,” he needs no further fucking invitation, Satoru does just that, whining out your name against your ear when he buries his face against your neck, shoving in deep. “Ngh!”

Cum coats those slick walls in white, so hot and so much, you can feel him pulsing and thickening, pouring more cum deep. You try to catch a breath, but his leaky cock and the warmth spilling from your sensitive cunt have to cumming again, a little smaller but more sensitive, gripping him tightly.

Satoru eases back, your name on his lips, running his fingertips across your cheek and sighing, cock still snug inside you. “I never pictured this, in all the ways I’ve imagined taking you over the years.”

“Oh, how many ways?” You tease, hand entangling in his damp locks, while he presses kisses along your jaw.

“I’ll show you them all on one condition,” you blink now, a little sleepy, the rain slowly dying down. “You’re not my ‘fake girlfriend’ anymore.”

“Real?”

“Real,” you blink back tears, kissing Satoru again, when he pulls out of you and moans at the loss, sighing and studying you. “I still want that merch though.”

“You’re such a jerk!” You shove at him, he’s laughing and the sound melts your heart, the boy you’ve always loved resting on top of you, soothing kisses like little apologies. “Fine, I’ll get you anything you want.”

“Right now, I just want to kiss you some more.” He does just that, and soon your ‘fake boyfriend’ becomes entirely real.

Thank the 25k of you SO MUCH again for always hyping my ass up and motivating me to put these out :') I rly love yall and hope you enjoyed this fluff hehe <3

Kofi link if you wanna buy me a glass of wine

It makes him smile. “It’s actually insane.”

They don’t speak for a second.

Then Satoru rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling like it holds all the answers. “Did you see her face when she turned around? Like she actually considered murder. That little–” He cuts himself off with a half-groan, half-sigh. “God, I miss her already.”

“Goddamn headband pushing her hair back.” Suguru murmurs quietly, almost to himself. “And that sleepy look– fuck, man.”

Satoru nods immediately, enthusiasm brightening his voice. “I literally had to force myself not to stare at her mouth.” He says, palm dragging over his face dramatically. “She wasn’t even trying."

“She never has to.”

They fall comfortably quiet for a moment, standing together in easy silence, both lost in thoughts about you. Eventually, Satoru breaks it again, shifting to stretch his arms over his head lazily, shirt pulling slightly to expose a sliver of his toned stomach.

“Anyways, Yuki’s thing is tomorrow, remember? We gotta pick up from Naoya’s.”

Suguru grimaces immediately. “Ugh, I hate going to his place.”

“Same.” Satoru agrees, making a face. “But if we don’t, Yuki’s gonna be on our ass, which is worse.”

Suguru lets out a long sigh. “We don’t have a ride though. How’re we getting there?”

“We could take your bike?”

“Oh yeah, let’s just casually balance two duffel bags of Yuki’s premium on a ride with no backseat. Not suspicious at all.”

Satoru scoffs, puffing out his cheeks and turns away. They both wait in contemplative silence, frustration fading into resignation, before Satoru’s gaze slowly turns towards the small ceramic dish next to the door, where your spare car keys sit innocently among a handful of loose coins and gum wrappers. An idea lights up in his mind.

Suguru’s eyes follow his. They glance back at each other immediately, a matching smirk pulling at their mouths in perfect synchrony.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Satoru asks, eyes already shining with mischief.

Suguru raises his pierced eyebrow. “When am I not?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Maybe next time she should wear noise-cancelling headphones.”

You pitch your voice as deep and dumb as humanly possible, chin tucked to your chest, mouth twisted sideways in a sneer as you scrub the table in front of you like it’s responsible for all your life problems. Your cloth squeaks over the surface, and you can feel heat building in your cheeks the longer you think about it.

“BITCH, maybe YOU should shut the fuck UP and step on a lego, bitch.” The last word comes out more bark than sentence.

Your shoulders are tense, your hands are sore, your hair’s frizzed out from the steam in the kitchen. A rag smacks hard against the prep counter behind you.

“Oh my god.” Utahime mutters, shaking her head as she leans an elbow on the counter. “I would’ve hit him with the blender.”

“RIGHT?!” You fling the cloth into the sink with force. “He’s lucky I didn’t swing.

“No, because what even is that logic?” Shoko cuts in, wiping down the drink machine with zero urgency. “You live there. It’s your house too, and you’re not the problem.”

“Exactly!” You grab the cleaning spray, fire a few aggressive pumps at the next table, then snatch a nearby sponge and  wipe in sharp, angry circles. “Every two days, man. Every two days, they’re in there fucking into the wall like they’re playing a fuckass drum solo.”

You hear Haibara’s snort from across the room.

“Booo, tomatoes.” He tosses a crumpled napkin in the air and catches it one-handed. “Boo, get off the stage!”

“They’re SO loud.” You bite, volume climbing again as you stomp your way around the trash can. “Like, olympic medal level loud.” Your throat’s sore from the ranting.

Nanami walks behind you with a broken broom in hand, headed for the back closet. “That’s just disrespectful.” He says without missing a beat.

“THANK YOU.” You yell after him. You start wiping the soda counter, only barely restraining yourself from punching the lid dispenser. “OH, and Suguru!” You bark suddenly, dropping the sponge and throwing your arms out. “He had the audacity to do his hair with my claw clip. MY claw clip! Is he stupid or dumb or what is he?!”

There’s an instant chorus of noise behind you.

“STOP.” Utahime chokes, covering her mouth. “No way.”

Shoko’s fully wheezing now, body bent over the counter. “Please tell me you ripped it out.”

“I didn’t! If I tried to, he’d just take it off and play Piggy in the Middle with Satoru!” You grit your teeth, recalling the last time they pulled that shit with your hair tie, you had chased them through the kitchen whole hey tossed it back and forth between each other. You only got it back after kneeing Satoru in the balls so hard he dropped to the floor, hands cupping his groin like you’d shot him point-blank.

Hmph, he deserved it.

“You’re stronger than me.” Haibara says reverently from where he’s stacking chairs. “I would’ve committed a crime by now.”

“I wanted to.” You hiss.

You sigh, long and tired, dragging a hand down your face to calm down a little. “…They just make me so fucking mad.”

There’s a pause.

“You think they like, get off to that?” Shoko asks slowly.

“Shut the fuck up.” You snap, throwing a dish towel at her.

That’s all it takes. The entire group bursts into laughter. Utahime leans against the counter, Haibara’s doubled over, and even Nanami lets out one of those soft little huffs that’s almost a laugh. You can’t help but laugh too, the familiar ache of it shaking your shoulders.

God. You really needed this.

The restaurant falls quiet again, comfortable silence settling over the group as you all finish up your respective tasks. The clinking of plates, gentle squeak of cloth against glass, and soft sweep of broom bristles against the floor fill the quiet. Finally, Utahime breaks the lull.

“So,” She says, stacking the last dish with a soft clink, “are we still going to Yuki’s party tomorrow night, or are we officially too boring for that now?”

“We’re sooo going.” Haibara replies immediately, enthusiastic. “I have an exam coming up, but I’ll cry about it on Sunday.”

Nanami sighs deeply beside him. “Yu, you promised me you’d actually study this weekend.”

“I will!” Haibara insists, eyes wide and innocent. “I promise, just after we get absolutely wasted at Yuki’s first.”

“Balance.” Shoko says dryly, nodding sagely.

You laugh, leaning back against the booth cushions and crossing your arms. “I mean, I have that stupid Econ paper due too. Maybe we could study at the party?”

Everyone immediately stares at you like you’ve suggested a group suicide pact.

“Study…” Utahime repeats slowly. “…at a house party.”

You blink innocently. “It could be successful?”

Utahime’s eyebrows rise slowly. “I don’t know, getting vodka spilled all over my microbiology notes sounds absolutely thrilling.”

“You’re no fun.” You tease.

“I’m realistic.” She corrects.

“Booooriiiing.” Shoko sings, nudging Utahime’s shoulder gently.

“I think we can do it.” Haibara muses, looking thoughtful now. “Chaos is motivating.”

“Chaos is distracting.” Nanami argues, but he sounds like he’s already resigned himself. “Fine. We’ll bring notes. But you’re fully responsible when we inevitably fail our exams.”

Shoko cheers triumphantly, Utahime sighs like she expected this outcome from the beginning, and Haibara pumps a fist victoriously. You grin, feeling lighter than you have all day.

“Done then.” You declare. “Drinks, textbooks, shitty life decisions. What could go wrong?”

“Everything.” Utahime says flatly.

“That’s the spirit!”

You all laugh, finally gathering your things. Utahime grabs the keys, Nanami checks his watch, then turns to flick the ‘CLOSED’ sign on the door. “Clock out.”

“Yes, Dad.” Shoko says, already behind the counter punching numbers into the POS system.

Nanami doesn’t rise to it. “You’re not paid for overtime.”

“Romance me first, Kento.” She grins lazily. “At least take me to dinner before the hard truths.”

“You’re not my type.” He deadpans. “You remind me of a discarded cigarette.”

“That’s a compliment.” She blows him a kiss.

You snort and reach for your leather jacket, shoving your arms through the sleeves, before moving to switch off the lights. Haibara holds open the door and you all filter out into the night. The sidewalk glows under the yellow streetlights, air just cool enough to pull your sleeves over your hands.

“Later, losers.” Shoko waves lazily with two fingers. “See you tomorrow.”

“Text when you get home!”

Nanami and Haibara break off first, heading toward the station, their fingers brushing together as they walk, talking low between themselves. Shoko and Utahime follow a different path, their laughter fading into the dark.

And then it’s just you and the gravel under your shoes as you cross towards the lot.

You fish your keys out of your pocket, walking slow, already thinking about leftovers, except, when you reach your usual spot, you freeze.

Your car’s gone.

No. Fucking. Way.

“What?” The word comes out strangled, a sharp edge of panic cutting into your throat. “What the fuck?”

You’re pretty sure– no, actually, you’re one hundred percent fucking sure you parked right here, between that red Honda and the Jeep with the faded pride flag bumper sticker.

You scan around, disoriented, searching the lot desperately. Maybe exhaustion’s messing with you. Maybe– maybe you parked further down, or a different row tonight. You whip your phone out, thumb hovering to dial Shoko–

BEEP!

You jolt so hard your skeleton nearly leaves your skin.

You turn on your heel around, hair flinging into your face and heart thudding, and there it is. Your car.

Not only is it your car, Satoru’s in the driver’s seat.

Not only is Satoru in the driver’s seat, Suguru is lounging in the passenger seat. And they’ve got matching grins so wide they could volunteer to take over Clown Teeth Knockout and no one would tell the difference.

“Oh.” You seethe under your breath, your pulse hammering in your ears. “These fuckers.”

Your eyes narrow into slits. Satoru honks the horn again before wiggling his fingers through the small opening of the window like this is all very funny.

Stalking forward towards the driver’s side and the window quickly rolls shut. You reach at the door handle. It clicks under your grasp before you can yank it open. Locked.

“Open the door, assholes.” You punctuate each word clearly, pressing your palm flat against the window.

Satoru’s shit-eating smile only widens. He pretends not to hear you, tapping a finger against his ear theatrically.

“I know you can hear me, my car isn’t noise proof.” You snap.

Suguru chuckles from the other side, leaning across Satoru to offer you an apologetic shrug. He points his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards the backseat.

You take a breath, narrow your eyes, and step down. Sure enough, the back door pops open easily beneath your grasp. You slide in, the leather seat cool beneath your fingers.

“Get out. Get out of my car. Get the fuck out right now.” You grit out from clenched teeth, leaning forward sharply between their seats.

Satoru turns slightly in the seat, smile spreading like butter over burnt toast. “Hello to you too, gorgeous.”

Suguru leans his head back over the seat, resting his chin over his shoulder. You resist the urge to flick your eyes to his snake bites. “Did you miss us?”

“Explain yourselves. Now.”

Suguru’s eyes dance in amusement. “Explain what, pretty?”

You swallow your temper, counting silently to three. “How did you sabotage my car?”

“Sabotage?” Satoru echoes incredulously. He places a hand dramatically over his chest. “We would never–”

“You stole my car, you absolute shithead!”

Suguru chuckles softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Technically, we’re just borrowing it.”

Satoru nods all too seriously, ignoring your glare as he adjusts the rearview mirror to meet your eyes through it. “Yeah, borrowing.”

“How?!”

“Spare keys.” Satoru says cheerfully, clapping his hands together to his cheek. “You keep them in the dish by the door, silly goose. We took the train to get here and use them.”

“Those are for emergencies!” You yell. “You’re not supposed to use them!”

“You left them in a shared space.” Suguru’s voice is patient, like he’s explaining to a toddler mid-tantrum. “That makes it communal property.”

“Honestly, babe, if anything you should be grateful we didn’t just take off without you.”

Your jaw drops open at his sheer audacity, anger flushing your face hot. Without thinking, you lunge forward, pinching Satoru’s arm hard enough to turn it red. He yelps dramatically, jerking away from you.

“Ow! Violent little thing, aren’t you?” He rubs at the spot on his bicep.

“Shut up.” You snap back, falling against the back seat in a furious heap. “Why are you even here?”

Suguru sighs, leaning his head back leisurely against the seat. “We needed a ride to Naoya’s.”

You snort bitterly. “Why?”

Satoru hums distractedly, fiddling with the radio dials. “Yuki asked us to pick up weed for her party tomorrow.”

Of course she did. You press a hand over your eyes, the throb behind your temples building by the second. “So naturally, you commit grand theft auto? Why can’t you use your own car?”

Satoru scoffs loudly. “Um, my car’s in the shop? Weren’t you listening when I told you about the little accident last week?”

No, you weren’t listening. “You crashed it?”

“I didn’t crash it.” He defends immediately, with the gall of someone who absolutely did. “It got gently grazed by a SUV. Not my fault the guy couldn’t merge like a normal person.”

Your eyebrow furrow instantly in horror. “Oh, hell no. Absolutely fucking not. Get out of my driver’s seat right now, Gojo. You’re not crashing my baby.”

Both boys erupt into laughter at your visible panic. Satoru throws his head back, nearly smacking it on the headrest, while Suguru hides his laughter behind a relaxed hand, shoulders shaking.

And despite yourself, you feel a flip low in your stomach, a sudden flutter that makes your insides pitch sideways. Heat prickles up the back of your neck, creeping into your cheeks like you’ve been caught doing something embarrassing. Their laughter is stupid. This is stupid.

You cross your arms tighter and glare out the window, jaw set. “Okay.” you mutter. “Fun’s over. Out of the seat, Satoru.”

“But I like it here.” He flexes his hands over the wheel, drumming his fingers once.

“Gojo.”

You jolt forward slightly as the car pulls away from the lot, tires crunching over gravel. “Are you serious?”

“Seatbelt, pretty girl.” Suguru says mildly, not even turning to look.

“This is kidnapping.” You hiss, but you snap the buckle into place anyway, sulking back into the seat like a grounded child. “You’re literally kidnapping me right now.”

For a little while, it’s fine. Satoru actually drives normally, if you can believe that. His hands are steady on the wheel, posture relaxed, music low. The city rushes by in a blur of passing headlights and shuttered storefronts, and you let yourself breathe, tension starting to ease.

And then they look at each other.

You see it in the corner of your eye, that glance with matching smirks, and silent communication. You sit up fast.

“No.” Your voice sharpens. “I saw that. What are you two up to–”

The engine growls.

“I swear to god–”

The acceleration is sudden, your spine plastering to the seatback as your car surges forward, tires screeching against asphalt. Satoru laughs as he jerks the wheel hard, taking a sharp turn that sends your stomach slamming into your ribs.

The tires squeal like they’re screaming for help, and your body lifts slightly off the seat before slumping back down. Suguru lets out a low “Whew.” You catch him bracing against the doorframe with one hand looking all too relaxed, like he’s on some luxury thrill ride and not five seconds from becoming roadkill.

“Satoru slow the fuck down!” You grit out, voice an octave higher than usual, clutching the seatbelt so tight your knuckles ache. You’re going to get pulled over. You’re going to die.

“I can handle it, baby.” Satoru yells over the engine. “Watch this!”

“I don’t wanna watch anything!”

Another sharp turn, near miss with a street sign. You feel your soul leave your body somewhere past a gas station, and after about ten minutes of Satoru's reckless speeding, eventually, miraculously, the car slows. And just like that, you’re rolling up a private drive lined with glossy hedges and twinkling fairy lights.

Naoya Zen’in’s mansion looms ahead. Giant marble lion statues. A driveway you could host a wedding on. The garage alone is bigger than your entire house.

Satoru parks, turning the key and you sit there in silence, heart still lodged in your throat and questioning how you managed to survive. Suguru unbuckles his seatbelt, completely unbothered, already texting someone with an idle smile on his lips.

“See?” Satoru says, flashing you a wink through the rearview mirror. “Told you I could handle her.”

“Handle yourself into therapy.” You snap, fumbling to undo your seatbelt with shaking hands. “You freak.”

Suguru then turns back to glance at you. “You good?”

You glare at him. He blinks innocently.

Then Satoru tosses your spare keys into the air before catching them in one smooth motion and opens his door. “Alright, we’ll be five. Try not to die without us!”

Suguru’s already stepping out too, cracking his neck and stretching his arms overhead.

You wait exactly ten seconds after they disappear around the corner of Naoya’s stupid rich-boy mansion before you move. You’re out of the backseat in a flash, slamming the door shut with enough force to echo through the silent street. You yank open the driver’s side door and immediately curse.

“…Motherfucker.”

Satoru. That long-legged, Slender Man built bitch has adjusted everything.

The seat’s pushed so far back you might as well be driving from the backseat. Your feet don’t even reach the pedals. The steering wheel’s tilted up like it belongs to a bus driver. And the mirrors are all pointed directly into the fucking sun or something.

You sit there in stunned silence for a beat.

“Fucking MEN.”

You scoot the seat forward with a screech, yank the wheel down to where it belongs, and adjust your mirrors with a practiced rage. Your shift the gear and grip the steering wheel tight, still warm from where Satoru’s hands were.

Disgusting, you think even as your heart skips a beat.

You flick your eyes up to Naoya’s front door, still closed, and let yourself smirk.

“Steal my car.” You mutter. “Drive it like it’s Need for Speed. Scare the living shit out of me. And laugh about it?”

Your foot gently taps the gas, and the car rolls forward. You coast down the driveway at a smug crawl, windows down, wind brushing your face. And that’s when you see them. They round the corner of the house just as you pass the gate

Satoru with a duffle bag over his shoulder like it’s designer, and Suguru holding his like a briefcase.  You lock eyes with them as you pass them, and it’s beautiful. The way their expressions immediately switch from relaxed to “oh no.”

Your middle finger lifts in a perfect arc.

“Wait–” Suguru’s voice is cut off by Satoru’s much louder.

“HEY! WAIT! WE NEED TO GET HOME!”

“WALK HOME!” You call back sweetly, before slamming gas.

Behind you, in the mirror, you catch one final glimpse of Satoru running after the car, arms flailing in outrage, while Suguru just stands there with both hands on his hips, duffle bag discarded by his feet.

You’ve never tasted a victory so sweet.

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the ceiling never changed, even when the rest of the house did.

bookshelves replaced toys. posters replaced finger paintings. she grew taller, her giggles deeper, her footsteps heavier.

but the stars stayed.

you caught her once, at seventeen, lying in bed after a long day, face turned up. her eyes were rimmed red from a silent cry she thought you hadn’t noticed.

“can’t sleep?” you asked gently. she shrugged, then whispered, “i miss him.”

“me too.”

she looked up again. “sometimes i feel stupid. it’s been so long.”

“grief doesn’t know clocks,” you said. “and neither does love.”

she nodded, blinking up at the ceiling. “they’re starting to peel off.”

you looked too. some corners were curled now, soft from time and heat. one star had completely fallen, tucked somewhere behind the headboard maybe. 

“we could take them down,” you offered. “or put new ones up.”

she was quiet for a while.

“no,” she finally said. “i like the old ones. he touched these.”

on the night she graduates college, you find her in her old room, just for a moment, dress still on and heels in her hand. she’s looking up. the stickers are faded now, barely holding on, only glowing if you really let your eyes adjust.

“you okay?” you ask from the doorway.

“yeah,” she says, smiling faintly. “just… he would’ve clapped the loudest today.”

you walk over, place your hand over hers. “he would’ve lost his damn mind,” you say, laughing through the ache. “probably yelled your name way too loud, embarrassed both of us.”

“he would’ve stood on the chair.”

“and made everyone look at you.”

you both laugh, then fall quiet, eyes tracing old constellations on a familiar ceiling.

“he never took them down,” she murmurs. 

“no,” you say. “because love like his… it stays.”

and so do the stars. even if they fade. even if they fall.