​𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔢

gojo !

geto !

toji !

choso !

sukuna !

yuji !

megumi !

‘bloodhounds’ is a punk band she and you discovered and started following a little bit over a year ago and they’re finally coming to your city for a show. admittedly, you have the hots for the drummer, choso kamo, whilst your best friend simps over the lead vocalist, satoru gojo. being a fangirl is one of your biggest joys in an otherwise boring, routine adult life.

it’s packed when you arrive at the venue, and you're grateful you opted to wear your platform combat boots since you were stuck in the very back of the crowd. you hover near the bar, ordering two shots to start off the night on a high note. your skin feels warm, ironically forming goosebumps as the concert starts. 

the minute the band steps out onto the stage, you’re in awe. the venue is small enough that you can make out their faces pretty clearly from the distance you’re standing at, heart pounding wildly in your chest as you finally catch sight of choso before he takes a seat behind the drumkit.

“fuck,” you huff to yourself, “he’s so damn pretty it’s actually unfair.”

you drink a little more than intended, having been so into the show that you stopped keeping track of how many beverages you’d ordered at some point. the cool air greets you kindly as you exit the stuffy venue once the show has concluded, dragging your stumbling body towards the direction of your apartment.

at least, you think you’re going the right way. the surrounding buildings seem familiar enough.

“woah, woah,” a voice sounds beside you as two palms suddenly enclose around your shoulders, “careful there, sweetheart. you’re gonna fall and hurt yourself.”

your stomach churns and it’s not from the alcohol. your blurry eyes flicker to meet the face of a man you don’t recognize, the chilling smile on his face making your blood run cold. you take notice of the alleyway you’re now standing in with the stranger, having no concept of when you were dragged into the dark space along with him.

“w–what, who are you?” you slur, beginning to hyperventilate as you try to figure out how to make a run for it. but your body is tired from the two hours of dancing and x amount of cocktails and your grip on his wrist does nothing but falsely convince him you’re trying to make a move.

he laughs, leaning closer to your face. “i love a woman who takes initiative.”

“get off!” you yell, ducking your head before his lips can touch you. you’re writhing in his arms, tears forming in your eyes as you try to breathe. “l–let me go!”

he tsks. “quit yelling, you’re gonna draw attention.”

“i said get off–”

the man shrieks with an agonizing groan as something collides with the side of his head, him unwillingly losing his grip on you to stumble backwards from the impact. you just barely make out what looks to be a slim piece of wood– a drumstick, but you can’t tell in the nightfall– clatter on the ground a few inches away from your bodies. you hear a shuffle of footsteps from the entrance of the alleyway, head lifting to look in their direction. 

you blink profusely in an attempt to comprehend the body fast approaching you and the man, but it’s dark and you’re still drunk as hell.

“she said get off,” the voice is sharp, and surprisingly, it’s one you somewhat recognize… but, who is it?

the newly appeared man grips your assaulter by the shirt collar, sending him a swift, harsh punch to the nose before carelessly releasing him to fall to the ground. he looks at you, grabbing your wrist quickly, yet cautiously, so as to not scare you further, to pull you out of the darkness into the lit area of the sidewalk.

he lets go of your arm as soon as you’re around other people and away from the culprit, concerned eyes searching your face to check in with you. “are you okay? did he hurt you?”

your gaze meets his and you freeze; you’re close enough now that you can see exactly who it is that saved you back there, and you understand why you recognized his voice. what a wild turn of events.

“c–choso kamo?” you squeak.

his worried expression turns into a soft smile and he releases a chuckle. “that’s me,” he says, “but it doesn’t answer my question.”

you swallow hard. seeing him only inches away from you is making your heart feel like it’s going to burst out of your chest at any moment. “i–i’m fine,” you breathe, “he didn’t hurt me. you got there in time.”

“thank fuck,” he exhales in relief, “i heard commotion on my walk back to the hotel and something didn’t feel right. glad i checked.”

“thank you,” you blush, big glossy eyes full of gratitude and one too many gin and tonics staring back at him.

“don’t mention it,” his smile is warm, “do you have a ride? i can call you a cab.”

“i don’t live far from here, i can just walk!”

he looks dumbfounded by your answer. you’ve clearly forgotten what kind of state you’re in. “no way in hell,” he asserts, “you’re drunk and some asshole assaulted you five minutes ago, you think i’m gonna just let you walk home by yourself?”

your stomach flips from his tone. it’s so caring, so firm, so… so sexy. “y–you’re right, i’m sorry.”

“you have nothing to apologize for,” he assures you, “i just want to make sure you get home alright.” you nod and he passes you his phone for you to type your address into his rideshare app. he facepalms himself for doing that instead of asking you to tell him, because you’re making typos out the wazoo. he snorts, carefully prying the device from your fingertips. “on second thought, why don’t i type it in for you? i can also choose a close landmark if you’re more comfortable with that.” you shake your head and tell him your address, keeping your voice hushed enough for precaution. he glances at the estimated time of arrival once he finishes. “should be here in about ten minutes. let me buy you a water in the meantime, yeah?” he offers, tilting his head towards the corner store that sits directly behind where you’re both standing.

“thank you,” you smile, following closely behind him as you two step into the shop.

“so,” he starts while your bodies shuffle towards the refrigerators located in the back, “it sounds like you know me, but i’m not sure i know you,” he teases, referring to your outburst of calling out his name earlier. “have we met before?”

you shake your head no. “i was at your show tonight. huge fan, by the way.”

“ah,” he sings, understanding the situation, “thanks for coming. what did you think?”

“incredible,” you blurt out before your brain can catch up. he smiles in amusement at your honesty. “my best friend and i were so excited when you announced our city as a stop on the tour.”

“where is she?” he asks, curious why you were on your own, then, in such a vulnerable state, “did she leave early?”

“no,” you answer, “she had something come up last minute and couldn’t make it tonight, but i’d be damned if i missed the show just because i’d be going alone.”

“fair enough,” he grins. you two approach the checkout counter. you watch the way his hands flex– such beautiful, perfectly sculpted hands that could only be a result of his intense drum playing… and maybe something else that sits at a place in your mind you so desperately want to go to– as he pays the cashier, quickly passing the cool bottle over to you afterwards. “here,” he says.

“thank you,” you smile, and it’s one much bigger and more comfortable now that you’ve calmed down from the earlier incident and you two are a bit more acquainted. 

you sip slowly as you wait for the cab to arrive, choso leaning against the brick wall beside you outside as the spring breeze kisses his skin. his attention flickers to you for a moment, the wind hitting your hair in such a pretty way that his breath hitches in his throat.

“what’s your name,” he asks, pushing his thoughts aside, “if you don’t mind me asking?”

just as the cab pulls up, you respond, “y/n,” and his heart stops. a beautiful name for a beautiful woman is only fitting. “thanks for this,” you lift the water bottle up in the air towards him before screwing the cap back on, “and for helping me earlier. you saved my life back there.”

“not a problem at all,” he swallows hard, because he realizes you’re about to slip away from him without him ever knowing anything else about you and it pains him. 

but, your next gesture may just so happen to be his ticket to seeing you again. you’re digging into your purse and pulling out a tiny notebook and pen. “here,” you smile, ripping a page out with something scribbled on it and handing it over to him. it was surprisingly legible. “my number. let me repay you for tonight sometime, okay?”

he found it charming that you didn’t just ask to see his phone and input it in there, or have you tell it to him so he could do it himself, instead of going the old school route. maybe you just preferred handwritten exchanges of contact information. "you don't have to–"

"i want to," you insist.

he smiles, "okay, then. i'll send you a text right after you get into the cab so you can save my number.”

“great,” you bite your lip and choso– almost– visibly freezes. “you get home– well, to the hotel– safely, too, okay?” you’re halfway into the backseat as you wave goodbye to him. “thank you again!” you shout as you pull the door shut.

choso stands there, staring at the curb where the cab was parked just moments ago before glancing at the piece of paper still resting in his hands. he smiles with a small chuckle, fishing for his phone to add your contact.

choso: get in okay? this is choso

your text comes in about fifteen minutes later as he comfortably plops down on the armchair back in his hotel room.

you: idid thankljl so muuch!!32 you: sorry, still drfnk haha

choso laughs at your mistyped texts, heart settling with the knowledge that you were safe and sound.

choso: sleep well, y/n. call me if you need a friend to eat a greasy hangover breakfast with

he feels stupid for suggesting that. sure, he’s in your city for the rest of the week to do some band interviews, but he can’t help feeling like sending that text was a mistake. he sounds like a goddamn simp. he’s known you for less than an hour. 

“ah, shit,” he groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “i’m a mess already.”

you stare horrified at your phone the second you unlock it the next morning– or, rather, 2 pm– just a few minutes after you wake up. the most recent text chain is fully displayed on the screen.

you hadn’t saved the contact yet given you were drunk as fuck, but seeing ‘this is choso’ in the first text makes your heart explode. and then it only gets worse as you read your sent messages full of typos and his mentioning of grabbing breakfast together.

“what the fuck?” you huff out, feeling like you’re dreaming. when did you exchange numbers with choso fucking kamo from your favourite band?

the memories are blurry, so you wind up panicking and sending him an apology text asking for an explanation of the previous night's events.

you: hi, choso! im so sorry, i don’t remember much from last night at all.. how did i get your number? was i weird? oh god i hope i wasn’t fucking weird.

choso’s laughing on the other end, biting into his pasta lunch as he reads your message. his bandmate, satoru, sits across from him, narrowing his eyes at his apparent giddiness.

“the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks suspiciously.

choso stills for a moment, flickering his attention to his friend, then blushes. “nothing.”

“...okay.”

choso clears his throat awkwardly, choosing to ignore satoru still burning holes into his head as he replies to your message.

choso: hey, y/n. i get it, you were pretty out of it. some asshole tried to hurt you and i beat his ass. bought you some water and waited with you until the cab came. you weren’t weird at all. you said you wanted to repay me for helping you so we exchanged numbers.

you exhale a sigh of relief, heart settling– but only a little bit, because you were still, apparently, in cahoots with your crush. and you’re the one that initiated it.

you: shit, that’s good to know. would hate to make a fool out of myself in front of you haha. anyway, um, yeah i have no idea how to repay you but i definitely feel like i want to and should. choso: we can go off of my breakfast idea, if you want. dinner tonight at 7? if you’re up for it. not sure how out of commission you are as we speak lol

your stomach flips and you take a deep breath to calm yourself down. “it’s not that serious, y/n, it’s just a thank you,” you speak to yourself in an attempt to ease the nerves.

you: i’m feeling okay tbh, tonight works great!  choso: awesome, any recommendations? this is your side of town, after all. you: [map location] i fucking love this spot choso: perfect

for the next few hours, you can hardly focus on anything else. that’s to be expected. and what the fuck are you supposed to wear on a ‘date’ with the hottest drummer to ever grace the earth? jesus christ.

eventually, you settle on a nice blouse and jeans. the restaurant is casual dining, and you don’t want to come off like you’re reading way too much into this– part of you is, in all honesty– so it seems like the best option.

choso’s already waiting outside of the restaurant when you arrive, hands stuffed into his pockets and leaning against the brick wall. he’s wearing his hair down, a look much different than his usual on-stage persona, and fuck, it’s doing things to you that you’ll have to try your damnest to ignore the entire evening in order to interact with him like a normal person.

“hey,” he greets you, pushing himself away from the wall as you approach him, “okay getting here?”

you nod. “train was a bit delayed, but what else is new?”

“ah, good old public transit,” he jokes.

you laugh, stepping past him into the restaurant as he holds the door open for you. despite your nervousness, being alone with him feels natural. your reservations are long gone by the time the appetizers arrive, and you’re yapping about a plethora of topics together such as how many siblings you both have and discussing the latest conspiracy theories.

“you’re a lot of fun, y/n,” choso compliments as he finishes his main dish. “i’m really glad we did this. not so fond of how it came about, i obviously would have loved to have met you under better circumstances, but,” he smiles and your heart flutters, “i’m happy we did.”

your cheeks are warm, eyes flickering bashfully to your lap. “yeah,” you hum, “me, too.”

choso rides the train with you to take you home after dinner. his lack of understanding of your city’s transportation system makes you laugh, because he’s trying to act all big and protective by taking initiative, but has no idea what the fuck he’s doing.

“cute,” you think silently, observing him focusing on the map, brows furrowed and deeply in thought. “choso,” you call him a moment later, smiling, “just follow my lead.”

he sighs in defeat, but chuckles, knowing full well it makes the most sense. a few bumps during the ride causes his chest to slam into yours, him catching himself from pushing you too hard against the doors. 

he tilts his head to look at you, whispering “you okay?” but you’re definitely not. his palm rests beside your head, the other still gripping onto the railing above you and he’s so fucking close.

“y–yeah,” you swallow. you’re hoping he doesn’t notice.

he keeps a safe distance from you the whole walk to your apartment complex. given how he found you, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable unintentionally.

“thank you for tonight,” you smile sweetly as you begin to walk up the stairs towards the lobby entrance, “how long are you in town for?”

“three more days, but we’ll be back in a few months for some more interviews and such.”

your stomach sinks. you knew full well he wouldn’t be around forever, but it still feels like a punch to the gut to hear him say it. 

“ah,” you reply, “well, maybe we can meet up again when you’re back in town?”

his smile is kind, but sad. he, like you, felt the impact of you two parting soon. “i’d like that.”

“keep in touch until then,” you say, heart pounding violently as you reach out to brush his shoulder in a friendly manner. you keep it there a beat too long.

choso’s pulse quickens at your touch, skin searing hot underneath your fingertips. “yeah,” he nods, smiling softly, “of course.”

“goodnight, choso.”

“goodnight, y/n.”

satoru’s sitting on the edge of his bed when choso enters the hotel room later, arms and legs crossed with a smirk plastered on his face. “and just where the hell have you been?”

“just… exploring the city.” 

“hm, with y/n?”

choso’s eyes widen, head whipping in his friend’s direction faster than the speed of light. “how did you–”

“saw the name pop up on your screen earlier when you were showering. thought maybe it was your mom or something.” he still looks smug, biting his lip in amusement. “i fucking knew it was a girl.”

choso scoffs. “you don’t know shit.”

“oh ho ho,” saturo laughs, “fiesty.” choso rolls his eyes. “anyway, is she nice?”

choso doesn’t want to be having this conversation. satoru is a nice guy, sure, but he’s a menace. choso knows that if he gives him any amount of information, he’ll never let him hear the end of it.

but, when choso looks at satoru again, he notices a glint in his eyes that seems genuine unlike other instances.

so, his heart melts in that moment and he opens up to him. just a tad. “yeah,” his smile is gentle, “she’s really great.”

satoru’s heart pangs briefly. for as long as he’s known choso, he’s known him to be someone who falls hard and fast. he’s witnessed his heart being broken one too many times to just let this newfound romantic interest slide past him so easily, but despite his usual antics, he decides not to pry too far this time. just… enough to show some brotherly concern and love. 

“i’m happy for you, man,” he says, “just be careful, okay? i don’t want to see you getting hurt again.”

“i know.” choso swallows.

“good.”

choso: i miss you so fucking much [image attached]

choso’s pouty selfie warms your heart as you finish scrambling your eggs, facetiming him right after you sit down to eat breakfast. 

“hey, cho,” you greet, “i miss you more.”

“not possible,” choso scoffs, “i will die on that hill.”

you laugh, taking a bite of your food. he just stares at you, amber eyes full of deep affection and yearning– it makes you fall in love even more with the man on your screen.

except, you aren’t official yet. no matter how much you two act like a couple, neither of you have brought it up for discussion. it’s almost as if your career differences and the long distance keeps you two stagnant, and you just pretend like everything is fine as it is. ignorance is bliss, as they say.

or so you think. but really, it eats at you every damn day that he doesn’t live closer, that he’s only in your city on occasion, that you communicate primarily through a screen. you stayed in touch with each other like you promised after you two met a few months ago, and things just unraveled organically from there. the mutual attraction was obvious.

it was hard to read the other, though. neither of you could quite figure out what the other was scared of, what was holding them back from taking the next step.

the last time you two met up was for a few drinks after one of his band’s interviews back in your city, just like he mentioned before you two parted ways the night you met. 

it was perfect, everything about it. he kissed your cheek goodnight then and the feeling still lingers, skin tingling as if it permanently tattooed you.

ever since then, the desire for more has just kept growing. more time, more effort, more touch– more, more, more. you can’t just have a small piece of choso and be satisfied. your heart needed him much deeper than that. 

“i was thinking,” you started, “maybe i could fly out to see you?”

choso’s breath hitches in his throat. you wanted to fly across the entire fucking globe to visit him? “y–yeah? you want to come to tokyo?”

you smile. “i’ve always wanted to visit japan, and now i have more of a reason to.” maybe you were stupid to suggest such a thing when he’s not even your boyfriend…  

but fuck it.

his face is redder than the crimson shirt you’re currently wearing. “fuck, i’d really love that. wanna show you around my city.”

“then it’s settled,” you beam, “does sometime next month work?”

“fuck yeah it does.”

tokyo reminds you a lot of home when you first step foot into the bustling atmosphere; everyone is on the move, and the air is filled with the sweet aroma of nearby taiyaki stalls– your favourite dessert that, though you fail every time, you make for yourself at home quite often. 

“y/n!” choso’s voice slices through the crowd chatter, your head instantly whipping around to see him standing near the entrance of the subway. “oh my god,” he smiles wide, jogging over towards you. he pulls you into a hug immediately, hands curling into your hair as he cups the back of your head. you nuzzle your chin into his shoulder as he does the same to you. “fuck, i’m so glad you’re here. like, you’re really here. in my fucking city.”

“that i am,” you giggle as you break apart from one another. 

he’s this fucking close to kissing you. but he doesn’t. he grins at you, taking one of your suitcases into his hand so he can help you transport your luggage with ease. the train is, fortunately, not too crowded this time of day.

his apartment is beautiful. it has almost a gothic vibe to it, but modernized. it’s very befitting for his personality. 

“i have to head to the studio for a few hours, but feel free to make yourself at home, help yourself to anything in the fridge, all that jazz.” he parks your suitcase against the wall. “the rest of the week i’m all yours.”

you're exhausted from your flight, but you want to see him in action behind the scenes. this is your only opportunity since he took off for the duration of your visit. “can i come along?” you ask.

his heart jumps excitedly, but he’s a bit hesitant. “are you sure? you just got here. you’re probably tired.”

“i am,” you agree, “but i wanna see you hard at work.” you bite your lip flirtatiously and choso nearly faints. “is that okay?”

“yeah,” he exhales like he hasn’t breathed in a millenia, “of course it’s okay.”

the studio smells faintly of weed mixed with coffee, which, not to be stereotypical, but, you sort of expected from a band. 

you’re slapped in the face with reality when you realize the rest of the members are right in front of you, in the flesh. sure, choso told you he had mentioned you to them before and showed them pictures, so they’re aware of your existence, but you hadn’t actually met any of them yet. 

“woah, y/n’s here!” satoru sings from the mixing booth, standing up from the chair abruptly to come greet you. “i’m satoru, but you probably knew that already. cho here mentioned you’re a fan,” he teases and you blush, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“likewise.” you grin kindly.

the bassist, kento nanami, and lead guitarist, suguru geto, emerge from the recording booth, all smiles with a hint of mischief as they introduce themselves.

“kento,” nanami shakes your hand, “welcome to tokyo.”

“happy to be here!”

“i'm suguru," geto bows to you politely, "safe flight?” you nod. “good to hear. i hope you enjoy your stay.”

you soon settle on the couch behind the mixing station, wrapping your arms around your knees as you bring them up to rest against your chest. the boys get into work mode, chatting about some music terms you recognize– others you don’t– sorting through what they want to work on during the session. 

your time in the studio is… soothing. which is ironic, considering they make punk music. but, it seems that they are working on some slower, exploratory tracks this time around. the lyrics and intention maintained punk, though the instrumental screamed ballad.

choso’s recording background vocals and your stomach does a thousand somersaults. you’ve heard him a million times whilst listening through their tracks on spotify, but live is on a whole different level; unfortunately, you were too drunk to remember much of their concert when you attended earlier in the year, so this is kind of your first time hearing them live. there’s something so intimate and captivating about experiencing it in the tiny, warm space of the studio. you can just sense the love between the four boys for each other and what they do. it’s truly a beautiful thing to witness.

“damn, were we that boring?” satoru teases. your eyes shoot wide open and you see him standing over you. the others are packing up their belongings.

you don’t even know when you’d drifted off. “oh, shit,” you chuckle, “i didn’t realize i fell asleep. the guitar riffs were very calming.”

“mhm, sure,” he jokes.

you roll your eyes playfully.

“you ready, babe?” choso calls out to you, and not only you, but everyone else freezes in place.

“babe?” suguru repeats, crossing his arm with a smirk. he looks at choso, “you moved into using pet names with each other and didn't tell us?”

your face is burning and your eyes flicker elsewhere. choso has never called you 'babe' before. this is the first time, and in front of all of his bandmates didn’t make it any less daunting.

“no!" choso denies, "oh, fuck,” he looks horrified, “i–i wasn’t even thinking, it just slipped out–”

when you start giggling, his statement drifts off. “it’s okay, cho,” you smile, heart thumping tirelessly against your ribcage, “i don’t mind.”

“oh, how romantic,” satoru sighs dramatically, “it’s disgusting.”

everyone bursts out laughing– even kento, who seems the most reserved of the four– as the five of you exit the studio together.

choso’s a bit quiet on the trip back to his apartment with you. a few times, his fingers accidentally brush against yours at his side and it feels electric. you want to ask him to hold your hand, but still, you’re a bit reluctant.

“hey,” choso’s voice is low, and there’s a hint of uncertainty, “i’m sorry for back there… you know, for calling you ‘babe’. i know you said it’s fine, but i should have been more mindful. we’ve never– never talked about calling each other nicknames like that.”

you smile at his apology. he’s always so gentle and considerate, it melts your heart a thousand times over each time he’s this way with you. “it’s okay, really,” you reassure, “if i’m being honest… i liked it.” you swallow hard, pointing your face towards the ground. your little confession of feelings weighs in your chest too much in that moment.

“yeah?” he squeaks, “that’s good, then.”

then, you notice it. the pressure rising deep within your bones begging you to say more. to tell him how you really feel. “can you….” you start, taking a deep breath, “can you keep calling me that? and maybe other similar terms, too?”

“o–oh,” choso exhales, heart nearly about to explode. he can’t believe this is happening. “yeah– yeah, i can do that… um, w–what else do you like?”

you pause to think. “baby, love… i don’t know, really. i think i’d like anything if it's coming from you.” 

your smile is so fucking beautiful that choso is seriously near ready to pass out. he actually ends up having to pause his walk beside you for a moment because he can hardly breathe. you panic at first, but he holds his hand up to assure you he’s fine. “cho, are you—”

“i’m good, i’m good,” he sighs, “i just– fuck, i’m feeling a lot of intense feelings right now. not in a negative way, just…. hah, what am i even saying?” he starts laughing nervously and rambling, “i just– god, i really fucking like you, y/n.” this isn’t how he planned his confession to go, but life never goes according to plan, does it? “i’ve been feeling this way for a while and i just– i just freaked myself out and didn’t say anything. i don’t know, i guess i was scared or something. fuck, i’m just rambling now, i’m sorry.” he laughs at himself then shuts up.

your stomach twists into knots and your skin tingles with warmth. he likes you.

choso kamo.

choso fucking kamo likes you.

“oh my god,” your mouth moves before your brain can catch up, “i–i’ve been waiting to hear you say that. fuck, i feel exactly the same, cho,” you’re a bit breathless from your excitement, smile so big, bright, and delighted. “i like you so fucking much, i don’t think you have any idea how much.”

choso whimpers. whimpers. “oh, thank god,” he exhales, “for a second I convinced myself you’d reject me.”

you step closer to him, and then you reach out your hand, touching his intentionally this time. his eyes flicker to your face, then down to where your fingers rest on him.

“can i… hold your hand?” you ask, tilting your head along with your question.

you’re so cute that he wants to die. “fuck, yeah,” he huffs eagerly, “please.”

despite being two adults in your twenties, you both feel like teenagers falling in love for the first time. when you part ways from each other for your designated bedrooms back in the apartment, choso leans in to kiss your cheek like he’d done before the last time you were together.

but, you have other plans.

“cho,” you whisper. his chest aches. “i want you to kiss me for real. only i–if you want–”

he grabs your face and slams his lips onto yours, your back smacking against the closed door to the guest room from the intensity. you melt immediately, arms wrapping around his body and mindlessly pulling at his shirt. he moans when your tongue swipes across his and his hands drop down to your waist.

he pulls away breathlessly, resting his temple against yours. “fuck,” he gasps, “i–i need to stop before i do too much.”

“i don’t mind.”

“but i do,” he smiles apologetically. “trust me, i really want to take things further i just– i just know i’m going to guilt trip myself into thinking i used you since we only just told each other our feelings. we haven’t even made anything official yet…”

your heart melts. how did you get so lucky, falling in love with a man so kind and respectful as him? “i’ll wait as long as you need to, babe,” his chest palpitates from the nickname, “just know that i’m ready whenever you are.”

he kisses you again, softly this time, before bidding you goodnight. “rest well, y/n,” he hums. his raspy voice makes you shiver. 

“you too, cho.”

unfortunately, for both of you, you toss and turn for hours, thoughts running wild with what could have happened if he’d kissed you for longer, if he’d invited you inside his room, or vice versa.

and, unbeknownst to either of you, you both came into your own hands that night, in the tense silence to those dirty, helpless thoughts. 

and it’s not the first time.

choso can’t do it.

well, he is doing it, but it’s nearly impossible for him to keep it together.

living in close quarters with you for the week with innocent run-ins when you’re dressed in tiny pajama shorts, yawning and shuffling lazily into the kitchen whilst he’s preparing breakfast in the mornings is rapidly making his patience run out. 

he feels ridiculous. it was his decision, anyway, to take things slow. you, on the other hand– to put it bluntly– are open 24-hours. he just has to tell you when he wants it. 

he didn’t mean to give in thursday night, but the slit of your navy blue dress kept riding excruciatingly high up your leg as he sat across from you at dinner, hands undetectably trembling around his water glass. you were ranting about an upcoming project at work you truly didn’t give two shits about, and all he could focus on was your exposed thigh. just a little more and…

“fuck,” he croaks, then immediately turns red out of embarrassment for his sudden uncontrolled outburst.

you freeze, words halting in your mouth as it stays open slack, lifting a brow in confusion. “everything okay? are you hot? your face looks like a beet.”

“i–i’m fine,” he clears his throat awkwardly. you just blink at him as he chugs his ice water, eyes flickering everywhere else but you. you notice, but don't say anything. “anyway, what were you saying?”

by the time you arrive back at his apartment after the date, you're full of suspicion, arms crossed as you watch him silently take off his shoes and jacket then start walking straight towards his bedroom.

“wait a second,” you stop him as he pauses abruptly and stands in the doorway. your body sways in his direction, “what’s up with you? you’ve been weird all night.”

“s–sorry,” he squeaks.

“i don’t want an apology, just an explanation,” you assert, but you’re smiling softly. “what happened? did i do something?”

“no,” he answers quickly, “you didn’t do anything, i’m the one that did.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

his pupils are practically stretched out to the size of his irises when you meet his eyes, lips parted with a faint, ragged form of breathing. 

“cho?” you call him softly.

he doesn’t say anything. instead, he grabs your head and kisses you hard, turning your bodies around as he pushes you towards his bed. the back of your thighs hit the mattress and you giggle as he topples over you, your palms squeezing his sides as your tongues swirl hungrily around each other.

“you’re. driving. me. crazy,” he huffs between desperate kisses, “i can’t keep holding back, i need you.” you gasp as his tongue slides across your throat. “i want you. all of you,” he sinks his teeth into your pulse point and you whimper, “be my girlfriend. move in with me. marry me. fuck.”

you moans mix with laughter as you push him off of you slightly so you can look at him. “marriage already? you love me that much?” you tease.

“yeah, maybe its too soon for all that,” he chuckles, “but everything else? be mine and come to tokyo. i swear to god i’ll make sure every day of your life is happy so it’s worthwhile.”

your cheeks sear and your heart races. god, he really fucking loves you. there isn’t a single doubt in your mind that he cherishes you with every corner of his heart. 

“okay,” you smile, hands grazing the nape of his neck as you move them upwards to lightly massage his scalp. “i’ll be your girlfriend and i’ll move to tokyo.”

“seriously?” he asks, shocked you agreed without hesitancy.

“seriously,” you smile, lifting your head up to kiss him again. “i need a change of pace, anyway. and you being here makes the decision easy.”

“what about your family? friends?”

you shrug. “i’m not close to my family, if i’m being honest. my friends, on the other hand? they’d be thrilled to have a reason to regularly visit japan.”

he sighs in relief, throwing his head forward. “fuck,” he says, “okay, yeah– yeah, we’re really doing this.”

“we are,” you thrum. your lids drop low and lips tug slyly at the corners. “we’ll talk about this more before i fly home sunday. but, for now, just focus on this moment and fuck me, choso kamo.”

he groans, instantly attaching his lips to yours again as he lifts you without breaking the kiss to move you to the center of the bed. his tongue is hot and wet as his mouth moves against yours messily, hands grazing every inch of his body he can reach. he trails his fingertips up the outsides of your thighs, squeezing the plush skin as he pulls your hips up to grind against his clothed bulge.

“s–shit,” he hisses, so sensitive and strained. he does it a second time, then a third, the sweet whines dripping off your tongue making his cock twitch in his jeans. “d–don’t make those sounds, i’ll literally come too soon–”

you shut him up with a searing, ravenous kiss, tongue sliding temptingly across his bottom lip and he whimpers. you sit up and push his shoulders down, taking control as you straddle on top of him.

he stares up at you, dazed with drool forming at the corners of his mouth. “oh. fuck,” he huffs, palms running up and down your sides as he squeezes the curves of your waist with each stutter of his hips into yours. “you gonna top me? shit, that’s so hot.”

your smile is cunning as you stare him dead in the eyes, helping him remove his shirt before teasingly unzipping your dress and pulling it up over your head. all that you’re left in is your matching colour set of royal blue lingerie, tits and pussy provoking him from behind the thin material. he gulps as you unclip your bra, allowing it to fall down your arms slowly and deliberately before tossing it aside. you bite your lip as you lower your lids, leaning forward to press your perky breasts against his bare chest. he inhales sharply, hands instantly moving to rest on your back as he keeps you there, relishing in the warmth of skin to skin contact. you slide your tongue along his collarbone as your nipples glide across his chest; you can hear his breath growing shallower by the second.

“f–fuck,” he huffs, palms sliding down your spine until he reaches your ass. he snakes them beneath your panties to give your a cheeks a hard squeeze, then brings them up to send back down with a smack. you moan and his dick jumps against your stomach. “you’re so fucking sexy, baby,” he grits his teeth, pulling you down harder against his body. he groans from the friction of his fat cock rubbing against your stomach. you carefully calculate your hums of pleasure into his ear as you continue to suck marks into his skin. you want him to lose it. 

“feels good, baby?” you purr, biting down into his shoulder and his throat cracks.

“yeah, shit–,” he breathes, “need to feel you more. fuck.” he grabs your hips with resolve, forcing you up to his face as he pushes your panties aside desperately, instantly shoving his tongue into your honeyed cunt. you cry out, one hand grabbing the mattress for balance whilst the other curls into his strands. “holy fuck,” he growls, eyes rolling violently, “you taste so fucking good, jesus christ.”

“shit, cho,” you moan, thrusting pathetically against his mouth, “j–just like that, oh, fuck!”

he’s slurping and sucking at your pussy like he hasn’t eaten in decades, hands alternating between massaging the back of your thighs and soft slaps on your ass. you're moving quickly now, whines growing louder as you sense the coil in your stomach about to snap. 

“fuck– ah, ah– i’m gonna c–come–” you gasp, baring all of your weight down onto his tongue as you release an ungodly sound deep from within your chest, hot spurts of cum gushing out of you and pouring into his mouth. he’s whining like a bitch in heat as he drinks you up with slow, long stripes from your dripping hole up to cup your clit repeatedly, nails digging into your ass like he doesn’t want you to ever leave the position you’re in. “oh my god,” you whimper, body collapsing above his head. 

he releases you with a final, greedy slurp, sliding your body back down his to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. you groan into his mouth, grinding your wet folds against his still covered bulge as his tongue greets the back of your throat. you sneak a hand between your bodies to reach his zipper, undoing it with you as you begin to crawl down his torso. his throat grows tight when your mouth hovers just above his hidden cock; he can practically feel your breath through the material.

“f–fuck,” his voice comes out strained and raspy, “wanna suck me off, baby?”

“mhmm,” you hum, eyes so big and begging. his heart is about to explode. “gonna make you feel so good, cho.” you release his fat cock from its confinement, teasingly sliding your thumb across the leaky, white beaded slit while you keep steady eye contact. his face twitches and you smirk. “it’s so pretty, love,” you coo. he looks so pathetic it makes your stomach twist ecstatically. “‘m gonna make you come down my throat, pretty boy.”

he chokes out a loud groan when you finally wrap your mouth around him, hands instantly moving to grip the back of your head as you steadily bob up and down his angry base. his hips sputter up and hit your throat every time your teeth grazes his sensitive, bulbous tip, soft whines escaping his mouth.

“f–fuck– oh, god– you’re so good at this, baby,” he huffs, guiding you against his cock without being too mean about it, “such a good girl. my good fucking girl.”

as his breathing begins to grow louder and shorter, it only taunts you to move faster. you can feel his thighs shaking against your palms as you hold him there, slurping so filthily along his length.

“i’m so fucking– ngh– close–,” his thrusts turn quicker and more erratic, dick pulsing against the insides of your cheeks with each diabolical choke from his tip hitting the back of your throat. he bites his lip in an attempt to hold back his sounds, but it’s useless. he’s fucking your mouth harder now, moans spilling out uncontrollably as he releases thick, hot ropes of cum down your throat. “fuck, fuck!” he cries, riding out his high with deep, desperate drives against your tongue. “you’re so good to me, s–shit!”

you both steadily come to a still, you releasing him with a loud, satisfied hum and pop, peering up at him from below with a sultry, proud look on your face. he glances down at you through fluttering lids, lips parted and cheeks vibrantly flushed as he just stares at your beautiful, sinful face. so wrecked, so happy, so greedy.

“your mouth looks so fucking pretty ruined like that,” his voice is low and shaky, “need to wreck you even more.”

“do you now?” you tease, lifting a hand to stroke his cock that’s already becoming hard again. “careful,” he clenches his jaw and hisses at the contact, “i have high expectations from you, choso kamo.”

your eyes shoot wide open as he instantly has you flat on your back again, legs thrown over his shoulders and a hand wrapped around your neck not squeezing too much yet. his other grazes from your navel up through the dip between your breasts and finally finishes on your lips. he slowly swipes his thumb across them, poking it through the opening a bit to wet the tip and smear your saliva across the puffy, slightly chapped skin with a sinister smile plastered on his face. 

“be careful what you wish for.” he hums, low and dark. you’re shivering with excitement. 

he starts steady as he slides into your sopping cunt, but once your throat cracks into the most gorgeous moan, he snaps his hips down with full force to bottom you out. you choke, instantly gripping his biceps for leverage as he teases his pace. he keeps slowing down, only to smirk like an arrogant little freak when you start to whine uncontrollably and thrusts his thick cock deep into your stomach repeatedly. 

“f–fuck, cho!” you sob, hair disheveled and a mess as you squirm your head against the pillow, “you’re so. fucking. g–good!”

“mm’yeah?” he grits, tightening around your throat a bit more whilst his nails dig into your waist, “you like the way i’m wrecking this sweet little cunt of yours?”

“shit– ngh– y-yes! fuck!”

he chuckles, releasing a deep, ragged moan as his head tilts backwards in bliss. you’re clenching around his length over and over again and he’s already about to fall apart. “fuck, just like that,” he pistons into you brutally as your whimpers soak the atmosphere, “get fucking loud for me, sweetheart.”

you choke ecstatically as he claims your throat with his broad hand, hips lifting to meet him desperately as his cock slides across your pleasure point with each intentional thrust. his hand moves from your waist to circle your clit, a loud cry escaping your chest as he presses into you firmly.

“ah– ah– fuck!” you whine, eyes rolling backwards with each relentless rub, arms flailing aimlessly at your slides as you near your peak. “i’m– so c–close– shit, shit!”

“c’mon, baby,” choso grits his teeth, filling you up mercilessly as he succumbs to the way you look beneath him; you're squirming, clenching your jaw, and can’t keep your eyes still as your arousal increases around him. he sense you’re about to come. “fuck, give it to me,” he demands, slightly repositions his hand so it’s not only grabbing your throat, but also your chin possesively, “wanna see this pretty cunt squirt on my dick, baby, show me how fucking nasty you are.”

with a final cry, you spill out your sweet nectar onto his fat cock, convulsing in his hold as he fucks you through it by lifting your body up and sitting you down on top of him, gripping your hips aggressively as he drives into you and guides your hips with an unforgiving pace.

“f–fuck, b–baby–y,” you gasp, drooling against his collarbone as you fold over him, allowing his body to do the work to ride you through the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had in your life.

choso’s whimpering, hips stuttering into you as your cum drips down the sides of his base and coats his thighs. he bites his lip and releases a loud growl, pulling out of you just in time to give him the opportunity to say “open your mouth, baby,” and for you to oblige as he pushes your shoulders down towards his leaky tip. his breaths leave his lips unevenly as he comes down your throat, watching as you roll your eyes and hum around his length to swallow all of it. “holy fucking shit,” he grunts, “you’re perfect. too damn perfect.”

you let him go with a slow lick and pop, rubbing your glistening lips along his wet, pulsing cock teasingly. he’s staring at you, eyes glassy and so fucking needy as you act all naughty, cute ass pointed upwards high in the air and continuously making the nastiest sounds against him.

“christ, y/n,” he breathes, one hand lifting to cup your jaw as he slides his thumb across your cheekbone, “you’re– just fucking wow.”

you giggle, crawling up to kiss him. he melts into you immediately, wrapping his muscular arms around your back as he keeps you closely pressed against his chest. 

“i love you,” you mutter softly, pulling back for a moment to smile down at him.

his cheeks are now flushed not only from the sex workout, but your three special words. “i love you, too.” he smiles back, “fuck, i’m so glad you’re here, that you’re finally mine.”

now, your own cheeks turn a brighter shade of red than they were already. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

epilogue

“morning, choseph,” you hum, entering the living room to join choso on the couch once you finished getting dressed after a shower.

he chokes on his coffee with laughter whilst satoru– who you didn’t even notice was sitting at the dining room table a few feet away– screeches so hard he nearly falls out of the chair.

“fucking– choseph?” he’s cackling, trying to catch his breath as his body slides down in the seat dramatically. “cho, your girlfriend is the funniest person i’ve ever met in my life. thank you for dating her so i can have constant comedy.”

“i try my best over here,” you chuckle, nuzzling into choso’s side as he places his mug down on the coffee table and wraps his arms around you. 

“you’re something else,” he laughs, kissing the top of your head. “i kind of like choseph, it’s got a nice ring to it. think we should name our future kid that?”

you snort and slap his arm playfully. “hell fucking no! they’ll get made fun of for life!”

choso lays his head atop yours with a giggle. “you have a point.”

you love saturday mornings like this. ever since you relocated to tokyo to live with choso, it has been nothing but pleasant. admittedly, it was a big risk, but it turned out perfectly.

“what time is y/f/n getting here, again?” choso asks, turning his attention away from the tv for a moment.

“hm, she said she landed about twenty minutes ago, so probably within an hour or two.” you answer.

satoru’s brow is raised from the table out of curiosity. “she’s coming here? today?”

“yeah,” you reply, “why? think she’s hot? that why you’re over at our apartment this morning? waiting for your queen to arrive?” your arms are crossed as you interrogate him smugly. 

his face turns a dark shade of red. “n–no!”

you smirk as you squint your eyes at him. “riiiiiight.”

choso rolls his eyes with a tsk. “you show that man one picture and he’s already in love.”

“well, he’s not that much different from you,” you tease him, “you talked to me for ten minutes and instantly knew i was the one somehow.”

he scoffs, “says the one who was simping over a random man for a few years because he was ‘sexy’ and played the drums well,” but he’s laughing and his heart is fluttering. “just dig deeper with the insults, why don’t you?”

you stick out your tongue playfully, then peck his cheek. “who would i be if not unserious?”

satoru is noticeably freaking out for the rest of the morning until your best friend arrives, pacing around the kitchen and muttering to himself. when there’s finally a knock at the front door, he jolts with a squeak.

“he’s gone crazy,” you whisper to choso with a low giggle before standing up to open the door and let her inside.

satoru’s knees turn to jelly when she steps into the apartment, throwing her arms around your neck as she carelessly tosses her bags excitedly onto the floor. 

“y/n!” she squeals, “it’s so good to see and hug you again after all these months.”

“likewise,” you smile, kissing her cheek. “welcome to the chouse.”

satoru’s nerves completely disappear when he starts howling loudly, leaning over the counter with his arms gripping the marble surface for balance. “fucking christ, y/n,” he tries to breathe. “enough with the puns, you’re killing me.”

choso’s laughing as he stands up from the couch to join the three of you near the door. “hey, y/f/n, it’s lovely to finally meet you in person,” he smiles, offering her a friendly hug.

“same here,” she grins, “y/n has told me so many good things about you.”

“i’d hope so.”

satoru’s now standing closer to you three, reaching his hand out for a friendly handshake. “satoru,” he smiles, “it’s a pleasure to meet you–”

“what the fuck?” your friends gasps, staring at him blankly. it finally clicks in her brain just who she is talking to. 

satoru looks terrified. “shit– did i already fuck up somehow? oh god–”

“no, no!” she reassures him, laughing nervously, “i just didn’t realize satoru fucking gojo was here.”

his expression warps into something a bit sly, though it still maintains his shock from how beautiful your best friend is. “oh? you know me?” he already knows the answer to that, but wants to tease her anyway. he is unaware that she has a crush on him. all you told him was that she also happened to be a fan of his band.

“hell yeah, i do,” she huffs, “y/n’s the reason i got into your band in the first place. and,” she turns shy, “you’re sort of the main thing that’s kept me there…”

satoru’s turning to you now, squinting his eyes as his jaw falls slightly slack.

your gaze darts away from him as you admit, “i maaaay have forgotten to mention that you’re her favourite,” whilst biting your lip nervously.

he tsks, but he’s blushing. “ya think?”

you chuckle to yourself before returning your attention to your own responsibilities. just like the girls at the company say, satoru is a very attractive man. bright cerulean eyes, beautiful snow white hair, tall and slim– with looks like that, of course he would be most, if not every, woman’s dream man. 

the constant office gossip made you uncomfortable, but it did spark your curiosity. satoru wasn’t one to talk much to others. he was seemingly a lone wolf who always buried himself in his work. he never made any mention of a significant other, nor showed signs that he had one. there were debates going around of whether or not he was gay, because he barely interacted with women, but he didn’t talk much with the men, either. so, it became mutually decided between mostly everyone– not including yourself, since you weren’t interested in their idle gossip– that he was either completely inexperienced or just didn’t care about sex and romance at all. or, what you assumed in your own head, that he was just a private person. the only thing people knew about him was his love for film, which was easy enough to figure out without him having to say anything about it– though he had mentioned it before– because of the sheer amount of movie posters he had pinned up to decorate his cubicle. 

there’s a sudden clap of hands, grabbing everyone’s attention. your boss is now standing right outside the door of his office. “i just wanted to offer my deepest gratitude to all of you for all of the hard work so far this year,” he announces, “i look forward to celebrating with everyone this evening.”

the room breaks out into an eruption of applause and whistles, your coworkers becoming a bit rowdy at the reminder that there was a work party that evening to commemorate the company’s recent milestone. you rolled your eyes a little at the fact that the vibes always seemed so fratty. it’s not that you didn’t drink and enjoy it from time to time yourself, but it was an interesting experience seeing your fellow salarymen act like college students again at these functions. 

you take notice of satoru squeezing his eyes shut tightly, probably trying to block out the ear-piercing screams and hollers so he can keep focusing on his work. when he opens them back up, he catches you watching him for a moment and sends you a small smile.

your chest tightens. what the hell was that? he’s never smiled, let alone looked at you before– or… has he? you clear your throat, heat rising to your cheeks as you return the same, friendly gesture.

the rest of the day seems to drag on, and by the time you’re back home after clocking out, you already pretty much have to turn around and go out again. you weren’t forced to go to this work party, but frankly, you hadn’t done anything beyond going back and forth to the office for the past few weeks, so you felt the need to let loose a little. this was just an easy, free way to do so since the food and drinks were already paid for, and the venue itself was only a few blocks away from your apartment. 

you fluff out your hair before plopping on a final layer of gloss, popping your lips as you finish. “damn,”  you smile at your reflection in the mirror, “i look hot as shit.”

a large portion of the company is already at the hotel when you arrive, loud chatter and clanking of glasses echoing throughout the space. you spot utahime, one of the only other somewhat normal people in your department, sending her a quick wave as you shuffle over towards her. you nearly trip on your heels, but play it off smoothly enough that no one seems to notice. you were happy to save yourself the embarrassment. 

“hey,” you greet her, “you look so cute!”

“you, too,” she smiles, passing you a glass of champagne, “that dress is lethal.”

you laugh. “thanks, uta.”

you weren’t exactly planning to drink much, but with your constant flow of conversations with people, it just sort of happened unintentionally. by drink number four, your eyes are searching mindlessly for satoru in the crowd.

“would he even come to this?” you thought to yourself. “he hates people.”

but he is there, and he is talking to people, holding a cocktail in one hand, the other reaching out for a handshake with a man you didn’t quite recognize, and your heart races. you nearly pass out when you see the suit he’s wearing. it hugs his body so delectably, and the way the sleeves are cuffed… shit, you needed him to put you in a headlock.

…what?

you don’t even realize it until you’re stopped directly in front of his body that you walked over towards him.

“oh, hey, y/n,” he greets politely, bowing slightly. the other men standing around him are distracted and in their own conversations at this point, leaving satoru pretty much on his own. “nice to see you.”

“likewise,” your words slur a bit and you hear him laugh. “you look nice.”

“thanks,” he smiles, “you do, too.” he stuffs a hand into his pocket before sipping at his drink again. you can’t help but stare at his adam’s apple as it bobs in his throat. just what the fuck was going on with you?

“did you need something?” he asks, not meaning to sound rude, just genuinely curious.

right. you didn’t have a reason to walk over to him, you just… did it without thinking. what now? “oh, i was just wondering if you saw quentin tarantino’s new film yet?” you asked, pulling an excuse out of your ass. it wasn’t complete bullshitting, though, you did notice that he had a ‘pulp fiction’ poster at his desk.

“i haven’t, but i’ve been meaning to,” he answers simply, “did you? was it good?”

you shook your head. “not yet.” there’s a brief silence that falls over the two of you, and it’s just enough to cause all of your inhibitions to crack. “i’m sorry the girls in the office keep talking shit about you,” you apologize out of the blue.

he lifts his brow in confusion. “what?”

your mouth moves on its own. “they always talk about how you must be a virgin, or you’re just weird as fuck because you hardly ever talk to any of them– i don’t think that, for the record– and it drives me crazy,” you release a dramatic sigh.

he’s smirking at you now, eyes lowering into something dark, but you don’t seem to pick up on it. “do they now?” he coos. “that’s hilarious.”

“that’s what i say,” you huff, “they don’t know anything about you, i’m sure you’re just a private person.”

“i am.”

“see!” you snap your fingers in discovery, “i knew that had to be the case.”

he’s looking deeply into your eyes, watching your pupils dilate and retract as they fight against the dim lighting, alcohol, and attraction. satoru wasn’t stupid. he definitely picked up on the subtleties you emitted, and this wasn’t the first time, either. he noticed back in the office too, when he smiled at you, amongst other past moments.

“if you want,” he starts, going back to the subject of movies, “you could come over to my place sometime and we can watch the movie together? you know, tarantino’s.”

he has a second motivation for inviting you, because now he wants to fuck the living daylights out of you out of spite of your chidlish, gossiping coworkers. he’s been with plenty of people, unbeknownst to them. he knows he’s a skilled lover. he’ll get the last laugh while you’ll get the best sex of your life. really, its a win-win situation.

you already forgot what you were talking about beforehand. he didn’t, though. “sure!” you beam, cheeks flushed and legs stumbling a bit. you were trying to keep yourself upright and balanced; definitely no more drinks for you.

satoru chuckles, grabbing your waist in time to keep you from falling over. “careful.”

your skin burns where his fingertips lay, and you swallow hard, thighs tightening. satoru notices.

everyone in the office is hungover when you arrive the next morning. throwing a party on a tuesday evening was certainly… a choice. thankfully, you hydrated enough throughout it that you just had a slight headache, so it was easy enough to deal with.

satoru catches you in the cafeteria at lunch. “hey,” he greets. you can already sense the eyes and hushed whispers of the women surrounding you when he does. “you free friday night?”

he wasn’t very subtle about it, his voice echoing through the entire room. you hear a series of gasps and chatter from the others. your face turns crimson whilst you try to block them out. 

“yeah,” you answer, “why?”

“wanna come over to watch the movie like i mentioned?”

you blink at him. “movie?”

he laughs. “last night, remember? we were talking about tarantino’s new film, and i offered to have us watch it together sometime and you agreed.”

the vague memory starts to come back to you. “oh, right,” you say, “sure.”

“great,” he smiles, passing you his phone so you can add your contact, “i’ll text you the address.”

you take it from his hands, fingertips nervously pressing the screen as your coworkers’ gazes burn into the back of your skull. “here,” you clear your throat, passing it back to him.

“thanks,” he says, “how’s seven?”

you nod. “seven works.”

“perfect.”

for the next few days, all you seem to be receiving from your female coworkers is scoffs and eye rolls. it’s ironic that they’d be upset about you spending time with satoru. weren’t they the ones assuming he was a bad person just because he didn’t openly talk about his personal life? seems like they were just jealous and in denial that they actually want him.

satoru’s hovering over your desk now. “any snacks or drinks you want for tonight?” he asks. “i have a few things sitting around the apartment, but i’ll stop by the store on the way home if there’s anything specific you’d like.”

your heart warms at the offer. “i’m good with just water, but if you find a nice tub of guac for chips, that’d be great.”

“you got it,” he smiles, tapping his palm on the back of your chair.

you weren’t really sure what to wear to satoru’s. it was never clarified by either of you if this night was meant to be a date, but you still felt this pressing need to look nice. you groan, eventually settling on a cute v-neck and skinny jeans. it was the best thing you could come up with that screamed ‘i want to look nice for you but not overdue it because i don’t actually know what this night is supposed to be and i don’t want to seem desperate’. 

in short: nonchalant. 

satoru’s place is unsurprisingly clean and organized; it matched his calculated, logical work persona perfectly.

“hey,” he greets, stepping aside to let you in, “everything’s already set up in the living room, you can take a seat on the couch while i finish putting the dishes away.”

you nod, slipping past him towards the living room. you plop down on the couch, already curling into the blanket that’s sitting beside you.

you hear satoru chuckle from the kitchen. “already making yourself comfortable, huh?” he teases. your face runs hot, stomach twisting. you really didn’t think that through. “cute,” he smirks. you nearly let out an audible gasp. 

truthfully, you couldn’t focus much on the movie, but at least satoru seemed to be able to. you watch him through your peripheral, analyzing his reactions to each scene. “so you can show an expression like that,” you think to yourself, enjoying learning more about the one and only satoru gojo. 

there’s an obvious tension brewing between the two of you whilst you help him clean up the snacks and drinks after the movie is over. the accidental brushes of your skin against his sends fire straight to your core.

“is he really a virgin?” you wonder, the gossip of your peers intrusively entering your thoughts, “he seems well put together, not weird at all… he’s gotta have, or at least had, someone… right?”

he’s crossing his arms with his back leaning against the countertop. “why are you staring?” he asks, looking smug.

you heart thumps widely in your chest, and you quickly divert your eyes away from him. “i was just lost in thought,” you swallow.

“hm.”

the tension is sharper now. satoru accidentally bumps into you when turning around from the sink and it sends you backwards into the island. his body is still pressed against yours, hands on your shoulders that were originally there in an attempt to keep you from getting hurt. 

“sorry,” he mutters. his eyes don’t move away from yours.

“it’s fine.” you gulp, pupils growing exponentially.

you hear him huff as his gaze flickers down to your lips. the kitchen is penetrated with searing desire– there is no room for denial. 

he takes a deep breath. “can i–”

“yeah.”

his lips are on yours in a millisecond, his large palms saving your back from sliding down the side of the counter. he gropes your ass and picks you up, placing your firmly on top of the marble surface, hands roaming all over the outside and underneath your shirt, tongue slipping to the back of your throat. you moan, hands grabbing his shoulders as you force him closer. he lets out a quiet growl as your clothed core brushes against his bulge. 

“been thinking about this since the party,” he admits, teeth clashing against teeth, “and when you told me what the girls said that night, figured i had to put a stop to the rumors,” he chuckles.

your eyes roll as his hands cup your breasts. “but i never believed them,” you moan, nails digging into his shoulders.

“that’s true,” he pulls away from your mouth, quickly pulling off your shirt and unclasping your bra, “but i still want to prove you wrong, anyway.” his lips are on your hardened nipples, alternating between each one as he swirls his tongue over them. you hum sweetly, clenching around nothing as his hands grip your thighs fervently. 

“mmm, and what will you do?” you tease, wrapping your legs around his waist and jerking his body forward.

his smile is wicked, much different from before. “depends on how much you want me to hold back,” he says. he kisses you again.

you break it a moment later and look at him, irises cutting deeply into his. “nothing. hold back absolutely nothing.”

three minutes later, your face is shoved into the mattress, ass up, whilst your spit coats the gag ball in your mouth and drips all over the sheets, hands tied behind your back with the leather burning your skin. you cry as satoru licks and flicks your clit and scissors into your hole with his long, slender fingers. your thighs shake violent as the palm of his free hand meets your ass with a painful sting, an ungodly moan escaping your throat.

satoru’s groaning into your folds, moving his head left to right as he devours you like his favourite meal. you can hardly breathe as his fingers curl up into your gummy spot, thighs clamping shut around his head. he slaps your ass again in warning. “open up,” he hums.

the sounds are filthy, plops of his fingers moving in and out of you and his tongue slurping at your cunt echoing off the bedroom walls.

“oh, god– fuck,” you gasp, fists squeezing tightly shut with resolve, “i’m gonna fucking come–” your voice is muffled from the gag ball, but satoru hears you clearly. he slaps your ass for a third time and your juices waterfall out of you, uncontrollable whines dripping from your mouth as you come all over his face and hand. “oh my god!”

“fuck, yeah,” satoru growls into your folds. he’s not stopping, in fact, he speeds up his pace, “look at you fucking squirting down my throat, nasty girl.”

you’re moving along with his tongue and fingers involuntarily, desperately grasping for another orgasm. satoru moves his hand from your ass to grip your thigh, digging his fingertips into them to keep you from moving away from him too much. you’re panting like a bitch, nails practically ripping through the skin of your palms as you come a second time with a loud groan. satoru whines, eyes rolling, swallowing every last drop of you.

he’s not done yet. 

he lifts his face up from your cunt and smirks down at you as he flattens his palm against your sensitive pussy with a loud smack, watching your body in awe as it recoils from the impact. he slides his tongue up your spine before undressing himself, quickly returning to hover over your back. his mouth falls beside your ear. “you look so perfect like this,” he coos, “tied up and ready to be fucking ruined.” his hand finds the front of your throat and you gasp. he squeezes, but not too tightly just yet, biting his lip as he watches your body squirm in his grip. “yeah, you like that?” he slaps your pussy again and you choke, “want me to destroy this fucking pussy?”

“p–please,” you attempt to say, but it’s difficult with the gag ball still perched between your lips.

satoru lets out a snicker before forcing you up aggressively by your hair, your back now resting against his chest. he wraps one hand around the front of you to play with your pussy as he continues to choke you with the other, red, throbbing cock sliding into your battered hole with ease. you whimper as he bottoms you out, body feeling so overwhelmingly good being stuffed full.

“shit,” he huffs, starting to move you along him, “you’re soaked, baby, oh my god,” he bites down on your shoulder and you yelp. “jesus fucking christ, you’re so tight.”

your tied palms behind you try to flatten against his abdomen for leverage as you desperately thrust along with him while he fucks you to the hilt. “fuck, fuck,” you moan, beginning to reach your peak.

“gonna come for me again?” satoru purrs, pinching then slapping your clit and you scream. “such a slut for my cock, aren’t you?”

“god, yeah,” you stutter around the gag ball, eyes rolling violently, “ruin me, toru, fuck!”

the way you scream his name causes something within him to shatter, and now he has you flat on your stomach as his forearm curls around the front of your neck in a headlock, the grip of his fingers in your hair forcing you to stay in place, the other hand still perched underneath you to circle your clit. you’re screaming so loudly that you fully expect satoru to receive a noise complaint from the neighbours later. 

tears stain your cheeks as you turn your head to the side to breathe, and satoru nearly comes at the sight. 

“fucking hell,” he growls, pistoning his leaky cock into your stomach, “you look so pretty, all teared up and wrecked like this.” your throat is raw, cracking with each moan as your nails dig into your palms even deeper than before. satoru’s so close to losing it, thrusts growing sloppier each time you clench around him. he lets out a breathy laugh, “fuck, your pussy’s trying to milk me,” he whimpers for a moment, then slams into you hard and deep. “i’m gonna fucking stuff your pretty little cunt with my cum, sweetheart.”

“toru!” you scream, voice breaking, “god, i’m gonna– fuck, fuck, fuck!”

satoru moans as loud as you, tugging at your hair as he fills up your sweet, greedy hole with his hot, creamy cum, just as you let go and splash your juices all over his cock. he’s still thrusting into you, gasping from how good you feel coming around him. “oh, shit,” he huffs, “you feel so good, fuck!” he’s moving quickly, desperate to stay inside of you, “look at you taking me so well, fucking swallowing my cum like a good girl.”

your tears are still stinging your eyes as he finally comes to a still, gently peeling himself away from your sensitive, fucked-out body. he kisses your spine softly just before he collapses to your side, trying to catch his breath. he turns his head to look at you, cock twitching from the pretty sight of your glassy, red eyes and flushed cheeks. he lifts a hand to gently remove the gag ball from your mouth, then swipes the drool off of your lips with his thumb, placing it in his mouth afterwards. your thighs tighten again. 

your breaths finally calm, and now you’re just looking at each other, dazed and basking in the ecstasy still coursing through your veins. 

“think we should tell everyone i’m not a virgin?” he jokes.

you tsk, but smile. “listen, you’re the one who likes to be private. i don’t really care. i’m an adult who has sex, this information is not shocking.” 

satoru laughs as he grabs your waist to bring you closer. you snuggle into his chest. “honestly, i would love to see the look on their faces.”

needless to say, you and satoru witnessing the shock from your coworkers when you told them you’d fucked– and not without sharing a few juicy details on purpose to really make it stick– was one of the most amusing experiences you’ve ever had in your lives. 

★ yuji, itadori ⋆·˚ ༘ *

★ megumi. fushiguro ⋆·˚ ༘ *

★ toge. inumaki ⋆·˚ ༘ *