Your back against Shoko’s warm tits as she lays you in between her legs. She’s got one hand teasing your nipples, pinching them and gently stroking her fingers over them, while the other grips your face, forcing you to look down at where Suguru is fucking into you as you cry out. Your poor little pussy bulging around his ridiculous girth.
“Aw look, Suguru. She’s crying.” She pouts teasingly. “He’s just so deep isn’t he, baby?” She whispers in your ear, biting at it softly. All you can do is nod as a pathetic sob leaves your throat.
“Look at that wet pussy. Drooling all over him, silly girl.” She begins teasing. “How’s she feel Suguru?” She smirks up at the raven haired man who’s grunting and sweating in front of you, rough hands folding your legs back against Shoko. “She’s so fucking tight. Gripping the fuck out of me.” He moans. “Keep talking to her. Making her even wetter.” He groans, throwing in a particularly deep thrust so that Shoko can listen to the loud squelch that echoes the room.
“Ohhh, you like when I talk to you, sweetheart?” She giggles. “Does it make that pussy even wetter?”
Shoko’s hand slides down your body and in between your legs so she can play with your clit while Suguru delivers brutal thrust after brutal thrust. Your head falling back against her shoulder when she begins stroking the swollen bud juuust right.
“Oh look at that. She does like my voice.” She smiles as the squelching gets louder.
Your whole body jumps when Shoko gently slaps your clit. The zap of electricity making you clench harder around Suguru and the raven haired man groans as his head falls back between his shoulders.
“Oh, I think this pretty little cunt is gonna make him cum.” She whispers in your ear. “But first, I wanna see you gushing all over him. Can you do that for me, baby?” She coos, still strumming your clit.
“Y-yes.” You hiccup, nodding obediently. “Mmm, good girl.” She praises, slipping a hand around your throat and pressing a kiss to your temple.
I busted🫠 you cannot tell me a threesome with Shoko and Suguru would not be hot af😩 I might need to do a short fic on this tbh🤭
zuko suddenly jerks upright in bed, a blood curdling scream tearing out of his throat.
your eyes burst wide open, ear drums quaking from his sudden shriek as you almost fall out of bed from fright.
then routine kicks in.
you so very carefully reach for your husband. calling out his name softly as place a comforting hand on his shoulder, trying not to startle him.
but just like every time before he jumps at the sudden touch, body taut with fight or flight coursing through his system.
then teary golden eyes meet yours.
“it’s ok, my love. it’s ok. it was just a dream.” you soothe.
your hand reaches out to hold his face. skin slick with sweat yet icy to the touch. the fear in his eyes, the trembling in his body makes your stomach roll with a wave of nausea and anger bubble in the depths of your soul.
not anger at your husband, no.
anger at his father.
tears slowly begin to slide down zuko’s face and you’re pretty sure you can hear how hard his heart is beating as you pull him gently down with you.
you pull him onto your chest, cradling him with one arm as you use your hand to stroke his hair.
you feel him cling to you like a safety blanket. his nails biting into your skin like someone might try and tear him away from you.
“it’s ok, my love. i’m right here.” you whisper. “it was just a dream, you’re safe. i won’t let anyone hurt you.”
your own tears begin to shed silently, as zuko sniffles against your chest. your heart breaks for him further every time this happens.
you know your husband has made mistakes. you don’t deny that. but he’s a different man now. a better man. a good man.
and he sure as hell never deserved the way his father maimed him.
you both lay in silence, besides the sniffling every now and then from zuko, as you try your best to bring your husband some sense of comfort.
“i’m sorry.” zuko croaks.
your brows furrow, teeth sinking into your lip as you try to slow your own tears and steady your voice.
“you don’t ever have to apologise.” you whisper. “not to me.”
zuko weakly nods as he presses his ear harder against your chest. the steady beat of your heart soothing his, grounding him.
the world is slowly returning to a sense of peace. you hope the same can happen for your husband one day.
What’s on your mind, Mimi? Oh I’m so glad you guys asked!
Getting fucked from the back by Gojo while he chuckles at your helplessness. Legs trembling, arms about to give out from trying to hold yourself up and then your head sags forward—almost falling off the edge of the bed as your body feels like mush— you let out a pathetic moan when Gojo’s hand collides with the fat of your ass. So overwhelmed from Gojo’s deep strokes that your gripping the sheets for dear life, teeth clenched at how overwhelming it is.
But then a big hand wraps around your throat, forcing you to look up into violet eyes that are completely blown out. Geto giving you a pout before cooing at you “I know, pretty girl, I know. He’s so deep isn’t he? All too much for you.” stroking his girth, the schlick! schlick! schlick! barely being heard over the sound of dripping wet skin on dripping wet skin, your poor cunt dumb and gushing for the two men. You let out a garbled mix between a scream and a moan at his teasing. Fat tears running down your face mixed with the mascara you’d been wearing, drool all over your lips and leaking onto the sheets below. You look a mess but it only makes Geto stroke his rigid length faster. He’s getting off on the wreck Gojo has turned you into.
Gojo’s hands gripping your hips and fucking into you brutally, making your body jolt forward and grip Geto’s thigh as he stands. Whimpering and crying as the raven haired man strokes your cheek, feeding his thumb into your mouth for you to suck on. “Oh shit, she’s gripping the fuck out of me. Little masochist.” Gojo titters, slamming into you harder. That only makes Geto grin before he moves his hand back to your throat and angles his length into your face, your mouth watering at his pretty cock, decorated with veins and twitching as you moan at the sight. “You’re gonna take me too, right, pretty girl?” He purrs. “Don’t want me to feel left out now, do we?” To which you shake your head, more sticky drool leaking out of your mouth. “Good girl.”
zuko suddenly jerks upright in bed, a blood curdling scream tearing out of his throat.
your eyes burst wide open, ear drums quaking from his sudden shriek as you almost fall out of bed from fright.
then routine kicks in.
you so very carefully reach for your husband. calling out his name softly as place a comforting hand on his shoulder, trying not to startle him.
but just like every time before he jumps at the sudden touch, body taut with fight or flight coursing through his system.
then teary golden eyes meet yours.
“it’s ok, my love. it’s ok. it was just a dream.” you soothe.
your hand reaches out to hold his face. skin slick with sweat yet icy to the touch. the fear in his eyes, the trembling in his body makes your stomach roll with a wave of nausea and anger bubble in the depths of your soul.
not anger at your husband, no.
anger at his father.
tears slowly begin to slide down zuko’s face and you’re pretty sure you can hear how hard his heart is beating as you pull him gently down with you.
you pull him onto your chest, cradling him with one arm as you use your hand to stroke his hair.
you feel him cling to you like a safety blanket. his nails biting into your skin like someone might try and tear him away from you.
“it’s ok, my love. i’m right here.” you whisper. “it was just a dream, you’re safe. i won’t let anyone hurt you.”
your own tears begin to shed silently, as zuko sniffles against your chest. your heart breaks for him further every time this happens.
you know your husband has made mistakes. you don’t deny that. but he’s a different man now. a better man. a good man.
and he sure as hell never deserved the way his father maimed him.
you both lay in silence, besides the sniffling every now and then from zuko, as you try your best to bring your husband some sense of comfort.
“i’m sorry.” zuko croaks.
your brows furrow, teeth sinking into your lip as you try to slow your own tears and steady your voice.
“you don’t ever have to apologise.” you whisper. “not to me.”
zuko weakly nods as he presses his ear harder against your chest. the steady beat of your heart soothing his, grounding him.
the world is slowly returning to a sense of peace. you hope the same can happen for your husband one day.
zuko suddenly jerks upright in bed, a blood curdling scream tearing out of his throat.
your eyes burst wide open, ear drums quaking from his sudden shriek as you almost fall out of bed from fright.
then routine kicks in.
you so very carefully reach for your husband. calling out his name softly as place a comforting hand on his shoulder, trying not to startle him.
but just like every time before he jumps at the sudden touch, body taut with fight or flight coursing through his system.
then teary golden eyes meet yours.
“it’s ok, my love. it’s ok. it was just a dream.” you soothe.
your hand reaches out to hold his face. skin slick with sweat yet icy to the touch. the fear in his eyes, the trembling in his body makes your stomach roll with a wave of nausea and anger bubble in the depths of your soul.
not anger at your husband, no.
anger at his father.
tears slowly begin to slide down zuko’s face and you’re pretty sure you can hear how hard his heart is beating as you pull him gently down with you.
you pull him onto your chest, cradling him with one arm as you use your hand to stroke his hair.
you feel him cling to you like a safety blanket. his nails biting into your skin like someone might try and tear him away from you.
“it’s ok, my love. i’m right here.” you whisper. “it was just a dream, you’re safe. i won’t let anyone hurt you.”
your own tears begin to shed silently, as zuko sniffles against your chest. your heart breaks for him further every time this happens.
you know your husband has made mistakes. you don’t deny that. but he’s a different man now. a better man. a good man.
and he sure as hell never deserved the way his father maimed him.
you both lay in silence, besides the sniffling every now and then from zuko, as you try your best to bring your husband some sense of comfort.
“i’m sorry.” zuko croaks.
your brows furrow, teeth sinking into your lip as you try to slow your own tears and steady your voice.
“you don’t ever have to apologise.” you whisper. “not to me.”
zuko weakly nods as he presses his ear harder against your chest. the steady beat of your heart soothing his, grounding him.
the world is slowly returning to a sense of peace. you hope the same can happen for your husband one day.
a/n: listen i know i said no side quests until everything else is finished but technically, technically, this is in the same universe as the enjin fic im currently writing so..
the bed creaks as enjin rolls his hips into yours. greedy hands holding you in place while he works himself against you.
both of you still currently dressed but enjin is hoping to change that asap after two weeks of not getting a second alone with you.
between work as a cleaner, helping out rudo—or anyone else who calls on him for that matter—and general life. both of you have been dead on your feet by the time you could even think about fucking.
enjin’s plush lips move against yours, smirk playing on his lips before he kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, before moving to suck on the sweet spot behind your ear.
“ahh—e-enjin.” you moan sweetly, nails clawing at his hips . “m-more. please more.”
enjin grunts against your skin, one thick hand beginning to slide over your hip and under your shirt.
“fuck, i can’t wait to be insi—“
knock! knock! knock!
enjin’s face thuds against your chest with a groan.
an hour. two hours, tops. that’s all he wanted. just long enough to bury himself deep inside your wet little cunt a few times and fill you with his cum like he’s been so desperately craving.
“you’ve gotta be kidding me.” he sighs. “j-just ignore ‘em, they’ll go away.”
enjin’s mouth resumes its attack. kissing, licking, nipping and sucking at your neck while your breathing gets heavy with pleasure again.
knock! knock! knock!
enjin makes every attempt to zone out. to ignore the current cockblock who’s only getting louder.
“enjin! enjin, it’s important!”
rudo. that kid sure does have the worst timing.
enjin sighs, muttering a quick apology to you as he gets up off the bed, adjusting himself so his current situation was less obvious, before stomping over to the door.
he yanks the door open just a sliver, glaring down at the boy before him.
“what?” enjin snaps, brows furrowed in frustration. “you’re here, great. can i come in? i wanna talk to you about something.” rudo moves like he plans on walking in. enjin’s grip on the doorknob tightens.
“uhhh—“ enjin looks back at your giggling form as you lean up on your elbows, tilting your head in question, “n-no. i’m a little busy right now.”
“please! it’ll only take a minute!” rudo pleads. “so will i by the time i actually get time alone with her.” enjin mutters under his breath.
“huh?” rudo’s face lines with confusion. “nothing. look kid—“ enjin looks back at you again, panic hitting when he sees you getting up and fixing your hair, “just give me an hour and then we can talk, ok?”
“b-but i—“ enjin doesn’t hear the rest. slamming the door—and double checking its locked—in rudo’s face before scrambling back to you.
you turn around to a looming enjin towering over you, pupils blown and smug smirk decorating his lips.
“where do ya think you’re going?” he chuckles. “i mean it sounded like rudo needed you so i was just gonna go back to my room.” you shrug.
“what and that pretty little pussy doesn’t need me too?” he pouts. “you’re so stupid.” you giggle. “cause i sure as shit need her.”
enjin guides your hand to his crotch, letting you feel how his fat cock throbs and pulses with need.
need for you.
“get back on the bed.” enjin growls, eyes darkening. “enjin, it’s really alright if you need to—“ “get. on. the. bed.” his voice rumbles in his chest with each demand, something feral unleashing behind his eyes.
“make me.” you breathe.
enjin laughs, head tipping back and shoulders shaking.
it’s not a laugh that your comment was funny, no. it’s a laugh that made you realise all that tension from the last two weeks that had been pulled tighter and tighter and tighter, just fucking snapped and was all about to be unleashed on you.
enjin’s laugh dies off as his head snaps back up, eyes locking with yours.
“you’re the most insolent, narcissistic, infurati—“
“ah, look at ya with all those big words.” toji interrupts with a chuckle, every insult simply reverberating off of his cool, calm exterior.
you truly hated being paired with toji for any mission. who cares how much this shit pays?! the sacrifice of spending 24 hours plus in close quarters with him simply wasn’t worth it.
“i really get under yer skin, huh?” he smirks, eyes narrowing like he can see the rage emanating from you.
you feel your right eye twitch like your body is having to physically fight to keep your simmering anger for the raven haired man inside.
you take a deep breath, standing to your feet.
“i need to get some air.”
60 more seconds in this man’s vicinity may truly send you over the edge.
toji chuckles, standing to his feet as he trails behind you.
“aw, leavin’ so soon? i was enjoyin’ our game.” he pouts condescendingly. “game?!” you grit out as your body whips in his direction.
“yeah, game. the ‘little miss perfect takes out her sexual frustration on big bad toji’ game.” he grins. “excuse me?!” you screech.
you watch toji’s shoulders shake with laughter at the look of disgust on your face.
“aw cmon now, doll. we both know all this anger’s coming from sexual frustration.” “you’re disgusting.“ you growl. “disgusting but right. ain’t i?” he goads.
toji stalks towards you, towering frame of corded muscle invading your space as he leans over you.
“what’s the matter, princess? no one’s givin’ it to ya good enough?” he taunts.
you’re at a loss for words. mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, body trembling with rage at the audacity of the hulking man.
“see, what i think is ya need someone to throw ya around a little.” he smirks, the scar on his lip twitching at the angry fire burning in your eyes.
“yeah, m’right. someone to fuck that bratty attitude right out of your pretty little hea—“
SMACK!
your body doesn’t process what it’s doing before it happens. your right hand collides firmly with toji’s cheek. his head whipping to the side.
you stand there in stunned silence. and yet, even with the force at which you hit toji, his eyes are still locked on you.
he smirks once more, tonguing his cheeks where the impact hit before turning slowly back to face you.
your whole body trembles. fuck.
“t-toji, i’m so sorry. i—“ you stammer.
toji’s mouth widens to a grin, scar on his lip stretching as he rolls his neck back. his whole body shuddering and twitching as he lets out a deep growl—verging on a moan? before his head slowly tilts back up, eyes locking on yours with a predatory gaze.
has anyone else seen the discourse going on on x about people claiming they ‘can tell when a virgin wrote smut’ and that smut should have more awkward moments like men struggling to get it up??
like i’m sorry but 99% of the time i don’t want to read about a man struggling to even get it up. i want to read about getting absolutely railed raw by a 6’3+ man with a 9+ inch dick who can go all night and fucks me until i’m shaking and crying and actually makes me cum.
smut is also about fantasy and escapism not the exact experience of real life. so just let people (like me) read about getting dicked down by a 6’3 pretty boy with white hair and bright blue eyes in peace. you ain’t gotta read it but i sure as shit will be.
sneak peek: (frat!gojo x mean!reader) cw: age gaps (gojo's 20-21, readers late twenties), readers embarassed to be seen with him LMAO.
“Kay’. We’re done here, you can leave now.”
The first time Satoru heard those words come out of your mouth, he was distraught. How dare you throw him out after the backshots he had given you?! He made you cum so hard you cried! Then you just throw him out of your apartment like some useless whore– like he was nothing but a fucking slut! He had more to offer than just his dick, he’ll have you know.
Now he’s a little less emotional and more…
“You sure? Maybe I can stay a bit longer and help you with chores… or something.”
You look around your room, that is spotless aside from his t-shirt and jeans on the floor. “Sure. Why don’t you start by picking up your clothes, putting them on, and then leaving.”
“Oh, come on,” he throws his head back and groans rather childishly. “That’s a little rude, no?”
“So was the way you were talking to your little girlfriend on the phone earlier,” you hop off the bed, throwing a big t-shirt on. Satoru finds himself getting oddly jealous looking at it, wondering if it was actually yours or if it belonged to an ex.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he tries to reassure you, though you didn’t seem too concerned over it in general.
He also tried to tell you that he hasn’t slept with anyone since he started sleeping with you, but you didn’t seem to care much about that either. The entire time you were just throwing his clothes at him while he absentmindedly got dressed. He’s still yapping after he’s up and fully clothed, so you grab him by the wrist and start walking towards the door.
“And you wouldn’t believe all the shit the guys have given me for turning girls down. One of them started calling me Celibate Satoru, can you believe that?”
“I sure can.” You open the door, walk around him and start pushing him out.
“They don’t even know,” he huffs out a laugh, trying to cope with the fact that he’s not allowed to tell anybody about you two. Satoru turns around when he’s fully out of the door to reveal the delusional grin on his face. “So same time next week?”
“Yup! Bye Gojo.”
“I thought I told you to call me Sa–”
He didn’t get to finish that sentence. You shut the door in his face.
warnings: Suguru with a heavy size k*nk, suggestiveness, possessive bestie Suguru, Suguru just being a teasing menace tbh
a/n: trying to get out of this lil funk I seem to be in by finishing and clearing out drabble drafts🤪
Your best friend Suguru seems fixated on how much bigger than you he is.
He made it a point to always make you aware of just how much he dwarfed you. To point out just how much bigger, stronger and muscular he was than you. How easy it would be for him to throw you around. To break you.
It’s not like you hadn’t noticed it already. It was hard to miss.
Especially with the way he’d loom over you menacingly—you’re pretty sure you heard the raven haired man growl too—whenever another of the male species had the audacity to even approach you. Scaring away every potential suitor.
Or the way he’d manspread across your sofa—thick thighs spread like a whore— as all of 6 foot 3 inches of lean, corded muscle swallowed up your tiny seating space.
Then he’d casually pat his lap. Muttering a quick “come sit here, angel.” as he smirked at your gulping form.
You’d perch yourself precariously on his lap, knees pressed together and fidgeting hands laying in your own lap, unsure what to do.
But today that wasn’t enough for Suguru.
Eventually you feel the warm palm of his hand—a hand that when spread took up majority of your tummy— press against your soft tummy as he makes you lean back into him. Then he places your thighs over his, making your breath stutter at the feeling of your best friend spreading your thighs under the guise of ‘comfort’.
He tucks your hair behind your ear, whispering a soft, “see? Isn’t this much more comfortable?”, against your lobe as his thumb gently strokes just above your bellybutton.
He wants to groan at the fact even like this, even spread out all over him, he’s just that much bigger than you.
After a few minutes he begins chuckling to himself as he eyes where his hand lies.
“What’s so funny?” You ask quietly as you turn your head so you can see his face. Amethyst eyes flicker to yours as your best friend smirks.
“Just thinking about how deep I would reach.” He purrs. “W-what?” You choke out. “How deep what would reach?!” You squeak.
Suguru eyes you, knowing you’re playing dumb, that you know exactly what he’s talking about.
“I think I’d reach riiiight about here.” He hums, adding a little pressure to where his thumb strokes making you whimper softly.
But now you can feel him too. Thick, hard and straining against the fabric of his baggy jeans.
Suguru smiles as he feels you subconsciously begin to wiggle against his rigid length, your chest beginning to heave, a light blush gracing your cheeks as you lay your hand over his wandering one.
“Wonder if that tiny little pussy would even be able to take me at all.” He shrugs, tilting his head as he watches your carefully. “What do you think, angel?” He coos.
You look into your best friend's eyes, his pupils are blown, you can almost see the nasty, lewd thoughts that float around his brain.
“I-I don’t know, Sugu.” You whisper as you look down at where your hand lies over his. “You’re just so…big.”
Suguru groans, deep and dark, at your words before he grins.
synopsis: a story in which a depressed satoru gets sent to the future and sees just how bright it eventually becomes. meanwhile, you're reminded of how much of a brat your husband used to be when you first started dating.
cw: time travel, smut w/ a touch of angst bc we LOVE plot, satoru's actually so mean at first lol, dad!jo (him and reader share a daughter together)
notes: hiiii we got 6.5k words for this one ❤️ comm for the lovely @sadlittlecucumber i hope u like!!!!
song rec: drag path — twenty one pilots
Satoru’s life ended up being a fucking bummer.
His best friend’s a mass murderer. Shoko’s gone off to do her own thing with medicine. Nanami left to go become a banker or whatever. Ijichi’s… Ijichi. Oh, and Haibara’s dead. Everyone who’s alive seems to have moved on— so should Satoru, honestly. But times proved that to be quite difficult.
He’s starting to understand where Suguru was coming from with the whole exorcise-absorb mantra. Except for him, it was exorcise and destroy, leaving every cursed site he’s stepped foot on looking like god himself decided to hit the reset button to obliterate the place.
Nobody says anything about it. He’s probably the closest thing to a god. Despite having tried his hardest all throughout his youth to fit in and act as if he was just like everyone else, people were still terrified to fuck with him.
And despite the chaos he’s constantly surrounded by— mainly from his own doing— the days still find a way to bleed into each other, morphing into a never ending cycle of boredom and violence. It’s quite the combo. The higher ups are lucky he’s too tired to plot anything behind their backs.
He’s exhausted.
The past is too blurry. The future’s too bleak.
Gojo was bound to fuck up sooner or later. The thought of him finally snapping like Suguru did, dangling in the back of his mind, taunting him.
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 only has 10 minutes to come up with what to say to get your number.
