── .✦ apologizing after yelling at your warrior husband sukuna in front of his men (oops) ✧.*
"'kuna."
your husband said nothing. he merely continued to brush his horse down, barely acknowledging your presence behind him. your fingers fidgeted with your sleeve, nervous and guilty.
only an hour ago, you had argued with him openly in front of his men over something trivial. it should've occurred to you that something was wrong when he didn't even say a word in response. he only let you rant as he stood silent, jaw tightening. when you were done, you had just stormed off without giving him a chance to reply.
as your anger subsided, you had started to realize how he must have felt. being a formidable warrior with a fearsome reputation, sukuna never once showed a hint of weakness except with you. he had always been intimidating, terrifying, powerful. and there you were, undermining him with just an indignant lecture and no care at all for who he was with.
sukuna always met your fire with just as much ferocity. deep down, he loved to fight with you because he knew you could take whatever you dished out. the two of you would row it out until it ended in begrudging apologies and laughter while tangling under your sheets.
yet now, he didn't even deign to look at you. it hurt more than you could admit.
"'kuna, please," you pleaded softly, fingers brushing the muscles of his back. "truly i didn't mean to lose my temper, i'm sorry."
without him even turning, you knew the face he was making. eyes shut, teeth grinding, refusing to meet your eyes despite how much he might have wanted to. you didn't back down. a pout pulled your lips as your voice turned exaggeratedly plaintive.
"if i have offended my lord husband in any way, i wish to repent." your arms came around his torso, cheek resting against him. "it wasn't my place to speak to you that way," you murmured, coy, docile, so unlike yourself that sukuna would've laughed any other day. "i'll suffer any punishment you see fit."
still, he didn't move, though his hands almost paused, then tightened on the brush, resuming. you could feel his resolve breaking bit by bit, and you latched on to it.
"yell at me, curse me, scold me, do whatever you'd like to me," you walked around to face him, stood between his horse and his broad chest. you looked up at him through your lashes, then hugged him again as his whole body tensed up, still acting like you weren't there.
"just please, look at me again. i can't bear being apart from you."
after a few moments of tense silence, sukuna cursed under his breath and suddenly moved. strong arms wrapped around you in a crushing embrace, bringing you closer to him, and you hid a triumphant yet relieved smile.
"you provoke me, over and over again," he began, growling. "and the second i turn away from you, you cling like a vine." his fingers grabbed your face and forced it upwards as he glared down at you. "spoiled brat."
"will you forgive me?" you asked, voice muffled as he squished your cheeks. he let out an exasperated huff.
"let's see how i feel once i give you the punishment you so sweetly asked for," he pinched your ear and suppressed a smirk, making you whine. you didn't move away from him, though, content to be right where you were. and you suspected your husband was, too. no matter how mad he got, he was always weak for you in the end.
a/n: tysm for 200 followers !! im in disbelief ✧.*
the atmosphere was calm, well as calm as it could be with sukuna there.
you sat curled up in his lap while he yelled at toji through his headset for the nth time. you shifted slightly before slowly sliding out of sukuna's lap, he muttered a quick
“where ya goin?” his eyes shifted towards you, now fully out of his grasp.
“bathroom.”
he let out a low hum and returned his hard gaze back to his monitor.
-
“holy shit ryomen, yer washed.” toji snickered through the mic.
“easy to talk when you pick OKC every fucking round.” sukuna snarled back.
“aye back to back dubs speaks for itself.”
“its been two rounds already?” sukuna checked his phone, its been almost 2 hours since you left his lap.
“two rounds of belt? yea bro.” a snort came out from sukunas headphones.
“im hoppin off anyway to go out with my girl. cus i got other shit to do, like my girl. get it? cus i have a girlfriend.” sukuna teased.
“blah blah blah we get it asshat.”
sukuna chuckled to himself before logging off and heading over to barge on you in the bathroom, which was locked? he lifted a heavy knuckle and tapped on the door twice.
“babe, you takin’ a shit?”
a small snort escaped from the other side of the door, “yea ryo ive been shitting for two hours.”
his crimson eyes fluttered into a roll before he twisted the knob again, “okay brat then why is the door locked, let me in.”
needy bastard. “kuna you can wait for like two minutes, im almost done.” you added the final touches to your face before adjusting your dress again. kinda short. eh its fine.
he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed “almost done what? I can smell your body wash, did you wanna go on a date ton-”
the door swung open, revealing your finished look. hair done and neat, makeup on point, gold jewelry layered all over your body, and your new brown mini dress that hugged your body perfectly.
sukuna paused, looked you up and down, eyes immediately turning hungry.
“black shoes or brown shoes?” you cocked a brow at him.
“fuck, you look gorgeous baby.” he answered completely ignoring your question, “where we goin’?”
you puckered your lips and smiled back at him, “thank you. okay so black or brown?”
“brown. and give me like fifteen minutes, I'll be ready.” he bee-lined straight to the bathroom before your manicured hand pressed against his chest, stopping him right in his tracks.
“ryo you can’t come to girls night. I've told you this like a thousand times.”
girls night? It was like someone shot him in the chest right then and there. not only were you looking absolutely beautiful on a night the both of you had off, you were going out with your friends. instead of sukuna. not to mention how much they hated sukuna. the burly mans shoulders tensed,
“nonono, the hell you mean girls night? I thought WE were going out tonight.” it was almost pathetic how whiney his voice sounded. to anyone else it would've been a once in a blue moon sight, unfortunately for you it wasn’t.
“ryo I told you last night that I was going out with them.”
“did not.”
“did too.”
“did not.”
“ryomen i literally told you before we went to bed and you said ‘okay ill drive you.” you pushed past him and slipped on your brown kitten heels, before admiring your full look in the mirror.
“There's no way I said that, I was out cold before you even shut off the light.” he followed your trail like a sulking puppy`. a large six foot something sulking puppy.
“sukuna i promise you i’m not lying.” you paused with your purse and keys in hand.
“fine. but if i get handsy in the car, you cannot blame me. you look so hot.” he grabbed the keys from your hands and opened the front door.
you tsked, “mhm mhm no touching while my girls are in the car.”
“what.”
“we’re picking them up, remember?”
“you’re shittin’ me.”
-
after thirty minutes of being interrogated, looped into gossip, and asked the ‘you’re a guy what do you think?’ question approximately fifteen times, sukuna finally got to the restaurant.
your girls murmured a bunch of rushed thank yous before quickly hopping out of the car and heading into the restaurant. sukunas hand still gripped the wheel,
“thank you for dropping us off kuna.” you leaned over the center console and gave him a peck on the cheek, causing him to turn his head.
“call me if anything.” he responded in a low mumble.
“i know i know.” you smiled before turning to open your door.
“wait.” you paused and turned to look back at your boyfriend who was already outside of the car, he made his way around to your side and opened your door. He held your hand in his large gruff one before pulling you into another kiss, he pulled away just an inch from your mouth, his breath still on yours,
“i’m fucking the shit out of you when you get home.”
you felt the warmth pooling in your cheeks, you bit back a smile and mumbled back
“promise?”
sukunas hands gripped at your waist, before dropping to his sides, a slow huff escaped his nose, “pinky.”
you snorted before walking off, feeling the sting of sukunas hand slapping your ass as you did so.
-
sukuna knew as soon as you called three hours later, slurring every other word, that he would be eating his words that night.
after dropping off your equally drunk friends, he carried you into bed, taking his time removing your make up because he knew you would yell at him if he didn’t, then taking off your heels and dress, changing you into one of his shirts.
“ryo.”
“hm.”
“my friendsss saidd they loveeyou.”
“really?” shocking. considering they mean mugged him all night. didn’t even bother to say his name properly.
you nodded slowly under the sheets.
“why’s that?”
a hiccup escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut “they said… youmake mee glow.”
“they’re idiots.”
you snorted, “loveeyouu.”
“i love you too brat.”
he couldn’t even be mad at you for blue balling him all night.
♡ summary: after two terrible days, all you want is to use your boyfriend as a mattress. unfortunately for you, gojo satoru is very easily distracted.
♡ warnings: 18+ mdni • explicit sexual content • established relationship • oral (f!receiving) • multiple orgasms • piv sex • praise • possessive language • dirty talk • creampie • fluff
♡ author’s note: this was inspired by a post from @silentlunarkiss based on this fanart 😭 i screenshotted it immediately because i knew i wanted to write it, then somehow lost the original post before i could tag them. finally found them again!! ♡
banner by @pixopix
The apartment is quiet when you finally drag yourself through the door, your work bag feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds. Your feet are killing you, your brain is fried, and all you want is to collapse into bed and not move for approximately twelve hours.
You kick off your shoes and shuffle down the hallway, already pulling your hair out of the bun you'd done up that morning, now mostly falling out on its own. The bedroom door is cracked open, and when you push it wider, you find exactly what you were hoping for.
Satoru is sprawled across the bed like a starfish, still wearing his teaching clothes—black pants and a rumpled button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His blindfold is tossed carelessly on the nightstand, and his white hair is an absolute disaster, sticking up in every direction like he's been running his hands through it all day. His eyes are closed, one arm thrown over his face.
He looks as exhausted as you feel.
"Rough day?" you ask, and he groans without moving.
"The first years tried to fight a curse three grades above their level because Yuji said it 'looked easy,'" he mumbles into his arm. "I had to bail them out. Again. Then Megumi and Nobara got into an argument about mission protocol that somehow turned into a full-blown screaming match about who ate whose leftovers from the fridge. I had to separate them like they were toddlers."
Despite your exhaustion, you snort. "Sounds about right."
"And then," he continues, finally moving his arm to peek at you with one brilliant blue eye, "Yaga cornered me about paperwork I was supposed to file last week. Do you know how much I hate paperwork?"
"I'm aware." You're already moving toward the bed, unbuttoning your work pants. "You complain about it literally every time."
"Because it's the worst. I'm the strongest sorcerer alive. I shouldn't have to file incident reports."
"Mm-hmm, very tragic." You shimmy out of your pants and leave them in a heap on the floor—a problem for future you. Your blouse follows, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. "My day was also shit, for the record."
"Yeah?" He's watching you now with lazy interest, too tired to even sit up but still tracking your movements.
"My boss is an idiot, the coffee machine broke, I had to sit through a two-hour meeting that could've been an email, and Janet from accounting passive-aggressively cc'd the entire department on an email about someone stealing her lunch. Which, for the record, I didn't do, but she definitely thinks I did based on the way she was glaring at me."
"Want me to hollow purple Janet from accounting?" he offers, completely serious.
"Tempting, but no." You crawl onto the bed and without ceremony, flop directly on top of him, your full weight pressing him into the mattress. You bury your face in his chest with a long, dramatic groan. "I'm dead. This is me, dead."
"Hi, dead. I'm also dead." His arms come around you automatically, wrapping you up even though you're both too tired to really move. "We're both corpses now. This is our life."
"Our death," you correct, muffled against his shirt.
"Our death," he agrees solemnly.
For a moment, you just lie there, breathing in sync. He smells like his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the training grounds—sweat and grass and something distinctly him. It's comforting in a way you can't quite articulate. This exhausted, collapsed-together moment feels like home.
His hand starts moving on your back, slow and gentle, rubbing up and down your spine. It feels incredible, and you make an embarrassing sound of contentment that you'll deny later.
"You're tense as hell," he murmurs, fingers working at a knot between your shoulder blades.
"You try dealing with Janet's accusatory emails and see how relaxed you are," you mumble, but you're already melting into his touch.
"I'd just block her."
"You can't block coworkers, Satoru."
"You can if you're powerful enough." His hand slides lower, still rubbing your back, and you feel some of the day's tension starting to ease. "This okay?"
"It's perfect. You're my favorite human pillow."
"Just human pillow? Not devastatingly handsome boyfriend who you're lucky to have?"
"That's implied," you say, but you're smiling against his chest.
His other hand joins the first, both of them working at your tired muscles, and you honest-to-god almost start purring. This is exactly what you needed. Just this—him, the quiet apartment, his hands on you, the weight of the day slowly lifting.
But then his hands start to wander.
It's subtle at first. His fingers drift from your back to your sides, tracing the curve of your waist. Then lower, skimming over your hips. And then—
He grabs your ass. Both hands, full handfuls, squeezing appreciatively.
"Really?" you ask, lifting your head to look at him. "We're both dead, remember? Corpses don't grope."
"I'm a very motivated corpse." He squeezes again, shameless, and there's a grin tugging at his lips now. "Can't help it. You're lying on top of me in your underwear. What did you expect?"
"Self-control? Restraint? Basic human decency?"
"Baby, you know me better than that." His hands are still kneading your ass, and despite your sass, you can feel heat starting to pool low in your belly. "Besides, you love it."
"I love that you can't even wait until we've recovered from our respective terrible days before getting handsy?"
"Exactly." He's fully grinning now, that cocky, insufferable grin that makes you want to kiss him and smack him at the same time. "Your ass is the best stress relief. It's science."
"That's not science, you idiot."
"It's my science."
You snort, but you're not moving away. His hands are warm and familiar, and honestly, after the day you've had, this isn't the worst thing in the world. You let your head drop back to his chest, eyes drifting closed.
"Comfortable?" he asks, voice softer now.
"Mmm," you hum in agreement. "Don't stop."
"Wasn't planning on it."
For a while, it's just quiet. His hands keep moving—sometimes squeezing, sometimes just resting there, thumbs drawing lazy circles. You can hear his heartbeat under your ear, steady and strong. The tension in your shoulders is almost completely gone now, replaced by a different kind of warmth, something slower and heavier.
You're half-asleep when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness pressing against your hip.
"Satoru," you mumble, not even opening your eyes.
"Hmm?"
"Are you seriously getting hard right now?"
There's a pause. Then he says, "...Maybe."
You lift your head to look at him, one eyebrow raised. He has the decency to look slightly sheepish, but there's heat in his eyes now, that familiar hunger that never really goes away when it comes to you.
"We were having a nice moment."
"We still are."
"You've got a boner."
"I do…That doesn't cancel the nice moment."
You stare at him for another second before letting out a laugh.
"Seriously?"
"What?"
"I come home exhausted, use you as a human mattress for ten minutes, and somehow I'm the problem?"
"You are absolutely the problem."
"I literally haven't done anything."
"You climbed on top of me, got all comfy, made that little happy humming noise, and then fell asleep on my chest."
"I hummed?"
"You hummed."
"I don't hum."
"You do when you're really comfortable."
You narrow your eyes. "I've never noticed that."
"I have."
You glare at him.
"…Baby." He exhales dramatically, like he's carrying the weight of the world. "You're makin' me so hard."
You snort. "You're unbelievable."
"I'm trying to be respectful."
"Are you?"
Silence.
"…No." He grins without an ounce of shame. "Not really."
Despite yourself, you laugh again, dropping your forehead back against his shoulder.
"You're ridiculous."
"I know."
His arms tighten around you just a little. "But you look so comfortable."
His voice is quieter now. "So happy."
You burrow your face further into his shoulder.
"…I like when you're like this."
You feel yourself smile before you can stop it. "You're such a sap."
"Only for you."
There's a comfortable silence. Then his hands drift just a little bit lower again.
"…Okay," you mumble. "Now you're definitely not being respectful."
"No." He gives your ass another shameless squeeze. "I'm definitely not."
Before you can respond, he's sitting up, keeping you in his lap, and capturing your mouth in a kiss that's hungry and demanding. You can taste his desperation, feel it in the way his hands grip you like he's afraid you're going to disappear.
When he pulls back, his lips are already swollen, his eyes are dark with want. "I need to taste you," he says, and it's not a request. "Get up here."
"Up where—"
But he's already moving, sliding down the bed and pulling you with him. "On my face. Come on."
"Satoru—"
"Please." And there it is, that needy edge that makes your stomach flip. "I've been thinking about this all day. About you sitting on my face, riding my tongue until you come. Please, baby. I need it."
How are you supposed to say no to that?
"You're ridiculous," you say, but you're already moving, letting him position you. He's lying flat on his back now, looking up at you with such raw want that it makes you shiver.
"Not ridiculous. Desperate." His hands come up to grip your thighs, pulling you forward. "Now stop stalling and sit on my face."
"Bossy," you mutter, but you're lowering yourself down, and then—
"Oh fuck," you gasp as his tongue makes contact, sliding through your folds in one long, deliberate stroke.
He groans under you, the vibration going straight to your core, and his hands tighten on your thighs. "That's it," he mumbles against you. "Right there. Don't move."
But you're already moving, you can't help it, grinding down against his mouth as he licks and sucks and devours you like a man starving. His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, holding you exactly where he wants you, and when you try to lift up, worried about suffocating him, about being too much—he just pulls you back down harder.
"Satoru—"
"Stay," he demands, voice muffled. He pulls his face back to look up at you. "Fuck my face. Come on, baby, I can take it. Give it to me." Then he lowers his mouth to you again.
It's obscene, the wet sounds of his mouth on you, the way he's completely lost in it. His tongue circles your clit, then dips inside you, then back to your clit, and you're already shaking, already so close.
"That's it," he encourages, and you can hear the smugness in his voice even now. "You're dripping, baby. such a mess on my face."
"Shut—up," you gasp, but there's no heat in it because he's right—you can feel how wet you are, can feel it on his chin, his lips, and it should be embarrassing but it's just hot.
"Make me," he challenges, and then he's sucking your clit into his mouth, hard, and you cry out.
Your hands fly to the headboard, gripping the edge to steady yourself as the pleasure intensifies. You start to really move now, riding his face with purpose, and he moans underneath you like this is exactly what he wanted all along.
"Fuck, yes," he groans against you, the vibration making you gasp. "Just like that. Use me, baby. Take what you need."
His hands guide your hips, encouraging the rhythm, and his tongue is relentless—circling, flicking, pressing flat against you in a way that makes your thighs shake. You can feel yourself getting closer, that coil of heat tightening in your belly.
"Satoru, I'm—fuck—"
"Do it," he demands, voice rough. "Come on my face.”
His tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, and that's all it takes. Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, pleasure rolling through your entire body. You're grinding down against his mouth, riding it out, and he's groaning underneath you like this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.
When you finally come down, shaking and oversensitive, you try to move off him, but his hands tighten on your thighs.
"Not yet," he mumbles, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs, your hip bones, anywhere he can reach. "Just—give me a second. You taste so fucking good."
"You're gonna kill me," you pant, but you're smiling.
But he's already diving back in, and you gasp as his tongue finds your clit again. Your whole body jolts at the sensitivity, but he doesn't let up—he's relentless, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he works you over. The pleasure is almost too much, bordering on overwhelming, and you're already moaning his name.
"Satoru—fuck—it's too much—"
"I know, baby," he groans against you, the vibration sending another wave through you. "But you can take it."
He's eating you out like he's starving, like he can't get enough, and your whole body is shaking. Your hands grip the headboard tighter, your hips moving against his mouth almost involuntarily. The pleasure is building again, impossibly fast, and you're gasping and moaning as he works you toward another orgasm.
"Oh god—Satoru—I'm gonna—"
"That's it," he encourages, his tongue flicking faster.
Your second orgasm hits you like a wave, even more intense than the first, and you're crying out as pleasure crashes through you. Your thighs are shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up, and he's groaning underneath you, clearly getting off on how much he's affecting you.
When you finally collapse, completely spent and oversensitive, he finally releases you, and you fall onto the bed next to him, breathing hard and trembling.
"And I'm dramatic?" He's grinning like he just won the lottery, his face wet, his hair a complete disaster. "That was—fuck. I love you, baby."
"You're insane," you say, but you're pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.
"About you? Absolutely." His hands are already roaming again, cupping your face, then sliding down your sides. "But I'm not done with you yet."
"Oh really?"
"Really." He's kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. When he pulls back, there's something vulnerable in his expression beneath all the confidence. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"Then show me," you challenge, and his eyes darken.
"Oh, baby."
He's fumbling with his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers, and his cock springs free—flushed and hard and already leaking. You reach for him, wrapping your hand around his length, and he hisses.
"Fuck, baby—"
"What?" You stroke him slowly, base to tip, and he's already trembling.
"Your hands—shit—they're so much smaller than mine. Look so good wrapped around my cock."
"Yeah?" you tease, giving him another slow stroke.
"Yeah." His voice is strained.
He gently removes your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, and then he's pulling you against him. His arms wrap around you, one hand sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip possessively. You can feel him, hard and hot against your thigh, and he's just... holding you there.
"Satoru—"
"Give me a second," he murmurs, his voice already rough. His breathing is uneven against your neck, and you can feel the tension in his body—the way he's trying to maintain control. "Just—fuck—you feel so good.”
His hips shift slightly, and you feel the length of him drag against you—not entering, just the pressure of him sliding through your wetness. The friction makes you gasp, and he groans.
"There it is," he breathes. "That sound. The little gasp you make when I—" He does it again, a slow roll of his hips, grinding against you. "When I touch you just right."
"Satoru, please—"
"Please what?" His hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him. "Tell me what you want, baby."
"You know what I want."
"I do." Another slow grind, and you can feel how wet you are, how easily he slides against you. "But I wanna hear you say it. Love the way your voice gets all breathy when you're desperate for me."
"You're killing me—"
"Good." He's kissing your neck now, teeth grazing your pulse point. "You've been killing me all day. All week. Every time you look at me with those eyes, every time you smile at me like I'm the only person in the world—fuck, baby, you have no idea."
His voice is shaking now, and you realize he's not teasing anymore—he's barely holding on. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, and you both freeze.
"I can't—" His forehead drops to your shoulder. "I can't think straight around you. Can't control myself. You just—you exist, and I'm gone."
"Then stop trying to control it," you whisper, and you feel him shudder.
"Fuck." He shifts, lining himself up properly, and then he's pushing in—slowly, so slowly. The stretch is intense, pleasure edged with the sweetest hint of pressure as he fills you inch by inch. "Fuck, baby. You feel so good. So tight. So perfect."
"Satoru—"
"I know. I've got you." He's only halfway in, taking his time, letting you adjust. His forehead is still pressed to your shoulder, and you can feel how much restraint this is taking him—the way his muscles are tense, the way his breath comes in short gasps. "You're taking me so well. You always take me so well."
Finally, finally, he's fully seated inside you, and you both just breathe for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of being completely connected.
"Okay?" he asks, lifting his head to look at you.
"Yes baby," you manage. "You can move.”
"Thank fuck." He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then thrusts back in. The drag of his cock against your walls makes you gasp, and he groans. "That sound. Fuck, I love that sound."
He sets a steady rhythm, deep and deliberate, each thrust making you feel impossibly full. His hands are everywhere—cupping your face, tangling in your hair, gripping your hips—like he can't decide where he wants to touch you most.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, watching your face. "All flushed and breathless. The way your eyes get all hazy when I'm inside you—fuck, it drives me crazy."
"Satoru—"
"I love you so much." His voice is rough with emotion now, not just desire. "Love everything about you. The way you feel, the way you look at me, the way you let me have you like this—"
"I love you too," you gasp, and his hips stutter.
His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and when he opens them again, there's something raw there.
"Say it again."
"I love you."
"Fuck." His pace falters, becomes less controlled. "You can't—you can't just say it like that when I'm inside you. You're gonna—shit—"
"You feel so good," you tell him, cupping his face. "So perfect. You always make me feel so good."
His breath catches, and suddenly he's kissing you desperately, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, less measured.
"You're everything," he gasps against your mouth. "Everything to me. The way you trust me, the way you look at me like I'm—fuck, baby, I can't—"
"You are," you insist, and his composure cracks completely.
"Fuck—" He's moving faster now, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "Love how you fit around me. Like you were made for me. Like we were made for each other."
"We were," you gasp, and his eyes flash with something fierce and possessive.
"Damn right we were." He shifts slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly every thrust is devastating. "There it is. That's the spot, isn't it?"
"Yes—fuck—right there—"
"I know, baby. I know." His voice is breaking now, emotion and desire tangled together. "Gonna make you come again. Wanna watch your face when you—fuck—when you come because of me."
The pleasure is building so quickly you can barely breathe. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, his back, trying to anchor yourself as he drives into you again and again.
"That's it," he encourages, watching your face like he's memorizing it. "I can feel you getting tighter. You're close, aren't you? So fucking close."
"Don't stop—"
"Never." One of his hands slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel it. Let me see you."
The combination of his cock hitting that perfect spot and his thumb on your clit is too much. Your orgasm hits you hard, pleasure crashing through you in waves that make your whole body tense and shake. You're clenching around him, and he groans at the sensation.
"Fuck, yes," he breathes, still moving, fucking you through it. "That's it. That's my girl. You're so good. So beautiful. Fuck, I love you so much."
When you finally start to come down, gasping and trembling, you expect him to follow you over the edge. But instead, he slows his movements, pressing soft kisses to your face.
"Satoru—"
"Not done with you yet," he murmurs against your lips.
Before you can respond, he's pulling out and lifting your legs, draping them over his shoulders. The new position opens you up completely, and when he pushes back in, he's somehow even deeper than before.
"Oh fuck—" you gasp, and he groans.
"There we go." He starts moving again, and this angle is devastating. Every thrust feels impossibly deep, hitting places that make your toes curl. "How's that, baby? That good?"
"Yes—fuck—Satoru—"
"I love you so much," he says, his voice rough. "You know that? I'm never letting you go. You're mine. Always gonna be mine."
"Yours," you agree breathlessly, and something in his expression goes even more intense.
"That's right." His thrusts are harder now, more purposeful. "Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna love you for the rest of my life."
His hand moves to your stomach, pressing down, and suddenly his eyes go wide. He can feel himself inside you, the bulge of his cock with each thrust, and something feral takes over his expression.
"Holy shit," he breathes, completely mesmerized. His hand traces the outline, feeling himself move in and out of you, and he starts fucking you even harder, unable to look away. "Look at that. Look at you taking me so deep."
You're already building toward another orgasm, the intensity of this angle and his words and the way he's looking at you like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen—it's all too much.
He's transfixed, watching his cock disappear inside you again and again, feeling the movement under his palm. His breathing is ragged, his movements becoming more frantic.
"Can you feel that, baby?" he asks breathlessly, his voice completely wrecked. "Fuck—I'm so fucking deep—you feel that?"
You look up at him with half-shut glazed eyes, your mouth parted open, completely fucked out. "Yes—fuck—yes, Satoru, I feel it—"
He groans at the sight of you—at how thoroughly wrecked you look, at the way you're falling apart beneath him. "You're so hot. So fucking hot. The way you look right now—fuck—I'm obsessed with you."
He's fucking you harder now, more urgently, his hand still on your stomach feeling himself move inside you with each thrust. The visual seems to drive him wild, and his movements become almost desperate.
"Come for me again," he demands, his other hand finding your oversensitive clit. "I know you can. I know you've got one more in you. Come on, baby. Give it to me."
"Satoru—I can't—it's too much—"
"You can." His thumb presses harder, circling your clit. "You can, baby. I need you to.”
The pleasure is building impossibly fast, almost painful in its intensity. You're so sensitive from your first two orgasms that every thrust, every touch feels magnified.
"That's it," he encourages, watching your face. "I can see it. You're right there. Just let go, baby.”
His voice is breaking, his control completely shattered, and then something raw escapes from him.
"I want you—" His hips snap forward harder. "Fuck—want all of you.”
His composure finally snaps.
"They've been on my ass my whole life about the bloodline. About heirs. About duty." Another hard thrust, his voice is cracking. "And I never—fuck—never wanted it."
He's breathing hard, almost gasping between words.
"Not until you."
His forehead drops closer to yours, his movements becoming more frantic.
"Only you. Want to marry you—want to wake up to you every day—want to call you my wife and—ah—know you're mine—"
Your orgasm crashes through you even harder, triggered by his words, by the desperation in his voice, by the sight of him completely undone above you. You're clenching around him so tight he gasps, your whole body shaking with the intensity.
"Fuck, yes—" He's just… staring at you, still moving, still feeling himself inside you. "So beautiful—The way your face—the way you sound—fuck—"
The sight of you completely wrecked under him, the feeling of you clenching around him, the way you gasp his name—it pushes him over the edge.
"Ah—fuck—fuck—fuuckk—" He buries himself as deep as he can go and comes hard, spilling into you in hot pulses. His whole body shudders with the intensity of it, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, can feel the warmth spreading.
He collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you but clearly boneless. For a while, you just breathe together, sweaty and satisfied.
"Holy shit," you mumble.
"Yeah." He's pressing kisses all over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips. He can’t seem to stop touching you, his hands running over your skin like he needs the contact. "You're amazing. Incredible. Best girlfriend in the entire world."
"Best girlfriend, or best pussy?" you tease, and he pulls back to look at you with mock offense.
"Both. Definitely both." He's grinning now, that soft, genuine smile that he only gives you. "But mostly you. I love you. Like, so much. An embarrassing amount."
"I love you too, you needy disaster."
"Your needy disaster," he corrects, and he's still touching you, hands running over your skin like he can't bear to stop. "Mine now. No takebacks."
"Wouldn't dream of it," you say softly, and you mean it.
He pulls you closer, tucking you against his chest, and you can hear his heartbeat starting to slow. The exhaustion from earlier is creeping back in, but it's different now—satisfied, content, the good kind of tired.
"We should probably shower," you murmur, but you're already half-asleep.
"Later," he mumbles into your hair. "Right now I just wanna hold you."
"Clingy."
"Yep." He doesn't even sound ashamed. "You're stuck with me. Forever. Hope you're ready for that."
"I think I can manage," you say, smiling against his chest.
And as you drift off in his arms, you think that yeah… you can definitely manage. This ridiculous, needy, perfect man is yours, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
a little as a joke, a little as a test to see if he will actually do it. he’s been asking to eat you out but in his usual way of staring you down and then demanding you to get on the bed. when you don’t move he nudges closer to you, kisses your neck, whines about that he wants to eat you now. it’s then you decide to test him. in your living room, a random show playing on the screen. you can see the lump in his shorts and you feel the same.
“get on your knees and beg for it.”
that has him pulling off you, a quirk of his brow to test if you’re playing or not. quickly, once you cross your arms across your chest, he realises you’re not.
“hah?” but it comes out like the last breeze on a windy day. breathless yet weighty.
“you heard me.” you reply, flicking your eyes up and down your pro hero boyfriend.
you’re aware he’d do anything for you. you’re wondering if anything stretches to this.
“you’re a fuckin… you want me to…,” he trails off, sitting up off you. his lower stomach heats. his cock twitches. he’s into this unsurprisingly. “fuck, baby.”
you don’t move but you look at him expectantly. like you know he will. your confidence makes his blood heat under his skin, his heart race with speed. you jut your chin to the floor.
always a stubborn man, he has to roll his eyes before he moves. even pushes out a huffy sigh and mumbles under his breath. “this shit you have me doin’.”
but he does it. manoeuvres his muscled, wide shouldered body onto the floor. onto his knees in front of your legs. your bare thighs spread on the sofa in your shorts… your pussy is right there. he can see your folds through the fabric since they’re so tight.
he’s got a muscle tank on and you see his biceps flex when he clasps his hands together. your favourite is how all his stubbornness dissipates away and he becomes completely and utterly yours.
when he opens his mouth, the corners of your lips spread to under your eyes in a smile.
“lemme eat it, baby. please. please let me. i’ll do it so good, get you comin’ on my face, screamin’ for me. baby.” it’s all a syrupy drawl, his gold tooth catching the lamp light with every word. he even leans forward to press a kiss to the flesh of your thigh.
katsuki on your knees for you. this is what dreams are made of.
he goes in for another kiss on your thigh, closer to between your legs. you place your palm on his forehead, pushing him off.
“you’re too needy. i didn’t even answer you,” you frown, lip curled.
bakugou doesn’t know where this version of you has come from but he thinks he loves it.
“my bad, baby. you’re just so gorgeous.” he grins with half lidded eyes. he wants to touch your calves, massage them, nibble hickies into your thighs and have your touch his cock.
but most of all he wants—, “can i eat you? promise i’ll lick you clean. any position you want. miss your taste, baby. please.”
you tilt your head at him.
“please, princess. my beautiful girl. the love of my fuckin’ existence.” he’s too fucking jolly. smiling away with these sleepy yet needy ruby eyes.
you stand up. he looks better at this angle on his knees. head up to look at you. he’s like a dog ready to scent you, by stuffing his head between your legs.
“fine. i want you to undress me then i’m sitting on your face.”
you sit on katsuki’s lap in public all the time. even though he’s not big on pda, he just likes having you that close. even when there’s plenty of seats, he’ll just pull you closer until the back of your knees meet his, and you have no other choice but to sit on his thighs.
he thinks it sends a message without him having to talk. because you’ve complained before about the way he tells people off when they hit on you. he doesn’t hold back at all. and he likes to please, though he’d never say it out loud, he looooooves to please you. so having you sit down just says you’re taken. and he doesn’t even have to tell guy to get the fuck away from you before he kills him. it’s just the best of both worlds.
that’s one of the few times he’ll be touchy like that with you in public. if you go to a bar, or to a friends party, it’s like it’s already agreed with the both of you. he sits down on the couch and already had his hand around your waist, squeezing it softly while he guides you to his lap. you like to sit sideways, so you can wrap one arm around his neck and he can wrap one around your hips. if he’s tipsy, he’ll even put a hand between both your thighs and you’ll shiver a bit. his hands are always so fucking warm. it drives you crazy, cause he won’t do anymore than that, not in front of everyone, not in your friend’s house.
so you just squirm on his lap and let out pleased little sighs when he fiddles with the inside of your thighs, almost as if he doesn’t notice what he’s doing (except he does. he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and he can’t wait for you two to get home).
he's smart as hell, somehow good at everything, hot as fuck and knows it, one of the best heroes alive and has never been out of japan's top 15—and to top it all off, he's the motherfucker that ended all for one at seventeen fucking years old. he's the great explosion murder god dynamight, and if he was any bit humble about it, the world would love and hate him just a little more.
but no. he's crass, foul-mouthed, short-tempered and intense with an ego that made up most of his tall, muscular stature. so even with the many outbursts of his that the world has witnessed, everyone can rest well knowing that he's still flawed. that ah, one of the greatest heroes in existence has an unfixable personality problem. thank god.
surely there's no way anyone could ever tolerate that personality enough, right? right?
pro-hero!katsuki who secretly married the love of his life not too long after graduating from ua, and quietly welcomed a daughter in his mid-twenties.
pro-hero!katsuki who is somehow the perfect husband and father, and every other person in his life is sick of it. because what do you mean this motherfucker is the one in a happy relationship? kirishima can't land someone for longer than two months, izuku's still stuck in the years-long song and dance with ochaco, most of these idiots are stuck or in and out of situationships, and don't even get anyone started on kaminari and jiro—but everyone, and i mean everyone, can't seem to get their love life right. why and how, out of all people, did katsuki bakugo get this shit right on the first try?
pro-hero!katsuki who is, unsurprisingly, class 1-a's resident relationship guru. he didn't ask for that position and he genuinely doesn't even understand why it's necessary, but every other reunion, basically everyone was taking turns on asking him love advice. like sure, as the only married parent out of the 21 alums, he has ‘tips and tricks’—but he doesn't get why these idiots need someone to tell them this shit. isn't it all obvious?
“bakugo.. i don't know how to be in a relationship and keep working.. what do i do..?” — “then don't? sort your shit out first. why are you makin' 'em deal with y'r mess that you don't even know how to deal with? jesus.”
“bakugo, the flowers i give my partner when i apologize always seems to end up in the trash even though they said they forgave me. what does that mean?” — “they're either not into flowers or y' can't communicate. either way, makes you a dickhead.”
“she says i'm not present enough.” — “y' probably aren't.”
"she said she doesn't want to be with me 'cause my job scares her.” — “valid. hero work is scary shit. y' can either handle it or y' can't, that's just how shit is. talk to her, but y' can't force her to stay if she really doesn't want to. that's fuckin' mean.”
“wait so, how's the missus okay with you and your job??” — “just win every fight and make it in time for dinner. light fuckin' work.”
this shit is so easy, why do these idiots need his hand-holding so badly.
pro-hero!katsuki who makes everyone even more annoyed because for the most part, he never intentionally shows off his perfect family. he's a pretty private guy, and he doesn't like making his marriage anyone's business outside of his close inner circle—it's unnecessary. and yet, like all things katsuki, it's still regularly rubbed in everyone's faces because turns out, he's just such a family man.
he's forced into a day of interviews on the weekend with red riot so obviously they'll have lunch together. they're in the cafeteria and kirishima was going to order something when katsuki dragged him to a table, forced him to sit, and pulls out a lunchbag out of nowhere.
“bakugo!? where the hell did you get that!?”
“shut up. here,” he opened the bag to hand him one of the two bentos and some chopsticks. “my lady and my kid made it this morning. eat it or i'll blow you up.”
kirishima didn't need to be told twice. “thank you for the food!” n he absolutely inhaled it all.
“bakugo, can you tell your wife i love her?” — “rot.”
he bumped into izuku on a walk who's bummed out, feelings crushed over something. izuku's talking about how he's not sure how he can juggle hero work, teaching, and trying this out with ochaco and he knows katsuki is listening, he does. but he could absolutely tell his head and heart wasn't fully in it, and so he stopped to ask.
“what's wrong with you?”
“hah? nothin'.” katsuki turned away, “'m fine.”
“is it work?”
just a bit more prodding later, and katsuki's hanging his whole head remorsefully, broad shoulders sagged and weak.
“..i blew up my kid's favorite dress.”
izuku was so grateful he managed to hold his laugh.
“that's.. that's horrible, kacchan.”
“she said she hates me.”
“she's three and upset, it's normal.” patted him on the back. “she doesn't actually hate you.”
“she's got her mama's heart and my temper, she absolutely fuckin' hates me.”
“well.”
“shut the fuck up.”
“i didn't even say anything.”
pro-hero!katsuki who is living the dream and everyone else are jealous extras. not his fault tho.
more on babykugo and wifey!reader here :]
☾ — do i really like how i wrote this? no.... but the idea is in my brain n i had to just put it out. i definitely hv more papatsuki hcs cooking—it's genuinely all i'm thinking abt ever since i watched buddy daddies—but i'm so sleepy rn n i want to go back to spyxfam so this is all we're getting. also I KNOW I SAID I HAD THE PARENTING DIARY IDEA, BUT PLATONIC!KIRIBAKU BUDDY DADDIES AU IS TEMPTING ME AOSOSJHDJSKSK someone save me. anyw yeah, there'll be more papatsuki. i need to get more comfortable writing hcs and simpler stuff anyw so i'm experimenting. thank u 4 reading n if u enjoyed it pls lmk and reblog and/or lmk in comments :] i lorb u gang ♡ (also i'm experimenting w my themes until i like it rn so pls don't mind)
zuko who used to detest being called zuzu because azula used to call him that mockingly. but that changes when you start calling him zuzu and it's all affectionate and loving with a hint of harmless teasing.
zuko finds that he doesn't mind being called zuzu as long as it's you calling him that. but then it becomes a slippery slope when you gasp that nickname out in bed, writhing in ecstasy as you make each other see stars.
now zuko can't be called zuzu without his pants growing uncomfortable and your breathy moans echoing in his mind.
"see you later, zuzu," you say, kissing his cheek goodbye and giving iroh a quick squeeze on your way out.
zuko manages a stuttered response, cheeks faintly flushed, and iroh smiles as you walk away. silence then sits between uncle and nephew, one simply drinking his tea while the other tries not to fidget.
then:
"shut up."
"i didn't say anything."
but iroh's grin is merciless and zuko suddenly finds the sunken tea leaves in his cup very fascinating.
🪼 — bkg. k x f!reader | quirkless-college au | fluff | headcanons
★ College bf!Katsuki who is in his third year of college, taking up engineering. He’s also been part of the soccer team since his freshman year, and now that he’s a junior, he has become the team’s captain.
★ College bf!Katsuki who is two years older than you. He’s also your neighbor, so you’ve known each other for years. And since you’re younger than him, his friends— aside from Izuku, don’t know much about you and your relationship with Katsuki. They only get to know you once you start attending the same university as them, finally putting a face to the person Katsuki had been talking about sometimes.
★ College bf!Katsuki who has been insanely popular with the ladies from different departments since his freshman year. They’d slip love letters into his locker or sometimes personally hand him an energy drink after practice. Unfortunately for them, Katsuki flatly rejected every confession, saying there was already someone else.
★ College bf!Katsuki who somehow created a rumor during his second year, about him having a girlfriend because he kept rejecting everyone who confessed to him. What they don’t know is that he wanted you to become his girlfriend so badly— he just never had the courage to ask you out.
★ College bf!Katsuki who finally got the courage to ask you out on a date right before you entered college. So when the first day of classes came— with him as a junior and you as a freshman, people were surprised to see Katsuki walking around campus with a girl without his usual grumpy expression.
★ College bf!Katsuki who never actually tells anyone he has a girlfriend. People figure it out by watching how he interacts with you— they just connect the dots. They finally understand why Katsuki has been rejecting those girls all this time. And whenever his friends or classmates ask him if the two of you are dating, he just answers with a casual “yeah.”
★ College bf!Katsuki who insists on walking you to your class while carrying your bag if it gets too heavy with your laptop and books. Sometimes, he’s even seen holding a small paper bag from a nearby cafe with your favorite pastry inside. Him walking you to class would occasionally make him late by three minutes, but none of his teachers care since he’s always at the top of the class anyway.
★ College bf!Katsuki who intimidates any guy who gets too close or flirty with you. He quietly hovers behind you whenever someone is taking too much of your time, making them know you’re taken by subtly resting a hand on your lower back or around your waist.
★ College bf!Katsuki who isn’t a big fan of PDA but gladly holds your hand or rests an arm over your shoulders when you walk together. And if the hallway is getting too crowded, he’ll walk in front of you, holding your hand as he guides you through the crowd.
★ College bf!Katsuki who knows all the quiet spots around campus. He’ll take you there whenever you both have an hour or two between classes just to relax together. It’s also where he can hug you, hold you, or steal a kiss without a lot of people watching,
★ College bf!Katsuki who waits for your classes to end every day. Since he has a soccer practice after his own classes, he can’t walk you home, so he waits until you’re dismissed just to say goodbye properly before heading to practice.
★ College bf!Katsuki who sometimes asks you to wait for him until practice is over. Usually, you’ll sit on a nearby bench doing your school or watching the team scrimmage. And during water breaks, he’ll jog over and sit beside you under the excuse of taking a drink— where he purposely left his water bottle with you just so he could come over.
★ College bf!Katsuki who tutors you in the subjects you’re not good at. It’s common knowledge that Katsuki is incredibly smart, constantly ranking in the top three of the engineering department. Although, what’s surprising is how good he is at teaching. He’ll take you back to his dorm and patiently teach you through every problem until you understand it. He’ll then leave you completely flustered when he compliments you every now and then— “good girl.”
★ College bf!Katsuki who takes you out to your favorite diners whenever you ace a major quiz or an exam, saying it’s a celebration for surviving and studying hard. And if you try to tell him he doesn’t have to “reward” you every time, he’ll just brush it off and say you earned it.
★ College bf!Katsuki who sometimes sits in on your classes whenever he has free time. He’s not there to disrupt the class or distract you from learning— he just sits beside you, quietly working on his own assignments or projects.
★ College bf!Katsuki who knows your entire schedule by heart even though you never gave him a copy of it. He just memorized it after walking you to class so many times. So whenever he hears that one of your professors canceled a lecture, he’ll immediately text you to ‘meet me at the spot.’
★ College bf!Katsuki who takes you to every one of his soccer matches. He insists that you wear his away-jersey and makes sure you sit near his team’s bench. And before every match officially begins, he’ll come over to collect what he calls his “good luck kiss.”
★ College bf!Katsuki who also takes you to every after-party whenever his team wins. He stays by your side most of the night, but if you insist on him having fun with his friends, he’ll make sure you’re always within his line of sight, making sure you’re safe and enjoying with your girl friends.
★ College bf!Katsuki who always has a black hair tie around his left wrist because you kept forgetting yours. He knows how annoyed you get whenever strands of hair fall into your face while you’re trying to take notes, or when the heat and sweat makes your hair stick to the back of your neck. And just when you start looking for your hair tie, you remember you forgot it again for the nth time. Without fail, Katsuki will give you the one from his wrist.
★ College bf!Katsuki who makes bento boxes for the both of you. The two of you always eat together at your favorite lunch spot. 80% of the time, Katsuki cooks something spicy. At first, you could only handle the milder version of his cooking, but now your spice tolerance is waaay higher. What you don’t know is that he’s been increasing the spice level just a little everyday.
i had an idea where aang gets hold of a pocket pussy and ends up fucking it, unknowingly fucking YOU who's suddenly being pounded within every inch of your life and i can't believe i never finished it. :(
especially if you're in public and you begin to feel your pussy fill with something thick and heavy, that pressure ruthlessly driving into you until you're collapsing to the floor, eyes tightly closed as you try not to drool from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. people around ask if you're alright but you're unable to speak because you're getting fucked thoroughly by an invisible force that soon has you cumming devastatingly in front of a small, unassuming crowd.
and you feel the heat of cum slicking your gummy walls, splashing against your cervix but it's not sliding down your thighs.
meanwhile, aang's trembling from how powerful his orgasm was, near death gripping the pocket pussy as it drips his cum from its tight hole. from your tight hole, his brain supplies bc he's only thinking about you and how you must feel even better than this toy—all warm and wet and supple...making sweet noises as you go all pilant for him and cry out his name when he fucks you just right...
aang thrusts back into the toy without a second thought, his mind scrambled from depravity and the raw desperation to have you.
bakugo struggling to stay focused while he holds his phone in one hand, the other in your hair, practically petting you. that look in your eyes, the way you're looking up at him from the floor, between his legs...he can practically see hearts in your eyes and it's making him throb.
"hey, dude, are you listening?"
fuck. he almost forgot that kirishima is on the other line, completely unaware of everything he was said beforehand. "no, say it again, and clearer this time," he huffs, voice low and clearly peeved he couldn't give you his full attention.
who wouldn't be when their girlfriend is looking up at them with lidded eyes, drooling on their thigh while fucking herseld on a thick, ribbed dildo while cooing their name over and over again, promising she could wait until he got the rest of the incident information from kiri.
and yet, he was still struggling to listen, trying to remember the words he's saying before he tugs you a little bit harder than he means too, causing you to let out a cute little noise and fall forward right into his crotch, face pressed against his hard on.
and then you just have to be a dirty fucking slut and take a deep breath before moaning his name, licking a stripe right over his cock through his jeans.
"what the fuck, baby."
he doesn't give kiri a chance to question him, immediately hanging up before grabbing your head with both hands and grinding against your face. "you're so fucking nasty, you know that? dirty little slut getting off on huffing my dick through my jeans," he groans through gritted teeth, practically humping his dick against your lips. "'m gonna cum in my jeans like a loser, but you're gonna clean it up for me while you keep bouncing on that toy. then i'm gonna call kiri back and you're gonna be good and moan nice and loud so he knows why i'm distracted, got it?"
Is it weird i think Bakugo licks you a lot…hear me out:
I don’t mean just randomly walks up to you and lick your face, but on occasion when you’re drinking and some liquids fall down your chin, he notices; almost like he second guessing himself but he’s not he’s actually waiting until your guard is down and take his oddly long pierced tongue and wipes you clean.
He takes such a long time moving his mouth up your cleavage where the liquid stopped to then your neck and the corner of your lips, once he plants a kiss there be then have the nerve to look back at you with a smirk and sit back down.
“Why….—”
“Not my fault you’re a sloppy drinker.”
“Yeah and you love that don’t you pervert.”
Bakugo sucks his teeth with no counter. He’d be lying if he denied the allegations.
Did I also mention he loves licking your back and tummy?
Specifically during sex, it basically became a warning signal he’s completely pussy drunk off you. Which never lasts long even when he tries to pull out and eat you out instead so you can cum first.
Looking down between your thighs to see his fluffy blonde hair swivel and circle his head in between your lower lips, he pops off your clit to lick up your slit to your belly after finally helping your ride out your orgasm. Bakugo’s tongue slips and slides all around your belly while he rubs your clit to over stimulation. Big belly or small it’s not an issue for him to slobber over.
“Taste S’good…”
Bakugo—-as sweaty and flustered as he is right now has no shame when he licks your back as you are said tummy, your ass bouncing against him drives this man INSANE, sometimes he takes hold and slows your down to watch your grip and cream around his shaft, “Fuck it—“
That’s the last thing you hear before he groans and presses you back against him. Seeing your upper body give out he uses the opportunity to bend down and lick your spine up to your neck, the taste of your sweat and his made his dick twitch inside you. A new level of adrenaline pulsed through his body leaving a choked moaned out of him. You hear it, and clench harder from how turned on you got from it.
Breathing out a choked chuckle he continues licking your shoulder to your neck and kissing your gapped open mouth. His hand around your throat very firmly, with his middle finger right at the center just gently rubbing as if it was a threat he could press harder….but he wants to be gentle today.
He knows leaving half your body in his saliva was gross. He knows, but once you’ve already came 3 times you don’t think about it. Don’t worry he’ll give you a bath though I promise….
frat!kuna is a reward based learner (shy tutor!reader)
this was not how you normally held tutoring sessions: legs tangled in the sheets, sweat slick between your bodies, and not a single piece of clothing on. yeah, this had to be a first.
sukuna’s face was covered in your slick, and by the looks of it, he wanted even more. he buried his face between your thighs for the nth time, and you tugged at his hair in protest.
“no! you need to answer another question first!” you said sternly. or at least, you tried to. you felt the gentle kitten licks he was leaving on your cunt and you folded at his touch. within seconds, you forgot what you were scolding him about, and he forced your thighs apart once more. he mumbled something against your skin, before kissing your thigh.
“hit me.” he said with a smirk. he was doing this on purpose. ignoring your urges to get back on track, only entertaining them when he had you like this—melting like putty in his hands, completely out of it and with only him on your mind.
“t-the probably of the…” your mind went blank on the problem as he pressed a kiss to your pussy before diving in again. you cried his name out as he lapped at your wet folds, thighs trembling as another orgasm threatened to crash over you. he bullied your poor cunt with his tongue, grunting and groaning as if he was in your place. just as you were about to reach the edge, he pulled away and laid on his stomach before you.
“sorry you know me, i tend to get distracted easily… you were saying?” sukuna took in your current state: pupils blown wide, chest heaving, and a look of hurt and confusion crossing your cute face. he immediately felt guilty and apologized.
“i’m sorry, that was fucked up of me. do you want me to keep going?” his eyes searched yours frantically, like he was panicking.
you averted your eyes. you were torn. you needed to actually make use of this session so it wouldn’t be all for nothing…but the way he went down on you felt heavenly. he was scarily good at it, making you feel so good, reaching places you didn’t even know existed, all with just his tongue.
“no pressure, we can go back to studying too. i’m fine with whatever.” he reassured you.
maybe it was the denial of orgasm. maybe you just weren’t in the best position to be responsible right now. whatever it was, you leaned forward and pulled him closer with smile.
“one more. just one ‘kuna.” you cupped his cheek, narrowing your eyes at him. he grinned and raised an eyebrow at you.
“you wanna ask me a question first, don’t you…” he asked reluctantly, leaning into your touch. you giggled and nodded.
“mhm!” he was catching on quite fast. at this rate, he could be the tutor next…
he groaned, but the smile never left face. “alright, ask me it.”
“is weight qualitative or quantitative data?”
“obviously it’s quantitative,” it was his turn to narrow his eyes at you, “did you seriously ask me an easy one on purpose?”
“err… maybe?” you replied all innocently, already spreading your legs wider for him.
“that’s cheating.” he scoffed, but inched forward anyway.
katsuki letting you try on his gauntlets while he does his routine gear check and you're confused cuz he would never let someone other than himself put them on.
you're ecstatic tho so he gives you his gloves and then puts his gauntlets on you and you giggle about how their so heavy and how impressive it is that he wears them everyday, making them look weightless.
as you shower his strength in compliments he stares at you sitting on the edge of the bed, watching how you can hardly lift your hands wearing them and he drops to his knees, pulling you forward and shoving his head between your thighs, wasting no time he leaves a long lick over your clothed cunt.
you try to shoot your hands out to pull him away with a surprised gasp but realize you can't do much of anything with the gauntlets on, they fall weakly at your side while he gets to work quickly, pulling down your shorts and panties in one go and quickly latching onto your clit.
you go to pull your hands out of the gauntlets but he stops you by gripping your arms and pulling you closer and then your just kinda stuck there just moaning and whining while he has his way with you and he's laughing at you and idk katsuki come get me pls...
bestfriend!yuji who thinks that he has no chance with you (he definitely does)
fluff
it was getting entirely out of hand, to the point where megumi’s left eye had developed a microscopic, rhythmic twitch whenever all of you were in the same room.
there was a distinct difference between being a good friend and whatever it was that yuji was doing. yuji wasn’t operating on normal human frequencies anymore; he was a highly concentrated wave of devotion that required him to subconsciously monitor your exact coordinates, comfort levels, and nutritional needs at all times. the truly agonizing part of this whole situation was that yuji honestly, genuinely believed he was pining from a tragic, unrequited distance.
“man,” yuji sighed, his chin resting heavily on his arms as he slumped over the small wooden table in the break room. he looked like a golden retriever that had been left out in the rain, despite the fact that he was perfectly dry and had eaten three bowls of rice an hour ago. “i just... i don’t know how guys like gojo-sensei do it. how do you even get someone like that to notice you? she’s so cool. fushiguro, be honest, do you think she likes guys who can cook? i could learn how to bake those fancy little french pastries. the ones with the layers. do you think she’d like that?”
megumi didn’t look up from his book. he simply turned the page, his knuckles whitening slightly against the paper. “itadori. you made her bento this morning. it was shaped like a bear.”
“that was just a nutritional baseline!” yuji defended instantly, sitting up with a look of pure, desperate longing in his eyes. “a person needs a balanced breakfast! that doesn’t mean she wants to hold my hand during a movie! i’m practically invisible to her, man. i’m just the guy who hangs around and breathes her oxygen. if i asked her out, she’d probably laugh and think i was pulling a prank. my heart would literally disintegrate into ash. like a cursed spirit, fushiguro. gone.”
megumi finally closed his book with a soft, ominous thud. he stared at his friend, trying to calculate how much brain damage yuji had sustained in his life to arrive at this specific level of dense. “yesterday, she said she was slightly warm, and you constructed a makeshift fan out of cardboard within four seconds. you didn’t even use cursed energy. you just moved your hands really fast.”
“that’s just basic manners!”
“you carried her up three flights of stairs because her shoelaces were untied and you didn’t want her to trip,” megumi countered, his voice dangerously level.
“the stairs were slippery!” yuji wailed, burying his face in his hands. “you don’t get it. she’s like... a masterpiece. and i’m just a guy who knows how to do a kickflip. i have no chance. zero. negative numbers.”
before megumi could commit a felony, the sliding door opened, and you walked in alongside nobara. the second your shoes crossed the threshold, yuji’s entire posture changed. it was an instantaneous shift; his spine straightened, his ears practically perked up, and his eyes locked onto you with a degree of focus usually reserved for high-stakes exorcisms.
“hey,” you said, offering a small, tired smile as you dropped into the empty chair next to yuji. “the training grounds are freezing today. i think the wind is coming straight from the mountains.”
yuji didn’t say a word. he didn’t even look at his own hands as they moved with the practiced efficiency of a surgeon. within three seconds, he had took off his oversized, fleece-lined red hoodie, shrugged it off himself, and gently helped you put it on. he tucked the soft fabric around you, his fingers lingering for just a fraction of a second against your collarbone to make sure the chill was sealed out, before pulling his hands back and shoving them into his uniform pockets.
“thanks,” you mumbled, instantly buried in his warmth and the faint, comforting scent of laundry detergent and whatever body wash he used. you pulled the sleeves over your hands, sinking into the collar.
“yeah, of course,” yuji said, his voice dropping into a soft, casual register that completely contradicted the fact that his internal organs were currently performing backflips. “can’t have you catching a cold. you’ve got that exam tomorrow, right? need your brain working at a hundred percent.”
nobara paused, her hand hovering over the back of a chair as she watched this sequence of events play out. she looked at yuji, then at you buried in his giant hoodie, then over at megumi, whose jaw was clenched so tightly he looked like a gargoyle.
“hey, yuji,” you said, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a slightly bruised mandarin orange you’d grabbed from the cafeteria. “do you have a knife? the skin on this one is really thick.”
“i got it,” he said immediately.
he took the orange from your hand. yuji didn’t use a knife. he used his thumbs, peeling the rind away in one seamless, removing the little white strings so you wouldn’t have to deal with the mess. his fingers were steady, careful, and incredibly gentle as he split the fruit into perfect, individual segments. he laid them out neatly on a clean napkin he’d pulled from literally nowhere, pushing the finished product toward you with a small, encouraging nod.
“there you go. the sweet ones are usually the smaller pieces,” he murmured, his eyes tracking your expression to ensure you were satisfied.
“you’re a lifesaver,” you said, popping a segment into your mouth.
yuji’s face remained entirely neutral, but megumi could see the way the boy’s legs were practically vibrating under the table from the sheer rush of being praised. it was pathetic. it was magnificent. it was driving megumi to the brink of insanity.
“so,” nobara started, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms. her eyes narrowed as she watched yuji reach over, pick up your heavy leather canvas bag from the floor, and settle it comfortably over his own knee so it wouldn’t get dirty. “itadori. can i ask you a question?”
“hmm?” yuji looked up, his hand still resting protectively near your side of the table. “what’s up, kugisaki?”
“what did you do an hour ago?”
“i went to the convenience store down the street,” he said, blinking innocently.
“and what did you buy?”
“oh! i got that specific chocolate drink with the milk and two pumps of vanilla. the one with the extra meringue sprinkled on top.” yuji reached down into his bag and pulled out the plastic cup, which was perfectly chilled, sweating slightly against his palm. he placed it right next to your napkin of oranges, straw already unwrapped and inserted. “here. they finally had the good meringue back in stock.”
you blinked, looking up from your fruit. “wait, really? they told me yesterday they were out until next week.”
“i asked the guy to check the back crates,” yuji said, giving you a bright, close-eyed grin that could have easily powered a small metropolitan area. “told him it was an emergency. he found a whole tin of it.”
megumi made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded like a dying bird.
nobara stared. she stared at the chocolate drink, then at the peeled oranges, then at the enormous red hoodie currently engulfing your torso. she looked at yuji’s face, which was full of nothing but pure, desperate desire to please you, completely devoid of any realization that he was acting like a husband of ten years.
slowly, with the deliberate precision of a predator stalking its prey, nobara walked around the table. she didn’t say a word until she was standing directly behind yuji. then, with a sudden, violent burst of movement, she reached down, grabbed a fistful of his inner uniform collar, and yanked him backward out of his chair.
“woah! kugisaki—choking! choking!” yuji gasped, his hands flying to his throat as she dragged him a few feet away from the table.
“shut up,” nobara hissed, her voice a terrifying whisper as she pointed a manicured finger directly at you, who was currently taking a sip of the perfectly customized latte. “look at that. look at her.”
“i’m looking!” yuji squeaked, his cheeks flushing a violent, immediate pink. “she looks great! the hoodie suits her, right? do you think i should buy her one for her birthday? or is that too forward? maybe a scarf? a scarf is safer—”
“yuji,” nobara interrupted, her voice dropping into a range that promised physical violence. “what the hell? i thought you guys were dating?”
yuji froze. his entire body went rigid, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as his brain completely stalled out, the gears grinding to a screeching halt. “w-what?” he whispered, the syllable popping out of him like a deflating balloon. “dating? us? no! no way! we’re not—i mean, i wish, but no! why would you say that? don’t say that out loud, she’ll hear you and get weirded out and then i’ll have to move to a different country!”
“are you sharing a single brain cell with the curses you fight?” nobara demanded, shaking him by his collar until his pink hair flew in every direction. “you peeled her fruit! you gave her your clothes! you went into the back storage room of a convenience store for a specific topping because she mentioned it once days ago!”
“that’s just being neighborly!” yuji yelled back in a panicked whisper, his hands flailing. “if fushiguro wanted an orange, i’d peel it for him too!”
“if you touch my food, i will sever your fingers,” megumi said from the table, not looking up.
“see? fushiguro’s just picky!” yuji argued, turning back to nobara with a look of absolute, soul-crushing earnestness. “i’m not dating her, kugisaki. i’m just... trying really hard to be a good friend so she keeps letting me sit next to her. if i told her how i actually feel, she’d realize i’m just a big dummy who follows her around like a stray dog.”
nobara let go of his collar so abruptly that yuji stumbled backward, hitting the wall with a soft *thud*. she stared at him, her expression a mix of profound disgust and deep, spiritual exhaustion. “you.. are a medical marvel,” she muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “i genuinely don’t know how you survive on a daily basis.”
“hey, yuji?” your voice cut through the tension, clear and soft from across the room.
yuji was back at the table before nobara could even blink, his entire demeanor resetting into that attentive, hovering stance. “yeah! what’s up? is the drink bad? is it too sweet? i can go back—”
“no, it’s perfect,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes, your fingers curling around the warm ceramic of your hands inside his large sleeves. a very real, very noticeable shy smile had crept it’s way to your pretty face. “i was just wondering... if you weren’t busy tonight, maybe you could help me study? and... i don’t know. we could get dinner after? just the two of us?”
yuji stopped. the entire world seemed to drop away around him. his heart gave a massive, violent thud against his ribs, his chest tightening in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with training or stamina. he looked at the shy smile on your face, the way your fingers were twisting the hem of his hoodie, and something in his chest completely melted into puddle of warm, gooey mush. he knew damn well he didn’t know shit about math.
“yeah,” yuji said, his voice softer than usual, a genuine, completely unforced smile breaking across his face as he leaned down slightly, bringing himself to your eye level. “i’d love to. i’ll make sure you pass that test, okay? whatever you want to eat, it’s on me.”
from the corner of the room, nobara let out a loud, dramatic groan, throwing her hands in the air as she turned toward the exit. “i can’t do this anymore. fushiguro, we’re leaving before the sheer density of his skull creates a black hole and swallows the school.”
“agreed,” megumi said, already standing up and slipping his book into his pocket, passing yuji with a look that said you owe me your life.
as the door slid shut behind them, yuji didn’t even notice. he was already pulling up another chair, drawing himself right next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he reached out to slide the rest of the oranges closer to your hand.
the appointment - prince!gojo x knight!reader . art credits to owner
in which crown prince gojo finally finds a perfectly legitimate excuse to keep his girlfriend beside him at all hours of the day.
The palace grounds stretched wide beneath the morning sky, lined with rows upon rows of armored knights standing at perfect attention. Sunlight caught against polished steel, turning the vast assembly into a sea of silver that shimmered with every passing breeze. Banners bearing the royal crest fluttered above them, their crimson and gold commanding silence long before a single order was given.
Today was not a day of battle.
It was a day of honor.
Every year, the knights from across the kingdom gathered within the royal capital for the Crown's Selection, a ceremony where the most distinguished soldiers were chosen to join the Royal Guard, the elite force entrusted with protecting the royal family and the palace itself.
To wear the royal crest upon one's armor was more than a promotion. It was the highest recognition a knight could receive.
The Royal Guard stood closest to the Crown, answered directly to the royal family, and carried a prestige unmatched anywhere else in the kingdom. Every knight present had dreamed of standing among them at least once.
The conversations that had quietly drifted through the assembled ranks came to an abrupt halt. The palace gates opened. A trumpet echoed across the grounds.
One by one, the royal guards lining the ceremonial path lowered their spears in salute.
"The Grand Marshal!"
The announcement rang across the courtyard. Every knight straightened instinctively. Through the gates rode the kingdom's Supreme Commander.
The Grand Marshal of the Crown. The Northern Duke. Lord Zairis.
Even without the title, he was impossible to mistake. Years of war had carved discipline into every movement he made. His black ceremonial armor bore traces of countless campaigns, its dark steel edged in gold, while the crimson cloak draped across his shoulders carried the insignia of House Zairis, the house that had commanded the kingdom's armies for generations.
He did not acknowledge the attention.
He expected it.
A single step behind him walked the Knight Commander of North.
Lady Y/N Zairis.
Unlike her father, she wore no cloak.
Only the crisp white and black uniform of the Northern Command, tailored with immaculate precision and marked by the insignia of her rank. A sword rested at her side, untouched yet ever present, while her posture remained perfectly straight, every movement measured with the effortless confidence of someone who had spent her entire life on battlefields rather than in court.
The murmurs began almost immediately.
"The Knight Commander..."
"They say she won the Battle of Frost Pass."
"I heard she became Knight Commander before twenty-three."
She paid none of it any mind. Her gaze remained fixed ahead. Behind her marched the Northern Army. Hundreds of soldiers moved as one. Not a single step fell out of rhythm. Not a single head turned. Not a single banner wavered.
The deep call of ceremonial horns echoed through the palace grounds.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Every knight present lowered themselves onto one knee in perfect unison, the synchronized movement rippling across the vast courtyard like a single living tide of steel.
The great doors leading onto the royal balcony opened.
"Their Imperial Majesties." The announcement carried across the palace grounds with practiced clarity.
The Emperor stepped onto the balcony first.
Clad in white ceremonial robes embroidered with gold, he carried none of the grandeur expected of a ruler trying to impress. His presence alone commanded the attention of thousands. Beside him stood the Empress, elegant in crimson silk trimmed with the royal crest, offering the assembled soldiers a warm smile as she surveyed the courtyard below.
Together, they represented the Crown.
The heart of the kingdom.
A moment later-
The Crown Prince emerged.
Satoru Gojo.
Unlike his parents, his attire was distinctly martial. A pristine white military coat rested neatly over black formal attire, accented with gold embroidery befitting the heir to the throne. A ceremonial sword hung comfortably at his waist, not merely decorative, but earned.
As he stepped forward beside the Emperor, a quiet murmur swept through the gathered ranks before disappearing just as quickly.
"The Crown Prince..."
Y/N's gaze lifted only briefly.
Just long enough to acknowledge the royal family. Then, with practiced discipline, it lowered once more.
The Emperor stepped toward the edge of the balcony. "My loyal subjects." His voice carried effortlessly across the palace grounds. "Today we gather not to celebrate victory upon the battlefield, but excellence upon it."
His gaze swept over the thousands assembled before him.
"The strength of this kingdom has never rested upon its walls, nor its wealth, nor even its throne."
"It rests upon those willing to defend it."
A pause.
"And among those defenders stand a chosen few whose service has distinguished them beyond expectation."
The Emperor turned slightly toward the assembled officers standing at the front of the formation.
"The recommendations submitted by the Grand Marshal..." His gaze settled briefly upon Duke Zairis. "...the Knight Commanders of the North, South, East, and West..." A respectful nod followed toward each of them in turn. "...along with the records reviewed by the Royal Military Council, have been carefully considered."
He looked once more upon the gathered soldiers. "Today, thirty knights shall be welcomed into the Royal Guard."
A wave of anticipation swept through the formation. For every knight standing in the courtyard, this was the moment they had spent years chasing.
The Emperor raised a single hand. "Let the ceremony commence."
A herald stepped forward, unfurling a long scroll sealed with the royal crest. "The first knight selected..."
One by one, the names echoed across the palace grounds. Each chosen knight stepped from their formation, crossed the courtyard beneath the watchful eyes of thousands, and knelt before the royal balcony to receive the white-and-gold cloak bearing the insignia of the Royal Guard.
Some had distinguished themselves through remarkable campaigns. Others had earned the unwavering confidence of their commanding officers. Several bore recommendations signed personally by the Grand Marshal himself. Others had been put forward by the Knight Commanders of the South, East, and West after years of exemplary service.
With every new name announced, another place within the Royal Guard was filled.
By the time the final knight stepped forward to receive the royal cloak, thirty of the kingdom's finest now stood together beneath the balcony, the newest guardians of the Crown.
The applause that followed rolled across the palace grounds like distant thunder.
"To the thirty knights chosen today..." The Emperor's voice carried warmly across the palace grounds. "...you have distinguished yourselves through unwavering courage, discipline, and loyalty to this kingdom."
His gaze settled upon the newly appointed Royal Guards standing proudly before the balcony.
"From this day forward, you shall bear not only the crest of the Royal Guard, but the trust of the Crown itself."
A faint smile crossed his features.
"Congratulations."
The palace grounds erupted into applause.
The newly appointed guards bowed deeply, unable to hide the pride spreading across their faces as cheers echoed through the assembled ranks.
Even among the officers standing at the front, smiles appeared. Y/N found herself applauding alongside the others. She recognized several of the names that had been called. One had trained beside her years ago at the Royal Academy. Another had served under the Northern Command during the Frost Campaign.
They had earned it. Every single one of them.
For a brief moment, the atmosphere softened into celebration. Until the Emperor spoke again. "There remains..." The applause gradually faded. "...one final appointment."
A ripple of confusion spread quietly through the gathered knights. Final appointment? The ceremony had never included anything beyond the Royal Guard selection.
The Emperor stepped aside. "As is the tradition of the royal family..." His gaze shifted toward the man standing beside him. "...the Crown Prince is granted the right to appoint his Personal Knight."
Murmurs broke out almost immediately. "A new Personal Knight?"
"I thought Sir Atsuya still held the position."
"Has His Highness dismissed him?"
"It must be a routine replacement."
Nothing about it seemed particularly unusual. A Crown Prince choosing a Personal Knight was hardly unprecedented. What surprised people was the timing. Such appointments were usually made privately within the palace, not before the entire military.
The Emperor inclined his head toward his son. For the first time since the ceremony began, Satoru Gojo stepped forward. The courtyard fell silent almost instinctively. His expression remained unreadable as his eyes drifted over the assembled officers.
"I hereby appoint..."
A pause.
"...Lady Y/N Zairis."
Silence.
Not the respectful silence of ceremony. The kind that arrived when an entire kingdom forgot how to breathe. No one moved. No one spoke. Thousands of eyes turned toward the Knight Commander of the North. This was impossible. The thought echoed through the courtyard without anyone daring to voice it.
A Knight Commander did not simply lead soldiers. They commanded entire regional armies. They stood at the very foundation of the kingdom's military. Below only one person. The Grand Marshal. To appoint such a commander as a Personal Knight...
It was akin to asking one of the kingdom's four pillars to leave its place and stand beside a single man. The appointment wasn't insulting. It was unthinkable. Even the newly appointed Royal Guards stared in disbelief. The murmurs that followed were no longer whispers of curiosity.
The Grand Marshel slowly turned his head. His gaze settled upon the Crown Prince. There was no visible anger upon Duke Zairis's face. Years of commanding armies had taught him that true authority rarely required expression.
Yet the unwavering stare he fixed upon the royal balcony carried enough weight to make seasoned generals uneasy.
Y/N felt it before she even looked. Against every instinct urging her to remain perfectly composed, her eyes shifted ever so slightly toward her father.
The look wasn't unknown. It's the same one she had witnessed before impossible military inspections, before commanders found themselves quietly dismantled for incompetence, before entire battle strategies were rewritten with nothing more than a calm order.
Her heart sank.
...Oh no.
She resisted the urge to close her eyes. Of all the people standing within the palace grounds today, there was only one whose opinion truly concerned her in this moment. And he was currently glaring at the Crown Prince.
Around them, the silence finally fractured. Whispers spread through the assembled knights, growing louder with every passing heartbeat.
"Lady Zairis...?"
"The Knight Commander?"
"Why her?"
"What happens to the Northern Command?"
"Who replaces the Knight Commander?"
"Has House Zairis agreed to this?"
"Why would the Crown Prince choose someone of her rank...?"
Only one person standing upon the balcony appeared entirely unsurprised. Satoru Gojo. His gaze never left her. As though, long before today... He had already made this decision.
---
The palace had fallen quiet by nightfall, but Suguru Geto was still working. A few documents tucked beneath his arm, he made his way toward the Crown Prince's chambers, intending to discuss tomorrow's schedule.
The guards outside immediately straightened. "Lord Geto."
"Is His Highness available?"
The guards exchanged a glance. "My apologies, my lord. His Highness has ordered that no one disturb him tonight."
Geto paused. "Oh?"
One of the guards nodded seriously. "His Highness and Lady Zairis are currently discussing something important."
A brief silence followed. Geto looked at the closed doors and then back at the guards. "Discussing something important."
"Yes, my lord."
"Right." A slow smile appeared on his face.
The guards looked confused. Geto had spent the last two years listening to the Crown Prince create increasingly ridiculous excuses to spend time with Lady Zairis.
Military discussions, security evaluations, strategic planning and now apparently, they had now moved on to "important discussions."
How creative.
"Very well," Geto said, turning away. "I won't disturb them."
"Should we inform His Highness that you came by?"
"No."
Geto adjusted the documents in his hand, hiding his amusement. "I'm sure whatever they're discussing is far more important than paperwork." At this point he wasn't even surprised.
Inside the chambers... the "important discussion" was not happening over documents. Instead, the bathing room was filled with warmth and quiet. Steam curled lazily through the air, softening the edges of the grand marble chamber. The glow of countless candles danced across the surface of the water, their golden reflections flickering gently with every movement. A faint fragrance of roses lingered throughout the room, carried by the warm mist and the delicate petals scattered across the bath.
The large bathing pool, was more than spacious enough for two people to forget the rest of the world existed beyond its walls.
His hands found their way around her waist, holding her close as she settled against him, her body fitting naturally against his. With his back resting against the edge of the pool, he looked at her as though he still couldn't quite believe she was truly there..
The warmth of the water surrounded them, the quiet crackle of candlelight filling the silence between soft laughter and whispered words. He pressed closer, burying his face against her shoulder, leaving gentle kisses along her skin as if trying to make up for every moment they had spent apart.
"You know," he murmured, his voice softer than it ever was in court, "I think I like this arrangement."
She smiled. "The one where I am forced to follow you everywhere?"
"The one where I don't have to let you go."
He never broke eye contact. His hand moved gently along her thigh, his finger making its way to her folds. She leaned in, wrapping her arms around his neck and captures his lips for a kiss as he brushes his thumb over her clit, making her whimper against his mouth.
He leaned deeper into the kiss again, as though he had completely forgotten that the rest of the world existed beyond those doors. But the moment didn't last long. A knock echoed through the chamber. Neither of them moved at first, but then another knock followed.
"Your Highness." The voice of the guard immediately pulled them back to reality. "The Empress has arrived."
The silence that followed was almost painful. Both of them froze, and then slowly looked toward the door, before sharply looking back at eachother.
Her eyes widened as she immediately pulled away. "Satoru."
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do."
"I really do."
The panic in his voice suggested otherwise. Another knock came. "Your Highness?"
Gojo looked toward the door, then back at her, completely unwilling to accept the situation. "Tell her to wait." He shouted on top of his lungs.
Y/N stared at him. "She is the Empress."
"She has waited before."
She glared at him which made him click his tongue in annoyance. "Five minutes!" He instructed.
She shook her head, already moving toward the edge of the pool. "We do not have five minutes."
"We absolutely have five minutes."
"We have, at most, two."
The Crown Prince of the kingdom, who could command armies and negotiate with foreign rulers without hesitation, looked genuinely distressed. "This is unfair."
The next few minutes were nothing short of chaotic.
The elegance expected of the Crown Prince and his Personal Knight disappeared entirely as they rushed to make themselves presentable. The careful composure they displayed before the court was replaced by whispered complaints, hurried movements, and Gojo desperately trying to find where he had left his coat.
"Where is my jacket?"
"You threw it over the chair."
"I did not."
"You did."
"...Why do you remember everything?"
"Because one of us has to."
A few moments later, the room were transformed back into the image of royal professionalism. The candles were adjusted. The bathing chamber was tightly shut. The documents that had been untouched all evening were suddenly placed across the desk.
By the time the doors finally opened, there was no trace of the chaos that had existed moments before. Satoru Gojo sat behind his desk, perfectly composed, a stack of reports arranged neatly before him.
Y/N stood nearby in her uniform, holding several documents in her hands, her expression calm and unreadable. The picture of a Crown Prince and his Personal Knight discussing matters of state.
Exactly what everyone expected.
The guards opened the doors. "The Empress."
Gojo straightened slightly. "Mother."
The Empress stepped inside, her gaze moving between the two of them, then the desk, the documents and the suspiciously rushed atmosphere.
A small smile threatened to appear on her lips as she noticed how the crimson cloak draped over Y/N's shoulders was fastened incorrectly, the belt at her waist had been secured in haste, missing one of the loops it normally sat through. A few strands of damp hair escaped around her face, refusing to cooperate with the image of perfect discipline she was trying to maintain.
Then her gaze shifted to her son whose hair was equally damp. His collar was slightly uneven. And his expression carried the unmistakable look of someone who had been caught off guard.
The Empress had to resist the urge to laugh. "Am I interrupting something important?"
Gojo answered far too quickly. "Very."
Y/N's eyes immediately moved toward him. The Empress noticed. Of course she did.
Gojo seemed to realize his mistake a moment later and cleared his throat, attempting to recover his dignity. "Important matters." A pause. "Regarding the Crown."
The Empress hummed quietly, looking between the two of them. She had heard that phrase countless times before. Ever since they were teenagers. Back then it had been secret meetings in the gardens, suspiciously time walks around the palace, and far too many excuses about "discussions" that somehow always involved the same two people.
They truly believed they were subtle. They believed that careful words and composed expressions could fool everyone around them.
But a mother noticed things others didn't. She noticed the way her son looked at Y/N when he thought no one was watching. She noticed the way Y/N's stern expression softened only around him. She noticed the small details they never thought to hide.
And after all these years, they still hadn't realized that nothing escaped a mother's eye.
EPILOGUE (FEW HOURS BACK)
The ceremony had finally come to an end. The palace grounds that had been filled with thousands of voices slowly returned to their usual rhythm. Knights dispersed into their respective formations, officials returned to their duties, and the echoes of celebration gradually faded into the quiet order of the royal palace.
But Satoru Gojo barely noticed any of it. Instead, he was thinking about tomorrow. And the day after that. And every day that would follow. She would be beside him every day.
The thought alone was enough to bring a smile to his face. He could already imagine it. Morning briefings with Y/N standing beside his desk. Training sessions where he could finally annoy her without having to worry about appearances. Meals where he wouldn't have to pretend he didn't notice whether she had eaten enough. Meetings where he could simply glance to his side and know she was there.
It was perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
So perfect, in fact, that he failed to notice the guards stationed outside his chambers watching him approach with increasingly concerned expressions.
"Your Highness."
No response.
Gojo continued walking, completely lost in thought.
"Your Highness."
Still nothing.
One of the guards exchanged a glance with the other. Perhaps they should try again. "His Grace, Duke Zairis, has been waiting inside for some time."
Nothing.
The Crown Prince simply reached the doors with the faintest smile still on his face.
The guards hesitated. "Your Highness-"
But it was too late. The doors opened and the smile disappeared immediately.
Because sitting by the window of his chambers, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who had not been invited, was the one person in the kingdom who could make Satoru Gojo forget every ounce of confidence he possessed.
Duke Zairis.
The Grand Marshal of the Crown.
Y/N's father
He sat calmly upon the couch, one arm resting against the side, his expression unreadable. Just a quiet, intimidating presence that made the room feel several degrees colder.
Just a quiet, intimidating presence that made the room feel several degrees colder. Gojo stopped in the doorway. For a moment, neither man spoke. The cheerful thoughts from moments ago vanished completely. Perhaps he should have taken a longer route back to his chambers.
The door slowly closed behind him. "Your Grace." His voice was noticeably more careful now.
Duke Zairis looked toward him. "Your Highness."
The way he said the title made Gojo's shoulders tense. Because somehow... It sounded less like respect and more like a warning.
"May I ask why you are waiting in my chambers, Your Grace?" Gojo carefully asked.
The Duke's gaze remained fixed on him. "Do you truly need to ask?"
He exactly knew what that meant. "Ah."
The Duke stood and Gojo's body automatically took a step back. "I have spent years watching men approach my daughter."
"Your Grace-"
"I have watched nobles attempt to impress her. Commanders attempt to win her respect. Young knights attempt to earn her attention."
He walked closer. "And every single time, I have removed them from consideration."
Gojo blinked. "...Removed?"
The Duke stopped in front of him. "And then you."
Gojo pointed at himself. "Me?"
"You." The Grand Marshal's expression remained completely serious. "You decided that instead of simply asking for my approval..."
Gojo's eyes shifted slightly.
"...you would announce before the entire kingdom that my daughter is now your personal knight."
A silence followed.
Gojo swallowed. "When you phrase it like that-"
"How else should I phrase it?"
Gojo opened his mouth then closed it. Because unfortunately, he could not think of a better explanation.
The Duke stared at him for several long seconds. "You took the Knight Commander of the North, a woman who has spent years earning the respect of an entire army, and placed her directly in the line of fire beside you."
The Duke took another step closer. "If she is standing beside you, she will put herself between you and any threat without hesitation."
Gojo didn't respond.
The Duke's expression remained firm. "And if she gets hurt because of that?"
The room fell silent and then without a warning, the Duke's hand moved. The sound of steel leaving its sheath echoed through the chamber.
Gojo froze completely. His eyes dropped to the blade that was now drawn, the edge resting dangerously close beneath his chin.
For the first time in his life, he forgot every word he knew. "Duk- Duke... Zairis"
The Duke's expression did not change. "If my daughter is harmed because she is protecting you..." The blade shifted slightly. "Or if she sacrifices herself because she believes it is her duty to stand between you and danger..."
His voice remained calm.
"I will forget that you are the Crown Prince."
Gojo stared at him. The terrifying part was not the sword. It was the complete certainty in the Duke's voice. Because he believed every word.
"I will not care about your title."
"I will not care about the throne."
"I will only remember that you are the man who put my daughter in harm's way."
Gojo swallowed very carefully. Because moving seemed like an incredibly bad idea. "I see."
The Duke watched him. "Do you?"
"Yes."
A moment passed. Then Gojo, unfortunately, remembered that he was still Satoru Gojo. Which meant he had to say something. Anything. And that was his mistake.
"But..."
The Duke's eyes narrowed.
Gojo immediately regretted continuing. "That's what a Personal Knight does."
Silence. Absolute dead silence.
The blade remained exactly where it was. The Duke slowly looked at him. "Your Highness."
The way he said it made Gojo's soul leave his body.
"I mean-"
"YOUR HIGHNESS."
Gojo immediately raised both hands. "I apologize."
notes: WOW WOW WOW! I've been out of town so im sooo sorry for taking so long to update and leaving u guys hanging! i was not expecting that much engagement AT ALL SO THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH! but im also super duper nervous bc im not crazy about this one :') so a little nervous it might not meet expectations</3. Also might have lied about a different ending- we shall see but i took so long with this i didn't want to make u guys wait any longer so sorry if it wasnt what you wanted! also hope you guys don't think reader is too big of a cry baby, she's just sad and in love:(
warnings: angst and heartbreak, comfort, happy ending (eye roll jkjk), reader and gojo not taking care of them selves, self neglect for sure, cursing, mentions of throw up and alcohol, um um, reader and gojo basically just existing and hating life
Credit to @uzmacchiato for the divider!!
For weeks, the old but familiar cycle repeated. The dreaded feeling that you would never be able to shake off seemed to follow you wherever you went, no matter what path you followed in life, no matter who you met.
You stayed cooped up in your apartment, finding a temporary solace in the four walls. They wouldn't speak, wouldn't judge you for wallowing in your emotions and crying yourself sick.
The ache in your heart never seemed to subside. It was persistent, constantly reminding you of everything you tried so hard to forget.
You so badly wanted to prove to yourself that you were stronger than this, wanted to walk into class the following week with your head held high and pretend that you were just fine- even if it was just pretend.
But you couldn't.
Everything felt so incredibly difficult and brutal. Time taunted you, moving in slow motion yet simultaneously in the blink of an eye, sunrises transitioning into sunsets while you spent your days in bed drained of energy and dreaming of cerulean blue eyes.
Body, mind and soul feeling as if they were weighed down with cinder blocks and you were drowning.
Your heart had been completely shattered, broken into a million fragments and the idea of healing felt akin to finding a needle in a hay sack. Hopeless. Futile. Impossible. A puzzle with too many missing pieces.
Your mind was the worst, the temporary comfort exactly that. No where felt safe, the four walls turning into nothing but a tool to only make you feel more suffocated.
You could go anywhere to escape gojo, but you could never escape yourself.
Never escape the way you replayed the words he spoke to his friends, the way he looked at you, the way he cried, or the way he told you that he was in love with you.
Everytime you shut your eyes, his would find you.
You started skipping your classes after that, started skipping everything actually. Daily little walks to clear your mind, little coffee pick me ups, meals- it all ended. You were a shell of a person now, unable to put back together your own pieces.
No. Gojo had really taken a toll on you, really pushed you past a limit you didn't know existed.
And the worst part of it all was that you were still in love with him, still missed him and the way he'd distract you in class or grab your hand just to drag you somewhere while you playfully put up a fight. The way his stupid blue eyes seemed to light up at you just the way yours did at him. The way he made you feel.
And it was brutal, unnecessarily ruthless the way your mind plagued you when you thought of his lips and the night he kissed you. So cool, yet boyish and slightly clumsy as if gojo too was nervous, as if he truly didn't want to mess it up.
But each time your mind cursed you with a perfect little memory, it was shut down with the images from that night.
You had stumbled home after, purely driven by your grief induced rage, vision blurred from the tears that were constantly filling your eyes and painting your cheeks.
But arriving home to your lonely apartment was no better. Throwing up alone snotty, sweaty, and gross was absolutely horrible- and ignoring the messages and phone calls that bombarded your phone was nearly impossible.
The alcohol settled further into your bones and your drunkenness multiplied but you didn't have the guts to block him just yet- torturing yourself further when you began to listen to the voicemails he left while you desperately clung to the sides of your toilet sobbing and hurling.
You ignored them of course, sloppily brushing your teeth and crawling on top of your sheets, drunkenly throwing off your clothes but not caring to wash the make up off your face or the gravel fully out of your palms.
Then you proceeded to sob so hard you had to throw up again until finally you cried yourself to sleep. And when you woke up with swollen eyes, a scratchy throat and a pounding headache, praying with all your might that it was a nightmare, you realized it wasn't, your sober self having to go through the entire cycle again of processing what had happened, the heart break, the humiliation- everything.
You were slow to block his number, tormenting yourself the few days after that night as you religiously watched his texts flood in, spamming you with apologies and this and that and the ways he would change and loved you and wanted you and it was masochistic and everything you never hoped for and why couldn't you tear your eyes away? Why did knowing what he had done to you make it no less harder to think about him?
Being vulnerable and desperate with a visceral want to be loved angered you far more than he ever could.
And still, you let yourself think of him lovingly and kindly, and there, because god you would be a liar if you said you didn't miss him and everything he was, and the way he smelled and smiled and existed.
And still, losing Satoru felt like the only light in your life had been snuffed out, and you didn't care if it was pathetic because it was so undeniably painful and true and ignoring that fact would be a lie through gritting teeth.
You wanted to hate him. You knew you couldn't.
And amongst your tears of self loathing and hatred, you cursed the way you loved so loudly and deeply. The most twisted thing of it all.
With him blocked, your phone was dead silent. The quiet was loud.
You weren't sure how long you stayed in bed after that. Always exhausted as soon as you woke up feeling void of life that the white haired boy had given you. merely reduced to an organism that could only breathe.
But with timing and the world so happily on your side, you were gifted with finals and exams during your period of heartbreak, the ultimate stake in your heart. Your grades had already plummeted from your lack of attendance and half assed assignments and despite spending the last few weeks wallowing in your self pity instead of studying, you knew the least you could do was at least show up to the final exams- even if he would be there.
Rubbing your eyes with a sniffle, you forced your body to move, willing every deteriorated muscle to act. to put on clothes that weren't pajamas and to try and behave like a normal functioning being.
There was no motivation, but a small determination to take a step out of your apartment for the first time in who knows when.
You'd walk to the library, distract yourself with studying- spend the remainder of the week drowning yourself in work to pass your finals just enough so that you'd still pass all your classes and when that was over, you’d let yourself suffocate in the thought of him all over again, but for now- you had to do this.
Throwing on a hoodie that was not his- why would he have given you so many t-shirts and hoodies if you were just a bet, was he just expecting to ask for them back after he pranked you?- you begrudgingly readied yourself to the bare minimum, yanking the door open to begin your dreaded walk.
Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, your eyes landed on a handful of envelopes that laid on your doormat- slightly dirtied and weathered and you wondered just how long they'd been sitting there.
You shakily exhaled, nerves bubbling in your throat as trembling fingers picked up a total of at least five envelopes, all bare save for your name simply written in the middle of each, all in different handwriting. You looked around, retreating back into your apartment to hastily rip them open, curiosity getting the better of you as you were unsure of what person (multiple people?) you knew who were writing you letters and leaving them at your door step.
You pulled out the first letter, concentration written on your face as you scanned it over, not reading the content yet but just staring in pure confusion and then-
Your jaw felt slightly slack, eyes widening. You opened the next, and the next and the next, words unread but eyes falling on all the separate letters from Gojo and his friends and frat brothers. All written lengthy apologies from Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Fushiguro, a couple other names you didn't know but must have been involved with the bet.
Your fingers clutched the papers, catching certain paragraphs and biting your lip to once again hold tears back.
-didn't even know who you were and we did that to you. Guess thats why we felt like we could do it, as fucked up as that sounds. Gojo’s making us all write these apology letters to you and I hate saying sorry, but I am- we are all sorry. We’re just a bunch of assholes who thought it would be fun to fuck around with him and I guess you too, so yeah. Im sorry for being a part of it and hurting you, even if ive never talked to you. And wow that sounds really bad. Also, Gojo was telling the truth even though he lied at the party, another brother really did grab your gifts from him to throw it away, but tbh those cookies looked really good so I was gonna grab the container after anyways but asshole gojo got to it first. What type of cookies were those? Do you think-
You rolled your eyes automatically, hurriedly glancing away from sukuna’s letter to skim fushiguros.
-frat pres is so fucking annoying and gojos up there too. Sorry for hurting your feelings, we really did just want to fuck around and did think it was funny but damn I actually feel bad. So I'm sorry for that. It wasn't as funny as we thought. Think you could forgive his annoying ass and make some more cookies? Fucker grabbed the container before-
Then geto’s.
-Y/n I'm sorry that I was kind to your face and then let this happen behind your back. And not just let it happen but participated. You have always been a very nice girl and we took advantage of who you were for a laugh, and I swear to you that no one is laughing. You didn't deserve any of that and we don't deserve any of your kindness or forgiveness. I know I have no right to say, but Ive never seen Satoru like this and ive known him for years. I promise you that the bet was not his idea, that he shouldn't have gone along with it of course but none of us were thinking, we didn't know that you would be you-
You angrily huffed, tossing the letters onto your counter and refusing to read the rest of them and certainly not Gojos. Why did it matter if it wasn't his idea? Okay so what if he didn't throw your things out and was planning on getting them after, he still- you slammed your eyes shut, throat beginning to burn as tears welled up in your eyes.
He still did it, still said all that shit in front of everybody. Still lied to your face even when he was supposedly in love with you.
“Fuck you gojo,” you whispered to yourself, annoyingly wiping away the wetness in your eyes with the back of your palm. His letter remained unopened on the counter practically begging for you to read it and like every action did now, it took everything in you to leave it and walk out the door
The trek to the library was uneventful, slow and quiet as you pushed forward with anger in your veins. Your face was concealed by your overly large hood and headphones, staring at the cracks in the sidewalk.
“Y/n.”
You froze on instinct, ice shooting through your veins as your body betrayed you, the entrance of the library laid just up ahead taunting and laughing.
Prickles of heat stabbed alongside your neck and the saliva in your mouth grew sticky and gelatinous, hard to swallow as you attempted to focus on breathing in through your nose, out through your mouth.
“y/n,” the familiar tone that you had once loved, spoke the syllables of your name so softly, so light you hoped you had imagined it. So much emotion laced through and over and around the word that you never wanted to hear it again.
But that would be too easy on you, a too great display of mercy casted onto you by the universe.
You braced yourself, slowly turning and unintentionally, your mouth gaped, gaze landing on a very disheveled sick looking gojo who looked every bit like a heartbroken boy. You clearly weren't the only one skipping meals.
The words landed in an instant without thought, claws out, nails sharp.
“Leave me alone,” you spat, making your break for the library but his hand caught your wrist in a gentle but firm hold, electricity shooting up your arm and you screamed to yourself to ignore it, that it wasn't what you thought.
“Please, please y/n, I know i don't deserve it but just give me a minute-”
“For what? Think you can get in my pants that quick and win your stupid bet? I don't want anything to do with you.” The words burned as you spewed the hate and spat venom, so unlike you and it only served to anger you more. You didn't feel any better being mean to him, didn't feel good or victorious watching the features on his pretty and now sunken in face contort into hurt.
Fuck, it only hurt you more. Only made you want to take it back. Teeth tore into your bottom lip, eyes diverting anywhere but at him. But you didn't move. Let him grip you and hold your wrist, and you hated the familiarity and comfort that came with the touch. You were pitiful.
“How did you even know I'd be here?” the question flew from your lips before you could properly think about it, eyes focusing on the bob of his throat as he swallowed.
“I.. I didn't. You haven't been in lecture a-and I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable by showing up at y-yours.. I’ve just been,” Gojo glanced away for a brief second, pale skin flushing a pretty pink. “I’ve been waiting outside the library everyday in case… in case you'd come.”
Your mouth opened, then shut, unable to find the words to respond to his unexpected statement you only thought could be a bluff. Another lie just to get you to forgive him. “For what, three weeks?”
He nodded, hesitant and shy, as if the fact might annoy you, looking anything but like the notorious campus fratboy and instead so childish. “Im so sorry y/n. Please, can we talk? Do you want coffee? I'm so sorry, I miss- I miss you so much, I feel like i c-cant function with out you and I meant it, I'm so in love with you-”
“Gojo.” You stopped him, fingers curling in on themselves to painfully dig into your palms, to try and ground yourself with anything but what could only be deceitful words.
His voice was breaking, hoarse and gravely as if he'd been crying too, rambling the words out like he knew you were about to leave him and he only had a few seconds to say what he needed to but he couldn't- there wasn't enough time to for him to tell you how sorry he was, not enough hours in this lifetime for him to prove how guilty he felt, or how desperately he begged to take it all back. He was a mess, and anybody could see. He knew it wasnt about him and his feelings, knew and deserved the pain he felt after what he did to you, but fuck he couldn't eat. Couldn't do much more than you.
He kept spamming your number with texts, hoping the green would turn to blue, kept ringing your number. Kept going to lecture in case there was a chance he might see you. But fuck if he didn't look and feel like shit.
“Don't. say. that-”
“But it's true y/n, i love you, i cant stop thinking about you, I wish i could take it all back, It wasn't a bet anymore it was real- it was all real,” Gojo spoke voice shaking and adamant, the first sign of his old spark making a display.
If there was anything he was unyielding about, it was his attempt at making it known to you that his love for you was real. “Y-you don't need to love me back thats-thats okay, just know I love you. I love you-”
“Stop saying that!” You seethed, eyes watering as he kept repeating the phrase that made you feel physically ill, like you might just vomit if he spoke the lie again. It didn't matter. None of it mattered if he loved you and you loved him, it didn't matter anymore. You shook off his grip that you had forgotten was on you, abruptly turning to make your way inside as you kept your head down, praying your tears wouldn't fall just yet.
“Did you get the letters?” He called out from behind you.
You paused, refusing to turn, grinding your molars, feeling like shit and thinking of a final blow that could hurt him. You wanted him to hurt. You didn't want to hurt him. You wanted him to hurt. You didn't want to hurt him. Who was this person you were becoming?
“Fuck your letters. It's basic empathy that you all feel bad. You'll never come close to understanding how I feel,” and in the reflection of the building's glass windows, you watched the way his shoulders slumped, the way his head dropped to his chest in defeat, ruffled white hair strewn all over the place.
For once, the bright boy looked exceptionally dull, clad in a now too big black hoodie and sweats, radiant blue eyes fizzed out into a soft blue, pale undereyes now decorated with large purple bags.
You bit your tongue wanting nothing more than to tell him you didn't mean it, that you did- but not quite like that. Wanted to run your fingers through his hair and undercut, over his sharp and perfect features and accept his apology, get some food in him and make sure he got a proper night's rest.
Your chin wobbled, lips trembling, mind deceiving you and urging you to just turn back and look at him. There was nothing you wanted more than to give in, every synapse firing telling you to just do it.
you sped forward before your body could betray you once more, beelining it to the women's restroom where you could freely sob, heart breaking all over again as you hurt the boy you loved back. Knowing he deserved it did nothing to soothe you. You loved him too much.
Gojo respected your distance. For the time being at the library.
When you walked out hours later, sun long gone and campus streetlights projecting soft yellow glows as the quiet hum of the outdoors enveloped you, you felt somewhat successful. At least you had tried.
You would have sped walked home, if not for the familiar head of hair that poked out from under a black hood. Gojo, on the bench, outside the library.
You scoffed lightly to yourself, preparing to book it past him before he noticed it was you, but what didn't go unnoticed by him? He was always oddly infuriatingly attentive to everything, which would have been great if.. Well.
“W-wait, y/n! Are you- are you hungry, did you eat? You were in there for hours and-”
His voice was a catalyst to your anger. You spun to face him, ready to chew him out, patience long gone. Gojo, bothersome and persistent and maddening and beautiful, already walking towards you, already there.
“Really Gojo? Haven't you done enough? Was lying to my face not enough that you have to keep following me around and messing with me? I don't- I don't care okay? I just want you to leave me alone, please. What don't you get? Your game is over, so please, stop doing this, the prize cannot be that good,” Your edge was sharp and frustrated, emotions bubbling over like a perfectly planned volcanic eruption as the words stumbled out of you.
“Yes,” the words tore from him just as frustrated, just as hopeless, hands running through his white strands in an attempt to ground himself, to gather his thoughts. “Yes, the bet- the game whatever- it's all over- been over, and yes,” he pleaded, hands reaching out towards you but you quickly stepped back avoiding his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashed across his face. “Yes, I've done enough- but I can't, I won't stop telling you i love you, please believe me-”
Rage fizzed up inside of you, bringing your palms up to shove at his chest, just as you had done that night. It was infuriating, it was aggravating, being taunted by something- someone you wanted so bad yet couldn't have, by someone who was so close yet needed to be kept at arms length.
“Ugh! You don't love me Gojo!” You spoke over him, ignoring the persistent nod of his head as the words I do Im so in love you I do tumbled from his clearly overbitten red lips. “You don't- don't do what you did to someone you like, let alone love!” your voice broke, staring at him incredulously. “I liked you so much. Don't you get that?” The end of the sentence wasn't hastily spewed anymore, it was slow but urgent, a plea for him to understand the severity at which he hurt you.
“Y-you guys purposefully picked me, because- because you knew that i was a loner and had no friends o-or whatever, and still, you dragged me along, made me- made me fall in lo-” a choked noise cut you off and you whipped your head to the side to break eye contact, not wanting him to see the pain you were in, not wanting to be weak before him. It felt like a humiliation ritual all over again.
You inhaled a deep breath, swallowing to ease the tightness of your throat, to blink back the wetness in your eyes. “Each day you saw me, you went back to your friends and knew what you were doing, while the entire time, I thought- I thought I was just lucky, that finally- maybe I deserved something good, t-that maybe I did deserve someone as good as you.”
Gojo stayed silent absorbing your words, street lights reflecting in the glossiness of his eyes. His chest rose and fell rapidly, jaw muscle twitching every second. For once, he didn't interrupt you, just listened to the damage he knew he had done.
“And then I was so excited to see you- I didn't care if it was a party or if your friends were there I just- I just wanted to see you,” you sighed, briefly shutting your eyes to work up the courage to say what made you feel so sick, so unwanted. “And then there you were in front of everybody, b-because, again, you're someone! Everyone wants to be near you! And you just-” your breath hitched as you relived the scene, could physically feel your heart plummet all over again and the shudder that racked through your body as you pictured him standing there.
Your shoulders dropped as you loudly exhaled, unable to say the words aloud that replayed in your head and kept you up at night. “Everybody wants to be around you, or talk to you, o-or be friends with you Gojo. You don't know what it's like to have never had that, and then to hear the guy you lo- the guy you like- speak so…” you groaned, hands momentarily covering your eyes and throwing your head back in embarrassment. “Like I'm just- just this thing, like I don't have actual feelings, I just,” you paused before finally meeting his eyes again, all wide and starry, glassy and beautiful with tears. “I just can't get it out of my head.”
Silence hung around the both of you as the two of you stood mere feet away, imperfect yet perfect reflections of the other. Both completely hurt and devastated, both torn and beaten down for the same reasons yet not at all. It would be easy to forgive and forget, so easy. Especially when he stood with all his glory looking so unwell and defeated but of course, so frustratingly perfect even at the worst times. Even when he was wrong and felt so right..
Your tongue ran along the back of your teeth, poking the inside of your cheek as you waited, unsure for what.
“I am so sorry, y/n,” he whispered, a tear breaking tension and dropping down his cheek.
You sniffled, nodded, staring.
“I know,” you whispered, and walked by him, stifling the sobs that threatened to burst out of you
When you woke the next morning, you were once again faced with the fact that you would not be spared from the clutches of gojo who was seemingly intent on making it very clear that getting over him would be the most difficult task. ever.
There were dozens of flowers outside your door, a sign of gojo's unfortunate persistence and dedication. You cursed him, convincing yourself that you were bringing them inside for just a moment before you'd shove them in the trash.
But they were spider lilys, your favorite and so hard to find.
You racked your brain for how he knew, chalking it up to a lucky guess. but then your memory, ever so cruel, reminded you. Flashed you the thought of how you had once told him in an off handed random conversation months ago…
and he had just… remembered?
You rolled your eyes, willing the thought away, willing him out of your head and somewhere far far away, but your hands were already moving, already filling a vase- several vases with water. He didn't have to know you kept them. They were just flowers. Just your favorites.
It didn't mean anything, and it certainly didn't mean you were any closer to forgiving him.
Gojo didn't show at the library for the remainder of the week. Not that you noticed. Not that you cared.
More goodies had mysteriously shown up on your doorstep, ranging from coffee with the words “I love you,” written in sharpie on the plastic or breakfast from your favorite diner (more apologies written on the bag that you refused to read) to the matcha dragon jellycat with a pink bow on the head, that you had absolutely no idea how he knew you'd been wanting- or how he was able to get his hands on it considering it'd been sold out for months.
You kept it of course, not wanting to punish the stuffed animal for his actions, but your forgiveness would not be bought. You were surprised he at least had the composure and maturity to not bang on your door.
It was the last night before finals, and it was just your luck that it was pouring furiously as you stepped out of the library at two in the morning. You worriedly stood under the awning in almost pitch black darkness, the campus streetlights doing little to nothing to illuminate what would be a horrible walk back as you watched every single tree bend over backwards from the sheer amount of wind force.
You groaned, nervously chewing on your thumb nail as you racked your brain on what you could possibly do, so past exhausted and wanting nothing more than to call it quits and climb into your bed.
“Hey.”
You gasped, eyebrows shooting up your forehead and whipping around to see what potential threat might be facing you, surprisingly visibly relaxing when your eyes landed on none other than gojo. Of course.
A hand raised to clutch the fabric over your heart, exhaling in relief when you realized you weren't about to get kidnapped.
“Holy shit you scared me,” you breathed, moreso to yourself than him, fear catching you off guard for a moment that you didn't immediately curse at him. You didn't say more, letting the thunder and pitter patter of the rain fill the heavy silence, didn't ask what he was doing there.
Gojo stood awkward, almost out of place. Hand in his pocket and other lightly gripping around the handle of an umbrella that went clearly unused by him. Damp strands of snow white hair stuck to his forehead and wet clothes clung to his body. He looked so pretty just standing under the awnings flickering lights, eyes somewhat unfocused but glued on you, and you had to force yourself to look away, could practically feel the blush creeping up your neck at how pretty he looked.
It seemed as if your body would continue to betray you.
“Can I take you home?” He asked softly, cerulean eyes filled with a glimmer of hope shining at you.
“Nope. It's fine, I can wait. I'm sure it'll be done soon.” blunt and final. Gojo's heart raced at the lack of venom as if it was a sign. Sure you were uninterested, but you didn't immediately tell him to leave you alone. It meant absolutely nothing, yet to him it meant everything- meant light at the end of a tunnel, a stray getting a taste of food after having been starved. His heart raced in his chest, words catching in his throat. He could play it cool, not beg, not repeat himself over and over again like he'd been doing, just try to do enough yet not too much to just get you with him for a few minutes one more time.
“It's after 2 y/n, we've got our final tomorrow and it's pouring. I know you're tired, just let me take you home. Please.”
You rolled your eyes to yourself, exhaling and contemplating his words in your head, cursing every upper power for their unwillingness to toss you a bone.
Do you suffer for the ten minute car ride and get home and go to sleep, or wait here for lord knows how long to just sprint home, maybe get caught in the rain anyways with all your papers and laptop in your bag in the pitch black- you groaned quietly. It was a no brainer.
“This means nothing. I'm serious, Gojo.”
The smallest of smiles creeped on his features, the corner of his lips turning up ever so slightly, and along with one of the prettiest grins you've ever seen came the embarrassingly increasing pounding of your broken heart. You regretted it as soon as he stepped closer, hating the way he made you fluster even after shattering your heart.
“Come on, I'm parked this way,” and right away his free hand reached for the strap of your bag, tugging it down your arm and slinging it over his shoulder, opening the umbrella and positioning it directly over your head before guiding you out into the rain. You opened your mouth in protest, but he was too fast, ultimately deciding to just keep your mouth shut to get it all over with.
The two of you sped walked in the rain, dodging puddles to the best of your abilities and your heart ached painfully at what could have been. The moment was mocking, undeniably sweet.
An unintentional squeal shot out of your mouth when a particular violent gush of wind suddenly sent the umbrella inside out, both of you getting momentarily soaked- or well, mainly just you. Gojo didn't fit under, choosing to just hold it over you and was already looking like he had jumped in a pool.
You couldn't hold back the bubble of laughter that rolled out of you watching gojo curse and spew apologies at you getting wet as he frantically tried to fix the umbrella. His curses turned into chuckles and as soon as it was fixed, the laughter died down into awkward silence, your cheeks burning and a new wave of sadness crashing as the two of you walked side by side. You knew this was a bad idea.
He opened the passenger side of his far too fancy car, a small murmured “thank you,” reluctantly falling past your lips as you watched him run to his side, blasting the heater once situated. For a beat, you both said nothing, sitting in the idling car while a tsunami stormed around you.
He cleared his throat. “Are you warm enough?”
“Yes.”
“Good, good, that's good.” He spoke too fast, sounded too eager. The car stayed parked, Gojo flexing his fingers in his lap, adams apple bobbing as he nervously swallowed. Fuck was he neverous? He didn't want to fuck this up- okay well he was already so past that, he didn't want to fuck things up more, which surely by now would just be impossible. He's just missed you so, so much, still pathetically texting your number everyday incase he wasnt blocked anymore, racking his brain for any other way to show you he's sorry and means it, that he-
“Gojo.”
“Yes?” He's immediately swiveling his head towards you, thoughts interrupted, eyes wide and mouth gaped at what you might say. The yes sounds more like a plea than anything, a beg for you to talk. You spoke to him and it didn't sound like you were going to curse him, what is it what is it what is it??
“Take me home.”
His shoulders deflated, embarrassment creeping up his neck and hope now a mere fleeting thought. What was he thinking?
“Right! Um- yes sorry, of course, my bad,” He mentally cursed at how awkward he was acting and fuck if it didn't sting, but it was everything and more that he deserved.
No music, no talking, just the white noise of the rain and occasional clap of thunder, mixed in with the heat blasting from the vents. He parked outside your apartment building, mustering the courage to try and speak before you could escape. He had ten minutes to think, to scrounge up anything and suddenly his mind was entirely blank except for just you. Just you looking far too pretty exhausted and wet at two am, sitting in his car, right in front of him. Was this real? Was he imagining you?
You spoke first, already unbuckling your seatbelt, eyes staring straight through the windshield. “No more flowers. No more gifts. No more anything. This-” you motioned between yourself and gojo. “Whatever this is- was- no more. Done. Thank you for driving me home, but no more.”
The words burned as you forced them out, every thought in your mind telling you nononono.
“T-theyre from uh, they're not just from me, from the guys too, I'm telling you y/n, I’m sorry- we are all really sorry,” Gojo whispered, entire body turned towards you in case he'd be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your eyes. You were so close, yet so far away, and he had no one to blame but himself.
“I don't care who they're from, that's-thats not the point, okay?” Your voice raised, tone laced with frustration and annoyance. How could you possibly get over him if he was just so damn persistent? Why did he have to try so fucking hard? “Just leave me alone-”
“I cant y/n, I cant. I- I tried, I've tried to respect your words and give you distance but I can't okay?” He knew he was being pathetic, but he just didn't have it in him to care anymore.
“I physically fucking hurt, and I know, It will never compare to how you feel- to what I did to you but fuck-” his features were contorted into a pained look that you had never seen before, never wanted to see in the first place.
You faced him, regret taking hold of every action and thought as you could practically feel the want to give in increase more and more. The look of distraught, the anguish, everything that should have never touched him completely coated him and you had to dig your fingers into your pants to keep from reaching out. You internally begged for him to stop, to just stop fucking speaking, to stop making you think and think and think. But when has Gojo ever stopped??
“I can't stop thinking about you, you're my first thought in the morning and last thought at n-night- I.. I cant function without you and I miss you so so much, just please- please you're all I think about and I mean it when i say it was real, it was all real- Fuck, it never and i mean it never felt like a joke or some bet, I knew I was fucked as soon as I started talking to you- I liked you and and I fucking love you- like theres, theres this physical constricting in my chest when I think about you, when I think about how much I love you and- and,” Gojos head dropped to his chest, voice cracking and fingers curling into the fabric near his chest as if he was experiencing that ache, spewing the words so hastily he could only pray he was making sense.
He inhaled a deep breath, some lousy attempt at collecting his thoughts, raising his head to find your eyes on him, wide and glossy, nostrils flaring from the intensity of your breathing.
You were so beyond overwhelmed, unsure of what to do, what to say, if you should zone him out or listen, but it hurt and it hurt so much that you knew no amount of lying to yourself or to him would numb the agonizing ache in your chest.
“You don't have to love me. You don't have to forgive me, but please, just let me try. Ill spend the rest of my life making it up to you, but fuck Y/N, i have never felt this before. W-When I look at you- m-my brain just does this, this weird numbing thing like its just a buzz, l-like i cant think at all, I just- i just see you and,” he frustratingly ran his fingers through his wet strands, fingers pulling and tugging on the edge as anxiety and exasperation coursed through him.
“Fuck im just so in love you,” his voice broke, pitch uneven and scratchy.
A tear streaked down his pale skin, and you sharply inhaled to hide your own. You could try to be strong, try to deny what you felt for him and pretend like you didn't need him, but you weren't exempt from the ache in your heart at his admission, couldn't just let his words roll off you like they didn't mean anything, when they meant everything, couldn't ignore the way he loved you when you loved him.
The entire situation was so fucked, such a dumb fucking cliche.
“I-I know my letter wasn't enough, that an explanation or guilt won't fix anything, that gifts don't mean anything” you stayed silent, didn't tell him you hadn't actually read his letter yet, that you couldn't. “but-but I just- I just need you- need to try to fix what I fucked up. You're so, so perfect,” he whispered the last sentence to himself, gaze dropping.
He was the one who did all of this, but you wouldn't be the only one to suffer.
You shakily breathed, praying your voice didn't come out as broken and fragile as you were, that he wouldn't be able to see your tell. So many things you wanted to say, wanted to ask. You couldn't open that door, desperately wishing you could find closure in disclosure.
“Thanks for the ride, gojo.” a faint whisper, the only response you gifted him. You slammed open the door, grabbing your bag and running out into the rain towards your apartment building, thankful that it was so loud it hid your cries and wails. You didn't turn around, knowing you'd only go back at the sight of him falling apart, knowing the exact feeling of something that was so in reach completely and helplessly fall through your hands. It was torturous watching what used to be your ray of sunshine completely lose its spark and turn into something so hurt and defeated. Two sides of the same coin. What perfect reflections of each other.
The class was quiet when you arrived bright and early the next morning, murmurs and whispers of questions floating around students silently panicking as they anticipated the material on the exam. Sleep was futile, mind filled with endless thoughts of gojo, and when you finally drifted off into the lull between consciousness and sleep, your dreams taunted you of him. Showed you small glimpses of a hand held in yours, messy white hair splayed on your lap, a pretty smile that made your mind go dumb. You didn't need to see his face to know it was him.
When you woke, eyes wet and sadness heavy in your chest, you couldn't have cared less about your exam, only wanting it to be over so you could resume rotting in your heartbreak.
But of course, Gojo being Gojo through and through, you found a coffee placed at your usual spot in lecture, “good luck, you're going to ace this!” and a heart once again written sloppily in his handwriting. Huffing, you discreetly scanned the room, finding his ruffled locks on the opposite side alone, looking equally as shitty and unwell. You rolled your eyes to yourself, blocking him out and eager to get the exam over with.
You half expected Gojo to storm after you once the exam was over, dismissing the small part of you that almost wished he had. No you didn't.
Slamming open your apartment door and throwing off your bag, the action happened before you could even second guess, fingers whipping out your phone to quickly unblock his contact telling yourself it was just to look, just to get a small peak.
You'll just block it after again, just one quick look wouldn't hurt right?
Your jaw dropped, hundreds of texts flooding your phone as you watched every single one pop up one after another after another- approximately over four weeks worth and Jesus, he was really not lying when he told you still texted your number, still spammed it.
Texts from that night, good morning texts, ‘i love you’s,’ ‘im sorry’s,’ a photo of your digimon keychain on his back pack and then of a digimon shirt and poster in his room with the caption “I love digimon so much I love your keychain”, your sticky note on his wall mirror, a photo of the empty cookies “so fucking good, let the guys have only one except for the fuck face that tossed em”, a photo of the exact frat member that tossed them with evident bruising on his face, “I didn't do it fushiguro and kuna did swear- they loved the cookies btw”, photos of flowers that reminded him of you, just more and more texts spilling his guts, telling you he loved you.
Holy shit.
You gritted your teeth. You should have never unblocked him, mind filled with so many thoughts and nothing at once you weren't sure if you were processing anything. You definitely weren't breathing.
Fuck it.
Phone carelessly tossed somewhere, you moved to tear open his letter, harshly biting your lip in anticipation, eyes widening at the multiple pages he had written and two smaller pieces of rectangular paper falling out that you paid no mind to yet.
You scanned the letter first, eyes rapidly going through each line only managing to digest certain sentences.
-so embarrassingly insecure that i never had any real friends, people that only used me for my family's status or wealth or just to get something out of me ever since i was kid. I didn't think anybody would actually want anything to do with me unless i had something to give-
-got to college and it was the same. Felt like no liked me for me. Always felt like i was left out of a joke or just didn't understand, thought i was weird and just had really bad social cues or something like that. Joined the frat for some brotherly “love” and it only got worse from there. I hated it, but i had something along the lines of friends for once and i had never had that before and wow this is really embarrassing-
-they were all assholes and at first i was just playing along. It was fun to feel like I fit in. it was never anything bad, never hurt anyone until you, never made any sorts of bets about anything, i swear. I'm only mentioning this because I know you'd never want anyone to go through this. You're so selfless, so kind-
-frat president came up with the idea of the bet and i gave in and i don't say that placing the blame on him or on anyone else. It's 100% all my fault and I never should have accepted it. When he brought it up, almost the entire frat was in the room and they all looked at me like if i didn't agree id be the loser i used to be. There's nothing I wouldn't give to take this back. To be looked at like a loser or nobody again if it meant I could have you back. I didn't think, didn't know who you were yet, which is not an excuse at all. It just made it easier to say yes when i didn't know-
-kuna and fushiguro didn't give a fuck. Are they assholes? Absolutely. But at least they are to everybody. Geto was against it all but we didn't care enough clearly to stop, we just kept playing along with the pres just because we could. Just because he could. Honestly don't even know what the prize was, I just accepted it that day. I didn't think about it.-
-he wanted to see if i could get you in bed with me, being the campus fuckboy and all. I know there's no reason for you to believe me at all, no reason to take my word for it. But I never would have gone that far. You think I'm lying and you have every right to, but I never. Never would have done that to you. Im a disgusting idiot, but not that evil-
-started to like you. Started to fall in love with you. Frat president was weirdly on our asses about it (yeah weird, fushiguros, kuna, and geto too?? Me i get, but i think he knew i was insecure and wanted to fit in, knew i had actually started to get along with those few guys and wanted to fuck me over even more having us all wrapped up in it, and dumbly enough i played along- we all did) and everytime i looked a little too happy or giddy or genuine after being with you he’d remind me of the bet. Remind me it wasn't real. I know, I am the biggest pussy ever. What kind of guy takes shit from someone like that? Who even cares?-
-dates were real. You were real. To me. I could nerd out with you and you'd laugh, join in with me even on the dumb things I liked that you didn't know existed. Just listen to me and watch me like I deserved your attention, like I deserved you and how good you were. And then I'd go back to the house and I was furious. Too pussy to officially end the bet to his face but knew I'd only keep going back to you. I never would've stopped once it was technically over because you werent some fuck ass bet to me, you were everything. I'd be so mad and accidentally end up taking it out on you, being rude and indifferent so that maybe you would get fed up with me and end whatever we had going on. That you realized I was never worth your time or good enough for you, but you never did. You kept looking at me like I meant something, kept giving me more chances than I ever deserved. And I took advantage of all of it. I wanted you so bad.-
-realized i turned into one of those assholes i always hated. Had no one to humble or put me in my place anymore and I hated what I saw in the mirror. Used to shit on people like me then i turned into one of the most vile people ever-
-but fuck i couldn't stay away from you. Told myself I'd end things with you just so that in some twisted way I could protect you from me, from the people I hung around. Anything but actually change huh?-
-they felt pretty shitty too so made them all write apology letters to you. I promised I wouldn't read them so if they're ass then I am really sorry about that. Told them to use their big boy brains and that maybe I'd let them try one of your cookies. I really did get them back-
-worst thing I've ever done in my life. Watching you look at me like that in the hall way gutted me and i stood there like some fucking cocky asshole but all i could think about was how were too good for me. Too kind, too genuine. Literally the personification of sunshine. I felt sick, thought it i was cold enough you might tell me to fuck off but you didn't. You never did and i hate myself-
-a brother threw them in the trash when i got back from class, i swear, all the guys saw, i swear. Said i was looking a little too happy, a little too old to be excited over the coolest fucking digimon keychain ive ever seen in my life. I was gonna grab them as soon as he left but then prep for the party started and this and that and i was gonna wait until after the party. I didn't care if there was junk all over it, I was gonna grab the keychain and the cookies (still in the container okay so it was fine, I'm not that gross and they looked amazing) and end the bet with him.-
-didn't even realize how much time had gone by. Every moment was so real and genuine with you all i wanted was you-
-that fucking night. I invited you of course I did and naturally, was shitting bricks. Prettiest girl I'd ever laid my eyes on was coming to our party and I was so excited. Didn't think of the bet, just wanted you there, wanted to see you. Frat pres kept handing me drinks, passing me blunts, and i didn't say no. just kept drinking and smoking and was so fucked up. Got in front of them and he started riling me up, started shit talking the gifts you got me and how funny the idea was. Everybody looked at me and like the desperate loser I am, started spewing shit, started spewing hate. Just wanted to make everybody laugh just to feel fucking better about myself for a split second. Just to feel like i fit right in with them-
-saw you. Saw how beautiful and out of this world you looked even while you cried. I am a coward. I'm pathetic. I knew i was fucking it up, but the moment i saw you. Fuck. I would do anything to take it back. To tell him to fuck off that i didn't care. To be a man and tell him i loved you, fuck his bet or whatever. That all of this was real. I know it doesn't matter. I know I deserve to feel this when I know it's nothing in comparison to what I did to you. I know i will never understand-
-want nothing to do with me. I completely get it. I'm not saying this so you take pity on me, believe me, but I know how cowardly I am. Know how I'm anything but a man. That i did something disgusting and horrible to the girl I love, the girl I was falling in love with. I hate that this is what it took for me to snap out of it. Came in after you left and absolutely trashed the place, kicked everyone out (may or may not be getting kicked out the frat next sem but i don't care), grabbed your gifts from the trash. Made the guys write those letters a couple days later after I went off on my friends (they went off on me too, don't you worry), and then the pres stilllll had some shit to say. Guys felt so bad they uh gave him some love taps-
-don't expect you to ever forgive me. Don't expect you to ever fall in love with me back. Just need you to know how perfect you are. How your kindness kept me going on the darkest of days, how you were literally a breath of fresh air that made me think that maybe things would be okay. You never hesitated to be there and every morning I woke up happy knowing I'd get to see you. I will be sorry for the rest of my life. Every day I wish I could take it back. None of it was worth it. I only want you. I only love you-
-had the best thing that's ever happened to me right in front of me. It felt like I had it all when I was with you. The prettiest girl I'd ever seen with a heart of gold liked me. Didn't want anything from me. And in return I betrayed your trust. Lied to your face. Not only royally fucked myself over but ruined the best part of me. Hate that i will be the reason for all your insecurities-
-mentioned the aquarium night event that had been sold out for a few months that you said would be a dream to go to. I got you two tickets (not for me don't worry) for the end of the month once finals are over since you said you'd be here over winter break. When you go, if, check out the biggest tank in the back with the whale shark. I know you'll look beautiful. Are beautiful. I love you.
The letter was tightly clutched in between your fingers, knuckles white from the grip, tear drops splattered over the sloppy pencil marks, smudges all over from where gojo had continuously erased and rewritten, erased and rewritten. tiny hiccups fell from your mouth.
You hated him you hated him you hated him.
You loved him you loved him you loved him.
Your breath hitched, momentarily discarding the letter to inspect the two fallen tickets. A special one night event gala with inclusive drinks and food, behind the scenes tour where guests could even pet certain animals. Not only had the tickets been sold out for months, but they were way beyond out of your budget.
With trembling lips and shaky hands, you sobbed.
Gojo quite literally spat out his drink when three days later a notification popped up. From you. In the midst of scrambling to properly hold his phone, he somehow managed to fling it, frantically tripping over his own feet, knocking over his drink and sending his desk chair tumbling.
Hi. Can we talk
He wasn't blocked anymore?? You texted him? You wanted to talk??
He tried to focus, tried to think of a response that wasn't so desperate or needy. He failed to do both.
Hi yes of course. im free now. Or whenever you are free of course, just let me know!
Your bubble popped up, his heart spasmed in his chest, breath heavy as he awaited your response.
It went away and his shoulders dropped. Then it popped up and he sat up. Gone.
He groaned, tossing the device and covering his face with his palms. He fucked up again.
An hour later, there was a knock on the door down stairs, then voices mingling. Then-
“Gojo! Your girl is here!” It was Kuna’s voice.
gojo furrowed his eyebrows. His.. girl?
He stumbled up, sprinting down the stairs so fast he jumped down the last four, heart lodged in his throat as he eagerly popped up next to sukuna, eyes widening once they landed on you.
You.
In all your glory clad and comfy and so fucking cute in a swetashirt that was far too big - fuck was that his?- hair slightly messy but purposeful, lip caught in between your teeth. He froze, jaw dropped, eyes stuck on you like he'd never seen a woman in his life. Like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. His breath caught.
“Hi,” you spoke softly, cheeks warm and fingers fiddling with the hem of your- his hoodie.
He rubbed his eyes, unsure if he was dreaming or not. He thought of you so much that the idea that he was hallucinating you at this point was very plausible, that maybe you were a figment of his imagination-
Sukuna elbowed him, a grunt leaving gojos lips, murmuring “weirdo” before turning away.
“H-Hi,” his voice cracked, clearing his throat before trying again. “I mean, Hey.”
You rolled your eyes, playfully. Playfully.
She rolled her eyes at me playfully this time. She just-- she-
His mind was short circuiting.
“This Friday is the aquarium night event. Pick me up at 8.”
And just like that you turned on your heel. Didn't wait for a response, an emotion, nothing. But he understood perfectly fine. This was his last shot.
He spun on his feet, unsure of whether or not he should run after you or if he just made you up. He yelled out to sukuna who only smirked.
“Was she real??”
Those three days passed agonizingly slowly, yet all too fast. Gojo anxiously stood outside your door, palms sweaty and hands tugging at the neck of his collar to breathe. The biggest bouquet of flowers at the store clutched in his grip with an unintentional deadly vice, his best tux ironed to obsessive perfection (admittedly the first time he's ever ironed, he didn't even own one, asking every guy in the frat until one of his brothers mom offered to lend him one).
He spoke out loud quietly to himself, hand hovering over the door in a closed fist working up the courage to knock. “You got this, don't fuck this up, don't fuck this up even more, don't-”
Right under his fist the door swung open, both yours and gojos eyes widening equally in surprise. His cheeks flushed, opening his mouth to speak but the words died down in his throat as his eyes scanned you over. Like a moth to a flame he couldn't stop looking, eyes leaving a wake of goosebumps on your flesh everywhere they traced. Your cheeks burned.
He wasnt breathing, wasnt blinking, wasnt thinking- mind doing that brrrr numbing noise when he would see you but fuck.
You were stunning. The prettiest fucking thing that had ever blessed his eyes. Standing before him, just as shy, just as taken aback. The floor length gown you opted a blessing and a curse, hugging you so perfectly that gojo concluded that it quite literally had to be made for you. You were taller in your heels, hair done perfectly, makeup gracing your features and only accentuating your natural beauty. Oh he was so royally, completely, entirely, fucked.
He was embarrassingly nervous to be standing before you, to stand by your side when you looked like that. Fuck you were so out of his league.
You cleared your throat and for the first time, he blinked, shaking his head to clear his thoughts- or more so lack of.
“You look… you look stunning,” he finally spoke, watching as your gaze dropped to the floor, the tiniest of smiles making his heart thump.
“Thank you. You look very nice too.”
He beamed, exhaling, reminding himself to breathe. He must've died. Must've died and he was at the gates of heaven and fuck he didn't care if he was about to get turned away, at least he got to see you standing right in front of him and hed be damned if he didn't treat it like the best gift he had ever gotten.
He snapped back into reality, far too enthusiastically thrusting out his arm holding the flowers.
“I-I got you flowers.” say something else you idiot. “The, the prettiest ones in the store f-for the prettiest girl.” oh my god not that.
Gojo wanted to cringe, physically recoil at how fucking dumb he sounded.
You let out a small breathy laugh- he missed that sound so much- gently taking them from his grasp to put them in another vase, not paying attention to the way your fingers accidentally brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity up his arms and through his body like a machine getting a much needed reboot. He was pathetic, so so pathetic and it was his greatest honor.
You came back, the pink red blush softly painted on your cheeks made him want to bite his fist and he wasnt sure if it was cuteness aggression or the fact you just looked so fucking edible.
“Ready.”
The two of you slowly strolled through the aquarium, arm laced through his while you admired the animals and he admired you. It was laughable how obvious he was, eyes unable to stray. Hundreds of couples flowed and ebbed around you, an overwhelming amount of waiters offering food and more food and champagne every thirty seconds. The tension was painful, you and gojo downing two flutes each as soon as entering the event.
Small talk at first was difficult, Gojo rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment when he asked if he mentioned how beautiful you looked for the umpteenth time that night. You smiled, blushed, but the tiny inklings of doubt and fear circulated in your head, questioning if he really meant it this time.
You both lingered around tanks, drinking more and more flutes of champagne, becoming more and more relaxed as the night continued. Jokes started flowing easier, hearts forming in gojos eyes when you threw your head back to laugh when he accidentally knocked over an entire serving platter from a waiter's hand.
This was the iconic fratboy?? Making a fool of himself?
He would've cringed, scowled at himself if it weren't for the way you looked, finally allowing your guard to loosen and the champagne to take hold, poking fun at him and asking if this was his first time out in public. He stupidly grinned, teeth and all, cheeks burning pink.
The night only got better from there. Gojo gleamed as a worker introduced you to penguins, whipping out his phone to take photos of you smiling and laughing. Then you were petting a sting ray- a photo of you quietly squeaking when you touched the slimy creature. Later on a photo of you gasping as you pet a dolphin, stars in your eyes and amazement unmasked. You with a sea otter “awwing,” you backing away from gators, you pointing at the big bellied sea lions, you-
“Thank you Gojo. For the tickets, I- I really don't know how you got them, and the price, I don't know what to say.”
The tank was cold beneath your touch, finger feathers lightly tracing the glass that housed colorful jelly fish. The room was dark, save for the glow of the bright sea creatures that reflected in your eyes. You couldn't look away from them. Gojo couldn't look away from you.
The response was immediate, without a doubt. “Don't say thank you. I-..” he swallowed. He didn't know what else to say, knowing sorry would never be enough.
“Sukuna said he was sorry when I went by. Said what he did was pussy shit. When I agreed and said I didn't forgive him, he smirked and said good.” You stayed facing the tank, voice tight and blunt, but not unkind. Purely factual.
Gojo slumped, hands shoving into his pockets, preparing himself for you to end everything for once and for all. His saliva was thick, relaxed state leaving him and anxiousness creeping in. He stupidly hoped for something more, knowing he didn't deserve it from the start. But knowing never made handling the truth any easier.
Silence hung heavy in the air.
Gojo cleared his throat, quiet and nervous. He chewed on his bottom lip, fingers playing with a loose thread in his pocket. “I know you're sick of me saying it. But i am so sorry y/n. I wish I could take it back, but I know I can't." He itched for another glass of champagne. “Im just,” gojo huffed an airy laugh that was more so a sigh of disbelief. “Just so thankful, that you- that you let me come with you tonight. A-and see you.”
A faint hum was your only response.
“C-can i show you something?” he whispered.
You turned, hair framing your face perfectly from where your hands had run through it throughout the night, eyes shiny but bright, and gojo could feel his heart stop, or maybe it was just beating so fast that there was no separation of a beat. “Okay.”
Before he could overthink it and more than ready to accept the sting of rejection, he quickly but hesitantly brought his hand towards yours, lacing his large one in yours. Tears almost welled in his eyes when you didn't pull away. “Come on.”
“Holy shit,” the words came out unintentionally, eyes wide in awe and jaw slack once your eyes landed on the aquarium's new massive whale shark as it freely swam inside the gigantic tank, other fishes and creatures accompanying it in its rounds.
Gojos palm was embarrassingly sweaty in yours and he felt unsteady on his legs as if he was standing on unsolid ground. Maybe this was stupid, so stupid and you'd hate it. He was starting to regret it.
A worker near the tank spoke into a mic, excited and grinning big. “-Our newest edition! Everybody meet y/n the whale shark!”
You gasped in equal joy and shock, a genuine smile appearing on your face for what felt like, no it quite literally was, the first time in over a month. You spoke aloud, maybe to yourself, maybe to gojo.
“Hah! That is so funny that they named it that- what are the odds??”
As soon as the words left your mouth, your eyebrows were already furrowing, body already turning to gojo who looked ghastly and sick on his feet, hand rubbing the back of his neck and skin flushed the brightest you'd ever seen it. He had mentioned wanting you to check it out in the letter, wanted to show you now, looked so nervous… why would he be so..?
“Gojo?”
He didn't look at you, mouth straight and eyes forward. He hummed, but the pitch was too high, too anxious as if he was awaiting some sort of reaction. How would that even work…?
“Gojo…” His eyes scanned the room, fluttered left and right awkwardly, anywhere but you. Your heart stopped, hairs standing on the back of your neck, of your arms, mouth suddenly dry as if you hadn't been drinking the entire night.
“Gojo you didn't…” and he was facing you suddenly, eyes wild, tugging you closer and grabbing both of your hands to hold in his, thumbs swiping back and forth not to soothe you but an anxious tick to soothe himself.
“Fuck, I know it was dumb wasnt it? God- I knew it was stupid, b-but I wasn't thinking, or I was, and I just thought, just thought-” You cut him off, pieces fully falling into place and jaw dropping in unadulterated shock.
“You named a whale shark after me???”
He let go of your hands to pace, fingers curling into tight fists. “Fuck I know, why would I do that? I thought maybe a star named after you would be cool? But-but I just- you know, y-you love the aquarium and I had been researching and saw they were rescuing a whale shark that didn't have a name yet- so i emailed and called and came in and donated, and- and, okay basically maybe begged, but hey, at least I get a plaque now right? Well you get a plaque, I put the donation in your name-”
Your jaw was on the floor, watching the most nonchalant notorious cool fratboy who was known for just that be anything but, frantically pace and throw his hands all over the place as he rambled on and on and on about how he named an entire whale shark after you.
You blinked hard, again and again, wondering when you'd wake up, wondering when gojo would snap his fingers in front of your face and tell you you were just day dreaming. You couldn't believe what you were hearing.
“You named a whale shark after me…”
At once he stopped, turning to you completely exasperated and arms finally falling by his side in defeat as if you'd hate the idea and chew him out for it, as if you could ever hate the idea. He named a fucking whale shark after you.
“Yes.”
Immediately, like all things gojo seemed to be best at making you do, your eyes filled to the brim with tears. His hands found your cheeks, thumbs moving to swipe under your waterline as he panicked. “No, no, no, wait- don't cry, that bad huh? Fuck, it was supposed to make you happy-”
Your fingers tightly gripped his wrists, biting your lip to stifle and quiet your cries thankful the worker and surrounding couples had moved along. “I… I am, that does make me happy.”
Like a weight that had been lifted from his chest for the first time in weeks, Gojo physically relaxed, shoulders slumping in relief. He gently pulled the two of you closer to the tank, eyes solely interested in you as if there wasn't a gigantic whale shark swimming right next to him, as if you were the only thing worth watching, as if he didn't want to blink in case he might miss something.
You sniffled, small laugh hiccuping out of you. “That is s-so silly..” he was nodding along with your words, palms resuming their once rightful place on your cheeks and now the only thing running through his mind was that if he was ever so lucky to be gifted another chance that he would never take it for granted ever again in his life, never take you for granted.
“I am so in love with you Y/n, you have no idea.”
His mouth frowned at the slightest flash of sadness in your eyes, corners crinkling as more tears silently streamed down your cheeks. “Ill keep showing you I'm sorry for as long as you let me and god im fucking sorry. You are the best thing thats happened to me and i know none of its enough, none of it compares to how i hurt and destroyed your trust in me, b-but fuck I love you,” he spoke softly, yet urgent and severe and he hated the inkling of hope that sprinkled in his chest, the fear and pain that came along with thinking he might not be so hopeless after all. It only made it worse.
“I..” his heart seized in his chest as he waited for you to finish. “I don't forgive you gojo.” and he felt his heart crack, felt everything in him completely ache and throb and the tightness of his throat burned so painfully he wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold back the sob that threatened to leave him. He licked his lips, nodding his head to your response and dropping his hands, tears readying to leave his own. The worst of it all was understanding, was agreeing with your decision.
“Y-yeah, yeah-” It’s all he could whisper, all he could muster. But then a hand reached out for his own, fingers lacing through his once more. He wanted to yank it out, not out of spite, not to be rude, but he was on the cusp of shattering. Didn't want you to see him wail like a toddler in the aquarium, figured you weren't vengeful enough to want to watch it though you had every right to be.
‘B-but... that doesnt mean that one day I wont…I just- I need time, but I think, maybe… I'd be willing to try…” you breathed, gaze flickering back to him, to the floor, to the whale shark he fucking named after you, back to bright blue eyes that looked at you as if you were the air he breathed, the oxygen in his lungs.
A tear dropped down his cheek and he felt his body restart. Felt every function in his body like a car being hot wired and suddenly he was working all over again, electricity shooting through every single muscle, tendon, organ.
A squeal left your lips, strong arms suddenly wrapped fully around your middle as you were snatched up and spun around, hands braced against his shoulder as broken fits of laughter flew out of you.
He was in disbelief, he was in awe, he was dreaming, he was everything you weren't and you were everything he wasn't and he was excited, so hopeful, peppering your cheeks and face with kisses as if he just won the lottery- no, no this was better, this was so much better.
“Satoru, stop!” but you were giggling, you were giggling and gently pushing him back, but at the first syllable of his name that you hadn't said in so long, he just couldn't find it in himself to physically peel himself away. You were everything and more and satoru gojo was the greediest man alive.
You could hear the smile on his face. The intensity at which he spoke, the genuineness in his words and actions.
“Fuck- I love you I love you I love you, you wont regret this, youre gonna be my wife and ill make it up to you every single day from now on, thank you thank you-” the words slightly muffled as he continued planting delicate kisses over your face.
You wouldn't kiss him just yet, despite wanting nothing more than to feel his soft ones against yours.
Baby steps.
You laughed, shy but not fearful, eyebrows shooting up your forehead at his admission and eagerness. “Lets start with one day at a time, yeah?”
Gojo finally pulled back, palms finding their now rightful place on your warmed cheeks, tucking the fallen hair behind your ears. He bit his lip, grinning so wide his face hurt.
A bet is classic. What could be more fun than targeting a sweet girl and making her fall in love with the reputable campus fuckboy? Surely he wouldn’t fall in love with you.
fratboy!gojo x f!reader
notes: I have seen sooooo many ideas and tiktoks about the trope of reader being a bet & it always hurts so good! wanted to try it out and ofc it had to be with fratboy gojo >:)))
warnings: angst obvi hehehe, drinking, cursing, reader is super sweet and a bet obvi, no comfort or happy ending (yet? who knows), mentions of vomiting but doesn’t, mentions of blood, reader is never someone’s first choice:(( ummmm, gojo is an asshole ofc
Credit to @uzmacchiato for the divider!!
Satoru knew he should've said no in the beginning, knew it wasn't worth it just to impress his friends- his stupid frat brothers who never took anything seriously. Never thought about the consequences of their actions.
Buuut the idea of the bet was just too good to turn down.
The effort, the build up, the dedication- it would all come together so perfectly, especially with you as the main star. With you being you, you were doomed from the start before the bet could even fully take shape.
Sweet little you. Shouldn't you have known better?
Going around, shamelessly wearing your heart on your sleeve, always spreading kindness on the darkest of days, looking and talking to people as if they genuinely mattered- and maybe to you, they actually did, even when they couldn't have cared less about returning the favor. Not that you ever expected anything in return.
And most importantly of it all? You were so understanding. Far too understanding for your own good. The debilitating type that had rooted itself early on as some sort of lousy defense mechanism and eventually morphed into something self destructive. Had you subconsciously constructing and molding subpar excuses to justify someone's behavior, especially when it was directed towards you.
Always being an overly empathetic thing, so willing to sacrifice and minimize your own feelings when it came to others, always softening their blow.
Were you desperate or something to get people to stay? So desperate that you had unintentionally turned yourself into a doormat that people could stomp all over?
Anybody could've told you that it was idiotic to try and see everyone at face value, to so naively believe the words people told you. But you could've argued the opposite.
It wasn't naivety. It was you, sweet and trusting you, determined to not let your past heartbreak change the way you viewed others, to not let it bias you, scare you, or haunt you. Despite having been constantly hurt, you refused to allow your past experiences make you question and doubt every. single. new. relationship.
Always trying to see the good in people.
It would have turned out great, perfectly actually. You had played your part with flying colors, just as expected, putting on the most spectacular, albeit unknown, performance. And Satoru? Well.
Things would have turned out great.
If he hadn't started falling in love with you.
But the show must go on.
“H-Hey, Satoru! Wait-wait a sec!” The words spilled from your lips in an unintentional desperate plea, the halls fully swarmed and packed with students squeezing past one another. Dozens of conversations mulled around you, voices mindlessly buzzing and bouncing off the walls as you paced towards the white haired man.
Satoru had been anything but clear as of recently, a new push pull dynamic he’d adopted that had you more confused and thrown off than ever. You thought you were going crazy.
One night he was taking you out, looking at you like you were his dream girl who hung the moon in his sky, and the next he was treating you like some clingy puppy that he had never even asked for in the first place. The hot and coldness of it all had given you whiplash trying to keep up with him.
But of course, of couuurrrse, you believed him when he said it was stress. That finals and exams had him so busy, but of course he liked you! He was just new at this whole communication thing and needed time but please Y/N, I like you so much please im trying.
You believed it all.
After all, why would you not? Especially when Satoru was Satoru and you were you.
Sure, you knew you could be a lot, knew you could have more than afforded to shut up every now and then and not chimed in with your over the top unnecessary eager commentary, but regardless, the point still stood. Satrou Gojo, one of the hottest most pined after frat boys on campus that everyone treated like a myth, like an untouchable legend, talked to you, was nice to you, even took you out and seemed happy to do so.
Maybe for once, the rumors could have been just rumors!
Plus, the last few times you remembered being taken out was high school, and they never showed you much interest past the first date once they learned they couldn't get in your pants. Gojo hadn't even tried!
“Sorry-excuse me,’cuse me, sorr- oops, my bad, imsosorry- Satoru!”
He'd been oddly silent the past few days, completely unresponsive to your texts. But with finals coming up, surely he must've been cramming and just far too busy to respond.
He hadn't sat next to you like usual in lecture, but he showed up late, so maybe he didn't want to bother you?
But he didn't wait for you after either, gone before you could even leave your seat. You couldn't deny how it stung, but always chalked it up to him being too busy or in a rush.
You could visibly see his shoulders tense from behind, the slight tilt of his head as it hung forward in what you could only assume was annoyance, a brief mental preparation to deal with you. A pang bloomed in your chest, unease pulsing through you.
He slowed down just enough for you to catch up, but didn't stop. Slightly out of breath, you fell into step next to him, cheeks flushing and heat creeping up your neck from his clear uneagerness to see or talk to you. You nervously swallowed. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be.
He didn't greet you, didn't look at you, just waited for you to speak.
You awkwardly cleared your throat to speak, a small and meek “hi,” being the only word to squeeze out.
“I’ve got class.” Short, quick, dismissive.
His blunt uninterested response sent doubt pummeling through you, the gifts in your pocket weighing heavier and heavier with the possibility of rejection more realistic than you initially thought.
He would draw you in, perfect words to butter you up and make you feel foolish for ever questioning him, and then he'd get like this. Not mean per se, but just so uninterested in you that you wondered if you had made it all up. You weren't dating (yet? So you were hoping) but he had kissed you on the most recent date. Didn't that mean something?
You'd been so ecstatic afterwards, but with no solid friends on campus, you had no one to tell or squeal to. You carried everything alone, both good and bad. Gojo knew that, the whole frat knew that. It's what made you the perfect choice.
“R-right, yeah! Um- can you stop just for a second- i wanted to-” and he loudly sighed, piercing blue eyes rolling into his head as he stopped to turn to you. He didn't say anything, just stared expectantly at you like you were completely wasting his time. His gaze on you was irritated.
The eye contact had you jittery. Not the usual nerves you'd get when you turned your head just to find him already looking at you, so anxious you’d somehow mess things up with the hottest guy ever, so desperate to be good enough for him. No. It was the on edge, antsy type that had you replaying every dumb thing you've ever said to him, the doubt pooling at the very bottom of your stomach that felt like a heavy black tar. It felt like a test you knew you’d fail when you had studied so hard to do good. You just wanted him to like you the way you liked him, and god, did you fucking like him.
Don't fuck this up, y/n, this is the best thing that has ever happened to you.
Nervously swallowing and cheeks blazing, you gave an uneasy awkward smile before rummaging through your tote bag and pocket, muttering a tiny but sincere “sorry,” when his foot started to impatiently tap against the floor.
A small pit formed in your stomach, feeling slightly mortified and very embarrassed. The feeling was similar to a child showing off their very mediocre work to an overly critical parent.
“Sorry,” you huffed a fake laugh, pulling out the small container from your bag and the keychain from your pocket.
“I-um, I made these for you, since you know, you said you loved cookies, uh on the date, they're um your favorite..” and your words trailed off as you held out the tin, slowly beginning to feel smaller and smaller as he kept his hands by his side, no show of trying to take it from you. A small sticky note on the top read, “Hope you like them! :D <3”
“Oh! A-and, hah, I saw this and, and I thought of you, especially since you said you really, um, really liked that show.” nothing. “J-Just as a um, thank you, for the other night. W-Was a lot, o-of fun.”
You held both hands out, praying he didn't see the slight tremble of your clammy hands holding the items as you stood there feeling like an idiot. The thumping of your heart picked up, eyes looking anywhere but at him, bowing your head just slightly so you wouldn't have to see him look so repulsed by you.
Had you somehow misread everything? Like actually? This entire interaction felt like some humiliation ritual.
“Um, if, if you want, o-of course, no.. no pressure,” You pathetically added, already trying to lessen his blow, already trying to minimize and justify his cold reaction towards you.
He let out a small snicker, hands finally coming up to grab the items from your unsteady hands. You hid the sigh of relief that you wanted to let out, so easy to please and already feeling happy again that he accepted your gifts, as if it was a nuisance for him to do so.
“Wow, thanks. You do too much,” he dully noted, a small closed lip smile gracing his pretty features before he turned on his feet to continue his trek to class.
The comment made you freeze, staring at the spot he stood in, a “thank you?” not even having the chance to leave your tongue. You didn't think he said it with mal intent, but the words ‘too much’ always seemed to find its way back to you.
“Oh wait!” Gojo's voice broke you from your thoughts, and you immediately turned to face him, eyes wide and excited like a dog hearing the word ‘walk.’ Maybe he'd talk to you some more, or want you to walk with him! Or maybe-
“Party this Friday night at the house. You should come by, all my friends will be there.” The words made you deflate. A party… at his frat house… the idea made your stomach twist with nerves. You knew no one, had no friends to go with, and you were absolutely horrified of embarrassing yourself around him- even more- than what you felt like you had already done.
“Oh! Um, haha, I don't think your friends like me- um- very much, haha,” you stated, hand coming up to push your fallen hair behind your ear, a small wince on your face as to not make it a big deal.
His friends, and Gojo at first too, had been relatively mean to you starting off, relentless teasing about your looks, your interests, hobbies, lack of knowledge you had despite trying so hard. You had been so caught off guard when he told you he liked you.
“Psh, they're just playing! See you at 10pm,” he yelled back, already walking away, arm coming up to carelessly wave. You sighed to yourself. You knew you would go. You really wanted to see gojo.
Friday night was a mess. A good mess at first, at least. Cars parked up and down the street, people packed in like sardines in and outside the house, music so loud all the neighboring dorms and frats could hear, and god did it reek like sweat and musk.
The two shots - okay maybe three - you took right before for liquid courage seemed to do the exact opposite as you maneuvered around a couple making out, small “excuse me’s” falling from your lips every second in a measly attempt to find gojo.
The small revealing outfit you had on, at least, seemed to match the vibe, relieved when you saw girls wearing far less. The only con was that your favorite knee high boots would most definitely get stepped on, but at least you were taller now as you searched for the stark white tufts of hair.
The house thrummed from the vibration of the speakers, bass so heavy your teeth rattled. It was dark, the only light illuminating the rooms were colorful shades of blues, purples, reds, and greens shining and flashing everywhere. The party felt like everything you weren't, but for a split second you were almost proud of yourself, going so far out of your comfort zone it felt like you were on a whole other planet. You imagined how fun these parties could be if you had any friends, and before you could let the thought get you down, you let your tipsy self imagine what it would be like to experience these with gojo by your side, excited that you were about to.
Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was packed. Unable to find Gojo had you seeking out another drink and the multitude of bottles of liquor that covered the surfaces were calling your name. You felt confident, wanting another drink to keep your courage and vibes up, grabbing a red solo cup and creating a concoction that would be far too strong, but you were here to let loose right? You were at a party!
Further encouraged and emboldened when a girl passing by stopped to compliment you, you smiled to yourself, feeling the tension roll off your back and a new found self-assurance bloom within you.
Bodies flowed and worked around you, not shoving into you or looking at you like you didn't belong, but moved in rhythm near you, like you had every right to be there and fit just fine. You relaxed into the music, earlier shots of vodka giving you a nice buzz that warmed your skin, made your cheeks tingle, and more importantly a soft happiness that weighed in your chest that comforted you like a safety blanket. Pouring the liquor into the cup with a mixer that admittedly was way too little, you knocked over a different cup, relieved there was barely any liquid that spilled over.
Quietly giggling to yourself, you spun to grab a roll of paper towels, quickly drying up the small mess you made, already sipping on your drink that made you wince in disgust. It was perfect. You hummed along to the music, hips swaying while lights blinded you, walking over to the metal garbage can to toss the wet material. Looking inside, you couldn't help but notice the tupperware that looked exactly like yours.
Furrowing your eyebrows, you leaned in a little closer, tiny fractures cutting into your heart as you realized it was yours, still packed to the brim with your cookies, sticky note still stuck to the top. Next to the cookies, the keychain you had bought him.
You froze, just a moment before scooting back, not wanting to get caught staring into the trashcan as you processed everything. There was a dull ache in your chest, energy immediately depleting and inklings of shame and embarrassment circulating through you. Your mind worked through the different possibilities, seeking out any excuse or reason as to why your items now lay forgotten in the trash.
You felt the build up of tears, blinking them back with a shaky breath as you chugged your mixture that was mainly liquor, a hopeless attempt at suppressing the sadness you felt. You shivered, turning your head to gag at the disgusting taste. Surely all the alcohol would calm your nerves.
Maybe one of the guys had done it? And not Gojo? You were positive this was all some sort of misunderstanding, no way he would just do that right? He told you he liked you- it wouldn't make any sense.
You began your trek around the sea of people, legs a little more unsteady now, eyes slightly glassy, contents of your stomach filled with a majority of alcohol and barely any food from your earlier nerves. All you wanted to do was find him, figure out an explanation that you were positive you'd be more than willing to accept, and spend the rest of the night by his side having a good time. The cookies weren't hard to bake and it's not like the keychain cost that much- it was fine, you were fine.
A little more intense this time, you made your way through the frat house, a sigh of relief when a glimpse of that notorious white fluffy hair came into view, a black backwards baseball cap sitting perfectly on his head. When your eyes finally landed on gojo, albeit still a little wobbly and throat tight, you couldn't help the smile that automatically formed on your face, hoping he'd feel the same. Why wouldn't he? He did invite you after all.
He was surrounded by his friends and then some, everyone dialed in on what he was saying. You anxiously stepped forward, waiting for the right time to get close to him and say hello. You wondered if he'd hug you and say ‘hi baby,’ like he sometimes did. The thought made your heart flutter inside its ribs like a bird in a cage.
Maybe he'd even compliment your outfit, or your hair and makeup. You eagerly bit your lip, too excited to be embarrassed at your spiraling thoughts of being somewhat wanted by him.
“Bro and then she gave me a fuck ass keychain, dude!!” he broke up his commentary with a laugh, a little too forced for it to be genuine, but a laugh nonetheless. “Said it reminded her of me, like, she just can't get any weirder bro. God and don't get me started on the cookies. She said it was her thanks for taking her out, but she doesnt know its all a bet to get into her pants- shes a fucking virgin for sureeee, threw that shit out as soon as i got back,” and he snickered and grinned like he had won the best prize. Like he had formed the best, most elaborate plan and you had played your part perfectly. You really, really had.
His friends, who you recognized as toji and maybe sukuna, chuckled, all chiming in with terms of agreement and encouragement, adding on all sorts of lies and theories about you, like maybe you were secretly a whore putting out, your innocent act a devious little facade. Geto, who had always been kind to you, was there too, perched against the side of a couch, not joining in, but silent and accepting.
You flinched, physically recoiling back when you heard them laugh about how you were too much, too pathetic to see right through anything at all, a fucking stupid girl for thinking someone like you could have a chance at him. Everything you had told yourself, every insecurity that had coursed through you, all confirmed. Others really did view you the way you saw yourself.
“Bro and when I kissed her, swear i almost gagged-”
You drowned his voice out, the music. There was a ringing in your ears that wasn't there before. Frozen in your spot, fingers beginning to shake, throat burning so badly you weren't sure if the alcohol you had downed was about to make a surprise appearance or not.
The bodies around you blurred as the pit in your stomach grew, humiliation washing over you as if you’d just been doused with a bucket full of ice water. You didn't run, couldn't, feet glued to the floor as you were forced to listen to the group of the hottest guys on campus who didn't even know you as a person, didn't take the time to learn you, ridicule you and make fun of you. You guessed it didn't matter, because Gojo had.
Each breath was labored and jagged, chest tightening and skin prickling with such an intense heat that you felt constricted in the already sparse clothes you wore. The way the fabric dug into you, a certain stitch that scratched you, the zipper that rubbed against your skin - it felt like you were suddenly aware of every unpleasant feeling in addition to the shattering of your heart.
You wanted to go home, wanted the floor to swallow you whole- felt so unbelievably silly standing there watching the guy you liked- fuck, the guy you had fallen in love with- paint you out to be some weird nasty creature who was undeserving of his attention. Sure, you had felt that way initially, but he had been so kind to you that you had been so blindsided, unknowingly setting yourself up to fall right back into your constant cycle of heartbreak and misery.
Built up tears finally broke the surface, some beginning to stream down your face and others just dropping from the sheer amount that had welled up. It wasn't until gojo turned his head, eyes landing directly on you and smile completely dropping that your legs became unstuck.
Your breath hitched, crackling sob breaking through as your saliva grew sticky. The extra drinks sure to make you vomit after this. You spun so fast you lost balance for a split second on your heels, immediately righting yourself and pushing through the sweaty bodies blocking you in. You didn't say sorry or excuse me, just pummeled through, desperate to get outside so that maybe you could finally breathe. You felt like a pig in makeup, and the thought made you cry harder. So beyond embarrassed, having dressed up and done your hair and makeup, mortified that everyone else thought you looked just as ugly and silly. You had to get out of here, the air was too thick and stuffy as the walls closed in on you.
Your name fell on deaf ears, sprinting out the front door and down the porch steps, surroundings a blur from not only how fast you were moving, but the alcohol that coursed through you. You knew the gifts were stupid, sure, but everything else? The kiss? He wanted to gag? All the times he called you pretty, beautiful, yes, it was more than plausible that it was a lie, but why did he say it all then? That's right, because you were supposedly just a fucking bet.
Who would willingly want to be with you?
Gojo called your name again, louder. You weren't the only one sick to your stomach. He cursed, heart dropping to his ass as the overwhelming suffocating feeling of guilt bloomed inside of his chest, heart quite literally constricting at how shitty, how fucking disgusting, he felt. It spread throughout him and he would've thought it was dramatic if it didn't feel like he could currently drop to his knees and heave. The entire situation was beyond fucked up, everything a misunderstanding and completely not at the same time.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he repeated, hoarse and panicked as he immediately trailed after you, abruptly leaving the conversation mid sentence, not caring how he looked when all the guys stared at him in confusion. He lost sight of you for a moment but knew you'd only try to leave, escape the perfect hell he had just created for you.
Why the fuck did he do this? How the fuck was he gonna make this up to you, and why had he let himself get involved in this shitty idea anyway? He knew he should've called it off, he knew he had fallen for you.
Muttering insults as hands came out to grab at him, others trying to talk and some pulling him in for a dance. He didn't look, didn't care who they were, practically throwing and shoving their hands off him with only you in mind. He would explain everything to you, lay himself bare and expose the ugliness and insecurities that festered inside of him.
He had been projecting this entire time, exhausted from maintaining such an ugly facade of the frat fuckboy, desperately trying to fit in with everyone else that he stupidly agreed to the bet just to feel some type of belonging and companionship. All at the expense of you.
He didn't think, that was his issue. So caught up in this fake lifestyle that he knew the act wasn't just pretend anymore, his morals slipping by the day as he settled into this new once foreign character. They were all fucking assholes. All of them.
Fingers tightly clenching your almost dead phone, you bawled, frustration making you grit your teeth in additional annoyance when the sidewalk wouldn't stay straight. Accidentally stepping off the concrete, your heel caught on the edge, sending you falling onto all fours on the pavement, too drunk to care about the pain that shot up your wrists and knees. You let out a guttural infuriated noise, a mix between a squeal and growl, feeling so much more than just pissed and heartbroken. You furiously smashed your palm against the concrete as if it held the blame.
“Fuck, hey, shit, are you okay??”
Gojo's palm rested on your back and in the blink of an eye you stumbled up, whipping around to face him seething and disgusted as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.
“Don't fucking touch me,” you spat backing away from him as if he had physically struck you, and at this point you thought you would’ve almost preferred that over the gut wrenching feeling in your chest. There was a physical pain that tore throughout you, your heart feeling like sharp talons had ripped it out and stomped on it like an attempt at snuffing out a flame.
If you had it in you, you would’ve laughed at his expression, so devastated and hurt and torn as if he wasn't the one who caused all this, as if he wasn't the one who could've prevented everything. He had the audacity to stare at you like he was scared of losing you.
“Please, please y/n, i can explain, I am so sorry, please,” and it was as equally pathetic as it was infuriating. gojo pathetically begged, arms awkwardly reaching towards you as if you were the solution.
You paused, tongue loose and words slurred, staring at him bewildered as you threw your palms up. He wasn't who you thought he was. Or maybe he was exactly who everybody said he was and it was your fault for thinking otherwise.
“I thought you liked digimon??”
He swore, hands coming up to drag down his face. You saw. Saw your cookies and the keychain you bought him in the garbage.
“That wasn't me, I swear, please believe me, I swear- I-I got back from class, one of the guys saw and- and started laughing, they took it from me before I could even say anything. They tossed it, and I swear, please believe me, I was gonna grab it after, I-I love Digimon, I loved your gifts, please.”
He was breathless now, a fruitless panicked attempt at defending himself.
You scoffed. “Sure it wasn't too much?”
Gojo winced, hands curling. “I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it like that-” You cut him off, angrily sniffing and wiping your bloody gravel pricked hands against your black mini skirt. God you felt ridiculous.
“Yeah?? Which fucking part??” Your voice raised an octave, almost yelling but you didn't care as passerbyers turned their heads. You spewed the words, moving forward just to angrily shove at his chest, blood smearing his white shirt. Good, you wanted to stain his shit, wipe your blood all over it.
He took advantage of the proximity, quickly but lightly wrapping his large hands around your wrists to keep you close. You screeched, thrashing in his hold, weakly trying to hit him, shove him, and with his loose grip, he let you, your small fists pounding against his hard chest
“Im sorry, Im sorry, Im so fucking sorry, I like you- I like you so fucking much-”
A broken sob escaped you, a mix between a snarl and cry getting stuck in your throat.
“I didn't mean anything I said in there, I loved kissing you, you’re beautiful - fuck, you’re perfect, you’re so fucking perfect and- and you know me, the real me, I feel like I can be myself with you, please please please, im begging you, let me explain everything- from the start.” He was frantic, words rushing out so fast they blended into one. His eyes were glossy and rimmed red and you knew it wasn’t from whatever drugs he had done.
You stilled your hits, pausing in his hold. Rapid breaths mingling, chests quickly falling and rising, faded background music from the frat echoing into the night.
“Please.”
Gojo spoke it like a prayer, voiced with despair and a frenzied anguish that he knew deep down would do nothing. He would continue to beg, to plead with you, to reason, but deep down, he knew. Your chin dropped to your chest helplessly, a small hiccup squeezing itself out as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes felt swollen from how much you had cried, but you had plenty left.
You could feel gojo guide your palms to rest against his chest, a new set of bloody hand prints against the stark white, heart thumping like he'd just ran a marathon. You slammed your eyes shut, new sobs threatening to break loose, the feeling of wanting to curl up and die had never been more prominent.
“y/n, I'll do anything, please- please, I don't-” and his voice cracked, fingers tightening around your wrists. “I don't want to lose you- Im so, Im so sorry, baby.”
Your breath hitched, lips curling and fingers twisting into his shirt to bunch the fabric beneath your fingers. The agony and discomfort in your chest was painfully overwhelming, silently wishing you'd wake up from this nightmare, wishing you never heard him, trying to wrap your mind around how and why he would do this to you. You’d never understand, would never gain pleasure from hurting anyone, let alone, him.
“What did I ever do to you?”
The words came out small, so small and fractured and so confused, seeking an explanation or reason that could maybe get the two of you past this- that maybe you must've done something to deserve it and the two of you could come back from this, but you knew it was all for nothing. For no reason at all.
Gojo's eyes flashed with guilt, anger, and shame. He wanted to recoil, wanted to throw his head into his hands and sob, but he didn't want to let you go. He knew it would be the last time. Your gaze didn't meet his.
He swallowed, throat stinging and eyes burning. He regretted everything, internally begging to take it all back like some upper power would hear him and turn back time.
“Nothing, you didn't deserve this- you did- did nothing.” The words caught as his voice wavered and you wondered if he was crying. You refused to look at those eyes. His fucking blue perfect eyes that bore into you like you mattered- it was all lies- he had lied to you for months- almost an entire semester. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, attempting to stifle the wail you wanted to blubber out. It had been months.
Months of getting to know one another, of a build up, of a hope for something more. The silliest stupidest notion that for once someone found you valuable too and it wasn’t one sided.
A shallow gasp, an unintentional whimper, your shoulders shook as you wept.
“I wish I never met you, g-gojo. I would never-” a cry broke your words, tensing up as you angled your head down to hide your uncontrollable tears. He wanted to correct you and tell you to call him satoru or toru, but he stayed silent, let the sting burn. “Never hurt you like this.”
You shakily exhaled, not paying attention to his mindless small whimpers of “I know, I'm so sorry, I know, please.”
You gripped the fabric tighter, lifting your head to finally meet his eyes, hating how he was crying, how he genuinely looked heartbroken at hurting you, how you hated seeing him like this. His chin wobbled, breath coming out in unsteady pants and for once, he didn't look like the notorious frat boy who could conquer anything. He looked small, like a scared little boy.
Unsteady shaky hands lifted to gently cup your cheeks, gojo preparing himself for you to yank away from his touch like it burned. He sniffled when you didn’t, perfect lips shiny and slightly parted as he fully rested them against your soft skin.
“I never want to see you again.”
His composure shattered, immediately shaking his head murmuring “no’s”, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your skin and under your eyes as he repeated the same words over and over again. You pushed him back roughly with all your drunken force, which wasn't much, but enough to send him stumbling backwards to create distance.
He was alarmed, not at what you had done, but at watching you walk away, brain filling with nothing but no no no no no please, please stay, stay with me stay.
“Y/n, no please, baby, baby, y/n, please hear me out- please-” his voice was shredded, raw from drinking and yelling and begging, but he didn’t care. He’d beg and beg until he had no voice left, and when it was gone, he would find another way.
For a moment, you paused, and he thought that maybe, just maybe you would listen. But when you slowly turned to him, looking so fucking beautiful still as street lamps glistened in the reflection of your eyes, cheeks shiny and tinted pink from the tears that painted your cheeks, it all clicked. It was torturous.
“Fuck y/n, please, I-I love you. I’m so,” he swallowed to ease the scratchiness of his throat. It did nothing. “I’m so in love with you,” and he whispered the words, loud enough so you’d hear, but almost as if they weren’t meant for you, as if he was just talking to himself and unintentionally said the realization aloud.
He watched as a lone tear dropped down your cheek and it was cruel. He was cruel, you were cruel. Standing there so perfect and so beautiful while you broke his heart, and it was all his fault since he had done it first. The silence was thick as the two of you stood feet apart, wordlessly staring at each other, letting his words hang in the air. You opened your mouth and shut it, letting the process repeat as you mulled over the words in your head, wishing more than ever he hadn’t said them. Wishing more than ever you didn’t feel the same.
“I’d pick you, over and over again Satoru, every time, in a room full of people. Everyone would,” you huffed a fake laugh, blinking away your tears as you stared into his dumb perfect eyes. “I thought-” your lips quivered, chin wobbling at the humiliating admission. “I thought for once, someone had finally picked me.” The words slowly fell from your lips, laced with what one could only describe as pure heartbreak.
Gojo felt the final blow split his heart, not a clean cut, but a jagged uneven slash that cleaved it in two. He called your name, desperate and all, watching you spin on your heel and angrily walk away, your perfume hitting him as the wind blew.
He stepped forward- yelled your name again. But you didn't turn, didn't peek, didn't flinch as you sobbed, fingers constantly wiping your eyes to see where you were going as you drunkenly walked back to your apartment. Cried for yourself, mourned who you were becoming, who you were becoming with him. You had fallen in love with him too, of course you had. He was so easy to love.
