. . . 𝑇𝓞ℛ𝓤'𝓢 IN HIS FEELINGS AND HE CAN'T GET OUT OF IT :(
SUM. rumor has it that in an attempt to sleep with you, satoru gojo thought it would be a good idea to work at the same campus cafe as you! does he need the money? no! does he need your attention? well yeah.
CONTENT. MDNI. explicit sexual content. slow burn. kinda enemies to lover. oral sex. riding. unprotected sex. creampie. slight dom/sub undertones. lots of teasing. dirty talk. semi-public making out. mild angst from miscommunication. eventual fluff.
A/N. satoru art by uruyuuu ... malcolm todd is goated
you meet satoru gojo on a tuesday morning when the cafe is packed worse than usual. the line stretches all the way past the entrance, your apron is covered in dried milk splatters, and your patience is basically gone.
then in he walks.
satoru gojo is the kind of guy who makes the world bend a little just by existing. cocky without apology, charming in that infuriating way that has people falling over themselves, the type who never hears no because he doesn’t give them the chance to say it. and well he’s rich, he’s brilliant, he’s everything and he knows it, which is exactly why you hated him from the second you met him.
“one of everything sweet you got back there,” he says. “extra whip, extra shots, and throw in a smile for me while you’re at it, yeah? name’s toru by the way.”
you stare at him for half a second. he can’t be serious.
“do you even know how bad that’ll taste?” you mutter, not even bothering to hide the annoyance in your voice. you start slamming cups and pumps because arguing with customers is a quick way to get written up, but god, this one makes it tempting.
the smirk on satoru’s face gets wider, those ridiculous sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just enough for you to catch a flash of those too-blue eyes.
“aw, c’mon princess. live a little. i like my coffee like i like my company—sweet, messy, and a little overwhelming.”
you nearly drop the cup. the audacity rolls off him in waves and when you finally slide the drink across the counter (extra everything just like he asked), he takes one dramatic sip and makes a face.
“too sweet,” he declares as he sets the cup down. “way too sweet. you tryna put me in a sugar coma or what?”
your eye twitches, “you literally asked for one of everything sweet. that’s what you got. if you wanted plain black coffee maybe you should’ve just said that.”
he leans in closer, elbows on the counter, completely ignoring the growing line behind him. “feisty. i like that, it’s almost cute.”
“cute?” you echo. “buddy, i’m two seconds away from spitting in your next drink if you don’t move.”
satoru throws his head back and laughs, you also notice a few girls in line giggle along with him. he then pulls out his card, taps it against the reader, and winks.
fucking asshole.
“that should be it, princess. and hey—i’ll be back tomorrow! maybe you’ll get my order right next time.”
you watch him saunter out, white hair catching the light, and you mutter under your breath the entire time you’re making the next customer’s latte.
you think that’s the end of it. that he’s just another entitled campus pretty boy who’ll forget your face by the time he hits his next lecture.
but satoru gojo doesn’t forget things that interest him.
and apparently, you just became interesting.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
“hey, new hire starts today. show him the ropes when he gets here. he’s a fast learner, supposedly.”
you nod... you’ve been working at this campus cafe for almost eight months now. started right after your financial aid package came up short and you needed something flexible that wouldn’t kill your gpa. the pay is decent, the tips are better on busy days, and it beats retail. plus the free coffee reallyyy helps.
pops, your manager, has been running this place longer than most of the students have been alive on campus. he’s kind of aloof that borders on comedy, always saying the bare minimum while somehow making it sound like the most profound shit you’ve ever heard. you get along with him in that weird way where you trade sarcasm and he never takes anything too seriously.
“great,” you say, already dreading it. “i’m babysitting today basically”
pops snorts, “this one applied with a resume that looked like it belonged in a fortune 500. probably won’t last, but at least he’ll look pretty while he burns the milk.”
“so you hired him because he’s pretty?”
“i hired him because we’re short staffed and he said he could start today. pretty is just a bonus. try not to scare him off on day one, yeah? i don’t feel like doing interviews again.”
the bell above the door chimes. “oh look, there he is. right on time.”
you turn around and your stomach drops straight through the floor.
no. fucking. way.
satoru steps inside wearing the exact same black apron as you have, name tag already clipped to his chest slightly crooked.
he spots you instantly.
“morning, princess,” he says, voice carrying across the quiet space. “ready to teach me how to make that sugar coma special?”
you just stare at him, mouth half open.
“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter.
satoru walks behind the counter, already rolling up the sleeves of his shirt like he’s done this a hundred times. he stops a little too close, that familiar cocky energy filling up the small space.
“what? you told me to try plain black coffee next time. figured the best way to get it right is to learn how to make it myself. plus the tips here looked decent when i was scoping the place out yesterday.”
“play nice, both of you. i don’t want to hear any screaming before ten.”
you pinch the bridge of your nose, already feeling the headache coming on. “this is a joke, right? he’s the new hire?”
“looks that way,” pops says, shrugging. “show him the basics. registers, milk steaming, the usual. don’t let him break anything expensive.”
satoru leans against the counter looking way too amused. “don’t worry, i’m a fast learner. you’ll barely have to babysit. we're gonna be real good friends."
˚⟡˖ ࣪
supervising satoru on his first day turns out to be exactly as annoying as you expected, except somehow worse.
he picks up the register faster than anyone you’ve ever trained. customers love him. older ladies compliment his “lovely smile,” frat guys clap him on the shoulder, and half the girls on campus suddenly decide they need an extra shot in their latte. every time someone tells him his coffee is perfect he makes sure you hear it, tossing the praise your way.
“did you catch that? she said it was the best cappuccino she’s had all semester. guess i’m a natural.”
“she was flirting with you, not rating your foam.”
“eh, same thing.”
he’s extra with everything too, especially the latte art. while you’re trying to keep the line moving he spends an extra ten seconds swirling hearts and little flowers into every cappuccino, sometimes even attempting tiny cats or stars. half the time they come out lopsided but he’s proud of himself.
one girl actually took a photo and posted it right there at the counter. again, satoru made sure you saw it.
“see? people appreciate the details. you should try it sometime instead of just dumping plain foam on top.”
“we’re not an art studio, gojo.”
he just laughs unbothered and keeps going. every time you correct him on something he listens for about five seconds then does it his own way anyway, but he never actually messes up. it’s infuriating how quickly he fits in.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
by the end of the first week you’re convinced satoru gojo was put on this earth specifically to test every last nerve you have left.
he shows up every single shift you’re on. the worst part is he’s actually good at the job. terrifyingly good even.
you catch him quiet one afternoon working the espresso machine.
there’s something weirdly attractive about how easy he is when he’s focused like this. when he’s not the loud, cocky version that grates on your nerves. the quieter side. the way his shoulders relax, the small smile that sits on his lips when no one’s watching, the brightness that seems to live under his skin even when he’s not talking.
he’s stupidly pretty like that, when he's just simply existing.
it's like the whole world softens around him without him even trying. it pisses you off how much you notice it.
“you know,” he starts, “for someone who claims to hate me, you spend a lot of time staring.”
“excuse me. i’m not staring at you—im looking at the espresso machine.”
satoru steps closer to you. he’s tall, unfairly so, and he knows how to use it, looming enough to make the space between you feel smaller than it should.
“admit it, princess. you’re impressed.”
“sure, most trust fund babies last two days max.”
he laughs, “you think i’m doing this for the money? please. i could buy this whole campus if i wanted.”
did this asshole just flex on you?
“then why are you here, gojo?” you finally look up at him, arms crossed tight over your chest. “you don’t need the tips. you don’t need the experience. so what’s the angle?”
suddenly he reaches out, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“maybe i like coffee,” he murmurs. “or maybe i simply just like seeing you. either way… i’m not going anywhere.”
your heart beats faster, traitor that it is. you slap his hand away, ignoring the way your skin tingles where he touched you.
“touch me again and i’ll steam your fingers instead of the milk.”
“violent,” he says. “i like that about you too.”
before you can fire back, the bell over the door rings again and a group of students shuffle in, saving you from whatever stupid thing was about to come out of your mouth. you turn away from him fast, busying yourself with the register.
by closing time the cafe is empty except for the two of you. pops already left an hour ago, so now it’s just you wiping down the last tables while satoru sweeps the floor.
you’re stacking chairs when he appears beside you without warning, grabbing the one next to yours and flipping it onto the table. his shoulder bumps yours on purpose this time.
“so,” he starts, casual as ever, “what are you doing after this?”
“going home, i’m pretty tired… uh you?”
“boring, you're boring," he yawns, "lemme walk you back to your dorm to be safe.”
“i’ve walked myself home for eight months, gojo. i think i’ll survive without a bodyguard.”
“yeah, but now you don’t have to.” he continues, “c’mon, princess. one walk. i’ll even try to keep the pet names to a minimum.”
you study him for a long moment.
“fine,” you say finally giving in, “annoy me again and i’m pushing you into the nearest bush.”
“deal.” he holds up both hands in mock surrender. “but just so you know… i’m really good at dodging bushes.”
you roll your eyes at that, he never runs out of bullets. the two of you finish closing up in comfortable quiet. he locks the front door while you kill the lights, and when you step out into the cool evening air together, the campus paths are mostly empty, strung with soft golden lamplight.
satoru falls into step beside you, hands shoved in his pockets. for once he’s not filling the silence with cocky one-liners. he stays at your side, occasionally glancing over like he’s making sure you’re still okay with this.
“you know,” he says after a few minutes, “i wasn’t lying earlier about liking seeing you.”
“seeing me glaring at you?”
“exactly.” he bumps your shoulder lightly with his. “it’s cute. you get this little crease between your brows when you’re annoyed. makes me want to annoy you more just to see it.”
“you’re weird, gojo.”
“and i’m also walking you home like a gentleman.”
you snort, preventing yourself from smiling. you would never hear the end of it if he sees it.
the walk to your dorm isn’t long. when you finally reach the front steps he stops, rocking back on his heels with his hands still in his pockets.
“working tomorrow, right?” he asks.
“yeah.”
“night, princess,” he says as he backs away. “sweet dreams. try not to dream of me!”
˚⟡˖ ࣪
you overslept like an idiot.
your alarm didn’t go off, or maybe it did and you smacked it into oblivion in your half asleep state. either way you’re rushing across campus because you completely missed the lecture you usually go to. now the only option left is this later section if you want any chance of catching up.
you slide into the back row just as the professor starts droning on about macroeconomic theory. you’re busy trying to catch your breath and fish out a pen when someone drops into the seat right next to you.
“well well well,” that familiar voice drawls, low enough not to draw the whole room’s attention. “didn’t know you were stalking me now, princess. following me to my lectures?”
you turn your head slowly and there’s satoru.
of fucking course he’s here too.
“you wish,” you hiss under your breath. “i overslept, this is the only section that still had seats. don’t flatter yourself, gojo.”
he leans in a little closer, “sure, sure. keep telling yourself that. but here you are, sitting right next to me when there’s like twenty empty spots further down the row. coincidence? i think not.”
“there weren’t twenty empty spots when i sat down, genius. and move your arm, you’re taking up half the desk.”
“admit it. you saw my pretty head of hair from across the room and couldn’t resist. it’s okay, happens to the best of them.”
“you’re delusional,” you mutter. “i sat here first.”
“well i was already in this section.”
the professor’s voice fades into background noise while satoru keeps up his quiet commentary, whispering dumb observations about the slides or how the guy in the front row is clearly asleep with his eyes open. it’s annoying. it’s also kind of funny, in a way that makes the lecture drag less.
by the time class ends you’re packing up faster than usual, hoping to slip out before he can say anything else, but of course he matches your pace, rushing beside you as you both head down the steps.
“shift starts in thirty, right?” he asks.
“yeah,” you say, adjusting your bag strap. “you don’t start yours till later. go do better things, please.”
“nah, i’ll come with. what if you fall asleep on the way? need to keep you in check..”
“one, that’s not gonna happen. two, i didn’t fall asleep,” you protest, “i overslept. big difference.”
“same difference when it leads to you accidentally stalking me.”
“gojo.”
“princess.”
you guys keep walking, the silence only lasts a few seconds before he breaks it again.
“so what’s your major anyway?” he asks. “gotta be something serious.”
“business with a minor in econ. figured it was the safest bet for actually getting a job after graduation. plus the classes overlap enough that i can knock out credits without killing myself.”
he hums, nodding slowly. “it suits you.”
“what about you?”
“finance, technically. heavy on the econ side too—market theory, behavioral stuff, all that. my family’s been pushing it since i could walk. boring as hell most days but the numbers click for me.”
“huh,” you say after a beat. “explains why you’re weirdly good at the register. and the latte art, actually. ever think about taking art too? you could probably minor in it without even trying.”
satoru raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised you noticed.
“...art? me?”
he continues, “i doodle sometimes when i’m bored in lectures, it’s nothing serious. but yeah… the latte stuff is kinda fun.”
“just saying you’re good at it. might be worth adding to the schedule if finance ever gets too soul sucking.”
“most people just call it extra.”
“it is extra,” you clarify quickly. “but it’s not bad extra. customers eat it up and you don’t suck at it. if you like that kind of thing, maybe you should.”
“maybe i will. only if you sign up with me though. can’t have you missing out on watching me be naturally talented.”
you say shoving his arm lightly. “in your dreams, gojo.”
“oh it’s definitely in my dreams,” he shoots back. “speaking of dreams, did you see me in your dreams last night? did i look good? hope i didn’t flutter your heart too much.”
˚⟡˖ ࣪
it’s terrifying how easy it is to fall for satoru gojo’s charm.
you’ve been telling yourself for weeks that it’s just the proximity talking, that anyone would start to soften after seeing the same face everyday. but it’s been a month now since he first showed up and the annoyance you felt on day one is slowly fading away.
it’s disarming in a way that feels unfair, like he figured out exactly where your walls are thinnest and decided to camp there.
the thing about satoru is he never pushes too hard, even when he’s being impossible. sure, he’ll tease you about your order of plain black coffee (because he thinks you’re boring) but then he’ll remember how you take it on the days when you're stressed and slide it across the counter before you even ask. a month of this and you’ve caught yourself noticing the way his little habits. he’s a show off and obnoxiously aware of it, but he’s also the guy who stays late to help you mop even when his shift ended an hour ago, who quotes your professor’s driest slides back to you in a deadpan voice that makes you laugh despite yourself.
“morning, princess,” he greets, handing you a cup of coffee.
you smile as you take the cup, “morning, toru.”
his eyes widen just a little at the name, then the grin returns, brighter than ever.
“careful,” he teases. “keep calling me that and i might start thinking you actually like me.”
you blink. “what’d i do?”
“you just called me toru,” he says.
you freeze. “no i didn’t.”
“yes you did.”
“no. i didn’t.”
“yes you did. you said ‘morning, toru.’ clear as day. i heard it with my own two ears.”
“prove it or it never happened.”
“i heard it. that’s my proof.”
“you hear what you want to hear, gojo. it’s what they call selective listening.”
satoru straightens up, crossing his arms over his chest. a dramatic pout settles on his face. bottom lip jutting out with his brows furrowed, those pretty eyes narrowing at you.
“selective listening? really?” he huffs, the pout deepening. “i’m standing right here, princess. you said it. you finally said it and now you’re taking it back? that’s cold. that’s actually cruel.”
you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.
“i didn’t say anything,” you reply, “you’re imagining things again. maybe you need less sugar in your system.”
he lets out a dramatic sigh and slumps against the counter. “you’re so mean to me. i make you coffee all the time, i stay late to help you close, i walk you home like a gentleman, and this is how you repay me? denying my existence? denying toru?”
the way he says his own nickname in that whiny tone is ridiculous. “say it again,” he demands, though the demand comes out more like a sulky request. “just once. call me toru again and i’ll drop it. i swear.”
“no.”
“please?”
“absolutely not.”
satoru groans, dragging a hand down his face before peeking at you through his fingers. “you’re killing me. slowly and painfully. i finally get a win… a tiny, beautiful win and you snatch it away like that.” he snaps his fingers for emphasis. “heartless… you’re heartless, princess.”
you can’t help the small laugh that escapes. “you’re such a baby when you don’t get your way.”
“i’m not a baby,” he mutters, “i’m a grown man who just got emotionally devastated by a terrible girl who won’t even admit she likes saying my name.”
you roll your eyes and finally turn back to face him, crossing your arms to match his stance. “fine, satoru. happy now?”
his pout vanishes instantly. “heh i’ll take it.”
all morning the teasing doesn’t stop. every time your eyes meet across the counter he mouths “toru” with exaggerated lips, making you glare at him. you don’t fight him with it though, that’ll be more tiring.
later that afternoon, you remember the big econ test is coming up in a few days.
“hey… have you studied for the test yet?” you ask knowing he has the same class, “the one for macro? i’ve been so buried here i barely looked at the slides.”
satoru glances over at you, one brow raised. “yeah, kinda. skimmed the chapters last night while i was pretending to pay attention in that boring finance seminar.”
you hesitate for a second before pushing forward. “did you happen to take notes for the lecture i missed last week? the one on monetary policy? my notes from the earlier section are trash and i can’t make sense of half the graphs.”
he thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “nah, i don’t usually take notes. everything sticks up here anyway,” he taps his temple with two fingers. “but my bag’s in the back room. go check if you want—there might be some loose papers or something i scribbled on. i’m not promising anything though.”
you nod going right away. satoru’s bag is tossed carelessly on the small table near the lockers. you unzip it carefully, feeling a little weird going through his stuff even if he said it was okay. there are a couple of notebooks, some loose receipts, and a few crumpled pages from lectures.
you flip through them quickly but nothing looks like the notes you need. then your fingers brush against a smaller sketchbook tucked near the bottom. you pull it out without thinking, flipping it open to the first page. it’s an unfinished drawing—pencil lines forming the rough outline of a face. no eyes yet, no mouth, just the shape of cheekbones and the suggestion of hair falling across a forehead. it’s surprisingly delicate, the strokes careful. you can’t tell who it’s supposed to be; the features are still missing.
it’s probably just some random doodle from class, and shove the sketchbook back where you found it. no notes on monetary policy so nothing useful.
you come back out, “couldn’t find anything. your bag’s a mess by the way.”
satoru shrugs, not looking the least bit surprised. “told you i don’t usually bother. you know—” he turns toward you fully, a mischievous glint lighting up his face, “i could teach you instead. i remember most of it. we could go over the graphs and everything.”
you raise an eyebrow, suspicious. “really? you’d do that?”
“yeah, of course,” satoru says without hesitation, “i’ve got the graphs memorized anyway, also will you hate me less after?”
you narrow your eyes at him, “for the record, i don’t hate you. i just think you’re annoying.”
“same thing,” he pouts, already reaching for a clean cup to start scribbling formulas on the side with a sharpie. “consider me your personal tutor, princess.”
and just like that, satoru found another way to get closer to you.
after closing, the two of you end up at a corner table with textbooks and laptops spread out on the table. the cafe lights are dimmed low, only the warm glow of the hanging bulbs left on, and it feels strangely intimate with just the two of you.
“see this curve?” satoru says, tapping the screen of his laptop with his pen. “that’s the liquidity preference curve. when it shifts like this—” he drags his finger across the trackpad, “—interest rates drop even if money supply stays the same. ya following?”
you lean in closer as you nod slowly, even though the words are starting to blur together.
“mmm kinda… keep going.”
for the next hour he walks you through every graph, every theory, every formula that’s been kicking your ass for weeks. he’s good at it. you like that he explains things in ways that actually stick with you.
satoru has always been scary smart. even as a kid, his past teachers would vouch to that. finishing exams in ten minutes, correcting them on accident, winning academic awards he didn’t even try for. now it’s the same. he barely listens in lectures, he literally doodles instead of taking notes, he zones out half the time, and still somehow walks out with good scores.
when you get a question right he gives you this little proud smirk that you find cute. what’s more is that he doesn’t gloat when you slump back in your chair after a while, letting out a frustrated sigh and staring at the messy notes in front of you.
“god, i wish i could remember stuff as fast as you do,” you admit quietly, “it takes me forever to get things to stick. i have to reread the same slide ten times and still feel like i’m gonna blank during the test.”
“here’s a tip,” he says, leaning forward on his elbows. “stop trying to memorize it all at once. the brain hates that. instead, explain it out loud like you’re teaching someone who knows nothing. even if it’s just to me or the wall. it forces you to actually understand it instead of just cramming the words.”
he continues, “works way better than staring at slides until your eyes cross. trust me, princess. i’ve tested every lazy method there is.”
you look at him, a tiny smile pulling at your lips despite how tired you feel.
“you’re surprisingly good at this teaching thing.”
“only because it’s you. now c’mon, pick a graph and teach it back to me.”
˚⟡˖ ࣪
you come straight to the cafe after the test, the bell above the door chiming as you push it open with your shoulder. you weren’t even scheduled today, but you wanted to tell him how it went.
“....hey? you’re not on today, right? did i mess up the schedule?"
you slide onto one of the stools at the counter giggling, “test went better than i thought. like actually good.”
his eyes light up instantly at that.
“yeah? see that? knew how fucking smart you were.”
you nod, the excitement bubbling out before you can stop it. “yeah, the way you explained everything made it click in my head during the test. i actually remembered instead of blanking like usual.”
satoru lets out a low whistle, smile widening until it takes over his whole face. “that’s my girl. told you explaining it out loud works. see?”
“genuinely thank you.”
“stay right there. we’re doing something to celebrate.”
you end up staying until closing. when the last customer leaves and your manager waves goodbye on his way out, satoru flips the sign to closed and turns to you with a nod.
“reward time since you aced that test, i helped a little, so we’re getting ice cream.”
“that’s your big celebration?”
“c’mon, there’s that place two blocks off campus that stays open late. they have that ridiculous pistachio with the chunks of chocolate. you’re gonna love it.”
when you reach the little ice cream shop, you find a small table by the window and settle in after ordering, the sweet cold already melting on your tongue. satoru watches you take the first bite with way too much interest, chin resting on his hand.
“good, right?”
you nod, licking a bit of pistachio off the spoon.
“mhm sooo good.”
he laughs softly at first, but then his eyes drop to your mouth as you lick another slow stripe along the spoon to catch the melting edge.
his throat bobs once, “fuck,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear.
you glance up, spoon still halfway to your lips. “what?”
satoru suddenly reaches out with his thumb, wiping a tiny smear of melted ice cream from the corner of your mouth.
“you can’t just do that,” he says, “licking the spoon like that, it’s unfair.”
“unfair how?” you oblivious ask.
“because now all i can think about is how that mouth would feel on something else.” he says it so quietly, so casually too. now heat floods your face. you set the spoon down, suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of space between you and him.
“sorry,” he murmurs, though the small smirk tugging at his lips says he isn’t sorry at all. “too much?”
you shake your head slowly, biting your lip to keep it from smiling too obviously. the warmth in your cheeks refuses to fade.
“.…i don’t mind?”
satoru’s eyebrows lift, surprise flickering across his face. “you don’t?” he echoes, leaning forward a little more, elbows on the table. “don’t do that, i’m already trying really hard to behave.”
“you never behave.”
“hey, i’ve been on my best behavior for weeks,” he protests as his hand finds yours on the table, “just waiting for you to admit i’m not so bad.”
you squeeze his fingers lightly, eyes meeting his. “you’re not.... most days.”
“most days? that’s the best i’m getting?”
“take it or leave it, gojo.”
he laughs under his breath then his free hand comes up, cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing along your jaw. “i’ll take it for now.”
satoru leans in slow enough that you could pull away if you wanted to.
just like that his mouth meets yours, and the kiss starts soft but the second your lips part he doesn’t hesitate. his tongue slips in first, sliding against yours. he tastes like chocolate and pistachio, sweet and overwhelming in the best way. you kiss him back just as eagerly, fingers tightening around his hand on the table while your other hand finds the front of his shirt, curling into the fabric to pull him closer.
satoru makes a low sound in the back of his throat, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, one hand still cradling your face.
suddenly the worker behind the counter clears his throat loudly, “sorry folks, we’re closing up. you two might wanna take that somewhere else.”
you pull back quickly feeling embarrassed while satoru pulls back just enough to laugh, not even a little embarrassed. “man sorry about that,” he says, “can’t help it. i’m irresistible and she’s a bit greedy tonight.”
you hit his arm playfully, face burning as you stand up fast. “toru!”
˚⟡˖ ࣪
the next few days were different in the best kind of way.
well nothing much changes inside the cafe itself. everything is mostly the same. but satoru? he has zero shame now, and you’ve clearly unlocked something dangerous in him.
his clinginess is a whole new beast.
you’re at the register ringing up an iced caramel latte when he appears right behind you, chest brushing your back as he reaches for a stack of lids he absolutely does not need. his chin drops onto your shoulder like it belongs there.
“missed you during that eight a.m. lecture, princess. thought about skipping just to come bother you earlier.”
you elbow him lightly, “we have the same shift, toru. you saw me forty minutes ago.”
“forty minutes too long,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your neck before he pulls away. the customer gives you a knowing little smile and you feel your face heat up as you hand over the drink.
he does it constantly now.
during the slow hours he’ll tug you into the back room under the excuse of “checking inventory” and then spend the whole time crowding and kissing you.
“we’re gonna get caught,” you whisper.
“let them catch us,” he says against your mouth. “i’ll just tell pops i was giving you mouth-to-mouth.”
you laugh and shove him harder. “you idiot, he would never believe that.”
he only laughs louder and pulls you back in for one more kiss before the bell over the front door saves you.
the worst part (or maybe the best) is how he switched half his schedule just to match yours. you found out when he casually mentioned it during one afternoon, like it was no big deal.
“my advisor was pissed,” he told you, “said something about ‘not rearranging your entire academic plan for a girlfriend.’ i told her my barista girlfriend was non-negotiable.”
you stared at him. “you changed your schedule?”
“mmhm. dropped the early monday seminar and swapped it for the afternoon one. added a useless elective just so i could keep these exact shifts with you.” he shrugged, completely unbothered. “worth it. now i get to stare at you all day.”
you wanted to scold him for being ridiculous, but the way he said it made something warm bloom in your chest. so instead you just flicked his forehead and called him an idiot again. he caught your wrist before you could pull away and pressed a kiss to your palm.
how freaking adorable.
sometimes he’ll slide a stool over so you can sit for a few minutes while he handles few customers alone, shooting you little winks every time you look up from your phone.
it’s how he takes care of you.
and you like when he takes care of you.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
satoru gojo has always been pretty experienced with girls.
he’s never had to chase too hard. regular hook ups, quick flings during freshman year, girls who wanted the thrill of the rich pretty boy who never seemed to take anything seriously. he knew how to kiss, how to touch, how to make them feel wanted for a night without promising more than that. it was easy, fun, but never deep enough to stick.
none of them ever made his chest feel this tight. none of them made him nervous the way you do.
“is this okay?” he asks as his thumb brushes just under the edge of your bra, waiting, always checking even when his body is clearly aching to keep going.
“yeah…. it’s okay, toru.”
that’s all he needs.
he starts kissing you then trails his mouth down—his hands push your shirt higher, bunching it up under your arms. when he finally tugs your bra down, cool air hits your skin for half a second before his mouth is there.
satoru groans softly against you, the sound vibrating through your chest as he takes one nipple into his mouth. he’s gentle at first, lips closing around the peak. his tongue swirling before he sucks. a little harder, a little hungrier.
your back arches without thinking, a quiet whimper slipping out. one of your hands finds his hair, fingers tightening in the soft white strands as he switches to the other side, giving it the same attention.
“fuck, you taste so good,” he mumbles against your skin, voice muffled.
“mhmm.… it’s so good baby.”
“yeah?”
he presses open-mouthed kisses across the swell of your breast. his free hand cups the other one, thumb brushing over the wet nipple he just left behind, pinching lightly.
he’s thorough with it. every little sound you make seems to spur him on.
“still okay?” he questions, “tell me if you want me to stop, princess. i’ll stop.”
you shake your head, tugging him back down by his hair.
“don’t stop,” you breathe.
satoru’s smile is slow and a little dazed before he leans in again, mouth finding your breast like he never wants to leave. he’s still careful, still checking in with every new touch, but the clingy, greedy part of him is winning tonight.
he’s making sure you feel exactly how much he’s been holding back.
clothes come off slowly after that, piece by piece, until there’s nothing between you. satoru lies back against the pillows, his hands resting on your hips as you straddle him. he’s hard under you.
you take the lead.
your palms press flat against his chest for balance as you shift your weight, lining yourself up.
“fuck—” he breathes when you start to sink down, the head of his cock pressing inside you. his head tips back, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “you’re doing so damn good, baby.”
you go slow at first, letting yourself adjust to the stretch. the fullness is overwhelming in the best way, once you’re seated fully, you pause for a few seconds.
then you start to move.
you roll your hips experimentally, finding a rhythm that makes pleasure spark up inside you. satoru’s hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. he contains himself so he doesn’t take over. he wants to let you set the pace, let you ride him exactly how you want.
“that’s it, use me, baby. however you need.”
the words send a shiver through you. you brace your hands on his chest and start moving faster, lifting up and sinking back down. satoru’s eyes stay locked on your face, then drift lower to watch where you’re joined, the way your body takes him in again and again.
his grip tightens on your hips when you start grinding down instead of bouncing, circling your hips so his cock rubs against that sensitive spot inside you.
“a–am i doing good, toru?”
“god, yes,” he pants. “so pretty riding me like this.”
you feel a rush of confidence at his words. you plant your feet on the bed, hands still braced on his chest, and start riding him faster. your hips snap down harder and quicker as satoru’s head presses back into the pillow, a low, broken moan slipping out of him.
“you’re insane f–for this,” he groans, he sounds wrecked.
“shh you’re so big toru.” you whine too, “feel so soo good.”
you don’t slow down, continuing to ride him hard, bouncing on his cock like crazy.
you feel the thick head of his cock kissing that spongy spot inside you, satoru’s fingers dig harder into the soft flesh of your hips anchoring himself while you use him. his abs tense and ripple beneath your palms every time you slam down.
“fuck baby, slow down or i’m gonna—” his words cut off into a guttural moan when you purposely clench around him. “oh you evil woman.”
you giggle in response letting out a high, needy whimper after.
“im sorry,” you gasp, voice breathy.. “can feel you everywhere.”
satoru’s eyes roll back for a second. he looks a mess. his white hair sticks to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his mouth falls open on another moan.
“shit h-hahh princess, your pussy’s—ah so greedy tonight.”
you’re breathless, thighs burning, but the ache only adds to the pleasure. you brace one hand on his chest and reach back with the other, cupping his balls gently, rolling them in your palm while you keep bouncing.
oh you are so killing him.
“toru you’re twitching so much inside me,” you tease. “feels so good when you throb like that…”
he lets out a string of curses in response while your breasts bounce with every movement, nipples still shiny from his earlier attention, and satoru can’t stop staring, mesmerized and completely undone.
“i’m—i’m so close,” you say, “toru—come with me please!”
“yeah fuck, yeah— i’m right there with you, princess,” he replies, voice breaking on the last word. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast circles that match your crazy pace. “come on my cock, baby. mess with it…shit!”
the pleasure pushes you over the edge first, milking his cock as your orgasm hits you. satoru follows right after you, his back arches off the bed as he comes hard, thick spurts of heat flooding deep inside you.
finally, you collapse forward onto his chest as both of you gasp for air. satoru’s arms wrap around you instantly, holding you tight against him. he presses open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, your neck, anywhere he can reach.
“holy fuck… you just destroyed me,” he whispers, voice hoarse and awed. “never felt anything like that. you’re gonna be the death of me, princess.”
you smile against his damp chest, pressing a soft kiss right over his racing heart.
“i think i like being in charge.”
“yeah? then next time you can tie me down if you want. just give me five minutes first. i think my soul left my body for a second there.”
you laugh softly, letting your eyes drift shut while his warmth surrounds you.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
“wait, since when has gojo been a barista?” you hear one girl say, laughing like it’s the funniest thing ever. “him out of all people? no fucking way.”
you’re drying your hands when voices filter in from the stalls behind you. two girls chatting loud enough that you can’t ignore it even if you wanted to.
the other one snorts, “i know, right? i heard from his friends that he only applied there to sleep with one of the workers.”
your stomach twists a little, but you tell yourself it’s nothing.
campus gossip is always exaggerated.
“he’s probably quitting soon anyway,” the first girl continues, “what’s a trust fund baby doing slinging lattes?”
“like play charming until he gets what he wants then bounce?”
their laughter echoes off the tiles as they leave and you're left staring at your reflection again. you rethink everything in the span of thirty seconds—was it all calculated? did he really just do everything to sleep with you?
you show up to your shift pissy as hell, you hear satoru humming while he wipes down the espresso machine. he looks up waving at you, and normally that makes your chest warm. today it makes you want to throw a cup at his head.
“there you are,” he says, “you look cute when you’re all serious like this—did you run here or something?”
you brush past him without a word, grabbing the rag from the sink and attacking the already clean counter. satoru’s grin falters a little bit, blue eyes narrowing already picking up your mood.
“whoa, okay. bad day?” he asks, reaching out to touch you and you flinch away.
“don’t,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the counter, scrubbing harder. “just not in the mood, gojo.”
he straightens up, his cocky energy disappearing.
“gojo?” he echoes, “what happened to satoru? you’ve been calling me that for days. did i do something? because if i did, tell me so i can fix it. i’m not above begging, princess. i’ll get on my knees right here.”
“nothing happened,” you lie, because admitting you overheard some random girls in the bathroom is affecting you feels stupid. “i’m just tired, you wouldn’t get it.”
satoru doesn’t buy it. he steps closer anyway, “try me,” he says softly, all the usual bravado dialed down. “i’m good at a lot of things, but i’m especially good at listening to you. baby, please talk to me. did someone say something? because if they did—”
“i said it’s nothing, gojo.” your voice comes out louder than you meant, and you see the way his shoulders tense just a little.
he nods, stepping back with his hands raised in that mock surrender. “alright, message received. whatever this is… we’ll figure it out later.”
well that didn’t happen.
the whole day you did your best ignoring him.
before he could even ask what you guys were doing after shift you made a cheap excuse to pops about how you felt sick (it was an obvious lie) and needed to leave early. pops just shrugged and told you to go rest. satoru watched you grab your bag, mouth opening to say something, but you were already out the door before he could get a word in.
later that night satoru is sprawled on suguru’s couch, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other gesturing wildly as he rants.
“everything was going so well, man. like actually well,” he groans, voice muffled behind his arm. “she's even initiating stuff, now she’s calling me gojo again? dude, fuck gojo. i hate that.”
suguru sits across from him, legs crossed, very used to satoru’s dramatic rants. he’s just not used to it being about a girl.
“so what happened?”
“i don’t know!” satoru sits up suddenly. “she flinched when i tried to touch her. flinched. like i’m some random creep.”
he drags both hands down his face, groaning louder.
“she even left early. made up some bullshit excuse to dip before i could even ask what we were doing after. she’s been staying at my dorm for days, suguru. my bed still smells like her shampoo. i had snacks stocked for her. and now she’s shutting down? i don’t get it.”
“you sure you didn’t do something stupid?”
“i swear i didn’t.” satoru flops back down dramatically. “i’m losing my mind. she went from soft and clingy back to hating me in like twelve hours. what the fuck did i miss? i really like her. like…. a lot. more than i thought i could.”
suguru hums, “if it’s not you, then maybe somebody else?”
“if someone said something to her i’m going to lose it,” he mutters. “i finally got her to let me in and now she’s pulling away again. i don’t know how to fix something when she won’t even tell me what’s broken.”
“look, relationships aren’t always smooth. problems come up, it’s normal. the difference is whether you actually talk about it or let it fester.”
˚⟡˖ ࣪
your morning has been irritating as hell.
you woke up cranky, then you spilled coffee on your shirt while rushing, you had to change, and still barely made it to your first lecture on time. every little thing felt like it was piling up—the crowded hallways, the professor droning on about stuff you already knew, and the constant replay of yesterday, everything was just irritating.
so by the time of your second morning class, you’re already exhausted and on edge.
you pull out your notebook when someone drops into the seat right next to you.
satoru slips into the seat beside you without a word.
he's not even in this class.
he looks exhausted, there are faint dark circles shadowing the usual brightness of his gaze, his white hair is messier than normal like he rolled straight out of bed and didn’t bother fixing it. he probably didn’t sleep much, if at all.
he doesn’t say anything at first. he pulls a small sticky note pad from his bag, scribbles something quickly with a pen, and slides it over to you under the desk.
are you still mad? :(
you glance at the note, then at him. his eyes are already on you, waiting.
you write back, keeping your handwriting small.
no i was never mad
he reads it, eyebrows pulling together. he scribbles again, passing it back.
but you were. look at your mad face right now.
you feel the irritation flare again, but you keep your face neutral and write:
you shouldn’t even be here. im. not. mad.
he huffs softly as another note slides your way.
see. you clearly are. can we please talk after?
you stare at the words for a second longer. part of you wants to stay stubborn. the other part hates how tired he looks.
later.
satoru reads it and nods before tucking the sticky notes away.
the rest of the lecture goes, but satoru stays right there beside you the whole time.
midway through, he opens his notebook and starts sketching again. first he shows you a proper drawing of you. it's the same unfinished face you had seen weeks ago when you dug through his bag looking for notes. now it’s finished. your eyes are there and your mouth curved in a smile.
you admire how pretty he sees you. then he flips the page without warning.
the next sketch is completely different—you again, but this time with a exaggerated angry face. brows furrowed deep, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a tight line, tiny cartoon steam lines rising from your head. it’s ridiculous and accurate at the same time. he bites his lip to keep from laughing out loud, shoulders shaking quietly as he watches your reaction.
you glare at the page and he quickly flips the notebook shut before the professor notices.
when class finally ends, the two of you walk across campus until you reach a quiet stretch of grass near the edge of the field, far enough from the main paths. you drop down onto the grass first. satoru follows, sitting close but not too close, giving you space.
he reaches over and plucks a small white wildflower growing near his knee. he twirls it once between his fingers before holding it out to you, a tired smile on his face.
you look at the flower, then at him. it’s stupidly cute.
you flick it away with two fingers and the flower flutters to the grass between you.
satoru watches it fall before finally talking.
“okay,” he says quietly, “talk to me. what’s going on? you’ve been shutting me out since yesterday and i’m losing my mind here.”
you pull at a blade of grass, twisting it between your fingers.
“when are you quitting?”
satoru blinks, caught off guard. “quitting what? the cafe?”
you nod, still not looking at him.
he lets out a short, confused laugh. “is that why you’re mad? you want me to quit? because if that’s it, i can—”
“no—” you cut him off fast, finally turning to face him. “did you only start working there because you wanted to sleep with me?”
the question hangs between you. satoru’s expression changes. hurt flickers across his face before he schools it.
“that’s what this is about?” he asks, “you think this whole thing was just some long game to get in your pants?”
you don’t answer right away, the gossip from the bathroom echoes in your head again.
“is that really what you think of me?”
you swallow. “i heard some girls talking in the bathroom yesterday,” you admit, voice low. “they were laughing about how you only took the job to sleep with one of the baristas. that you’d charm your way in, get what you wanted, and then quit once it happened. it sounded… exactly like something people would say about you.”
“fuck,” he mutters. “fucking gossips.”
“look, i’m not gonna pretend i haven’t had that reputation. people assume the worst. and yeah—back in freshman year i wasn’t exactly turning down easy attention. but that’s not what this is. not with you.”
“when i walked into that cafe the first time, i was just fucking around. i saw you looking annoyed and thought it’d be fun to push your buttons. but then you pushed back and i couldn’t stop thinking about it. about you.”
“so i came back. then i applied for the job because i wanted an excuse to see you more. not to sleep with you and bounce—to actually be around you. i stayed because every shift with you made the day better. even when you were glaring at me. especially when you were glaring at me.”
you glance away, toward the empty field. “you could’ve just asked me out like a normal person.”
“and risk you telling me to fuck off on day one? no thanks. working there let me prove i wasn’t just fucking around. also you know that's not me.”
he pauses, then adds, “and yeah, i wanted you. i still do. i want all of it.”
satoru leans forward a little, elbows on his knees.
“i switched my entire schedule around for you. i told you how my advisor thinks i’ve lost it. i turned down better internships because they’d mess with our shifts. if all i wanted was sex, i wouldn’t still be here begging you to talk to me.”
“so no, i’m not quitting,” he says quietly. “not unless you tell me to. and even then i’d probably just sit outside the cafe and wait for you like a loser. but i’m not here because it’s convenient or because i’m trying to win some game. i’m here because i like you. a lot. more than i thought i could like anyone.”
he reaches out slowly, “i’m not gonna push if you need space. but tell me what you need from me right now. yell at me, ignore me, whatever. just don’t shut me out and leave me guessing.”
you stare at his open hand for a long moment. the irritation is still there, tangled up with the embarrassment of letting petty gossip get to you.
finally you sigh, shoulders dropping.
“i hated thinking it was all fake,” you mutter. “that the second you got what you wanted, you’d disappear and i’d be the idiot who fell for it.”
“not fake,” he says immediately. “none of it.”
you hesitate, then reach out and flick his open palm lightly with your fingers, enough to make him smile.
“you’re still annoying,” you tell him.
“yeah?” his grin comes back. “good.... means we’re getting somewhere.”
“you look like shit, by the way.”
“didn’t sleep much,” he admits, shrugging. “kept replaying yesterday trying to figure out what i messed up.”
“sorry for being so gullible.” you says knowing how that’s all on you.
“as long as you stop calling me gojo when you’re mad. hurts more than it should.”
you roll your eyes but the corner of your mouth lifts anyway.
the two of you stay on the field a little longer, the conversation flowing—back to classes, to stupid customer stories from the cafe, to nothing important at all.
when you finally stand up to head back toward campus, he falls into step next to you like always.
“so,” he says after a minute, voice casual again, “still mad?”
you glance sideways at him.
“not as much.”
“progress,” he declares, grinning. “i’ll take it.”
“hey,” he murmurs.
you turn to face him, he’s pouting extra hard....
“can i please kiss you now?” he pleads, “please. please. please”
instead of answering with words, you step forward, slide your free hand up to the front of his shirt, and tug him down the rest of the way.
satoru meets you halfway.
his hand comes up to cup the side of your face as his lips move against yours. he kisses you gentler than usual and you kiss him back just as softly, fingers curling tighter into his shirt.
when you finally pull apart, foreheads still touching, satoru lets out a shaky little breath against your mouth.
“thank you,” he whispers, the words barely there. his thumb brushes your cheek once more. “fuck, i missed that.”
you smile against his lips.
“don’t make me flick another flower at you.”
he presses one last gentle kiss to your forehead before straightening up.
“next rumor, i’m spreading how badly i’m in love with you and how you equally feel the same and can never live without me.”
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