Your two boyfriends decided to beat the world record for the longest plank, but also forgot to clean the house. As you asked them to. Three times already. That's why you opt to give them a little punishment.
content/warnings: MDNI 18+, smut smut smut, barely any plot, masturbation, temptation, plank challenge, sly reader, use of sex toys, kissing, squirting, punishment, cunnilingus, they are starvedddd, and also pathetic (of course), dirty talk, they talk you through it
WC: 3.5k
a/n: late for the trend party, but oh well...
art by @/aransmind
When you came back home after a tiring day at work, a little flame had lit behind your barren eyes.
The first thing you noticed after crossing the hallway was a living room. Quiet, with only your two cats purring serenely on the sofa and all the blankets left as messy as they were in the morning.
The setting sun was bathing the room in warm hues, bouncing off all the dirty cups and glasses still sitting on the low table, although you asked Satoru and Suguru to clean them up.
Long beams of sun clearly showed the dust on the bookshelves before slowly slipping towards the kitchen, where the sink was still stuffed with dishes. The whole place was pure clutter, with plates and cups and a dirty pan from the morning's breakfast lying on the counters.
Something boiled inside your chest, and the tiredness made your head spin. In a fury, irritation, and disappointment, because where the fuck were your two boyfriends if not here, brushing the kitchen squeaky clean?
It's been four days since they've been doing god knows what and where, sneaking out of the house early in the morning and coming back late afternoon, with sweat coating their foreheads and dripping down their spines.
You asked them what it was for, but the only answer they offered was a short – you'll see baby, soon we're going to be famous.
Famous my ass, for your home was starting to look more like a brothel rather than your usual cozy apartment. Your job has been awfully busy recently, and from time to time, you also need to work on Saturdays.
Like this one, for instance, while your boyfriends had a whole day to take care of the house and still refused to do it.
That's why now, with a fury twisting your forehead and hands clenched in fists, you stormed through the apartment, going straight for your shared bedroom.
Quiet moans and pantings slipped between the door's frame, and you quickly opened it with a loud thud.
And then, expecting to see your boyfriends just fuck each other, you noticed them somewhere below.
On the floor, supporting their bodies solely on the forearms, bulging with blueish veins. With straight, naked spines and gym shorts brushing their trembling knees. With lots and lots of droplets of sweat blanketing their skin, and throats choking out low, short breaths.
"What the fuck are you two doing?" was the first thing that filled the room, and both of them slowly looked back.
"Oh, hi baby, how was your day–ahh," Satoru mumbled, with interrputing snippets of moans.
Your eyes moved to the open laptop in front of them, showing a timer displaying... one hour?
And then you noticed their phones, connected to the chargers, with a camera turned on and directed right at them, and a clock.
"How was my day? Awful, tiring, stressful, and I thought about nothing but going back to my clean house and two loving boyfriends," you said on one breath, seeing their faces freeze in horror.
Satoru growled, and Suguru followed him with a heavy sigh.
"Baby, we're so sorry, fuck, yeah it, ugh, somehow slipped our minds–" Satoru started, but you quickly cut in.
"Slipped your minds? I've reminded you three times already!"
"Darling, we're really sorry," Suguru added, lifting up his hips a bit higher. "It's just, we've been training so long for this, and–"
"For what exactly?" rolled irritated, with arms crossing on your chest.
You moved in front of them, sitting down on the bed. From this perspective, they looked much more tired. Exhausted, truly, but the sight of their broad backs bulging with muscles and sweat dripping down their chins was... oh well, it was rather pleasant.
They glanced up at your fuming face, trying not to look at the way your crossed arms plumped up your breasts.
"For beating the world's Guinness record in the longest plank," Suguru mumbled.
The what?
"I'm sorry? How the hell have you even got this idea?"
Satoru noticed a few strands of hair slipping from your pin-up, and Suguru started to move his attention towards the fire lighting up your curved eyes.
Oh, something else on his body also started to get fired up!
"Baby, you're not chronically online, and it shows," Satoru mumbled, and you did everything in your power to not slap him across his cheeky face. "We're just trying to assert our dominance in the plank challenge community."
"Assert your dominance?"
They nodded.
"To prove to some random people on the internet that you can do some stupid plank?"
They nodded again.
"Meaning, you need to stay in this position for the next–"
"Eight and a half hours," Suguru choked out, and your knees almost gave away.
Oh, they must've been joking.
You looked down at their sweating bodies with shoulders shaking from fatigue. Two pairs of eyes, one ocean blue and the other deep purple, wandered around your body, stopping on every curve of your skin.
You weren't wearing anything nice, truly, just normal, daily clothes.
The problem was that the three of you hadn't had sex for the past four days. Yes, rather... weird. But you were truly flooded with work, and they trained like two fools, so at the end of the day, all of you were too tired to even lift a finger.
But now, the tension slowly rising inside the room was getting unbearable. With their feverish bodies shuddering under your gaze, and low whimpers making you a little warm.
A little wet, with crossed legs making your cunt squish in pleasure as the material of your panties brushed against your clit.
The room was getting foggy, almost stuffy, with a smell of salty sweat lingering in the air and their hot breaths warming it up.
You've noticed their glances – lost and longing. Deprived of any attention whatsoever, and focusing only on the way the jeans dipped into the curve of your hips.
"That's a pity," you said, before rolling a dramatic sigh. "I thought we could finally have some fun today."
Their breaths shuddered.
"F-Fun?" Satoru muttered. "Like–"
You stood up, walking to your night table.
To the drawer that has been closed and dusted since you started dating those two fools. But now that a little teasing punishment slipped into your mind, you turned the key and opened it again.
The jewel.
Your favourite sex toy, you've been using every single night for all those years.
"Like me taking your cocks at the same time. You fucking me in Paris–"
"In France?" Satoru asked speechlessly, and Suguru tsked.
"No, dumbass, she meant the Eiffel Tower position," he muttered, irritated, and you giggled under your breath.
Your back was turned their way and the only thing they could see was you, bending over the drawer and taking something out.
Something long and heavy, hidden warmly in a plush bag. But then you turned their way and came closer, holding in hands a little, dirty secret you've been keeping from your two boyfriends for the past three years.
A long dildo, covered in soft pink silicone. With a little vibrator that could be either attached or used separately, having the sweetest, most toe-curling function of clit sucking.
And both of them growled, with hips almost hitting the floor.
Something behind Satoru's eyes boiled, and his pupils looked almost heart-shaped. "Baby, what the hell is this?"
You giggled, taking off your top in one quick move. The bra followed right away, finally letting your breasts spill from its relentless cups.
With nipples already hard and warm, as if waiting to be caressed.
A second later, you took off your trousers and panties, dropping the wet, dirty material right in front of their faces.
Not close enough to let them grab it and shove straight into their noses.
And thus you stood above, naked like a goddess, with plush thighs already wet in dripping juices and eyes dropping down onto their flushed faces.
"Unfortunately, it seems that my boyfriends are completely useless for the next," you glanced at the timer. "Eight hours, so I need to pleasure myself with something else."
A few soft pillows landed in front of them, before you plopped your supple ass down.
"Darling, just give us a few more hours and–" Suguru started, but then his throat suddenly clenched.
Because you spread your thighs open, giving them a delicious look of a creamy cum dripping down your fluttering hole and a little clit peeking from between soaked folds.
You raised two fingers to your plump lips and wetted them with a spit, before plunging them down, down, down. Straight between your legs, to give your two boyfriends an even better view of your cunt.
Your back leaned against the bed's frame, allowing your second hand to squeeze your plush tits, with fat spilling softly between your fingers.
"I can't Sugu," your lips pouted, doe eyes glancing at two possessed men. "Been waiting so long, look how wet I am."
Your finger circled the trembling clit, sending a wave of pleasure down your spine.
"I-I see darling, I see," he mumbled, looking almost like a starved dog.
In fact, both of them resembled beasts – with eyes glued to your sweet pussy and spit circling in the corners of their mouths.
You've noticed a bulge in their shorts, hiding behind a black material painfully hard cocks.
Your lips lifted in a smirk before you tested your clit again. Circling, pinching, rolling it with fingers, and letting sweet moans fill the stuffy room. One finger slipped inside your tight hole, but it was rather too short and too thin, compared to the thick digits of your boyfriends.
But you didn't show any dissatisfaction – instead, let out a honeyed cry.
"Mhmm, if only there was someone worth eating me out," slipped seductively, with a sweet, whiny voice.
Both of your boyfriends nodded in unison – frenzily, madly, with a quiet b-baby let me, and, fuck, darling, c-come a bit closer, rolling from their mouths on a single breath.
Your head tilted. "I don't think you deserve to taste her, hm?"
They whimpered (oh!) and shook heads.
Because they knew, fuck, they knew that if only they did what you asked them for, none of this would happen.
If only they didn't put into their heads some weird challenge and instead focused on their beautiful girl, right now Satoru could sink his cock into your tight cunt, and Suguru could suck on your plush tits.
To be the ones flickering your clit and have you moaning on their fingers, but instead, they could only take pleasure from watching a soft little frown crease your forehead.
Torturing them like that, however, wasn't enough and a sudden, horrific idea slipped into your mind.
"Do you want to have a little taste?" rolled in melody, and their heads almost snapped from the frantic nodding. "But just a single lick, hm? I can't leave my boys starved, after all."
A desperate yes, yes, yes baby please, and, just a lick, I promise, fuck darling just let me smell it, filled your ears.
So you moved a bit closer, till your cunt was right under their fallen lips and already lulling out tongues. Forearms started to shake from the fever coiling in their bodies, and cocks burned in need to get into the clutches of your warm cunt.
"Easy, remember, just a–"
But, well, foolish you must've been to think that your two starved beasts wouldn't use this chance to dive deep into your spread cunt.
With both Satoru and Suguru lowering their faces the second your hips moved close enough, to have your drenched hole right at their fingertips.
With two tongues sliding between your silky folds, lips sucking on a clit, and groans vibrating right into your womb.
"Fuck, baby, fuck fuck fuck, you taste heavenly," Satoru cried, with your sugary juices already dripping down his chin.
Suguru was no better, with a tongue trying to thrust inside your hole, till your feet curled in pleasure. "My sweet girl, oh fuck, tasting so good, clenching on me like a slut."
Their tongues brushed against each other, licking you clean in a harmony, working your hole open and slurping on a little, trembling clit like their life depended on it.
At some point, oh dear lord, they started kissing – messily, yearningly, with your gluey juices stuck to their lips, mixing with a spit. Your pussy was left alone for a single second before they went back to her again, smacking lips against each other while slurping on your drenched cunt.
You almost brushed their cheeks, beaming with droplets of sweat and single strands of hair twisting on pulsing temples.
Oh, they looked absolutely defeated. Miserable, with wet foreheads furrowed in a maddened crease and forearms almost giving out under the sweetness of your cunt.
They looked as if they enjoyed it too much, so...
"No, no, no, baby, w-where are you going?" Satoru whined, with a single, pearly string stretching between your folds and his chin.
Suguru, on the other hand, was ready to cry, with wobbly lips and a teary gaze following your glistening cunt, slowly drawing away.
You giggled, catching their delirious eyes, almost begging you to come back.
"Darling, forgive us, please, we're so fucking stupid," Suguru started.
Satoru rolled a sharp breath, feeling his cock leak through the shorts. "We're sorry, baby, we're so sorry, p-please come here."
Oh my!
You loved to see them in such a state. So miserable, beseeching, so, so different from their usual bold personalities.
And thus a sudden warmth hit your face, with a thrill boring through your spine.
One could think they were punished enough. Maybe it was time to let it go.
But watching them was just purely too exciting, and your cunt squeezed in need, every time their warm, shuddered breath hit your folds.
"How can I? Have you forgotten that it's supposed to be your punishment?" Your head tilted, before you finally grabbed the thing they had feared the most. "Besides, I don't think you can make me cum in such a state, but this–" a soft, pink dildo sat neatly between your fingers. "Can do the job."
Satoru furrowed. "Baby, do you really think it can make you cum? It's rather–"
"Small," Suguru finished. "Darling, your cunt needs a bigger stretch."
Well, they were right.
But it didn't matter, for your aim wasn't to cum, but to give them a taste of discipline.
Your finger flicked a button and the dildo, together with a vibrator, started buzzing in a low hum. You moved a little, pinkish head towards your clit, before–
"Oh fuck–nghh," a cry rolled from your fallen lips, feeling the vibrator sucking on your bud. With a little waves sent towards a bundle of nerves and pearly cum vibrating under its whirr.
Your legs spread wider, eyes already crossed, and when a long toy pushed through your flapping hole, you almost burst.
And the best of all – your boyfriends were right there.
Watching, with jealousy eating them alive and bodies quivering from a honeyed melody of your moans.
From your cunt swallowing the pinkish dildo the same way it always swallowed their dicks, and wetness pooling under your hips. The pillow was already drenched, and both Satoru and Suguru couldn't wait to lick it clean of your cum.
"Mhm, fuck, T-Toru, S-Sugu," you purred, pushing the toy even deeper. "Wish it were your cocks, nghh."
Their minds spiralled, gaze wavered between your puckered hole and hearty face twisting in pleasure. With glossy eyes, lips fallen open, and saliva trickling from the corner.
You looked fucked, and for some reason, they weren't the ones to push all your sweet buttons and cherish the plush, trembling body wriggling under theirs.
Instead, they could only pant and sob, with fat cocks strangled by already drenched briefs and cheeks still wet from your juices.
But instead of oogling you like two losers, they decided to give you a little push.
To come back willingly and move those fat hips back under their noses.
Maybe they wouldn't be able to sink their cocks into your wet cunt, but they could also not look at your plush body wriggling in pleasure and not talk your pretty mind through it, right?
After all, you were always such a slut for dirty talk.
"You look so fucking good, baby," Satoru started, glimpsing straight into your eyes. "My pretty girl, so so pretty. Thrust it a little deeper for us, hm?"
Your brows creased, but you followed his deep voice, moving the silicone toy inside your hole. "Mmm, so good."
"Heighten the intensity, darling. Feel it suck your sweet little clit," Suguru hummed, seeing you push a vibrator's button. It was buzzing louder, with its small gap pulling in your trembling clit. "That's right, our good girl–fuck–you're doing so well."
"Do you feel good?" Satoru added, a smile curving his sly lips. "Tell us, baby, talk to us. Is it good? Does it suck on your clit the way we do?"
Your head shook, tears already pricking in the corners of your eyes. "No–mhmm–you always eat me s-so good–ngh–the best."
None of you knew who was losing this battle – you, hearing their deep voices slowly talking you through it, or they, seeing how sloppily you tried to make yourself cum.
The silicone dildo pushed all your good spots, but it didn't kiss your cervix the way their cocks did. It didn't have a slightly curved head and bulging veins that scraped your walls in pleasing thrusts.
It wasn't warm and heavy, sitting inside your cunt snuggly and pumping you full of hot cum.
Fuck, it couldn't even breed you.
And they knew all of it too well, so that's why your creased forehead was giving them so, so much delight.
You would break at some point, they thought.
"Have you found it, baby? Is your silly little toy long enough to push your sweet spot?" Satoru cooed, clenching his fingers on a plush carpet. "Talk to us, baby, tell us how nice it's filling your tight cunt."
"It's too small, right?" Suguru rolled, watching a toy disappear inside your hole with quicker thrusts. "Wouldn't it feel better to be stuffed with our cocks? Our pretty girl loves to get pumped full of cum sooo much, I'm not sure whether she'll cum like that. Right, Toru?"
Another man nodded, with cheeky eyes oogling your shaking thighs. "You're right Sugu, who's going to fill your belly, baby? Aren't you just a little slut who likes to get bred, huh? Come on, move a bit closer, let us have a good look."
"N-No, it's–mhmm–your p-punishment," you cried, feeling a warmth already coiling somewhere inside your stomach.
But it wasn't enough.
Fuck, something was missing, and you knew precisely what.
"You can't cum, right?" Satoru guessed. "Your eyes betrayed you, baby. Move it a bit lower, yeah, that's right, good girl."
"Press it again, let it cover your clit fully," Suguru cooed, seeing your belly rising in and falling much, much quicker. You were almost there. "Imagine it's our lips, darling. Think about us sucking on your sweet clit. Shoving our cocks into your tight cunt, fuck," his eyes travelled deliriously between your messy hole and crossing eyes. "You look so delicious, pretty girl. Move a bit closer, come on. Let us make you cum."
But, oh, you were stubborn.
And they – they were stupid.
Because after another few dirty comments and their low voices tickling your spine, the knot finally untied.
Your cunt squeezed around the toy, clit quivered, and with a last few strokes, you finally cummed. With sweet squirt landing all over your boyfriends' faces, cushions, and carpet, drenching your thighs and their lips in a rich liquid.
You came with curled toes and thighs fallen open, giving them a scrumptious look of your pulsing hole and cum dripping down your velvety thighs.
And then, fuck, both of them just gave up, feeling all the accumulated strength leaving their bodies.
But before their chins hit the floor, they started crawling. With sore muscles and trembling arms, after almost two hours of staying in a plank, they already regretted so fucking much.
"Wait, what are you-" you didn't finish, as they were already here.
Right between your spread legs, with tongues licking your pussy and thighs and belly clean, slurping on the sweet cum and brushing their cocks against the carpet.
"I can't believe–fuck–I can't believe we missed it," Satoru cried, pushing his fingers inside your hole, and scooping away even more of the creamy liquids.
Suguru followed, licking Satoru's fingers clean, like a starved animal. "We're so stupid, darling, so so stupid, but never do it again."
They needed only a few, pathetic strokes to cum straight into their slacks. With heavy ropes of cum marring their cocks and choked moans going right into your sensitive cunt.
There was a moment of silence, with nothing but your heavy breaths filling the steamy room. It smelled of sex and sweat, with their backs still coated in salty droplets, and shoulders shaking in exhaustion.
"Well," you started, looking over at the clock. "It seemed that you still have eight hours left, so I expect you'll spend them on cleaning the house."
They nodded obediently, with a silent yes baby.
"But," Satoru murmured, seizing your dear, pinkish treasure. "This devil's spawn is leaving our household."
You giggled, grabbing the dildo from his hand. "It will if there won't be a single dust on the table."
"And we're also going to Paris," Suguru gave you a wink, before both of them left you with a sweet kiss.
distracting your boyfriend while he's gaming because you're horny. {18+ mdni}
gamer bf gojo x clingy gf fem reader.
Satoru's monitors glow and his large screen show a brutal fight with a boss in the virtual world. His headset is set tightly over his ear, and his mic is close to his mouth to bark orders and occasional curses at his squad.
"Yo, Yuji, left flank – LEFT. Fuck, let me heal, I'm gonna die!"
His fingers fly against the joystick of his controller and he meshes the other playing buttons. The lights flick in time with the gunfire on-screen.
His gaming chair (that probably costs more than some people's rent) creaks under his weight every time he leans forward. He hasn't looked away from the screen in a very long time.
You've tried to get him off the game and back to you, but it hasn't worked. You've texted him from the bedroom –' babe I miss you.'– sent a selfie in your silky shorts and tank top, knowing it would drive him insane, you added a caption to the selfie "come to bed."
Though, you got nothing but a heart eyes emoji and a "five more mins, swear." It feels like it's been hours since then.
Now you're done waiting. You make your way toward his gaming room, hoping to be able to provoke him since you're not wearing a bra or panty. Just your pink tank top, where your perky nipples are visible due to the air-con on high blast and those silky shorts that keep riding up.
Satoru doesn't look up when the door clicks shut behind you. His eyes remain locked on the screen, his jaw is clenched in a way that makes you want to bite on it.
"Loot the ammo – NOW –fuck, yes. Keep the debuff off me."
You step into his peripheral vision, standing close enough to him that your knee is against his thigh. He registers you – his eyes sweep down your body, lingering on the way your top clings to your breasts and your shorts ridden up to flash the side of your ass. His tongue wets the corner of his mouth, but the game attracts him back.
"Baby," he mutters, his voice soft. "Five minutes. The boss is at twenty percent."
You don't say anything to that, instead you slide one knee over his lap, then the other, straddling him in his game chair. The shorts ride up even more, making your bare pussy brush his sweats.
He's already half-hard. Of course he is. The feeling of him thickening under you makes your breath catch. Satoru's left hand leaves the keyboard for a second to settle on your hip. His thumb caresses the skin above your waistband, but then it's back on his controller.
"Megumi, don't stand in the fire, I swear to God–"
You circle your hips slowly, grinding down on his cock pressed right against your clit. A soft, involuntary sound leaves your throat, making his jaw flex.
"Y/N," he warns. "Not now."
But his hips lift a little to chase the feeling of you. You smirk and do it again.
His friends scream in his ear. "Satoru, where's the machete?" "I'm dead, I'm fucking dead–"
But you see that he's lost a lot of his focus. His eyes flick to you, then back to the screen. You reach between your bodies and your fingers slip in his pants and boxers.
He's warm and already leaking at the tip. You wrap your hand around him to pump a few times, swiping your thumb over his tip to spread the precum and his breath audibly hitches.
"Gojo, you good?"
Yuji's voice buzzes through the headset.
"Yeah," he manages, his voice rough. "Just lagging."
You almost laugh. Just lagging. Sure...
You tug his pants and boxers down to free him and his cock slaps against his stomach, it's flushed and gorgeous.
You rise on your knees, guiding him to your entrance, letting the tip nudge your folds. His hand shoots to your thigh, digging into it... But his eyes are still on the screen, knuckles whitening on the controller.
"Ten percent," he grits out. "Ten fucking percent, just–"
You sink down and the stretch is a little bit sore but still amazing. A low, broken moan escapes you both. His head falls back against the chair, throat exposed and Adam's apple bobbing.
"Fuck," he whispers quietly so only you can hear. Then he straightens, squaring his shoulders.
"Kento, snipe from the building –yes... Like that–"
You start to move slowly. You take him deep and grind your clit against him. The chair creaks under you. His hand finds your ass again, squeezing it hard and guiding your movements without leaving the controller completely. His right hand doesn't stop assaulting the buttons. You lean forward so your lips are near his ear, whining into it.
"You're ignoring me."
"Am not." he pants, eyes locked on the opposition's health bar. "Just – Fuck – uh, multitasking."
You deliberately clench around him and his hips jerk up into you. A strangled groan is caught in his throat.
"Satoru?" Shoko's voice sounds. "Are you jerking off or something?"
"The fuck? No." Something even better. Much better.
You ride him harder, thighs burning as he throbs inside you. You can feel him fighting. He's trying to keep his hands on the game steady, but he can't. His cock is pulsing so hard inside you.
You reach up, tugging his headset mic away from his mouth. His eyes snap to yours, wide and warning.
"Don't." he mouths.
You smile mischievously and lick up his neck. You let your head fall back and moan loudly – it's probably loud enough for the mic to catch and for his friends as well...
Satoru yanks the headset off roughly, slamming the mute button. The room goes silent – well, except for the wet sounds of your bodies, your breath and his.
"You little–"
You slam your hips down again to cut him off. He grips your waist, lifting you up before slamming you back down a good few times. The chair rolls back and the wheels squeak.
"Want them to hear how good you fuck me?" you whisper, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Want them to know why you're missing the kill shot?"
His answer is a groan, he puts down the controller, pulls out, and turns you around so your back is facing him. One hand is on your back, bending you forward until your cheek presses against the desk.
The new angle is even better. He thrusts up into you hard. The tip of his cock hits deeper spots inside you. Your tits spill out of the tank top, nipples brushing across the desk as he slams into you.
You bite your lip, not trying to be too vocal but it's impossible. He's in too deep, too perfect. You cry out but he claps a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound.
"Come," he rasps into your ear. "Come on me while I finish this raid. Quietly, baby."
He picks up the controller to finish his game while you release on him, your pussy clenches so hard. He groans into your shoulder and his teeth sink in. Your thighs shake and your toes curl against the chair's footrest.
He follows a second later, hips stuttering as he spills deep inside you with a curse. His hand moves from your mouth to grip your throat possessively, holding you against him as he fills you.
The opposition's health bar hits zero. The victory badge shows on the screen, along with Victory music. Satoru's forehead drops to your back, both of you trembling.
"GG," Yuji's voice comes through from the discarded headset. "Toru, you alive?"
He reaches over, still buried inside you and to pick up the headset and talk.
synopsis. the two of you didn't pay your bills in time, so your landlord cuts the heating to your apartment. how will you and your roommate conserve warmth?
perhaps choosing toji as your roommate was a poor choice.
an understatement, really, but you didn't want to overthink it too much or you'd get mad and take it out on him, and then he'd get upset and leave you in your apartment all alone for a few days because you're mad at him. and you don't like to be alone.
hence, why you chose him, your friend,to live with you. to prevent loneliness.
but there are many stories about people coming to hate their good friends when the relationship had advanced to best friends and roommates, and honestly, you're starting to see why. although, you don't hate toji. no, you could never hate him. not when he's taken such good care of you the decade you'd known each other, getting into scraps for your honor, giving you the clothes off his back, driving miles and miles to come get you from a shitty date just because you felt uncomfortable.
still, the fact remains. he is a nightmare to live with.
you have to clean up after him more times than you'd like to, do his laundry, and more than often, you have to cook him something so he doesn't just end up eating shitty cup-ramen with extraordinary levels of MSG and sodium. and worst of all, he does not cover his share of rent.
"baby just spot me this one last time, alright? i got us covered the next six months. all i gotta do is one more thing for my guy, and it'll all be good." is his most recent excuse. you'd been standing waiting for him at the door while he came home at an ungodly hour, and you're in several layers because somehow, your landlord managed to cut the heating just to your apartment because you two are behind on rent.
he shudders a bit. "that ain't cause of me, right?"
you groan at him and shove at his chest weakly, just to expel your anger somewhere. "of course its because of you, you idiot! we don't have any fucking heating anymore because i didn't have enough to cover both our share of rent this month! now it's just-" you shiver as cold air hits your skin. "-you and me and this cold till you get your guy to pay up."
sympathy floods his features, and he croons, wrapping you up in his big arms while kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag, trying to transfer some of his body heat to you. "it'll be okay, i promise. i got ya, ya hear?" he reassures you while keeping you nice and warm, wasting no time in scooping you up in one burly arm and keeping you against him, nice and warm, while he washes his hands.
he forces you to his side the rest of the evening, all throughout eating dinner and getting changed and washed up before bed. unwillingly, your anger melts away at how cuddly and caretaking he's being, sacrificing some of his mobility and a whole arm to keep you in his orbit where he can warm you up. and it's considerably better than when he hadn't been here to keep you warm, which soothes you.
even though this is all is damn fault to begin with.
he can tell your thoughts are running away with you again and you're starting to get pissed, and he chooses to get into your bed with you tonight, banding his arms around you so you cant run. "i said 'm sorry, didn't i?"
huffing, you try to loosen one of his arms even though you're comfy and he's warm. you're just so pissed off right now and none of this would've happened if he just pulled his fucking weight.
toji grunts and drags you back against him, ensuring there's not the slightest gap between you. he pushes his crotch flush to your ass and squeezes you as close as possible, moving one hand up and under your layers of shirts. "oi. i said 'm fuckin' sorry. i got us for the whole fucking year coming, you got that? just stop runnin' away from me."
"i'll believe it when i fuckin' see it." you grumble back, not swayed by his promises. words are great, yes. reassuring, had it been the first time he used them on you, but it's not. you won't melt into his arms unless he produces some money, or-
his hand moves up to grope one of your soft tits without the barrier of clothing underneath.
squeaking, you jolt backwards, ass bumping against his semi hard cock. "ji! what're you-!"
"shh." he cuts you off, squeezing your tit in his big, meaty palm, his forefinger and thumb coming together to squish a nipple between them. "gettin' you warm so you won't whine anymore."
between whimpers, you manage out, "this isn't what i meant..." but you're cut off when his other hand slips between your legs, warming you there too by cupping your mound.
"that better?" he asks, slowly rubbing both your tit and your pussy while burrowing his hardening dick between your ass cheeks. "or do y'want me to go away so you can be cold again?"
shuddering, you make zero move to push away his touches, your body flush to his. you shake your head slowly, indicating that you don't want him to stop at all. not when his touch just feels so good, his hands feeling large and heavy on your smaller body. but mostly importantly, they're warm.
your agreeance is all that's needed for him to continue whatever it is the two of you are doing. it crosses all boundaries two roommates are intended to have, and yet you can’t find it in you to care. you let out the softest moan of pleasure as he continues squeezing your breast, alternating between the two soft mounds and groaning into your ear at the sheer softness of you. it’s heavenly, how full and womanly you feel in his grip.
his hand keeps rubbing idly back and forth along your pussy, and you start subconsciously grinding against it, rolling your hips back and forth into his palm and fingers while your ass presses snugly to his dick. bumping against him each time you move your body.
“fuck yeah.” he says softly, mouthing at the lobe of your ear and breathing heavily into it, before pressing his lips to the sensitive spot underneath. he traces his tongue along the skin, giving you so much stimulation at once. you don’t know how much longer you can go on without something exploding inside of you. you can just feel how your pussy is starting to ooze juices onto his hand.
your breathing picks up when he goes back to toying with your nipples. toji relishes in the way they stiffen and swell at his touch. he experiments with toying with your folds and reaches up to give your clit some attention too. just like your nipples, it's all swollen. "that from the cold or me playing with you?" he huffs deeply.
and you can't even answer him then, because your body is too busy getting ready for you to cum on his hands. you can't physically hold it in any longer, and with a shuddering moan and a shiver running down your spine, your orgasm comes gushing out of you. it coats his hand and along his fingers in a wave of watery juices, your lips parted in a moan and a cry of his name.
toji couldn't be happier right now.
his cock swells up and pulses against your body during your orgasm, and he holds back the rush of pre-cum leaking out of him when you nudge back on him and grind on his aching boner.
"you wanna?" he whispers. "it'll help warm you up even more."
the suggestion is disguised by him saying this is purely for your benefit, as he doesn't say upfront that he just wants to fuck you, but when you nod, letting out a little, "mhm..."
pleased, toji's face breaks out in a grin. "just hold on a sec," he mumbles, tugging your bottoms out of the way and rubbing your aching folds with the pads of his fingers, trying to get you relaxed and ready for his dick in you. he then tugs his hand out from within your pussy lips and brings two fingers to your mouth, tapping your lower lip.
you already know what he means, and he moans as your warm, wet mouth encloses his fingers while you suck your juices off them, tasting yourself while getting his digits nice and lubed up for what he's about to do. he slips them out of your mouth with a slimy pop and slips them into your hole then, pumping the thick digits inside of you.
the stretch is immediate. not entirely unpleasant, but his fingers are thick- for a moment, you squirm with them inside you, but he shushes you softly once more, easing them in and out of you and letting you slowly adapt to the sudden fullness.
only three solid pumps has you completely relaxed with them inside you, and he keeps fondling your breasts while twisting and curling his fingers against your soft, pudgy walls. he can just feel how your body loosens up at his touch and your breathing evens out, and once you stop quivering whenever his fingers prod deep inside you, he decides you're ready for his cock.
he slips his fingers out of you and lines his cockhead up with your hole, rolling his hips forward - then drawing them back to sink just the tip in each time. it's a calculated move to make you more needy and desperate. "toji please," you pant, rubbing the cleft of your ass back against him in hopes that he'll just put it in already, but he's insistent on teasing you. he fists his cock and nuzzles the tip further into you while squeezing the shaft, peeling back the foreskin wrapping the head of his cock so that the pre-cum leaking out of his cock can spill into you and stick to your squishy walls, getting you nice and ready for him.
"in a minute, woman. don't wanna break you." he mutters, guiding his cock in and out of you and squeezing the base of his cock to push out even more slick, getting your pussy nice and messy for him. he moans as your cum and his pre mix together, making your folds glisten and shine pretty in the low light. he can't help himself, needing to fuck your pretty pussy like he should've the day he moved in with you.
you feel him probe into your pussy once more, though this time, he finally pushes in more than just the tip. you're warmer inside the deeper he goes, and it has him dizzy with lust. he sucks on the skin of your throat while squeezing your breasts and nuzzling firmer against you.
"it's so big, ji..." you whine, eyes rolling back when he pushes in halfway, stilling inside you to let you adjust to the stretch. "feels like you're in my tummy."
the burn wasn't terrible, but it was obvious you've never had anyone as big as toji inside you. " 's okay baby," he grunts. "we can go slow this time. gonna take good care of my girl." as he pushes in deeper, his cockhead prods against the frontal wall inside your pussy, rubbing against it and seeking for the spot that makes you - ah. right there.
"mngh! toji!" you squeal, bucking your hips to try and relieve yourself from the pressure of his cock on your weak spot, but he makes no move to pull back. in fact, he sheathes his cock fully inside you, stuffing you to the hilt in one mean thrust.
your puffy walls constrict around him immediately, and because it just feels so good, velvety soft and hot insides massaging his cock, he wraps his arms around you and begins to fuck you back onto his cock while driving his hips upwards to meet you halfway, splitting you open around him and thrusting perfectly into your soft cunt. toji feels what a tight fit it is, his fat cock smushing your gooey walls and taking up all the space inside you.
he bottoms out with each thrust, not giving a single crevice of your insides mercy whenever he thrusts into you. he insists on every bit of you getting filled, and his hips roll upwards when he hilts in you to make out with your cervix, giving you some stimulation to the deepest part of your channel - your womb.
then he pulls back, hands still mashing your breasts with his palm because he just can't get enough of how fucking soft and pudgy you are. made for his big hands to grope and squish. you have his dream body in a woman, he thinks. he moans and licks up your neck, taking an inhale of that delicious shampoo you use, before tipping your head back so he can kiss you sloppy and gross while his cock pounds your swollen cunt.
you've started to chase his thrusts now, not needing him to pull you back to meet them anymore, because you're practically throwing your ass back on his dick, your pussy swallowing up his cock. and every plunge of his cock inside you has the creamy micture of your arousal and his own leaking pre-cum, mixing it together into a white lather that coats your folds and around his cock.
but each wet thrust of his cock inside you displaces the pools of moisture gathered between you and toji, making a mess on the bed below you, though neither of you care because you're focused on fucking and rolling your tongues together in a heated kiss.
toji pulls his mouth off yours with a wet pop, placing a kiss to your jaw and cheek while letting his feelings out to bare. "wanted fuck- t'get my hands on you f'months now, baby." he groans, his heavy, swollen balls slapping against your clit with a fleshy, rhythmic thwack. "wanted ya in my bed, kissin' me, fuckin' me to sleep instead of trying to hear your breaths down the hall with you sleepin' in your own room."
you brush your mouth against his, chest heaving with every breath as he reveals his feelings to you. that he wanted to share a room with you from the start, that he's always wanted to be close to you. "could've ngh, right there! just asked me..."
with a smirk, toji purposefully drags his shaft slow and torturous against your walls, feeling your pussy cling to him the longer he takes to draw back, and instead of pulling back all the way, he stuffs his cock back inside you, grunting low while mouthing your cheek. "yeah? you gonna let me touch you whenever i want?"
you pout and try to turn your face away so he doesn't leave a hickey on your face, and he moves to capture your lips in another kiss, murmuring, "hm?" against you.
you nod, granting him that silent permission, and his thrusts instantly speed up with the excitement of the new relationship about to bloom between the two of you.
the bed groans under the force of his hips, and he's already feeling that he's starting to cum as a load splurts out of him, adding to the pre-existing mess. "good. cause 'm not gonna get my fill of this pussy, or you, in just one night." your body reacts in time with his as his balls slap lewdly into your flesh, as more of your juices squeeze out of you and froth around the base of his cock, spilling along his body.
his noises are almost as loud as yours now, what with how hes moaning into your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours while his cock leaks out cream in your messy pussy. the coldness from earlier is nowhere to be found, as the room is just humid from the steamy sex the two of you are having.
he can feel that final bout of cum about to hit, the veins lining his cock bulging and pressing into your walls. he lets out one last low growl, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips. you wrap your pussy snugly around his cock for him to empty his load right into you.
but he won't cum without you. he wouldn't want to leave his girl out.
he slides his hand down to rub at the hypersensitive, swollen nub seated pretty on your cunt and rubs it in gentle, coaxing circles, eager to push you over the edge alongside him. "toji! i'm gonna cum, please just... oh fuuuck-"
he presses down, grinding two fingers against the peak with a pressure that makes your hips buck against him. and just like that, you're creaming again, but this time around his cock. the inner walls of your pussy begin to twitch, involuntary spasms that grip his shaft with a desperate, milking force. toji doesn't slow down. he increases the pressure, his fingers rubbing your clit while your pussy gushes cum.
with one last thrust, toji stuffs his cock inside you, his whole body locking up. thick, hot ropes of cum pump deep into you, clinging to your walls while the excess shoots right into your womb, flooding it with his heavy seed. he clutches you all throughout his orgasm, body shuddering against yours as he thrusts shallowly into you, keeping you plugged full while soothing you with warm cuddles.
. . . 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.”
synopsis: it was just supposed to be a routine mission. but when things start to go wrong and time starts slipping through his fingers, gojo realizes a little too late he might lose you too.
pairing: astronaut!gojo x f!reader x teacher!choso
wc: 14.8k
content: mdni. HEAVY ANGST. smut. character death. inspired by interstellar, time dilation, sad ending, hurt no comfort, unprotected piv sex, teasing, kissing, gojo is so incredibly in love and obsessed with reader, accidental pregnancy, twins, pining, yearning, complicated emotions, misunderstandings, choso is also a lovesick puppy dog, video messages, gojo cries and throws up, moving on, absolutely sadness and despair
art is by @to00fu !! div by @tsumiinum !! this was an incredible commission to write for @dayanim <333
“You’re literally the prettiest girl on the planet.”
You giggled, your mouth curving up into a painfully cute smile as his palms spread your soft thighs further apart. Perfect face tilting to the side as you arched an eyebrow, “Just this planet?”
“All of them,” he easily chuckled, pressing a peck to the inside of your exposed thigh, admiring the expanse of your bare skin, completely naked in his sheets. Sprawled out like his favorite feast, waiting for him to devour.
If he could, he’d swallow you whole and take you with him to space.
Pack you up and bring you with him.
But unfortunately, NASA probably wouldn’t approve of him stowing you away on his final official mission before he moved to a different position.
“I don’t want you to go,” you pouted at him, running your fingers through your hair as he returned to dotting more kisses up to your hips, down to just below your belly button, trying to memorize the way your skin felt on his lips.
“I know,” he sighed, struggling to justify why he was going to you when he could hardly convince himself these days. “It’s just six months.”
A routine mission.
It was far from his first. He knew how it would play out. Shoko and Suguru would join him on the crew, so at least the time wouldn’t totally drag by. He hadn’t planned to join, but with what they promised to pay for it, it was sorta hard to refuse. Especially when he was still saving for a wedding and a house down payment.
Still, considering the fact that he’d only just gotten back from one less than a year ago, he knew that it wasn’t just him it was hard on.
“It feels like forever,” you complained, a crease between your brow as your hand shifted to cup his cheek, lift his face up to look at you. The cool band of your engagement ring resting on his skin reminding him of the promise he made to you when he popped the question. That he’d give up exploring the reset of the universe if you’d be his wife. “I’m so tired of missing you.”
“Baby,” he frowned, heart slamming into his rib cage at the disappointment he detected in the lines of your face.
He didn’t want to do this to you. Didn’t want to be the guy that wasn’t there for you.
But this was all just temporary. Soon he’d have secured a future where you could both permanently settle in a beautiful little house with a big yard for mini-yous and mini-hims to run and play.
Climbing back on top of you properly as you huffed at him, caging you in underneath his muscled arms, not stopping until your bodies were connected, skin-on-skin, his forehead resting on yours as your eyes met his.
“Don’t baby me,” you defensively murmured.
“But you’re my baby,” he pouted back at you. Your body shivered a little, thighs pressing together before he used his knee to nudge them further apart. “And you’re gonna be my wife when I get back.”
He liked the ring of it.
His wife.
All his.
He proposed to you the day he got back from his last mission. Maybe he should make it a tradition and marry you the day he returned this time.
Skip the whole big wedding he talked you into the past few months in favor of a courthouse ceremony. Maybe drag Suguru back after the landing to be the witness.
You made a face, nose scrunching up and lips parting like there was something you wanted to say, but you stopped yourself.
“This is my last mission,” he reminded you, a weak attempt at reassurance as his thick cock rubbed against your clit. Your breath hitched, getting caught in your throat as he dragged it over the sensitive bud.
“You said that about the last one,” you reminded him, and he didn’t have an argument to counter it.
“Well, I mean it this time,” he muttered softly. He wasn’t particularly good at being soothing. Spectacularly bad, sometimes, actually. But you still stayed.
Still smiled at him when he sucked at being what you needed.
The moon hung heavy outside the window, a thick crack running across the glass pane as the night sky filtered through it and bathed the room in soft light. The apartment you shared wasn’t much, pretty shitty honestly, but it was just a stepping stone. A way to save money for when you’d really need it.
Soon, you’d have the best.
“Besides, I can’t leave again once you start having my babies,” he teased, moving a hand down to your stomach, feeling your soft skin. Dreaming of a future where you’d be waddling around his kitchen pregnant, trying to decide if he’d prefer a boy or a girl – only to land on wanting both.
“So you’ll be here for them and not for me?” You huffed.
“I just want to make sure I make a good life for all of you,” he replied, struggling to sound confident when you were looking at him with a faint hint of hurt shining in your eyes.
You wanted to believe him.
“Uh-huh,” you exhaled.
He supposed he’d just have to remind you another way that you had his heart. That even if he left the planet for a few months, he’d always have to return back to you.
His home.
Your thighs opened up for him, letting him shut up all those awful thoughts with a kiss as he pushed the first few inches inside your pretty pussy. Felt you sucking him in, losing himself in your warmth as he pushed past that first ring of resistance. Filling you up until you were stuffed full, your head tilting back, lips parting in his favorite moan — his name falling from them in broken little gasps.
“Satoru,” you whined, wiggling under his weight as he leaned down to start trailing kisses across your jaw. Down the delicate skin of your throat, sucking greedily just to see what other sounds he could draw from you.
“Mhm, sweetheart?” He hummed, pausing to drag his tongue over all the sore spots he’d left, tempted to sink his teeth back over them, to leave little bruises just so you’d have to keep thinking about him even when he was planets away.
“I don’t want you to go,” you huffed, forcing the words out between little whimpers, your body shivering as his cock slowly thrusted in and out, deliberately taking his time to stretch you out. He hesitated mid-pump, lips still pressed just above your collarbone as he tried to come up with something that would make it better.
“I don’t want to either,” Gojo softly admitted, kissing you again as if it would cure the ache in his heart or the one in yours.
There was a moment of silence, seconds slipping by with tension that wouldn’t dissolve, and he wasn’t sure if he should keep thrusting or pull out.
But then your hips shifted, and his cock twitched, and he was already readjusting, palms moving to push your soft thighs against your chest with his cock still keeping you plugged up.
And really, you couldn’t blame him for how pretty you looked in a mating press.
Fucking you faster, the wooden bed frame creaking and bumping into the wall with every rough thrust, each harsh snap of his hips against your skin as he plunged his cock in and out, in and out.
Watching your face screw up in pleasure, lashes fluttering and nails scrambling for purchase in the sheets as his thumbs dug into your thighs. Holding onto you, keeping you firmly pinned between him and the bed, like he could imprint every ridge and vein inside you, supposing he’d just have to be satisfied with leaving the shape of both of you on the mattress.
“I love you so goddamn much,” he murmured, chest constricting, heart racing as the pressure built and mounted in the pit of his stomach. Some invisible thread being pulled tighter, or maybe it was just himself, wrapped around your finger without you even realizing it.
Ready to break just thinking about not getting to hear your voice every day, not getting to touch your skin, like he wasn’t still buried inside you.
“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice quivering as you looked up at him with glossy eyes.
He kissed you hard, teeth nearly bumping into each other as his tongue slipped past your lips. Tracing over your canines, tasting the hint of toothpaste on your tongue. The remnants of the candy-flavored lip gloss you’d been wearing earlier too.
You were returning his fervor, squeezing down on his cock like you were trying to suck him dry like he wasn’t already struggling not to cum.
He had to hurry to shift his hand, fingers rushing to find your clit, rubbing rough circles over it just to swallow every cute moan of yours that tried to escape. Cock twitching and aching for relief that he refused to give it, keeping an iron grip on his restraint as he waited for that familiar tremble, for you to really clamp down on him as shudders wracked through your body.
Until you were crying his name in his mouth, whimpers muffled as he soothed you through your climax, rolling that sensitive bud between his thick fingers, only breaking the kiss to purr in your ears that it was all going to be okay.
“That’s it, baby. Just cum for me, okay? It’s gonna be fine,” he promised, his voice cracking on the final word as he came with you. Finishing with warm spurts of cum filling you up, each thrust pumping more into you as he groaned your name, head collapsing into the crook of your collarbone.
Sweat making your skin stick to his, your breathing mixing together as you both came back down to earth from your high.
“Fuck,” you murmured, trying to shift underneath him, roll out from his heavy body.
But he refused to budge, burying his face deeper into your neck just to smell your soap and shampoo, nuzzling his nose against your neck.
He didn’t want to let go.
And for a second, part of him considered cancelling. Backing out of the mission, coming up with an excuse or calling out sick. They had back up astronauts.
They had a few people, perhaps not as qualified as him, but still acceptable, on standby that could take his spot.
He might get fired. Shoved back to some bottom-tier desk position.
But he’d get to stay with you.
Would get to spend the next six months sleeping like this instead of alone in a spaceship compartment.
“Satoru,” you softly said his name, shifting as he finally released your thighs, letting you lay them back down more comfortably – but still kept you caged in.
“Can’t I just lay here for a while longer?” He groaned, jaw tightening at the idea that this was the last night he’d get this. You.
Cock still twitching as the last of his cum leaked out, some of it starting to spill down your thighs as he refused to take it out.
You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching a spot behind his ears, sifting through the silky strands with a long sigh. “Sure.”
That was just who you were.
What you’d do.
You gave him what he wanted.
Even when you didn’t like what he asked for.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“Don’t be sorry,” you replied gently. “Just be sure you’re coming home.”
“The stars can’t keep me from you,” he promised, moving to leave another kiss on the tip of your nose as you rolled your eyes at him.
But you giggled, and that was good enough.
“Let’s get married when I get back,” he suggested.
“We already-”
“Like, the same day, sweetheart,” he insisted, lips curling up in a smile as he snagged your left hand, bringing it to his lips so he could press a kiss to your engagement ring. The big diamond glittering in the moonlight, accented with small gemstones that same shade as his eyes set in a white-gold band. One you picked out with him once upon a time.
“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed, shaking your head like you weren’t grinning at the idea too. “Didn’t you want, like, the whole huge wedding?”
“I just want you.”
Gojo could make it six months if it meant you’d be waiting there for him when he got back.
He just didn’t think everything would go to fucking shit in sixteen weeks.
Clinging to the same dream of you, the same memory his brain had chosen for comfort as he opened his eyes for another difficult day in a long line of them.
Waking up to a window that only overlooked the cold, dark expanse of space instead of the familiar city. Missing your warmth in bed – trading it for a sleeping bag and a stiff compartment that they somehow still hadn’t figured out a better alternative for despite how advanced their rocketships had become.
Sure, they could figure out how to simulate gravity inside the living areas now. But no, getting a good night’s rest was still impossible.
They were only supposed to be running a supply drop off. Sending equipment to a planet a few other astronauts were previously sent to, one they’d recently started establishing a settlement on. Shoko was planning on staying behind there to be their medic – but he was supposed to return with Suguru.
It wasn’t the only habitable planet that had been discovered. There were a few, all being explored, data being collected and catalogued by various astronauts like themselves, sent back periodically and retrieved by relief missions like the one they were on.
All just a galaxy away.
It meant going through a wormhole to get to them, but according to all the calculations and the previous voyages, it was safe.
Risky, sure, but it’d been done before.
And to be fair, getting through it hadn’t been the problem.
The problem was they were just outside the orbit of the wrong fucking planet.
Whether one of them had bumped into the navigation system, inputted the wrong thing at the wrong time, or maybe some internal error was to blame, it didn’t matter.
No, a more pressing issue had presented itself.
A distress signal was being sent up.
Someone was below – and begging to be rescued.
“I have a bad feeling about it,” Suguru murmured, scowling at the screen as if he could make the message go away just by glaring at it.
“You always have a bad feeling,” Shoko hummed, dark circles under his eyes as she scanned the data on her screen.
“I think we should just continue to the correct planet. It’ll be a waste of fuel and time,” Suguru scoffed, ignoring her as his fingers flew across the keyboard, inputting either calculations or coordinates.
Satoru reclined back in his seat, fiddling with a pencil as his friend glanced up at him like he was looking for support here.
“Aren’t you supposed to be the one who wants to save people?” He asked, cocking his head to the side just to get a scoff. He’d known Suguru most of his life. Went to school together, graduated from the same program just to end up colleagues too. Between both of them, Suguru was always the altruistic one. The guy who thought of everyone else before himself – even if he was looking down at them from his moral high ground half the time.
“Not if it means putting our mission at risk,” he argued, lips pressed together in a thin line. “Or us.”
“The last reported conditions there seem fine,” Shoko shrugged as she directed their attention back to what little data had been collected so far.
Most of the planet was made of water, a massive sea dotted with a handful of islands, some mountain ranges that rivaled the highest peaks back on Earth. Two fellow astronauts were supposed to have been there for the last nine months.
“You really want to just leave them?” Gojo asked, not sure how exactly to feel about it himself. Not wanting to totally throw away Suguru’s hesitation – but reluctant to just leave another astronaut stranded.
“There are other people counting on us,” Suguru insisted, and Satoru knew he was right. Knew that you were counting on him to come back in one piece. “We can just send a message back to Earth and let them decide.”
Suguru knew as well as he did that doing that would most likely mean death to whoever was sending the distress signal.
It would probably be months before they sent another ship up.
And given that they didn’t have the data to know how fast or slow time passed below. No way to know when the signal they were receiving had started.
There was a heavy pause, all three of them weighing whether or not to take the gamble — and imagining what it’d feel like to be the one stuck on the planet praying for someone to come save them.
“I think we should check it out,” Satoru eventually spoke up, although he wasn’t exactly excited about it.
He just wasn’t sure he could stomach the alternative. If he could handle coming back home to you and telling you the truth.
Risk you leaving him like they were about to leave the stranded astronauts.
“The extra data they have would be useful,” Shoko pointed out, tilting her head appraisingly. “If we needed to, we could bring them back to the other settlement.”
“Two minutes,” Suguru begrudgingly gave in, irritation pricking in his voice as he stood up, rubbing his temple. “We shouldn’t spend more than ten on the surface when we don’t know how much time we could lose. Get there, see what’s salvage, get the fuck out.”
Whether it was data or people, they’d just take what they could and leave.
There was a chance that the relative time on the planet was off. That even just an hour on the planet could be the equivalent to a year back on Earth.
“Yeah, agreed,” Satoru waved him off, watching him walk off, probably to start preparations for landing.
He told himself it was the right thing to do.
That it was what you would expect from him.
He stood up too, walking around to one of the communication terminals they set up – where they could send and receive messages.
You’d sent a couple videos, unofficial ones, of course, something he arranged in advance when he agreed to join the mission – that he’d be able to contact you and you’d be able to do the same. They were short, just a few minutes of you updating him on life back on Earth. How you were doing, how wedding planning was going, murmuring that you missed him in a soft voice before leaning in to kiss the camera.
But a new one was waiting for him as he popped his headphones in to listen, leg bouncing nervously as it loaded, automatically smiling when your face popped up.
“Hi, Satoru,” you greeted, but then you awkwardly looked down, fiddling with your fingers out of frame like you were shy all of a sudden. Biting your bottom lip, the skin there already broken like you’d been busy chewing it.
He wanted to touch the screen.
Caress your cheek and ask you what was wrong.
“I, um, was gonna wait until you came back. But, uh, I don’t think I can keep it a secret that long,” you breathed, eyes glancing up at the camera like you were imagining him on the other side of it.
And then you were picking something up, holding it out in front of you as the camera refocused and-
Holy shit.
“Surprise,” you excitedly called out from behind the tiny onesie in your hand. “You’re going to be a father.”
A baby.
He was going to be a father.
His brain stopped working. Shock freezing him in place as you peeked out from behind the onesie like you could see his reaction. Pride glimmered in your eyes as you grinned, his entire world sitting in front of him a galaxy away. His future wife and child just waiting for him to return.
“I wanted it to be a surprise, but it’s been so hard holding it in,” you continued, and he craved you even more than he had in the past few months combined. Dying to pick you up and press kiss after kiss to your lips, your cheeks, your stomach.
Aching to wrap his arms around you and start talking about baby names and nurseries, to take you out shopping for baby furniture and be there for your appointments.
“There’s something else,” you said, reluctance creeping in. Glancing down at your lap again before pulling up a second onesie.
No. You surely didn’t mean…?
“I’m having twins,” you announced, a little awkward like you started second guessing how he’d take it. “Are you surprised?”
It didn’t take his brain long to calculate the fucking odds of that, but his mind had a hard time accepting it, discomfort coiling in and mixing with the exhilaration in his stomach at the idea of you back in bed, carrying his babies, while he was up in fucking space.
Unable to be there for you. To rub the lotion on your stomach, to sing terrible impressions of lullabies to them, to drive you to the doctor and hold your hand throughout all of it.
You didn’t seem too bothered, or maybe just too excited to show it, holding up the ultrasounds next, proudly showing him baby A and baby B, talking about how you should find out their genders in just a couple weeks.
“You better be back before I have these two,” you murmured into the camera, fixing him in a serious stare, your eyes shining in the fading daylight drifting in through your window. “Don’t make me go to the hospital alone.”
Never.
He’d fucking be there.
“I love you, Toru,” you spoke softer, hesitating over actually hitting the button to stop recording. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”
He’d already done something stupid by saying yes to coming here, hadn’t he?
Still, he plastered on his best smile, sitting awkwardly in front of his own camera, recording you a message back. Making you a million promises, telling you how proud he was of you, how thrilled he was to be a dad. Selling you dreams of a life he was desperately trying to buy for your future family of four.
“We’re, uh, about to go down to a planet to check out a distress signal, but, it’ll be fine, baby,” he informed you, hearing how stiff the words came out as he forced his palm to press down on his thigh to stop his leg from bouncing. “It’ll just be a quick pitstop before the supply drop, promise.”
He paused, having to clear his throat, his tongue suddenly dry as he made himself look directly into the camera.
“I’ll come back for you.”
Gojo didn’t want to admit Suguru might be right when he had to sit with the heavy feeling in his stomach after he shut the camera off and sent the message back – knowing it would probably be a couple days before you saw it.
But it would be fine, wouldn’t it?
In a year, he’d be waking up in bed with you, laughing about how worried he’d been while you each held one of your babies. This would just be a memory.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. Staring at the screen long after it shut off, replaying your voice in his head, itching to really hear it, to feel it on his skin, to touch you instead of just clinging to a digital copy of you.
“You ready?” Suguru’s voice called out to him, and he snapped out of his daze.
Found his mouth opening, about to say no.
Tell him he changed his mind. Say he was wrong and that they should just save their fuel.
But if you knew, if they knew, that he’d left someone to die just to come home to them sooner, would they look at him the same way?
Would he be able to look his children in the eyes?
He swallowed hard as he glanced towards the doorframe Suguru was standing in, slowly nodding instead of saying what he really wanted to. “Yeah.”
Gojo wanted to believe that between their three-person crew, they’d be able to handle it.
He just hadn’t realized that only two of them would make it back to the ship.
𖥔 ݁ ˖
“You should move on.”
It didn’t matter how many people said it. How many times your therapist pleaded with you to put the past behind you.
You couldn’t let go of him.
Six months turned into six years without Satoru.
The one thing you were terrified of had come true.
You lost him.
Didn’t even have the fucking confirmation of his death. Just a gravestone with an empty casket, a plot picked out for you next to it — even if you’d never get to be buried by him.
Wasn’t that the funny thing about taking risks?
You always know what could happen. You just never think it will happen to you.
It’s always someone else.
Until it’s not.
Until you’re the one waiting for a phone call you’ll never get or a knock on the door that will never come.
“It’s not exactly like men are lining up to date me,” you muttered into the phone, tucking it between your ear and shoulder as you frowned at your reflection in the mirror, reaching up to fix a stray hair just for your still-shiny engagement ring to shimmer in the sunlight. Swallowing the lump in your throat before you turned away, nearly tripping on a toy. “With the twins-”
“Guys like MILFs,” your friend teased in your ear, and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you bent over to pick up the stuffed bunny and toss it in an overflowing toy basket.
You doubted they’d like one still in love with their babies’ father.
Still holding out hope he’d show up with that stupid smile and wrap you in a crushing hug.
Even if the rest of the world thought he was dead.
When the government had declared his ship missing and him deceased. Cut you a check for it even though you weren’t technically Satoru’s spouse yet since you had his babies. A little boy that could be his clone and a girl that looked a little too much like you.
Their check had been enough to get you out of your crummy apartment, to move the three of you in a small house in a quiet neighborhood.
Suguru’s mother had ended up moving next door, offering to babysit and watch them during the day so you didn’t have to send them to daycare. Helping you raise your children while her child was still out there in space somewhere.
She didn’t talk about Suguru with you. And you never spoke of Satoru.
But you knew she understood anyway. Coped with it the same way you did. Skirting around their existence like it would lessen the hurt.
“I know a guy who-” Your friend started, and your stomach lurched at the thought of being set up with someone who couldn’t come close to the man you were supposed to marry.
“Look, I’ve, uh, gotta go get the kids. Their teacher wanted to discuss Apollo’s behavior. I guess he bit someone,” you muttered, heels clicking as you slung your purse over your shoulder and snagged your keys.
She was disappointed, mumbling a goodbye that you tuned out, hitting end and dropping your phone in your bag with a sigh.
You wondered what Satoru would’ve thought of it.
If he would’ve laughed at his son picking fights at school or if there was a stern side to him buried somewhere beneath his goofy grins and cheesy jokes.
You tried to pick out names he’d like. Even if sometimes it stung a little to think about.
Apollo and Artemis.
After the space missions. He’d think it was cute. Probably dress them up like little astronauts and kiss their foreheads, promising that he loved them way more than just to the moon and back. Paint stars on their ceiling and hang planets up on strings in their nursery.
To be fair, you had done it in his place.
Worn one of his old t-shirts as you bit your lip and bent over your swollen belly to get all the corners, carefully standing on a ladder to hang everything on the ceiling, standing in a nursery full of furniture you built yourself a month after his return date came and went.
The last thing you heard from him was a video message where he promised he’d come back. If you shut your eyes, you could still see that look on his face, the flicker of nervousness that flashed across it as his mouth curled down into a frown before he admitted that they were about to go check out a distress call.
And then nothing.
NASA never told you if they had any additional information on it. But the conclusion they came to was obvious.
Their mission was a failure. And your husband was forever missing.
Somewhere you’d never be able to reach.
You snapped on the twins' first birthday. You hadn’t even managed to bring yourself to throw them a party when Satoru wasn’t there to take the photos, to pick them up and blow out the candles for them.
Carrying them next door to Suguru’s mom’s place, asking for her to watch them for a few hours just to come back home and rip down every stupid space-themed piece of decor you’d once painstakingly picked out. Throwing them all in a big, black trash bag before running out to the store to grab tarps and more paint.
You didn’t stop until the entire room was drenched in shades of blue and green, alien toys traded in for sea animals.
At least the ocean was on Earth.
It wasn’t like they were old enough to understand.
But you couldn’t fucking stand the idea of losing them too.
You had kept both their convertible cribs in your room since the day you brought them home from the hospital, unable to sleep without them in the same room. The crippling fear that you’d some intruder would sneak in and snatch them if you weren’t right there to stop it didn’t actually go away until they were big enough to toddle and talk.
Now they were old enough to be in school, no longer babies, no longer toddlers, big enough to ramble on about what they learned every day, bicker over their toys and pick them back up before they went to bed.
And Satoru had missed all of it.
Every first they experienced tainted by the never-ending reminder that he wasn’t fucking here to see a single one.
And like an idiot, you just kept recording message after message, setting up a camera and trying not to cry as you recorded yourself talking about the twins, showing them off to someone who should’ve been by your side every step of the way. You still had a few contacts with his old colleague, one who promised he’d send them all up anyway.
Just in case Satoru was still out there in space. Still trying to come home to you.
There wasn’t a single day that passed yet where you didn’t think about it.
Him.
But it appeared your attempts to keep him alive, to teach your kids about their dad, weren’t going so well when you replayed the voicemail you’d been left an hour earlier requesting you come in for a meeting after school was over when you picked up the kids.
The soft voice on the other end apologetically explaining that Apollo had gotten in an argument with another kid to defend his sister, that no action was being taken, but that he’d still like to speak with you in person over it.
You stared at the brick building of the elementary school, readjusting your purse as you swiped away another message from your friend sending you contact details of a man you certainly were not going to contact, steeling yourself for an uncomfortable conversation as you walked through the door and went into the office to get a visitor’s pass before you started navigating through the halls to look for the twins’ class.
Suguru’s mom handled most of the pick ups for you, kept them at her place until you got back home from work in the evenings.
Your boss had been annoyed that you’d taken off early, but you had to put them first. You were the only parent they had.
You heard Artemis first. Her soft giggle twinkling as your steps picked up, her brother’s grumpy voice scolding her as you stopped just outside an open classroom door, pausing as you looked inside and saw sitting cross-legged on the floor with another boy who looked a couple years older, a bunch of toys dumped out between them on a carpet with the alphabet on it.
“Are you their sister? I thought their mom-” A low voice spoke up, your head snapping over to see a dark-haired man stepping out from behind a desk. Warm brown eyes scanning your face as you stiffly shook your head.
“I’m their mom,” you interrupted him, swallowing hard as you pushed your sunglasses back up in your hair before holding your hand out to shake.
His hand was surprisingly soft when he took it, gently shaking it a few seconds too long before awkwardly letting go.
“I’m Choso, their teacher,” he said, and you forced a small smile.
“I, uh, know,” you muttered, averting your stare back to where they were playing.
“Yuji’s my little brother,” he added, pointing out the boy playing with yours, plucking out a toy from the pile and handing it over.
You wondered if it would be awful to just ask him to go ahead and skip all the polite niceties, that you didn’t need them.
“Sorry for making assumptions,” he awkwardly apologized, his dark eyes dragging over you again. “You just looked like you’re around my age, and I guess I forget sometimes that it’s normal for us to have kids of our own now.”
You blinked at him, trying to decide what to make of his slightly nervous rambling just for his mouth to open again.
“I wasn’t trying to comment on your appearance or anything, I mean, you’re beautiful-” His lips abruptly shut, cheek flushing pink in a painfully familiar way.
Your chest hurt.
Ached at the thought that Satoru was no longer the last person to call you beautiful.
“Um, thanks,” you murmured, looking at your outfit a little self-consciously. Wondering if he was just saying that to make you feel better or if he really meant it. You didn’t think you looked terrible. But without Satoru around, you’d sorta forgotten what it felt like to look in the mirror and see something pretty when you were struggling to survive most days.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, glancing down to the ring on your finger. Your throat started to close, palms getting clammy as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t realize you were married.”
“I’m not,” you answered, a little too quickly as you folded your arms across your chest. Putting your left hand underneath your other arm as if it would make you stop thinking about it. Him.
“Oh, um-”
“I was engaged to the twins’ dad,” you explained, watching them giggle and pretend to eat the plastic food with their new pink-haired friend. “But, uh, he passed before they were born.”
People usually asked too many questions if you told them the whole story.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he apologized, face falling the way everyone else’s always did. Regret etched into the soft lines of his face, nose scrunching up as the tattoo across his nose crinkled. “I had no-”
“It’s fine,” you lied, waving it off like Satoru didn’t still cast shadows across your thoughts. “So, um, what happened with Apollo? Is he in trouble?”
“No, no, one of the other kids tried to take a toy from Artemis, and he stepped in to stop it. I actually wanted to speak to you about him having a hard time making friends outside of her,” Choso spoke softly, obviously trying hard to pick his words carefully. “I was thinking of recommending they get put in different classes next year to help them socialize.”
You bit the inside of your cheek.
Torn between immediately shutting the idea down and trying to argue against it before second guessing whether or not your parenting was actually just fostering codependence.
Satoru would know what to do.
But he wasn’t here.
And all the decisions were yours to make.
Artemis was the outgoing one, inherited her father’s personality even if she pretty much got your face. Bright and brilliant, easy charisma that shined even at her small size. Apollo was reserved. Serious.
Scowling if he wasn’t with his sister, grumbling at the world like he already realized how it screwed them over.
“They’re just five,” you muttered, glancing over at where they were still distracted with his brother.
“Well, I guess we can see if there are any changes throughout the rest of the school year. I, uh, coach a boys soccer team on the weekends. He’s welcome to join, if you’re interested,” he said, running his fingers through the ends of his hair.
You guessed if it meant your twins wouldn’t be split up in school, you’d sit on the sidelines to watch little kids try and fail to kick a ball across a field.
Not that he was that happy about it when you told him he’d have to spend his Saturday morning in a soccer uniform with kids he barely spoke to before instead of playing with his toys at home.
Choso grinned when you first showed up, one of those crooked ones that gave away his surprise when he saw you setting up fold-out chairs for you and Artemis. Even jogging over to tell you he was happy you came, squatting down to get on Apollo’s level to ask him if he knew how to play.
He didn’t.
To be fair, after watching a single game, it was clear none of the other kids did either.
Still, you left it with a schedule of practices and games stuffed in your purse, a couple of them circled and marked for your days to bring snacks and juice boxes for the team.
You told yourself that you were being an active parent.
Showing up to every single school event. Refusing to miss a single soccer game even when Apollo spent half of it plucking weeds from the field to give to you afterwards.
Taking him to play dates with his new soccer friends before taking Artemis to sleepover with her school friends, juggling their new social lives with your own work.
And somewhere along the way, you supposed you’d made a new friend in their teacher too.
He went out of his way to talk to you at every game, greeting you at their school stuff with a shy smile and considerate questions while he updated you on how they were doing.
The kids loved him, coming home chattering about what he planned and taught them during the day, complaining whenever he was out sick and they got stuck with a substitute.
Wasn’t it normal to like someone if they made your children happy?
Smile back when they spoke to you?
Find your thoughts lingering a little on their dark-haired teacher when your son excitedly exclaimed that Choso promised to be his soccer coach next year too, your stupid heart stalling for a second when Artemis casually dropped that he helped her make a mother’s day card for you as she stuck it to the fridge with a magnet.
You definitely didn’t pick them up from school yourself more often, swearing to Suguru’s mother that you were just trying to spend more time with them.
But eventually, the school year wrapped up.
You couldn’t really comprehend why some sliver of you was disappointed by that.
Still, you suspected that it wasn’t just because Satoru wasn’t here to see it.
A strange flutter in your stomach stirring watching Choso pass out printed graduation certificates to the class, plastering on a bright smile as Artemis proudly bounded over to show you hers. Toothily grinning as you sat and clapped for her in a cramped chair, a paper plate with a tiny slice of pizza in front of you as the other parents tried wrangling their own kids.
Apollo was half-sitting on your lap, sneakily stealing your pizza after he polished off his own plate, enjoying their classroom party just to start bickering over which mini cupcakes they each wanted, eyeing the boxes Choso hadn’t given out.
“Are you excited for next year?” You asked, barely able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at their arguing.
“No,” Artemis smiled immediately flipped into a frown as she flopped in her seat, folding her arms across her chest. “We’ll have to get a new teacher.”
“Don’t be a baby,” Apollo huffed at her.
“S’not fair, he’s still your coach,” she whined back, right in time for him to show up, holding out a plastic container with cupcakes to let them choose.
They were quick to snatch them, thank yous muffled when they stuffed their mouths the next second, but to your surprise, he held out the box for you to pick too.
“I, um, got enough for the parents too,” he awkwardly said, eyes hesitantly flicking up to meet yours as you chewed the inside of your cheek before accepting.
“Thanks,” you murmured softly, selecting one with purple frosting as he smiled softly at you.
It was nice of him.
This was nice, actually.
A classroom of sugar-fueled kids and hastily strung up party streamers wasn’t exactly where you pictured you’d be spending your afternoon a decade ago. Being a single mom had never been a part of your plans.
But it wasn’t terrible.
You loved your children. Loved being their mom.
Maybe you could learn to love your life too.
You stayed behind once the party wrapped up to help clean the classroom with a few of the other parents, stuffing greasy and frosting splattered plates into trash bags while the twins excitedly caught up with Yuji after his teacher dropped him off after the bell rang.
“Hey,” a quiet voice startled you, your head snapping back to see Choso stiffly standing next to you, nervously raking his fingers through his hair.
“Hi,” you breathed back, just as awkward. “The party was great. I think the twins will miss you next year.”
You didn’t want to consider if you would.
“They’re great kids. I know they’re gonna succeed some day,” he earnestly said, your mouth curling up as you nodded.
You didn’t really mind if they succeeded or not. Wouldn’t hold them to the same standards their dad once held himself to.
All you really wanted was for them to be happy.
“Thanks, um, seriously,” you swallowed hard, throat constricting as you thought about how much Apollo had started to come out of his shell thanks to him.
Choso’s intense stare swept over your face, scanning over your features like he was searching for something there.
His eyes were dark.
Not blue. They didn’t shimmer, didn’t sparkle when the sun hit them.
But they were deep. Warm.
“I’m glad I got to meet you,” he started, speaking slowly like he wasn’t sure if he should even say it. “Getting to know you, um, it’s been great.”
“Yeah, it has,” you agreed, actually meaning it too.
He stepped a little closer, taking a deep breath as his gaze settled on your face. “You can like, slap me if I’m out of line here-”
“I’m not going to slap you,” you intercut, biting back a laugh as his brows knitted together seriously.
“Would it be totally inappropriate to ask you on a date?”
𖥔 ݁ ˖
Their mission was fucked.
Suguru was dead.
Body stuck on a planet of water and waves, left behind with the other astronauts that had died long before they even received their distress call.
Swept under a fucking tsunami, unable to make it back on the ship on time in an attempt to save a stupid fucking data recorder.
Now they had neither.
The ship had been damaged in the process too, fuel wasted and plans derailed as they barely managed to get it off the planet before all three of them ended up as corpses. Water corrupting important systems as Gojo slammed his fists against the hard metal frame of a door, throwing off his helmet as Shoko said something his brain refused to process.
Grabbing his arm to pull it back before he could fuck up his suit. Telling him to just take it off and cool down before he damned both of them too.
Like his best friend wasn’t gone.
He’d never get him back.
No one would.
Gojo just had to leave his body there for the tides to take. What the hell was he even going to say to his mom? How was he supposed to tell her that her son wasn’t coming home?
He barely managed to get his suit off, stripping down and throwing it on the ground without giving a shit about proper protocol, storming off to his private compartment to stop himself from losing it in front of the only other person up here now. Shoko said something about getting everything back on course, but he wasn’t listening as he turned his back from her.
God, he felt like he was going to fucking hurl.
The edges of his vision kept blurring, going in-and-out of darkness as he forced himself to change clothes, sitting hunched over the edge of his bed and burying his face in his hands, replaying the look on Suguru’s face when he realized he wasn’t going to make it.
Rewinding and searching for some other way to change the past as he screwed his eyes shut.
But he couldn’t save him then and there was no way to save him now.
He wished you were here.
Wished you’d wrap your arms around him and run your fingers through his hair and promise him that it would still be okay. That Suguru wouldn’t blame him.
That his best friend was somewhere better.
Even if everything scientific in his body swore that there was no better place waiting for him.
Gojo pushed himself back up to his feet, jaw locked tight as he walked back over to the one piece of you he still had access too, tapping away at the controls to see if you sent any videos while he was out there making the worse fucking mistake of his life.
Foot impatiently tapping against the floor as he reclined his head back against the floor, wishing that he’d never even come on this mission in the first place – if he hadn’t, Suguru wouldn’t have even answered the distress call, would he?
He’d still be alive, and Gojo would be with-
The computer let out a beep, interrupting his thoughts as the screen came to life, loading everything up as he sighed with relief.
Seeing your smile, hearing your soft words might not heal him, but it was the only thing he could think of to help the raw wound of loss ripping through his chest.
Until the automated computer voice made an announcement right as he popped his headphones in.
Loading messages from the past eleven years.
No. No no no no no.
It was wrong.
It had to be fucking wrong.
The computer had to be fried. Some water must have somehow gotten in it and fucked with the wiring and-
Before he could even hit a single button, try to troubleshoot, there you were in front of him, your hand on your swollen stomach, scowling in the camera as you asked where the hell he was. Fear creeping in your pretty voice that no one had heard anything from any of them – reminding him that he promised to come back.
He did. He would.
The small lump in his throat getting bigger and bigger as the video auto-played into the next one, where you were obviously about to pop, filming in a space-themed nursery, your anger twisted into worry, telling him that you didn’t want to do this alone.
Begging him to not make you.
Gojo froze.
Shoulders stiff as he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, stunned as his own brain short-circuited, the guilt swimming in his stomach threatening to drown him as you ended the message.
Part of him wanted to hit stop.
Like if he paused it now, he would be able to freeze time and somehow make it back to Earth in time to not miss any more of it.
But his fingers weren’t fast enough.
And the next frame came with the audio of a baby crying.
Two babies. One swaddled in blue and the other in pink. Their names on knitted hats he already knew Suguru’s mom must’ve made, a strangled sob escaping him before he even realized he was crying.
The twins. His twins.
Sleepily yawning and opening their eyes just a peek, enough for him to see his son had the misfortune of inheriting his looks while his daughter came out like a miniature you. Someone else was recording you in the hospital bed, but you were talking to the camera like it was him, face soft as you giggled that he would probably bawling harder than the babies when he realized he missed this.
Suguru’s mom laughed behind the camera.
He was.
Tears falling freely as the videos just kept playing. One after another.
His children were growing up without him.
From tiny and fragile bundles to bumbling toddlers to fuck, full-sized little kids.
In what? Fifty minutes?
Five entire years of their life, condensed down to a handful of clips. The first steps he missed, the birthdays and holidays and father’s day he’d never get back.
They didn’t even look at the camera half the time. Too busy playing and giggling and laughing while you did your best not to cry in front of them. They didn’t know him.
Their father was barely more than a fucking video camera being pointed at them.
And you, god, his pretty, perfect you.
Still sending him these even when you had to think he was fucking dead.
Dark circles under your eyes and a hollowness to your face that only got worse over the years. Exhaustion in your expressions as you spoke to him like you didn’t think he was listening.
You mostly updated them on the kids' life. Skimmed over the details of a job you obviously didn’t like. Told him how Suguru’s mom had basically become their grandma. Sometimes Artemis would be on your lap, squinting at a book or playing with a toy while you talked.
His girls a wormhole away.
Gojo wanted to scream. Shout at the world to stop fucking spinning for a while so he could make it back to you.
But five years turned into six, and six turned into seven, and he watched in horror as it started to set in that he was losing you too.
What if it was too late?
What if you moved on? What if your life had no room left in it for him by the time he made it back to Earth?
The twins were already in school and playing sports and clearly didn’t miss the man they’d never met.
Would you stop missing him too?
He didn’t know how many videos he watched. Guessing the time jump between each one based on how much the twins had grown in the background.
You looked more mature now too. More put together, hair styled differently, no longer bare-faced when you turned the camera on, in a different room that obviously belonged to a house that wasn’t his home.
Toys weren’t scattered around everywhere in the background anymore. But sometimes the twins would run through with one of their friends, some pink-haired kid that seemed to come over often judging by the way you barely blinked when they passed behind you.
Gojo felt like a stranger.
Some creep looking in the window of a happy family and thinking it should be his.
“Mom,” Apollo whined, trying to tug on your sleeve as his shaggy white hair hung around his shoulders, attempting to drag you away while you were in mid-sentence. “Me and Cho made a cake. Come try it.”
“Sure, honey,” you softly said, cringing a little before glancing back at the camera apologetically before signing off.
Was Cho one of his friends? One of yours?
He didn’t actually want an answer.
But the next video seemed to clue him in on one anyway.
You were wearing a shirt that was too big for you. The collar of it stretched out, your hair mused and down as you softly spoke, like you were trying not to wake someone up.
It wasn’t Gojo’s shirt.
An awful feeling settled in his bones. One that etched deeper with every little off detail he noticed.
A pair of men’s shoes in the background. A watch left on your desk, barely in frame. The Cho the twins occasionally chattered about affectionately.
Who apparently was taking them to soccer games and science museums like he should be doing right now if he heard them correctly.
Gojo didn’t want to believe that you were dating again. Even if he knew that it would be the normal thing to do.
Completely reasonable for you to move on after not hearing a word from him in nearly a decade.
But the idea of you loving another man, letting him into your life, letting him take his space-
He puked.
Head between his knees as he got sick on the floor, throwing up a mixture of salt water he swallowed earlier and the freeze dried breakfast he had this morning. Funny, wasn’t it? He’d lost over ten years with you and his best friends in just a day.
An hour on that horrible planet had cost him a decade.
Body wracking with shudders as he coughed and spit, wiping the back of his mouth just in time to look up at you while those pretty lips of yours pressed in a thin line. Sadness shining in your eyes, frustration and disappointment you rarely let show evident in your trembling frame.
“It’s hard to keep hoping for you,” you admitted, reaching out to shut off the camera, and he desperately wanted to scream for you to not give up, to just fucking wait.
But then the computer chimed in that there was one video left the second the screen went black after you ended it.
His hand reached out, desperate to touch you, desperate to stop you, but your world was spinning faster than his was.
And your face was back on screen, something inside him wilting and withering at the realization that another year had probably passed for you, maybe even two, more that he would never be able to get back.
A few more faint lines were etched by your eyes, subtle creases left as a sign of all the time he missed with you. But you looked healthier. Happier.
His beautiful girl sitting there and smiling at him instead of screaming like you should’ve been. Cursing his name for not coming home sooner, scolding him for being a piece of shit that should’ve stayed on Earth.
“Hi, Satoru,” you spoke softly, fiddling with your hands. “Been a while since I’ve made one of these.”
He was terrified to know how long.
“The twins are good. They’re gonna be ten next month,” you continued, not looking directly at the camera as you talked. “They’re both smart, like you. Apollo’s been more into soccer than school these days though.”
He wanted to see him. See both of them.
Hold them too, know his children outside of the information you would tell some distant relative, even if that was all he felt like right now.
“Artemis wants to be a scientist when she grows up. She sits on the sidelines of his games with her nose buried in books,” you told him, a little smile reflexively curling up on your lips just from talking about them. “I wish you could see them. Wish you were here.”
His chest hurt.
Gojo didn’t know he stopped breathing until his body forced him to suck in a breath, lungs screaming for air as he stared at the woman he was supposed to marry.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.
The mission should’ve been routine. Simple.
Suguru should be setting up the navigation. He should be begrudgingly agreeing to being his best man and coming to the courthouse to witness the rushed ceremony.
“Sometimes,” you started, swallowing hard as your gorgeous eyes welled up with tears that threatened to spill out. “I dream of you. Us. Back in our old apartment in the creaky bed and the broken window. I wake up thinking I’m still there.”
The hard lump lodged in his throat was threatening to choke him entirely, the taste of bile still on his tongue as his nails digging crescent moons into his palms as he watched your mouth quiver.
“The government declared you dead a few years ago. One of your old colleagues came by one day, said that no one really knew for sure what happened, just that you missed the supply drop. Used a bunch of big words like I was too stupid to understand that the bottom line was that you weren’t coming home. Tried to make me feel better about it too,” you bitterly scoffed at the memory, resting your chin on your knees as you exhaled. On the brink of crumbling just recalling it, “Told me that you might’ve settled on a colony on a different planet or got stuck in some fucked-up time dilation. That you might still be alive out there somewhere.”
If his throat wasn’t already raw, he would’ve screamed at the screen that he was.
Wanted to beg you not to fucking believe whatever bullshit everyone else was feeding you and believe in him.
“You don’t feel dead,” you added. Sniffling a little, using the back of your hand to rub underneath your eyes. “Maybe it’d be easier to move on if you did.”
Even his relief was tainted by guilt, ruined with his own worry that he was ruining your future by wishing you’d be stuck on him forever.
“My therapist thinks I’m wasting my life waiting on someone who’s never coming back,” you murmured, speaking to him more like you were talking to your diary than truly believing he was going to hear any of it. “But how am I supposed to tell her I’m scared that some day you will, and I won’t be here?”
Everything hurt.
His body, his heart, his soul.
Aching for everything he’d lost. Everything you lost because of him. His own kids growing up without a fucking father because he was an idiot who put a career before his family.
The life he’d spent years carefully building towards lost because he miscalculated.
“I know it’s not fair, but fuck, thinking about you moving on with another girl, or fucking starting some colony up in space and having kids with someone else, makes me wanna throw up,” you admitted, clueless that he had just puked at the idea of someone else being the stepfather to his twins.
You hadn’t even confirmed-
“I’m being a hypocrite,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands to hide the fact you were crying — and that’s when it hit him.
The engagement ring on your finger wasn’t his.
Smaller. More subtle. A different cut and style.
No. You couldn’t-
“I’ve, um, been dating a guy for a few years. He’s sweet. Everyone loves to tell me how much you would’ve liked him,” you admitted, twisting the ring around your finger anxiously like you were confessing a sin. He didn’t like him. Already hated whatever bastard had snuck in and swept you off your feet. “They keep saying that you’d want me to move on.”
What a load of fucking shit.
The last goddamn thing he wanted was for you to move on. The idea of you marrying another man was enough for him to gag again, bile rising from his stomach as he struggled to stop it.
“I still love you,” you shrugged a little, guilt of your own etched in your face as his eyes stung with more tears. “I just love him too.”
Gojo would take getting stabbed over hearing those words from your lips again.
“Choso said maybe it’d make me feel better to make another video for you, y’know, get everything off my chest,” you exhaled. “I’m just so tired, Satoru.”
Okay, well, that kind of felt like being stabbed.
Knowing that this was all his fault and you were the one bearing so much of the burden.
“I know you’re probably never going to see this, but you’d want me to be happy, wouldn’t you?” You asked, eyes big and wavering as you struggled not to sob, reaching up to play with the silver chain of your necklace tucked under your shirt. “Would you hate me for choosing someone who cares about me and our kids?”
He could never hate you.
Even if you married ten other men while he was gone.
He would just always hate the man who got to call you their wife. Jealous of whichever one got to take family photos with you and take you on vacation and sleep next to you every night.
Gojo wanted to be that guy. Wanted to get down on his knees next to you now and dry your cheeks, kiss your mouth and murmur anything you wanted to hear just to make you feel better.
“I’m getting married in four months,” you murmured, wiping the tears away from underneath your eyes, mascara smearing on the back of your hand as you sniffled. “At that chapel we picked out. The one with the pretty hydrangeas out front.”
No no no.
He could still make it.
Couldn’t he?
If they skipped the supply drop entirely and went straight back through the wormhole?
Hadn’t he lost enough?
Gojo refused to let you slip through his fingers a second time. No matter how fast the hourglass was running out of sand.
You stood up, walking out of frame for a few seconds as he heard the sound of something unzipping. And then you came back, holding out something white and-
A wedding dress.
“You never got to see me in one, so I thought-” You didn’t finish your sentence, just swallowing hard as you draped it back down on furniture just out of sight.
The camera barely focused on your body as you peeled your clothes off, his breath hitching at the intimate sight of you slipping the dress on, struggling to zip the back by yourself before walking closer.
You looked like an angel.
And Gojo sorta wished he was dead.
Stuck in the stunned shell of his body as he watched the way the dress clung to your chest and flowed to the ground, his heart thrumming loud enough he was sure it was about to break through his ribcage.
And then a noise in the background startled you.
The thud of a door shutting. The excited clamoring of children, a girl giggling as a man said something he couldn’t quite make out.
Your face scrunched up, a million different emotions flashing across it as you both heard it at the same time. “We’re back, baby.”
Another man was calling you baby.
Footsteps echoing down a hallway he’d never gotten to walk down, your own body rushing over to block the door before it could open.
“I’m trying my wedding dress on, Cho,” you called out, lips pressing together in a pretty pout. “It’s bad luck if you see.”
“Yeah? We brought back your favorite takeout, want me to put it in the fridge or-” he started asking, his voice deep, gravelly.
“You can leave it out,” you replied, your voice softening as you spoke to him. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
You glanced back at the camera, guilt returning the second your stare hovered over at it.
And before Gojo could even really appreciate what a beautiful bride you made, you were rushing to get out of it, biting your lips before stuffing it back into a garment bag, putting your clothes back and returning to your seat.
“I’m sorry,” you said, fingers trembling as your hand reflexively reached for your necklace again. “I wish things were different.”
It could be.
It would be.
Even if a little voice in the back of his head suggested that you might not leave your current fiancé for him if he made it back in time.
That you might choose the man that had actually been there for you all this time.
Behind you, there was a knock on the door.
“Can I come in now?”
No.
This was supposed to be private, a one-sided conversation that was for his ears only, but you were glancing back over your shoulder.
“Yeah,” you quietly answered.
Gojo almost wished your fiancé was ugly. That it would make it easy for you to pick him instead.
But of course, he had to be annoyingly attractive, dark hair hanging around his shoulders and bangs that reminded him of the best friend he just damned as he casually walked over to you, concern etched into his sharp face as he leaned in to press a kiss on the top of your forehead.
“Everything okay?” He asked, but then his eyes shifted and he noticed what you were filming. “Oh, baby.”
The sound of someone who knew you were hurting. Who cared.
“I’m okay, really, I’m just saying goodbye,” you murmured, like they both couldn’t tell how close you were to breaking down.
“I’ll give you a few minutes,” he spoke gently, his touch lingering on your skin like it really was his now. “Apollo and Yuji want to go spend the night with one of their friends.”
Gojo wanted to strangle him.
Fly through the space and stars just to give him a black eye for just how casually he spoke about his son.
Although some sliver of him was well fucking aware that Choso had probably been more of a dad to Apollo than he’d ever gotten to be.
“That’s fine,” you shrugged, nodding a little as your body relaxed, tension lifting from your shoulders the longer you looked at him.
Gojo hated that he could see that you really did love him in your eyes.
See that familiar glimmer shining in them as you looked up at a stranger instead of him.
Choso left the room, but his presence didn’t.
You stared at the door for a few moments after it shut, but you didn’t say whatever you were thinking. Kept it bottled up before you eventually looked back at Satoru.
Not that you could even see him.
You thought you were talking to a ghost.
That’s all he’d become to you. To his children. A phantom haunting rooms he’d never entered. Lingering in empty spaces he should’ve been. A spectre living in the shadows of your heads.
“I miss you,” you murmured, reaching for the button one last time to shut it off. “I don’t think that will change. But I can’t keep believing you’re coming home.”
No. Please no.
He was.
“I love you, Satoru,” you half-whispered, choking the words out. “Goodbye.”
The screen went dark.
His reflection staring back at him. Cheeks wet with tears that wouldn’t stop, breaking down as he fell apart, nausea swirling as he forced himself to stand and step around where he’d thrown up, pacing the floor as his brain struggled to work through a problem he didn’t know how to solve.
He went back to the console, frowning when he tried to start recording to send a message back out to you, to beg you to just give him a little more time, but nothing happened.
Body and brain barely working together to frantically tap buttons, staring at what data was available to see if he could find when the transmission was received.
A faint flicker of hope stirring when he realized it had only been two days ago.
You weren’t married yet.
Maybe there was time.
And even if there wasn’t, he’d do his damndest to get there and wreck your marriage if it meant winning you back.
He was a wreck, stumbling out of the room to rush to find Shoko, nearly tripping on his own feet as he found her by the controls, her neat brunette brows scrunching together in disgust when she saw the state he was in.
“What the hell-”
Gojo wasn’t sure he was even speaking in full sentences when he started rambling about time dilation, about how they already missed a goddamn decade, her mouth curling down into a tight frown as he got into the details of how they needed to go home now.
“We don’t have the fuel,” she deadpanned, drawing his attention to the data on screen. “We can make it to our supply drop, but unless they have some there, we’ll probably be stuck on their settlement until another crew comes along.”
That wasn’t a fucking option.
They had to make it.
But even when he spent the next forty-eight hours crunching the numbers and calculating different ways to return, he still came to the same conclusion – Shoko was right.
And still said ‘I told you so’ when he said fine to going to the planet for the supply drop, figuring that at least if the load was lighter, he might be able to make what they had left stretch.
He was barely showering.
Barely eating.
Manic energy getting him through the long days and longer nights to avoid the dreams that would only mock him for all his failures.
They were just filled with your face, with Suguru’s, of children that called another man dad.
Filling his notebooks with different calculations he was desperate to get right this time.
Skin crawling with the fear that he’d fuck this up and lose you forever.
He didn’t get to mourn Suguru. Couldn’t mourn the years he missed.
Not if he didn’t want to miss the rest of them.
By the time they made it to the next planet, he was a wreck. Practically shoved in the shower by Shoko to get cleaned up before they landed, feeling ill when he was forced to get his suit back on, praying to whatever higher power might be out there to let there be fuel. Let him go home to his family.
This planet wasn’t full of water. Wasn’t one big ocean.
Landing in a lush green field, not far from real buildings, actual structures erected, fellow scientists rushing out to greet them as Shoko worked fast to unload the supplies with their help.
Gojo knew he probably sounded like a lunatic rushing to get his request for fuel out as soon as possible, counting the seconds in his head as he hoped that they weren’t months passing for you back home.
“I need to get back to my fiancée, my kids, please," he begged, pleading without caring how pathetic it came out when everyone here had given up their lives on Earth in the name of science and research.
“I’m sorry,” their de facto leader apologized, an astronaut he once grew up looking up to frowning at him as he glanced around at their simple setup to search for anything that could help him. “We don’t have any. There’s going to be another supply drop in a month, more people coming to live here. You could probably go back with them if-”
“No,” he accidentally interrupted, the word ripped from the back of his chest as he recoiled.
It couldn’t end like this.
He’d be too late if he stayed.
“Satoru,” Shoko hissed, pulling him back as his breathing got ragged, on the verge of a panic attack.
“Shoko, they don’t-”
“I know,” she cut him off, swallowing hard as she fixed him with her steady stare. “Look, I’ll stay here. You take the lander back. Without me and all this stuff, the fuel should last.”
“You want me to leave you?” He asked, automatically shaking his head no at the absurd suggestion.
“I don’t have anyone waiting for me back on Earth anyway,” she shrugged.
He didn’t have the seconds to debate it.
“Are you sure?” He asked, his chest already aching at the idea of being alone on the ship.
“Go get your wife back,” she huffed. “Name one of your next kids after me.”
“Deal,” he breathed, throwing her arms around her in a rushed hug before he had to sprint back to the lander.
Both his best friends left behind on planets he knew he’d never get back to.
And still, he wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to make it back to the one they came from.
He wasn’t even meant to be the navigator.
Wasn’t supposed to be the one frantically typing in coordinates and rushing through checklists to get back home.
Struggling and squinting at the consoles, breathing heavy when everything was inputted, running the numbers again and again.
He should make it.
Although, his current path put him at landing in some random field in the middle of nowhere, NASA would probably be rushing to get there once they realized it was one of their landers.
If only he could send out a fucking transmission.
He tried to figure out why it wouldn’t work, fiddling with it almost every day in failed attempts to fix it and rewatching your videos when his energy threatened to run out.
Gojo hadn’t cut his hair in months. That was something Suguru usually helped him with. It was nearly touching his shoulders, looking like a stranger in his reflection in the fogged-up mirror on the occasions he’d make himself shower and scrub his skin until it was practically red.
But maybe you liked men with longer hair now. Wouldn’t mind the fact that he changed too.
When he slept, he made it to the chapel just in time, rushing through the double doors right when the officiant asked if anyone objected.
He would whisk you away, dip you down and kiss you, fingers sinking into the silk of your wedding dress as he begged you to still be his.
Some part of him felt like it was all light years away.
Up until Earth was outside his window, his heart thrumming at the thought of you down there, sharing a bed with someone else while he was fighting so hard to come back to you. Did he fuck you as good?
Make sure you finished every single time? Dot your face with kisses and carry you into the bathroom? Make all your favorite foods and worship the ground you walked on every day?
Gojo didn’t know if he’d be able to handle knowing.
But fuck, if it meant he’d still get to have you, he’d share you with that asshole.
Gojo still couldn’t send a transmission, had no way of actually notifying anyone when he got in the lander, flipping switches and changing settings as he got behind the controls.
Shutting his eyes for a few seconds as he set the coordinates, palms sweating as he clutched the controls. If his math was right, today would be the day you were supposed to be standing at the altar.
He could do this.
Failing wasn’t an option.
Not after everything that had brought him here.
“I’m coming home, sweetheart,” he murmured, a little aware that he had probably lost it if he was talking to himself up here.
But he hoped you could feel him.
That even if you were wearing your wedding dress right now, you would be able to sense him somehow. Clinging to the hope that yours hadn’t completely faded yet.
The landing fucking sucked.
Hitting the ground too hard, his head snapping forward fast enough he was pretty sure he had a concussion or whiplash, body bracing for the impact as it skidded to a stop in a corn field an hour from that chapel he just toured with you last year. Even if it’d been more like twelve to you.
It still didn’t stop him from rushing to get out, nearly kissing the ground as he stumbled out. Sucking in the fresh air as he glanced around, his legs trembling as he forced himself to keep moving, well aware he definitely looked like shit even if he tried to clean himself up before his, ah, crash landing.
“Are you okay? What the fuck is-”
Gojo grimaced as he glanced up to find someone who pulled over on the side of the road, a stranger squinting at him and the wrecked lander in disbelief.
“Uh, could you give me a ride?”
Maybe the universe had decided to cut him some slack. Give him a helping hand as he sat in the passenger seat of a beat-up truck, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes as he noticed the new phone in the cupholder.
“Do, uh, you mind if I make a couple calls?” He asked, the distant sound of sirens echoing as they put mile after mile away from the lander – and inched closer and closer to you.
“Sure,” his new friend shrugged, using his face to unlock his phone at the next stoplight and passing it over.
Gojo still had your number memorized.
Even if you didn’t pick up the phone for him.
No voicemail box set up either, just the generic ‘please leave a message at the beep’ he didn’t have it in him to oblige. He hurried to dial one of his old contacts from NASA he remembered, not sure if Ijichi would pick up either.
But they did.
“Hello?” Ijichi croaked, almost sounding like he just woke up, or maybe was sick.
“Hey, it’s, uh, me,” he said, tapping his fingers on the side of the window. “I sorta crash landed. You guys are gonna want to send someone out to take care of clean up.”
“Satoru?”
“Yeah, it’s, um, been a bit, hasn’t it?” He awkwardly chuckled, rambling off the coordinates twice, sure that Ijichi was scrambling to get them down before he exhaled. “Look, I’ve got a wedding to crash. I’ll check in later.”
Gojo hung up before he could get caught up in any more stupid space bullshit.
He was finished.
Ready to spend the rest of his years devoted solely to you and his twins.
Would you be happy to see him?
Let him pick you up and press kiss after kiss to your mouth and promise that you missed him?
He’d spent so long daydreaming about it that he didn’t really know what to do when the truck pulled into the very much empty parking lot of the chapel.
Was he too early?
Too late?
Walking up to the double doors and pulling them open to find barren pews illuminated by stained glass windows. He walked around like an idiot, something pricking at the back of his brain that he wouldn’t listen to as he looked outside at the cemetery next to it.
He didn’t have a real reason for going back out there.
Just some invisible string tugging him there as he held his breath, searching for proof in the last place he wanted to find it.
And there it was.
Sitting underneath a willow tree waiting for him.
He stared at the gravestone. Your name etched into the stone – with another man’s last name attached to it.
His knees gave out. Collapsed underneath him as a broken sob racked through his body, hitting the hard ground as his body surrendered to the pain. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks, sucking in shallow breaths as he cried for the life you had.
The one he hadn’t been there to give you.
You couldn’t be-
Someone tapped on his back.
He turned fast, shaking as his eyes landed on your face. His pretty girl, probably a good twenty years older than him, aged like a fine wine as your mouth fell open in a surprised gasp. He reached out, fingers trembling as he nearly touched your cheek from his position on the ground, but you froze.
“Dad?”
It wasn’t you.
Artemis tried helping him up, tears springing up in her eyes as she immediately hugged him, his brain fractured as he realized that his daughter was here. His daughter was older than him. How much time had passed? How fucking off was he?
“Oh my god, it’s actually you, when I got the call, I didn’t think-”
“Artemis?” He breathed her name, wishing he’d gotten the opportunity to say it to her a million more times. “You’re-”
“Holy shit, I have to call everyone,” she grinned, her smile hurting his chest when it looked so much like yours. “Apollo isn’t gonna believe it. You know, you’re already, like, a great grandpa thanks to him, by the way.”
Every word was a fresh punch to the gut.
A great grandfather.
He never even got to be a father.
Missed his kids growing up, getting married, having kids of their own, and even them having kids.
“How long has it been?” He asked, his voice raw, broken chords of disbelief as Artemis' face twisted up, looking behind him as it struck her that he hadn’t known any of it.
“Since you left?” She awkwardly spoke, tilting her head as she scratched the back of her neck. There was a wedding band on her finger. Did your husband walk her down the aisle? “Um, about fifty years?”
Four months had been forty years.
Gojo couldn’t stop himself from crying again, wiping away his cheeks faster, ashamed of what he’d done.
A fool masquerading as a man.
Artemis awkwardly wrapped an arm around him, trying to soothe him as she used her free hand to send texts like he couldn’t see through the tears.
Sobs wracking through him as the dam inside him broke, reduced to rubble as he fell apart. Painfully aware that he was only inches away from you, and still no closer at all.
He’d never hold you again. Never touch you again.
Wouldn’t get to see your smile or hear your laugh, feel the warmth of your affection.
His children wouldn’t need him.
For a while, his daughter just sat there with him. Let him cry until he managed to halfway collect himself, his eyes swollen and sore as he struggled to breathe, body aching and stomach starving despite how sick he felt every time he looked up and saw your grave.
“She passed away last year,” Artemis muttered. “She’d been sick for a while.”
God, he felt like he was going to die right now.
Figured it would hurt less than hearing about everything he missed.
“She talked about you a lot. Made you out to be a big hero,” his daughter smiled softly, obviously trying to make him feel better. You should’ve turned him into the bad guy. “I actually work at NASA. God, she was pretty pissed at me when she found out I even applied, but I promised that I wouldn’t go to space so, uh-”
It seemed like she inherited his ability to shove his foot in his mouth, her lips clamping shut as she realized that maybe this wasn’t the time.
“Apollo’s a teacher now,” she abruptly changed the subject, and he didn’t know what to say.
Just staring at her in shock, unable to form proper sentences when he thought he was coming home to a preteen – not a fully grown woman who looked so much like you it hurt to breathe. “Oh, there he is.”
He looked over to see his son was walking down the path with an old man, talking between each other with furrowed expressions.
Watched the shock register on their faces when they saw Gojo there.
He didn’t know what to say when they finally approached, the thick silence and tension simmering in the air as he stared at Apollo.
Strands of silver in his white hair, blue eyes burning with emotions he didn’t blame him for. Resentment. Reproach.
“You’re-”
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he heard himself say, voice cracking painfully.
“Yeah,” his son huffed, arms folding across his broad chest. “Us too.”
“Apollo,” the older man next to him scolded, giving him a fatherly look that seemed so natural on his face before throwing Gojo a look that was almost like ‘kids, right?’ “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Choso.”
And despite the fact he had to be in his seventies now, Gojo still sort of wanted to hit him.
Rip the golden band off his finger and start a fight over the fact he’d gotten to spend decades with the love of his life.
“Was she happy?” He asked instead, hollowed out, no strength left in him to stand.
“She was,” Artemis softly confirmed, patting his shoulder like he was a child. And he wondered if she had kids too, or if even his son’s children were older than him now.
“She missed you,” Choso added, more mature than Gojo suspected he would ever be.
Because right now, he was filled with hate.
Anger and rage boiling and burning under the surface at the injustice of all of it. At everything he missed. Everything that should’ve been his that ended up in the hands of someone else because he was too stupid to hold onto you tight enough.
He hated Choso. Hated space. Hated the universe.
Mostly though, he hated himself.
“We should go get some food,” Artemis artfully pivoted away, trying to tug him upright. “You’re probably starving, right?”
Gojo thought he nodded, not that he was totally in tune with his body, dazed as he tried to sort through the thousand thoughts flooding through his mind.
Numbness creeping in now that he knew it had all been for nothing.
“Before I forget,” she murmured, taking off a necklace he hadn’t noticed her wearing. The thin silver chain weighed down by two rings dangling at the end. The engagement ring he once gave you – and a plain band of white-gold. “Mom always wore it. She told me she bought the band for you before you were supposed to come back and could never bring herself to put either of them away.”
She dropped it in his palm, his pulse pounding in his ears at the proof you never fully gave up on him. One last thread of you in his hands as he automatically unlocked the clasp and put it on himself, the weight of it sitting over his chest and tethering him back to reality.
To the two children he made with you standing in front of him now he was still lucky enough to meet.
Artemis interlocked her arm with her brother, laughing at something he said before immediately beginning to bicker about where to eat at, who to call next.
Giggling about their sister, his throat closing at the confirmation you had another baby after him. That you lived a full life he’d only get to see second-hand. Through photos and stories instead of in person.
Apollo grumbled something under his breath, throwing a glare back at Gojo, still protective over you after you passed. Artemis just elbowed her brother though, tossing the hair back over her other shoulder that reminded him of you.
And some depressing part of him wondered if that’s what you and him would’ve looked like together one day if he stayed.
He would never get to know.
His eyes drifted back to your grave. And then the one next to it.
His name etched next to yours. A plot you must have purchased for him back when you thought you’d never get his body back.
A loving fiancé and father.
Gojo was grateful he would at least get to be buried next to you one day.
Nerd!Choso hc
Nerd!choso x bully!reader deleted it on accident, sorry </3 will reupload a new one later
nerd!choso x bully!reader pt.2
Guitar Freak!!
⛩ Sukuna:
Begging Sukuna to put you in a headlock!
dad!Sukuna
"Puberty fairy?" I'm the hormone monster.
A shaved cat, is no cat.
Making trueform!Sukuna wear a hamster onesie
I'm hungry
malevolent kitchen
Cue the kiss!
∞ Gojo:
nerd!gojo is such a perv!
boyfriend ASMR
⋅⋆⛓⋅⋆Toji:
Dick real big, everything real big
Toji is a pervert.
Beefy maid at the muscle cafe!
Just 5 dollars?
˚˙✧˖°⚖︎⋆｡ ˚ Higuruma:
Higuruma is a weak man for your lips.
I'm your secretary...!
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ JJk x reader
Multiple
JJK! men as dog hybrids
Computa, make these guys supa gay and horny.
He’s said it before—half joking, half not. That he wanted to be under your skin. That being close wasn’t close enough.
You used to laugh at it. Call him dramatic. Tell him he was being weird.
Tonight, though, he’s quiet.
He’s pressed against you like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you from the inside.
You’re starting to think maybe he wasn’t exaggerating.
You’re on the bed—face to face.
Your clothes ended up on the floor hours ago.
You’re naked—nothing between you but warmth.
So close your knees knock when one of you shifts. Your feet tangled. His breath warm against your mouth.
You’re heavy on one of his arm. The other is slung around your middle, palm flat against your back like he’s keeping you there.
“Mm,” he hums against your mouth. “Why’d you move?”
He shifts again, fitting himself closer.
You move with him without thinking.
The angle changes—not subtle enough to ignore.
Heat.
A sudden, unmistakable brush.
His tip presses at your entrance.
Your eyes lock.
Neither of you look away.
He exhales slowly—too slowly.
Silence, except for your breath mingling between you.
He doesn’t move.
His hand at your waist tightens just enough to feel it.
His thumb presses into your skin, grounding.
His chest rises once.
The space between you feels thinner.
His thumb presses harder—then eases.
“Relax,” he says.
“I’m not even doing anything.”
His gaze flicks down—before he forces it back up.
“Then why are you breathing like that?” you whisper.
His Adam’s apple bobs once.
His thumb digs in before he catches himself.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he mutters, almost under his breath.
Your fingers curl into his shoulder.
You shift your hips—just enough.
His breath catches.
“…shit,” he breathes.
He buries his face into the crook of your neck.
His breath is warm. Uneven.
He exhales slowly, like he’s reminding himself of something.
“I promised,” he murmurs against your skin.
“I said I wouldn’t do anything.”
His hands haven’t loosened on your hips.
If anything, they’re holding you closer.
“How long are you planning to stay like this?” you whisper, your breath brushing his ear.
…
“Couple minutes,” he answers.
His grip tightens.
“Don’t do that.”
Your fingers still on his shoulder.
“Toru…” you breathe, softer now.
“You’re shaking.”
He lifts his head from your neck—just to search your eyes.
His lashes lower slightly, breath still uneven.
You hook your leg over him, pulling him closer.
His eyes search yours again—quick, checking.
His hands still on your hips.
“Are you—” His voice roughens.
He swallows. “You sure?”
You don’t look away.
Your fingers tighten at his shoulder.
“Yeah.”
His jaw tightens once.
He exhales through his nose—decision made.
“Okay.”
Then he grinds slowly.
Deeper.
He watches the way your pussy takes him, inch by inch.
Your chest against his, foreheads almost touching.
His eyes locked with yours—refusing to look anywhere else.
“I swear I could stay like this forever.” The words spill low against your lips.
Your fingers curl harder into his shoulders, nails dragging lightly.
“Toru—Toru—Mmph.” His name slips from your mouth, soft and wrecked.
The stretch makes you gasp—he feels that.
He loves how warm you feel—how you wrap around him.
He stays there for a second too long, like pulling back would feel like losing something.
“You feel too good to hurry,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
His bottom lip catches between his teeth.
He watches your face like it matters more than anything else—the way your lashes flutter, the way your mouth parts—in a sweet oh when he sinks a little deeper.
Your eyes close—as you feel him hitting softly at the back of your cervix, that sensitive spot inside.
He changes his angle when your brows pinch—just to see if he can pull that expression from you again.
He wants to be the reason you make that face.
His jaw flexes—eyes closing for a second as it hits him too.
“…Fuck.”
“You like it slow… don’t you?”
Between your thighs, you’re already wet—answer enough.
Your breath stutters—your fingers clutching his shoulders instead of dragging—as he tips you over the edge.
“Yeah… there you go.” he encourages as you come.
Then he goes still—just stays there—buried deep—breathing against your mouth.
His forehead resting on yours.
His hand slides up your spine—like he’s memorizing you.
“Look at me,” he murmurs.
And when you do—
His thumb brushes your cheek.
“I don’t want to pull out,” he admits, voice low.
“Not yet.”
“I like being here,” he whispers. “Inside you. Like this.”
His breath evens out.
“Don’t make me leave yet.” His thumb traces your cheek again. “Just… let me stay like this a little longer.”
