Satoru Gojo y Akari Itoyama entrelazan sus historias desde la adolescencia como estudiantes de hechicería. La presencia en la vida del otro, aunque es intermitente, es significativa: el primer beso, misiones, pérdidas, discusiones y en el futuro, parentar a un hijo. Una historia sobre madurar y las segundas oportunidades.
Tags:
Idiots in Love, Fanfic en español, Slow Romance, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, primer beso, primera vez, Virgin Gojo, Masturbación, Diálogos sugerentes, Arriba los fanfics en español, Maternidad, Domestic Fluff, Satoru no entiende indirectas, Gojo es un ícono bisexual en ésta historia, Soft Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru Being an Idiot, Possessive Gojo Satoru, Fluff and Smut, Bisexual Gojo Satoru, satosugu, Demisexual Gojo Satoru, Se irán añadiendo tags a medida que avance la trama
Lista de capítulos
Capítulo 1: El primer beso
Capítulo 2: Empatía Maldita
Capítulo 3: Come Back Home
Capítulo 4: Genética
Capítulo 5: Speciallz
Capítulo 6: El espíritu del templo
Capítulo 7: Una situación pegajosa
Capítulo 8: Una flama se enciende
Capítulo 9: Visitantes
Capítulo 10: El desfile nocturno de los 100 demonios
On Saturday I said to my partner, as I have said for months, "A ten thousand dollar a year raise would solve so many of my problems."
As of this morning I was reluctantly looking for jobs because I love my job and don't want to leave it, but see: $10k raise problem solver.
As of noon today this was no longer an issue, because my boss called me with the news that I was getting a $10K merit raise.
I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. This is roughly $200 extra per paycheck. Enough to pay off debt faster, rebuild my savings, and spend a weekend a month in Milwaukee getting obscenely laid. The sex I'm going to have on $200 extra per paycheck. You can't even.
May all of you get the $10K raise your soul has yearned for. And whatever level of sex you can be satisfied with for $200.
Hoy me puse a estudiar las formas de estructurar un guion, primero revisando viejas notas de la escuela (extraño las clases de mi profesor) y posteriormente leyendo artículos en internet sobre el tema. ¿Debía estar trabajando? Probablemente. Pero hay una frase por la que me rijo últimamente: "Neglect the unimportant", o sea, ignora lo que no es importante. Claro que trabajar es importante, pero en este momento, no es urgente, así que puedo aplazarlo un poco.
a pic from yuuji’s camera roll <3 little harder to look back on after shibuya but he can’t bring himself to delete it (it’d be like losing them all over again)
Fanfic is a great way to practice self-indulgence while writing. It doesn’t even have to be good, it just exists purely for your pleasure, be a little freak about it. Worry about quality and what other people think when it comes to works you intend to publish in a formal setting
⌗ GOJO SATORU / 五条 悟
gojo satoru x f!reader · college au · friends to lovers
◞♡ “wait, why is satoru all over your sketchbook?”
◞ 001. premise
you have been secretly sketching satoru in your sketchbook for class. probably. maybe. it is completely reasonable until he finds it, sees himself all over the pages, and decides the best possible solution is offering to be your nude model.
◞ 002. file details
rating · 18+ only. minors do not interact.
status · work in progress
word count · currently 11,600
chapters · 02 / ??
◞ 003. contains
college au · friends to lovers · mutual pining · art student!reader · athlete!satoru · awkward romance · fluff · hurt/comfort · idiots in love · attempt at humor · satoru being satoru about literally everything · masturbation · nude modeling · more tags to be added
◞ 004. from the author
updates are a little irregular, but i’m trying my best. please be patient with me and don’t ask for updates. i also don’t do tag lists, so please don’t ask to be added to one. likes, reblogs, comments, and little thoughts in my inbox are always loved <3
˚₊✩‧₊summary: You're a manager at Jujutsu Kaisen and lets just say you and Nanami Kento are very acquainted now...enough to play nurse for him and do much much more...
*this picks up right where the last chapter finished so please check that out if this is your first time here!
enjoy!
˚₊✩‧₊tags: nanami x fem!reader, explicit smut (mdni) !!
˚₊✩‧₊ word count: 10k....sorry divas i got carried away yet again
˚₊✩‧₊author's note: hey mamas...its me again, dropping another chapter for yall. thank you to everyone who sent encouraging messages! for now i might just post on tumblr...im scared of the ao3 curse, it really got my ass last time i posted. this chapter was originally shorter but...i added a little action at the end because i couldnt' help myself !! any way enjoyyyyy !!
˚₊✩‧₊this is also kind of inspired by Stay Soft by Mitski (iykyk)
taglist at the end and feel free to let me know if you want off or if want to be added!
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Shoko definitely got carried away.
You knew you were in for it the moment you entered the infirmary and saw small cages full of curses. You recognized them as the little grade four curses from the museum.
“Here take this.” Shoko said, handing you one as soon as you walked in.
You frowned and carefully took it from her, “I was hoping I’d never have to see one of these again.” You grabbed the creature tightly as it wriggled in your grip.
Shoko picked up a scalpel from her tools and moved the blade close towards the curse. You pulled your hand back. “Woah there, what exactly are we doing with that?”
Shoko furrowed her brows. “What, do you want to protect it all of a sudden?”
“No it’s just…” you looked at the little creature struggling in your hands. “Feels weird.”
She gave you an odd look but didn’t push further. “Fine.”
She opened the cage and pulled out another curse. You were still confused.
She held it up, level to the one you were holding. The creatures growled at each other. “Let go on the count of three, okay?”
“You’re just gonna let them fly loose in here?”
She shrugged. “Are you squeamish?”
“I don’t really think I could afford to be squeamish in this field…”
She smiled slyly. “One, two, three- Let go!” She let go first and you watched as the yellow creature zoomed towards the one in your hands. You let go and the two curses flew at each other violently. You watched as they clumsily tore at each other, clawing and growling as they fought. You winced as you saw one damage the other’s wing which sent both of them tumbling to the ground in a tussle.
“Okay, okay that’s enough.” Shoko said as she quickly grabbed the winning creature back and handed it to you. It squirmed, still screeching at the other, which was crawling on the floor, its wing twisted at an awkward angle.
She picked up the injured one and put it on the table. It was no threat now. “Heal it,” she said to you.
You nodded understanding, and gripped the curse in your hand tightly, trying to remember how you had instinctually absorbed their CE during the fight at the museum. You took a deep breath and you suddenly felt a warm flow into your palm. You smiled successfully.
You looked back at the injured curse and hesitated before touching it. “I don’t know if I can heal it exactly. It’s like I said, I have to imagine what I’m doing.
Shoko pursed her lips pensively. “I wonder…” she muttered to herself. “Heal its leg first, right there, where there’s a gash. It should be easy, it’s just flesh.”
You put a single finger on the curse’s small leg and imagined the warm energy flow through you from your right hand up your arm, into your chest and down your left arm into your left palm. You both watched as the skin stretched over the injury. You pulled back and looked at Shoko. She poked the leg and the creature yelped.
“Hmmm,” she said pensively.
“What?”
“Now heal the wing,” she said. You went to touch it but she stopped you. “I want you to…be a little creative as you heal the wing. Instead of fixing it to the way that it was, change it. Straighten it, make the wing longer, thinner, more like a bat wing.” You furrowed your brows trying to understand what she meant. You touched the small torn wing and it just patched the skin. Shoko pointed at the curse in your left hand. “Take more, destroy him.”
You nodded.
The curse shrieked as you tightened your grip and drew the energy out of it. It disintegrated in your hand.
“Now shape the wing.”
You looked back at the curse, it was fluttering its wings attempting to fly. You grabbed the wing again and transferred the energy to it. Something in your brain clicked and you were able to imagine the newly CE imbued wing as something malleable. You could see a faint glow in it now. You moved your hand towards the base and pulled.
The wing stretched, thinning as you felt the clay-like flesh mold to your touch. You had expected the creature to shriek and retaliate but it hadn’t. It was still trying to flutter its wings but only the undamaged one moved.
Once you thought you had pulled it as much as you could, you let go and looked at Shoko. She had a mischievous smile on her lips, like she had figured something out.
“How did you know that would work?” You asked her.
She didn’t answer but instead grabbed the scalpel from the table and looked at the curse’s leg again. She poked one more time and it hissed. She grabbed the scalpel and cut the leg. She nodded as she observed the wound. She flipped it to see its new wing and she grabbed the tiny base. The creature once again shrieked. “Hmmm.”
“What-”
“You’re not exactly healing as much as you’re using a technique to transfigure objects into new things. It’s interesting. The cut on the leg…you only healed the top layer of skin, the wound is still there. The wing too, you closed the wound, but the nerves and tendons aren’t right so it can’t move its wing.”
You frowned. “So what I did was basically useless.”
“No, it’s a good start. It’s a good way to stop external bleeding, so that’s handy. And you were able to heal yourself previously without really knowing how so there’s definitely potention…Anyway, at least I know what I’m working with now.” She took the scalpel and stabbed the curse through the chest, watching as it turned to dust on the counter. “It’s like you said, your lack of anatomical knowledge plays a part in what you do. I’m honestly impressed.”
“Impressed?”
“Well you figured out a way to get around the fact that you don’t produce a lot of cursed energy. Absorption is just something that’s…”
“Taboo, yeah you mentioned that.”
“Well there was a sorcerer here–an ex-sorcerer who would absorb curses and he was able to store and summon them at will. Different from what you seem to be able to do but it made for a cool party trick.” She sighed, “You seem to only be able to absorb and expel equal amounts, I mean you used all of the CE in that curse and put it towards your task. I also noticed you didn’t stop until you had used it all up, was there a reason?
“It makes me feel sick,” you said.
“Sick?”
“It makes me feel…uneasy, I don’t know how to explain it. The cursed energy is just… it feels wrong. Foreign in my body, I can feel the toll it takes on me.”
“Has that happened before? How did you get it out?”
“Well,” you thought back to the museum. “Out of desperation to expel the energy, I poured it all into the floors in the museum. I don’t know how to explain it, I just put my hands on the ground and released it. The ground turned black like it was burned and it cracked.”
Shoko looked confused. “I’ll ask Ijichi for photos, I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.” She crossed her arms. “I mean I can visualize it, but how? How does the dispelled energy affect non organic matter, is the ground now cursed? Can you create cursed objects this way? Did you create a different kind of energy output altogether?” She was mumbling all this to herself quickly as she worked through the possibilities. “We need to go bigger,” she said looking back at the cage of small yellow curses.
“Are we going to do more tests on the curses?” You asked with a grimace.
She shrugged, “I’d rather have them here than out there plucking some toddlers eyes out.” She looked back at you. “Besides, I need to understand all aspects of how you work before I can start teaching you.” She looked down at her watch. “Are you interested in going to medical school?”
“Not really…”
“Good, it’d be a waste of your time. There’s nothing you could learn there that I couldn’t teach you here. For what we do anyway.” She sighed and pulled out a cigarette. “Go enjoy the last seven minutes of your lunch break, I’ve got some thinking to do.”
You nodded and went to grab your things.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” you said, reaching into your bag. You pulled out a container with the bread you had made that morning. “I made some pastries for breakfast, I saved one for you.”
She looked at you surprised and then down at the bread. She took it and started laughing. You looked at her confused, “Sorry, it’s just you reminded me of someone just now.” She opened the container and looked at the melon bread. “It’s been a while since I’ve had one of these.” She suddenly had a somewhat somber look on her face, it reminded you of the look Nanami had when he had tried them too.
“Does Melon Bread make everyone nostalgic? I thought it was just me.”
“I have some good memories with it,” she shrugged. “Who else have you seen react like that?”
“Nanami this morning.”
“So you were together this morning, huh? Did he spend the night?” She asked, coming closer to you.
You felt your face suddenly burn up. “No, he didn’t. He just met me for breakfast at my place. That’s all,” you said a little too quickly.
“Tell me more. I can’t get anything out of him,” she pouted.
“I thought you had some thinking to do.”
“I can’t think if my attention is elsewhere. Now tell me, has he explained to you-”
“Ieri.” You both turned to look at Nanami at the door. “Please, don’t torment her.”
Shoko clicked her tongue in annoyance and backed away. “I was just asking.” You let out a little sigh of relief as Ieri walked back towards the steel countertop. “Get out of here, both of you. You’re contaminating my lab.”
You turned to look at Nanami again. He looked stoic, with his arms crossed and his silver glasses covering his eyes. You smiled at him and saw the tips of his ears turn pink. You grabbed your bag and made your way out of the infirmary with him. “Thank you for today!” you said to Shoko as you walked out.
“How did it go?” he asked, walking alongside you.
“I’m afraid the more time I spend with her the more confused I am about what I can do,” you said looking at your hands and sighing. You had noticed your palms felt warm. You looked at your fingers and noticed they were a bit red. Now that you thought about it, after the museum fight your hands had felt raw and sore, like you had been carrying immense weight on them. Was that an effect of the curse’s energy transfer?
Nanami reached forward and gently took your wrists, flipping your hands up and pulling them towards him. You saw his brow furrow as he examined your reddened skin.
You looked at him and gave him a reassuring smile. “It looks worse than it feels. I didn’t even notice until just now.” You pulled your hands back. “I’ll mention it to Shoko in our next meeting.” He seemed satisfied with that. “Did you eat lunch already?”
He sighed and nodded. “I’m about to head out on a lead, I thought I’d stop by to check on you before I left.”
You blushed. “Check on me?”
“In case Ieri got carried away like I said.”
You shook your head, “We only made two curses fight each other to death.” He gave you a questioning glance. You laughed and smiled at him. “Where is your mission taking you today?”
“It’s relatively close, I should be back by the end of the day…” He looked like he wanted to add something else but hesitated.
“I see…” You looked back at your hands before asking,
“Did you-
“Would you-”
You both laughed as you spoke over each other. “Go ahead, I apologize,” he said.
You laughed. “No it’s alright. I think we were probably going to ask each other the same thing,” he smiled softly at that. “Did you want to go home with me?” you asked, your face flushing with embarrassment.
You watched his cheeks go rosy. “I would love to.”
“Okay,” you replied, you looked up into his glasses and saw your reflection in his lenses. Your cheeks were red too. “I’m glad I set up Messi’s food bowl and litter box before we left.”
He cocked his head. “I was under the impression we would be spending the night at your place.”
“Oh, really?” You said, shocked. “Wouldn't you want to go back to your place? It's so much nicer…”
“It doesn't feel as genuine as yours.” You furrowed your brows in confusion.. “My apartment looks the same way it did when I moved in, save for the books on my shelf and my closet,” he explained. He crossed his arms. “I’m hardly ever there except to rest.”
“I mean we will be resting won’t we?” He nodded. “I’m actually getting off a little early today. The tasks assigned to me should be resolved pretty quickly but I’ll wait for you to get back.”
“So do you want to go back to my place? I’m indifferent, I would just like to spend the night with you.” You saw the blush deepen on his cheeks. “Not-not that we have to do anything. That’s not what I’m implying. I would just like to spend more time with you, you’re good company. I haven’t had a morning go as smoothly as it did when I woke up to the sight of you.”
You stopped walking and looked at him. He smiled warmly at you and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. “Your place it is then,” you said softly. He reached a hand out to gently push your hair behind your ear. He let his hand linger and placed it on your cheek lightly. You smiled as you looked up at him.
He suddenly lifted his hand and returned it to his side. His gaze was now once again steely. You tilted your head in confusion at his sudden mood change.
He was looking behind you at someone approaching. Was it Gojo? You thought.
As you were about to turn he placed a hand on your arm. “I have to go, I’ll let you know when I return. Thank you.” He gave your arm a light squeeze before walking past you towards the oncoming person.
You finally turned to look and felt a chill go up your spine as your eyes met with a single dark purple eye.
It was Mei Mei, you smiled politely as she stared you down, a wicked smile on her face. This had to be the first time you had ever felt her eyes on you. She hardly ever interacted with the auxiliary managers on staff and had a reputation of speaking down to them. Not that it was unusual for sorcerers to do that already, but her words were known to be especially biting and harsh.
You watched Nanami’s back as he walked up to her. You strained to hear what he was saying but gave up as you saw her smile grow wider and, not breaking eye contact with you, snaked a hand onto Nanami’s arm. He stiffened and you could only imagine the frown he had on his face. Your eyes went back to Mei Mei and you bowed slightly before turning and heading out of the building.
-
“I wouldn’t take it to heart, I mean, she’s known to be a bit of a bitch.”
“I’m not,” you said to Akari as you recounted your brief interaction with Mei Mei. “It’s just…I don’t know, she scares me.”
“What, do you think she’s gonna do something to you?”
“I just have a bad feeling.”
“Fair enough,” Akari sighed. “I thought you were off already, why are you still here?”
“Oh, I’m waiting for Nanami to come back from his mission.”
She smiled and snapped her head towards you. “Are you spending the night at his place?”
You blushed. “Yeah.”
“You slut,” she said teasing. “Is he at least buying you dinner first?”
“Akari…”
“Are you embarrassed? You’ve already told me about the car sex, which reminds me- I have so many questions. You were too upset last time and I couldn’t pry, but now you have to tell me everything. Has it only been once? Have you done it again? What was he like? Is he big? I bet Daisuke that he-”
“You told Daisuke?” you asked, horrified.
“No, no, don’t worry, I would never. We were talking about which sorcerers seem like they fuck and it came up.” You had a confused expression on your face. “Yaga fucks, Shoko fucks, Utahime could if she wanted to, and Gojo definitely doesn’t but god does he try.”
“What did you say about Nanami then, why were you talking about his…dick?” you whispered.
She laughed. “We agreed that he’s in the same category as Utahime, he could if he wanted to, and as I happen to know, he wants to.” She punched your arm playfully. “And I don’t know, it just came up naturally after our conversation. So is he? I bet he is.”
“I’m not telling you that,” you said to her. She frowned playfully. You turned your head and crossed your arms. “You guys have too much free time.”
“Fine, but tell me what else you guys have done. I feel like everything is so sudden. You were telling me you hated his guts like two days ago and now you literally only talk about him.
“Sorry,” you said, wincing as you realized she was right.
She shook her head. “I’ve made you listen to all of my stupid boy drama, it's my turn to be all ears.”
“I mean there’s not much to tell…we’ve both admitted that we like each other.”
“Have you guys messed around again?” She smiled as she saw your face go red. “Wait, did he take you home after the whole ordeal with the finger? He’s ruthless.”
“We’ve…we’ve just been having fun.” She elbowed you and squealed. “I don’t know, I mean we had breakfast at my place this morning and we text here and there.”
“What kind of stuff does he text you? I just can’t wrap my head around him being lovey dovey. He’s always so serious.”
“He is pretty short with his texts but I don’t mind, I mean you know I hate texting and he’s a bad texter too. He asked me if I was busy and then just wished me a good night. I thought he was going to ask for something else…”
She broke out into laughter “Do you even know how to have phone sex?
Your face got red again and you closed your eyes as she continued to laugh “Can you say that any louder?” you said through your teeth.
“Sorry, sorry, it's just so funny, I mean I was hoping for you to have a wild streak eventually, but everything has played out so quickly.” She continued laughing. “I’m glad everything is working out for you! Now what’s next?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is this a casual thing? Are you both keeping it a secret? Is there something deeper? Has he asked you to be his girlfriend? What’s he in this for?”
You were a bit flustered by her questions. “I…I don’t know. I haven’t really asked him yet. It's all moving really fast….I..I don’t think we need to put a label on it…”
“You don’t sound very convincing,” she said with a small smile.
You were silent for a bit. “I’m cool with whatever he wants to do,” you said. “I’m having fun, and I’m sure he’s having fun too. We’re not hurting anyone.”
“You’ll end up hurting yourself if you keep acting like you’re indifferent,” Akari said. You frowned. “I know you, casual isn’t your thing, don’t lie to yourself. Just ask him what he wants. Fuck, let me ask him if you don’t want to.” She turned to look at you, narrowing her eyes. “What do you want out of this? You gonna marry him? Have a family with him? Or is it just something to pass the time?”
You furrowed your brows, “I don’t know.”
“What does your heart say?” Akari asked in a teasing tone.
“Shut up,” you said with a laugh.
“Okay, but I’m serious. When two people start a relationship and are completely infatuated with eachother they fuck like rabbits. It's fun, but eventually that goes away. What’s gonna happen then? You’ve never been the type to be careless about who you spend your time with. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I appreciate it.” you said with a grimace.
“And if he breaks your heart, I’ll make his life hell. I’ve got your back.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” You sighed deeply. “I just think it's all a little complicated because of the way this started.”
“True, but I’m afraid it would have been an incredibly tense and boring slow burn otherwise.” You stuck your tongue out at her. “You two would have been paired up for assignments a lot more anyway,” she said looking back at her notes.
“What do you mean?”
“Since Gojo brought the Okkotsu kid, Ijichi has been assigned to take him to most of his missions, so Nanami needs a new manager to take him to and fro. I would have assigned you to him,” she said teasingly. “But now I feel like it’d be a conflict of interest so I’m sending Daisuke as backup.”
You nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Also I wouldn’t want to be cleaning up your messes if you got freaky in the car again.”
“Oh my god, shut up,” you said laughing and burying your face in your hands.
She laughed. “You two would have eventually found each other.”
You looked up at her. “You know Ijichi said something similar yesterday.” She looked at you curiously. “He said it was only natural he would talk to me eventually.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Hmmm, maybe he had a crush on you too.”
“Wishful thinking…”
Akari shrugged. “You’re selling yourself short. You’re a catch.”
You smiled sarcastically, “Thank you.”
Her phone pinged as she received a notification. “Nanami and Ijichi are back, they’re debriefing in the infirmary. Get out of here and go home. We’re still good for tomorrow right?”
You nodded, “Come up with a place to eat, I also sort of need to go shopping.”
She smiled mischievously, “Say less.”
As you headed downstairs to Shoko’s office, you wondered what might have happened to keep them so long, it was almost 6 pm. Akari had insisted they were okay but a part of you knew that they wouldn’t go to Shoko unless it was semi-serious.
As you went down the stairs you caught Ijichi coming up. He looked a bit frazzled.
“Ijichi!” you said cheerfully. “Everything okay?” He looked up at you with a timid expression, his eyes were red like he had been crying. You reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, “Are you okay?” you repeated.
He nodded quickly. “I made a mistake, It’s nothing.” You frowned, confused. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing to me?” You said with a smile. He choked a sob and you suddenly felt your stomach sink. “Is..is Nanami okay?”
“Yes-” he said quickly. “Yes, thank goodness, he’s okay. I made a big mistake, I promise it will never happen again.” You could tell he was trying his best not to cry again.
“I believe you,” you said calmly. “Go upstairs, get cleaned up and go home. You’ve had a long day.”
He nodded and bowed slightly before continuing past you up the stairs.
You looked back at him as he made his way up. You were confused but then remembered he had a habit of crying when Nanami chewed him out over something. You wondered what had happened this time.
As you approached the infirmary you heard voices speaking and hesitated. If Mei Mei was in there, you really didn’t want to see her again. You stayed at a distance and listened but only faintly heard Nanami and Shoko’s voices. You continued on your way only to stop again when you heard your name in the conversation.
“I was shocked, it was just so funny,” Shoko said. “It was just like him. I mean, down to the type of bread he used to bring back. Tasted just like it too.”
“I was taken aback as well,” Nanami said softly. Were they talking about the pastries you had made? You stood by the door listening.
“The world works in mysterious ways,” Shoko said, taking a puff from her cigarette. “She resembles him a lot, it’s uncanny sometimes. I’m sure his grandmother saw that in her too, don’t you think?”
“I’m sure she did…maybe that’s why I was so hesitant,” Nanami said.
You heard Shoko let out a deep sigh. “You’ve been living your life haunted by his death, Nanami. I don’t think you’ve ever given yourself the opportunity of letting him go. Even when you left us and spent that time away from here, you came back the same.” There was a silence before Shoko continued. “He cursed you in a way.”
Nanami responded in a low voice, you couldn’t make out what he said.
“I’m not implying anything, but you have to admit the timing was really something. You left to get away from all memories of him and then she showed up in your life.” Shoko chuckled. “She seems more like a blessing than a curse, though. You should treat it as one. A final gift from our dear old friend.”
Silence again.
“What if…what if she’s right,” Nanami said.
“Don’t piss me off.” Shoko snapped. “Give Y/N more credit than that. You were right to speak up. But you have a point, she might make things more difficult for you. You’ve never been good at saying no.”
“Believe me, I’ve gotten better.” He sighed, “Besides it's my fault for falling for her bait. I’ll tolerate it until she gets bored and moves on.”
“Won’t be hard with that stellar personality of yours,” Shoko said. “I do worry she won’t only go after you though. Out of the two of you, our little manager girl is an easier target.”
You were confused, what were they talking about now? Was he talking about you? Tolerate..what was there to tolerate? You knew you were jumping to conclusions but you couldn’t help to think over his words again.
“What are we listening for?” You yelped and quickly turned around at the sound of a voice by your ear. It was Gojo. “Oops,” he said with a cocky smile. You put a hand over your heart and tried your best to smile back politely.
“You scared me,” you said.
“Oh, Y/N!” Shoko’s voice rang out. You had moved into their line of sight in the doorway. “We were just talking about you.”
“All good things I hope?” Gojo said, walking into the room before you. He whistled, “Ouch, Nanami. It’s been a while since I saw you so bandaged up.”
At that, your head perked up and you walked in to see Nanami.
He smiled timidly at you. He had bandages wrapped across his neck and shoulder.
“What happened?” You asked, looking at Shoko.
“He’s getting soft,” Gojo teased. Nanami shot him a look.
“I got caught in a curse user’s trap,” Nanami said, annoyed.
“A trap!” Gojo said, “I wouldn't have expected you to make such a rookie mistake.”
“It’s…complicated.”
Shoko tapped her pen on the metallic desk, “I should have called you to look at the wound, Y/N.” She looked down at her notes, “The curse user used poison to coat the weapons. I could heal the physical wounds, but poison is a little more complicated. It’s gonna take some time, and a couple of sessions to extract and wash out,” she looked up from her notes. “Who would have known cartoon style booby traps would be so effective against sorcerers.”
Gojo laughed. “Did you set off a trip wire and have a piano release down the stairs or something?” Nanami frowned, annoyed at his comment.
“Close, the trip wire released an array of katanas from the ceiling,” Shoko said with a sigh. Nanami stiffened as Gojo cackled.
“You’re serious?” Gojo said, still laughing, “Nanami you really are going soft! It only took a couple of days, what is she doing to you?”
You looked at Nanami expecting a snarky reply but he just smiled softly.
“What are you doing here Gojo?” Shoko asked.
“Eh? Do I have to have a reason to be here?”
“You especially,” Shoko retorted.
“I wanted to see if Okkatsu’s results were back yet,” he said.
“I told you it would take a couple of weeks,” Shoko said, annoyed.
“Really? I thought you were kidding,” he sighed.
“Why would I lie about that?” She exhaled irritatedly. “What else do you want?”
“I think little Megumi’s coming down with a cold.”
“Take him to a doctor then.”
“You’re a doctor aren’t you.”
“I’m not a pediatrician.”
“Might as well be, you work at a school!”
They continued to banter as Nanami stood up and walked over to you.
“Are you feeling okay?” you asked. He nodded. “I don’t have to come over if you’d rather be alone to rest.”
“You don’t want to nurse me back to health?” He asked.
Your face went red. “I-”he smiled at your flustered state. He reached for his shirt and carefully pulled it over his bandages.
“Shoko, I’ll be heading out now.” Nanami said, interrupting her argument with Gojo. She had thrown a thermometer at him and he was making it spin in midair.
“Take some bandages.” She said pointing at some supplies she had prepared. “Y/N have him change them before he goes to bed and again in the morning.” You nodded and picked up the bag she had prepared. She turned to look at you suddenly very seriously. “Don’t try anything,” you looked at her confused. “I have a feeling you’ll want to, he’ll probably even let you, but don’t. We still don’t fully understand what you can do and I'd rather be safe than sorry.”
You nodded, “I won’t, don’t worry.” She didn’t look convinced.
“Why don’t I ever get a personal nurse?” Gojo asked. “Y/N next time I’m injured make sure you’re free for me.”
“You make me sick,” Shoko said with a scowl on her face.
“I’m taken. Better luck next time,” you said waving goodbye to them.
-
“How was the rest of your day?” Nanami asked as he walked beside you.
“Nowhere near as exciting as yours, mind filling me in?”
He sighed, “I’m afraid curse users are getting more and more creative... I guess you have to when sorcerers like Gojo exist.” He put a hand up to his shoulder and gave it a soft pat. “Ijichi and I were investigating a lead on a curse user who has been placing curses on people and then sending them to a temple to release the curse. I’m not sure what’s happening yet, but we discovered a network of curse users all doing the same thing. We can’t find the location of the temple and we don’t know who’s putting them up to it or why they need to grow so many curses, but we know that they’re all fiercely loyal and very determined to keep their operation a complete secret.” He sighed again, “To the point where they’d booby trap a hallway with weapons coated in poison.”
“Ouch,” you looked at his shoulder. “Points for creativity I guess, that’s definitely a new one.”
“It’s a lesson I don’t think any of us will soon forget,” he nodded. You thought back to Ijichi crying earlier. You wondered what exactly had happened but didn’t want to ask. There were other things on your mind, but couldn’t find the way to go about bringing them up. Why had he been talking to Shoko about you, about the bread? Who had they been comparing you to and what did that have to do with their grandma? When he said he had fallen for her bait..was he referring to you? It was all so confusing.
You noticed he was looking at you. “Everything okay?” he asked.
You must have had a serious look on your face as you got lost in your thoughts, you were never good at hiding your emotions. You gave him a quick smile. “Just…thinking.”
“May I ask what about?”
“Dinner,” you lied. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Hmm,” he thought. “Well what would you like for dinner?”
“I don’t know, that's why I was thinking about it,” you said with a smile. “Should we order in? I’m sure you know some good places around you.”
He smiled back and nodded. You still felt uneasy as you walked out of the school.
-
Nanami ended up ordering from a shop near his apartment. You both ate together and shared a long conversation about books and movies you had watched recently.
“The movie took some creative liberties, but the author did say he appreciated some of the changes. Well the visuals mostly, he felt that it lacked the same intentions.” He smiled amused at your ramblings. “I have to say I agree with him, it felt…lacking in a sense.”
“Do you enjoy horror movies?” he asked.
You smiled. “I love them.”
“You don’t get scared?”
“Oh I get scared, I’m usually hiding my face behind my fingers and on the edge of my seat, but it's nice to feel a controlled thrill. My real life has been so scary nothing really compares to it,” you joked.
He considered it and tilted his head in curiosity. “Scary as in what comes with our line of work or even before?” he asked.
You shifted in your seat. “I don’t know how much you know about where I came from, but I had a bit of a rough start.” You looked down at a piece of food on your plate. You looked up at him and smiled. “But who hasn’t at our school?”
“Do you have any family?”
“I have a mother and a younger sister, I don’t remember much of my father, we left him when we were pretty young, and he was barely a shell of a person from what I do remember,” you looked back down at the food. “It’s a little complicated, I don’t really talk to them much, but I help them out a little by sending them a bit of help when I can. I feel it’s the least I can do.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen them?”
“Hmm, around 8 years.” You looked back up at him. “What about you? Do you have any close family?”
He was silent for a moment. “It’s also a bit complicated.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen them?” you asked.
He sighed. “My mother’s family mostly lives in a different country. My father died when I was young and my mother stayed in Japan with me to try to get me the help I needed, for seeing curses that is. She became ill around a year before I started at Jujutsu High and she passed away a month before the first semester.”
“I’m sorry.” You said.
He smiled softly and shook his head. “It was foolish of her to stay, but love makes us do strange things I guess.”
“What about your father’s family?”
“They blamed her for my father’s death…and they were afraid of me.” You stared at him. “Afraid of what I could see, of what I might be able to do.”
“You come from a non-sorcerer family too?”
He nodded again. He looked up and met your eyes. “Sound familiar?”
“Extremely,” you said. “Have you ever reached out?”
“After my mother passed away…no one came to her funeral. Her family never approved of my parents' relationship either.” He frowned. “I wouldn’t have wanted them there anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” you softly put a hand on his shoulder. He placed his hand over yours.
“Time has done away with a lot of the resentment, but I feel as if we’re strangers, I don’t see the point in reaching out.” He took your hand off of his shoulder and held it in his. “It's…nice,” he looked at your hand, “to have someone that understands.”
“Mmm.” you nodded in agreement.
“If there is ever anything on your mind…I hope you can trust me enough to speak to me about it.”
You smiled at him and nodded. “Of course,” you thought about bringing up the conversation. “And…” he looked up at you expectantly, “thank you for sharing that with me.” He smiled and lifted your hand to place a kiss on it.
-
You sent him to sit on the couch as you cleaned up your dinner. You had asked him to pick out something to watch on the television and you listened as he clicked through channels on the TV. He flipped through a couple before you heard him stop briefly on a news channel that was reporting about some sort of financial crisis, he let it play for a bit before clicking onto the next channel.
“We can watch that if you want,” you offered.
“It’s okay, I’m afraid you’ll find it rather boring.”
You laughed, “It’ll be good for me, I should probably learn some financial literacy in all honesty,” you finished up rinsing your utensils and made your way to his couch. “Put it back, really.” He looked at you unsure. “The worst that can happen is I fall asleep on you, just wake me up if I miss something huge like the stock market crashing,” you joked with a smile.
You sat down next to him, feeling somewhat awkward again. The snippets of conversation you overheard earlier were still ringing in your head along with the comments Akari had made over defining your relationship. He hadn’t brought up putting a label on what you had, but neither had you. You hadn’t really thought about it but..was he not that into you and you were just too blind to see it? That’s ridiculous, you told yourself. You turned to look at him and found him staring at you. You blinked at him trying to read the look on his face, he seemed to be thinking about something as well.
“You okay?” you asked.
He suddenly turned a shade of pink and smiled timidly. “Would you mind…sitting on the other side of me?” You blinked at him a couple of times.”It's… my shoulder, ah, you could lean into my good shoulder if you sat on this side.”
You smiled and blushed. Cute, you thought as you looked at his expression. You nodded and got up to move, this time sitting a little closer to him. He looked at you and scooted a little closer. You laughed and closed the distance, pressing your thigh against his.
“Let me know if you’d like to change the channel at any point, I promise you won’t hurt my feelings,” he said. You shook your head.
“I really don’t mind. Just wake me if I do fall asleep so I can help you change your bandages.”
“You might have to help me bathe in all honesty,” he muttered, a pink blush coming over his cheeks again.
You laughed. “We can do that now if you’d like.”
He sighed and shook his head, “Let’s just relax for a moment.”
“Okay,” you said as you leaned into him, he lifted his good arm and placed it over your shoulder. You felt yourself relax into him and for the moment forgot all your worries.
-
You were surprisingly more entertained with the finance channel than you thought you might have been. Sure, there were a lot of things you didn’t understand but you were learning a bit… maybe...
You watched a bit silently until you felt your eyes fluttering closed, but then something on the TV caught your attention. It was the logo from Nanami’s old company. They were using it as an example of bad investments and how that was currently affecting the economy. You laughed a little and turned to look at Nanami to ask him about it.
He was asleep.
You smiled as you looked at him.
This was, you realized, the first time you had ever seen him asleep. All the times before you had always been the first one to doze off and the last one to wake up. Today must have really exhausted him, you thought to yourself.
In that moment, as you watched him inhale and exhale rhythmically, his eyes closed and still, he seemed so delicate to you.
You thought about what he had gone through in the past, he had surprised you by sharing a little bit about himself with you earlier. He had lost touch with his family and was alone like you were. You imagined how painful it must have been to lose his mother, the only one to have supported him, and then be left with nothing. You could relate to that more than he might have known. You smiled as you thought about the pictures you had seen of him as a teenager, what had happened could have turned him bitter and mean towards the world, but those pictures showed he made friends who cared about him. Your heart dropped again when you thought about him losing Haibara.
He had really gone through so much and would likely see so much more loss and death in his life as a sorcerer; but he still remained so…soft.
You felt a little guilty as you thought back to your doubts. Whatever it was you had overheard, you’d never be able to figure out what they were talking about without asking him. Sure, you’d have to admit you were eavesdropping but they were talking about you after all so…so they owed you an explanation, right? Your brows furrowed as you thought about it. And then there was what Akari had said, as much as you hated to admit it, she was right. You did want to know what the end goal was, you were happy with this, over the moon that he was giving you the time of day when you used to think a situation like this would only ever live in your mind, but now what? Again, you wouldn’t know unless you asked him.
You looked back up at him and felt the guilt again. He was kind, he was thoughtful, he wouldn’t purposefully be malicious towards you. You just knew it instinctually, you could trust him. So you should talk to him about it, you told yourself, coming to a resolve.
You looked down at your phone to check the time and noticed something had been added to your calendar. You were assigned to drive out a sorcerer tomorrow at 8 am. You looked at the entry confused, there were barely any details and just said you would be briefed when you arrived. Something about this made your stomach uneasy, Akari and you had plans tomorrow and if she was the one that assigned you she would have added more details like she usually did or she would have texted you, no this was someone else, a sorcerer maybe. But who-
-i am also confused about the new addition to the calendar, i’m trying to see who posted it, probably ino tbh he sucks at adding details. i’ll figure it out, i want to go shopping tomorrow so i’ll take care of it, don’t mind, don’t mind.
Akari’s message popped up on your phone.
-ur the best!
You replied.
-so did you ask nanami?
-...i’ll fill you in tomorrow
- :( ? or :) ?
-:|
-hmmm
You sighed and turned back to look at Nanami. You smiled as you noticed his head start to droop forward. You carefully moved your hand up to guide him to lean his head onto yours. You heard him exhale contently. You thought back to him asking you to switch sides and how shy he had been about it. Yeah, you could trust him.
You turned your attention back to the TV and continued to watch the news segment.
They were still talking about his company and were now reporting from the building and trying to get an interview with an employee. The screen switched to some graphics before flipping back to the reporter and someone he had managed to get to speak to him. It was the tan blonde man who had hit on you all those years ago. He smiled confidently but the sweat on his brow revealed how nervous he was.
The reporter asked questions about the company’s moral code and complaints from former employees and the man broke out a slew of tangential points and cheeky puns to try to dodge the pointed questions. You were somewhat amused.
“I’d recognize that cursed voice anywhere,” Nanami grumbled as he lifted his head off of yours. You turned to him and saw him wince at the image of his old boss on the screen. “It was only a matter of time until the company crumbled.”
“Oh?”
“Bad business, I’d happily take curses over business men any day.”
“Kento, were you doing shady deals while you worked there?” you asked mockingly.
He smirked. “Everything I did was legal, I didn’t take the loopholes that were encouraged by the likes of him.”
“Hmm, I don’t know…seems awfully convenient that you left shortly before the company collapsed, did you have insider information?”
“Ah yes, insider information for something that would happen years after I left,” he said sarcastically.
“You aren’t denying it.”
“Prove it.”
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer shortly,” you poked him, “gimme that card from earlier.” He rolled his eyes. You laughed. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
You made your way into the bathroom with Nanami, toting the bag with the medical supplies Shoko had given you. You set it on the counter and went through the items. Bandages, pins, some ointment to put on the wound, and some instructions Shoko had scribbled on a post-it note.
“Clean around the wound with soap and water, flush with labeled solution, then the ointment, then the bandages, blah blah blah,” you read.
“You’ve done this before?”
“No, it just literally says blah blah blah,” you held up the sticky note.
“Of course it does,” he sighed.
You shrugged. “Seems simple enough, I do have some medical training, I think I’ll be able to handle this.” You put the note down and walked over to him. He had started to unbutton his shirt.
You pushed his hand away and took over. He watched silently as you finished the last button and pulled the shirt off of his shoulders.
You found the pin in the bandage and undid it, slowly revealing the wound. You winced as you looked at the injury. It was three slashes to his shoulder that curved up towards his neck. They were an ominous shade of purple where the skin around the gashes had bruised.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not really,” he said looking at his injury. “It’s more uncomfortable than anything.”
You collected the old bandages and tossed them in his trash bin. “Get in the tub,” you instructed as you turned back to him.
“Naked?”
“Yes?” You laughed as you answered. He blushed. You smiled at him, “You did say you wanted my help to take a bath right?”
“Yes,” he said. He began to undo the button of his pants and you stepped closer and once again did it for him.
You slid his pants down and he lifted his legs as you helped him slip them off. You folded and neatly placed them next to the sink. You looked back at him and laughed, he was only wearing a pair of boxers and his ankle high socks.
“Cute,” you said. He blushed again. “You can keep those on if you’d be more comfortable.”
“Would you be more comfortable? If I kept them on?”
You laughed again. “Kento, we’ve seen each other naked plenty of times now, why would this be any different.”
He grimaced. “I’m dirty.”
“And I’m going to clean you.” He nodded. “Would it make you more comfortable if I stripped too?”
He finally smiled and shook his head. “No, it might make it worse.”
“Worse?” you asked confused.
He blushed again. “I was told to keep my movements to a minimum, and I’m afraid this… might lead to…”
You raised your eyebrows at him. “Wow Kento, I’m shocked. I’m acting as your nurse right now, that means no funny business,” you said with a sly smile.
“Of course, my apologies,” he played along.
You shook your head. “I’ll let it slide this once, but watch it mister.” You walked back to him and looked him up and down. You put a hand up to his forehead. “Now, I gotta check your vitals.”
“Hmm,” he leaned into your hand and met your eyes.
You nodded, “It’s as I thought.”
“Oh?”
You lowered your hand onto his neck and checked his pulse. “Interesting…”
“How much time do I have left?”
“Not much I’m afraid. We need to get your heartrate up.”
“Y/N…” he said your name softly, like a warning. You smiled innocently and removed your hand from his neck.
You looked up at him and placed a hand on his chest. “Please, I’m a professional.” You lowered your other hand onto his waist.
You toyed with the edge of his boxers and you saw a pink flush creep over his cheeks. You loved seeing him like this.
You slipped your fingers into his waistband and snaked your hand down into his briefs, feeling the hairs of his happy trail brush against your knuckles as you pulled down on the elastic.
“Y/N,” he whispered.
“What?” You blinked at him innocently and smiled. You let out a breath of laughter and shook your head. “I’m just teasing. I don’t want you to hurt yourself any more, but I do need you out of these.” You pulled down on his underwear and helped him step out of them as well. You folded them and he gestured towards the laundry basket. You heard him shuffle around as he removed his socks and you held the laundry basket open for him to toss them in.
You turned to look at him and blushed when you saw him in his full glory. He looked a bit embarrassed.
“I can still get naked too if you’d be more comfortable,” you said as you walked closer to him.
He smiled and shook his head. He looked down at you and gently kissed your forehead, letting his lips rest on your forehead for a while. He placed another kiss before moving his face away. “Can I ask you something?” he said.
You felt yourself get nervous, you weren’t sure why though.
“Of course.”
He stared at you for a bit before speaking again. “What…what do you think about getting dinner with me tomorrow.” He backed away.
You blinked a couple of times. “Is that what you really wanted to ask me?”
He seemed a little surprised by your question and you knew you were onto something. You recognized his hesitation, you had done the same thing earlier in the day.
He furrowed his brows and shook his head. “Am I that transparent?”
You smiled at him, “No, just a hunch.”
He reached for your forearm and wrapped his hand around it gently rubbing his thumb over your skin. He started, “I know previously…you had turned down the idea of building a deeper relationship with me. I mean, I turned you down first of course, but as I had said, I’m not going to give up.” He blinked a couple of times trying to find the right words. “So now…may I ask if you’ve changed your mind? Do you think…we could turn this into a regular thing? Us I mean.”
You tilted your head. “Us?”
The corner of his mouth twitched as he thought of what to say next. “Us,” he finally said.
“Are you asking me out?”
“Yes.” He looked you in the eye and for a moment you saw his solid personality waver, he seemed…nervous.
You sighed loudly, relieved, and he looked a little confused. “I was trying to find a way to ask you the same thing,” you said.
He cocked his head curiously.
“I..I wasn’t sure how to bring it up,” you pursed your lips. “I’ve been having a lot of fun with you. I mean you know, being physical, the sex, I..I was starting to get worried that maybe that's all this was… just fun.” You blushed.
He frowned. “No, of course not. I apologize if I had made that impression.” He looked away and cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s alright. I would have been okay with it.” You looked down at his hand. He was silent for a while and you looked up at him.
He was staring at you. “You would have been okay with this only being physical?”
You averted your gaze again. “No..” you mumbled.
“What was that?”
“No,” You looked back up at him. “I wouldn’t be okay with that. I think I deserve more than that.” You felt your face burning up.
He finally cracked a smile. “Good.” He pulled you close to him. “You do deserve more than that,” he kissed your forehead once more. “I am sorry,” he said. “I should have been clear from the start. It is my fault. I was the one that hesitated first.”
“I think we both sent mixed messages.” you grumbled. You wrapped your arms around him and breathed in deeply. He tensed. You looked up at him confused. “What?”
He was a little red. “I…” he furrowed his brows. He sighed, “You really have such an effect on me it's almost alarming.”
You were still confused until you felt something poking at you. You looked up at him and laughed. “Is that what I think it is?” He sighed and nodded a thin smile on his lips.
You cocked your head cheekily. “I can take care of this for you if you’d like.” You kept eye contact with him as you moved your hand down towards his erection.
You watched carefully as he tensed at your touch, taking in the way his breath hitched and his gaze intensified. You palmed him a couple of times before wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. He let out a small grunt. You slowly pulled your fingers along his cock bringing your grip to the tip before letting go and pushing the head of his dick into the flesh of your palm. You pushed the flat of your hand against him and felt his hips push forward almost automatically. His arms were still wrapped around you and you felt his arms tense as the pleasure electrified his body.You felt precum lubricate your hand as he pushed his hips forward again rubbing the head of his dick desperately into your hand.
You watched his face grow more and more red and he closed his eyes, his brows furrowed and mouth slightly ajar. You could watch him forever.
He opened his eyes and he met yours. He winced and you suddenly pulled your hand away.
“You’re in pain.” You said quickly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I-”
“I’m fine. Please.” He said, trying to catch his breath. You looked at him unsure. “I’m fine really.”
You looked at his wound and frowned, it had grown a little red. You shook your head. “I’m sorry. Shoko said-”
He kissed you. He put a hand up to grab your chin and tilt your head up towards him as he pulled back. “I’m okay,” he said. You frowned. “I’m just afraid I won’t be able to return the favor…”
“That’s the least of my worries,” you said with a laugh. “Kento, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not- It’s not painful, besides I’m almost…” he was suddenly embarrassed.
You blinked and felt your own cheeks go red as you realized the ridiculousness of the situation. “So you want to keep going?”
“Yes,” he said. “If you want to, of course.”
You looked at his wound again before looking up at him. “And you’re not in pain?”
“No,” he said. You stared a little longer. “I can take it.”
“Kento…” You sighed and put a hand up to hover over the wound. You could feel the heat radiating off of it. You frowned again. “The poison is in your bloodstream.”
“Y/N…”
“From what I understand you’re meant to keep your pulse down so that a concentrated amount of poisoned blood doesn't go directly through your heart.” You moved your hand over to the center of his chest and placed it gently. You looked back up at him. He was staring intently at you.
“Please,” he whispered.
You sighed, “Kento, this will hurt afterwards.”
“It’s a good thing you’re here then.”
You couldn’t help but smile at that. You closed your eyes and shook your head. “You’re persistent.”
“Only for you.”
You blushed.
“Fine.” You opened your eyes and saw him smile, he leaned in and touched your nose with his. You smiled and leaned closer to kiss him. He kissed you back, his hand still on your chin pulling your face closer.
You moved your hand forward and wrapped your fingers around his length again. He hissed and bit down on your lip gently.
You began sliding your hand up and down his dick again, slowly, sinfully. You listened to his breath shutter at your movements and felt his heartbeat quickening under your hand on his chest. He pushed his forehead against yours as you quickened your pace, pulling and pushing with a little more force. A soft steady moan began to escape his lips.
“Y/N,” he whimpered. Had you heard him whimper before? “Y/N,” he repeated. He leaned into your touch, becoming one with your every movement, he pressed his forehead to your temple, his mouth kissing at your jaw. You leaned your head to the side and he began peppering kisses onto your neck.
“Kento,” you began.
“Yes?” he said breathlessly.
“Can you cum for me?”
“Yes.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.”
He had moved his head forward and was leaning closely into the side of your neck, his hair tickling the bottom of your ears and his mouth pressed into your skin leaving wet passionate kisses. You had lifted your hand off of his chest and moved it up around his shoulder, lacing your fingers into his hair.
“Cum.”
He grunted and moved his hips sharply against your hand. Your hand stayed steady as he fucked himself into your unmoving fingers. He was doing all the work now, his hips desperately thrusting against your hand. “Y/N..” he was a muttering mess. “Y/N!” he said with a little more force. You felt him push himself all the way against your curled fingers and buck into them a couple of times as he came.
You glanced down and watched his reddened member shoot ropes of cum onto the bathroom floor. His whole body seemed to twitch and as he softened you realized he began to lean his body weight into you.
“Kento?” you moved your hand down to his neck and pulled his face up to look at him. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he said softly. You could tell he was exhausted. You had him lean back against the bathroom counter and moved your hand back to the center of his chest.
His heart was thumping wildly and you let yourself absorb a bit of the poisoned energy you sensed humming in his body. You instantly felt a sore feeling spread through your bones, you’d have to tell Shoko about that later.
His shoulders dropped and you realized he looked less tense. “Better?”
“Yes.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“You’re a masochist.”
“Only for you,” he said with a small smile.
You rolled your eyes but smiled back at him. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt 5. pt. 6
˚₊✩‧₊once again thank you for reading my way too overly complicated fic!
i'm working on the next few chapters already but we'll see how it plays out, i want the story to be just right and that means alot of writing and rewriting and then rewriting again lol. LOVE YALLLLL and as always if you saw a typo, no you didn't -nana
︵ ೀ mdni. satoru finds your secret sketchbook full of him and in a haste to explain yourself, he offers to be the nude model for your assignment ( artist!reader x sports!satoru / college au / wc 5.8 k )
︵ ೀ series. part one / part two
you've been doing really well, actually. two whole days of successfully avoiding him—not that you're avoiding him, obviously, that would be childish, you've just been taking very specific routes across campus that happen to not cross paths with anywhere he usually is. completely different thing.
so of course, the one time you let your guard down, the one morning you actually allow yourself to sit in the cafeteria like a normal person with your coffee and your sketchbook open to a completely innocent, satoru-free page, you feel the chair across from you scrape back.
you look up.
he drops his tray down and folds himself into the seat like he owns it, which, to be fair, he kind of acts like he owns every seat he sits in. he's in his practice clothes, hair pushed back, looking annoyingly good and unbothered for someone who absolutely should be at least a little embarrassed about that night.
"hey," he says, like it's nothing. like it's any other monday morning and you definitely didn't spend the entire weekend hunched over your desk shading every line of his naked body onto paper, painstakingly getting the light right across his shoulders, his stomach, his cock—
"cool if i sit here?"
"you're already sitting," you say.
"true." he picks up his fork, glancing down at your sketchbook. "how'd the drawing turn out."
"it turned out good," you say, wrapping both hands around your coffee cup. "handed it in this morning actually."
"yeah? what did he say?"
"she," you correct automatically. "professor lee. and she—" you pause, because this is the part you've been equal parts dreading and wanting to tell someone since it happened an hour ago, "she really liked it. said the proportions were the best in the class. said it looked like i actually knew my subject."
satoru grins at that. "obviously."
"don't let it go to your head."
"too late." he steals a piece of fruit off the edge of your tray without asking, which is so aggressively normal and familiar that some of the tension in your shoulders loosens without you meaning it to. "so she liked it. that's good. you were stressed about it."
"and then," you say, because apparently you are going to tell him the whole thing whether you planned to or not, "she asked me who the model was."
satoru raises an eyebrow.
"and i said a friend. and she looked at it for a second and then she was like—" you cover your face briefly, "—'is this gojo satoru? from the athletics team? i've seen him play.'"
satoru puts his fork down. "your professor knows who i am."
"apparently she goes to the home games."
he leans back in his chair with the most insufferably delighted expression you have ever seen on another human being. "so your professor has seen me play and my dick."
"she hasn't seen your—it's a drawing."
"of my dick."
"of your—it's art. it's an anatomy study."
"still my dick though."
"satoru, oh my god, keep your voice down." you glance around the cafeteria, mortified. "it's fine art. there's a difference."
"what's her name."
"no."
"i just want to introduce myself properly. we've already been through something together, it feels rude not to—"
"you are not tracking down my professor."
"i could come to class."
"absolutely not."
"i'm serious, i could be a guest model." he's fully grinning now, leaning forward on his elbows like this is the best idea he's ever had. "your whole class would benefit. very educational."
"you are not coming to my anatomy class."
"why not? i'm clearly qualified. i have references." he nods toward your bag, where your sketchbook is poking out. "got a whole portfolio of evidence right there."
"those are my sketches, not your references."
"same thing." he steals another piece of fruit off your tray, completely unbothered. "so she gave you a good grade at least? after everything i sacrificed for your education?"
"i don't know yet. she has to grade them all first."
"god," he mutters, "why do they always take so long with that."
it's not really a question, so you don't answer it. you just watch him pop another grape into his mouth, and then he's quiet, and then you're both quiet, and that's worse, actually, because silence means your brain immediately fills it with everything you've been successfully not thinking about since friday—
his dorm room, the towel, the chair, then the way he had touched himself, his hand wrapping around his cock, stroking slow at first then faster, the wet sounds. the way he had looked at you and said that he likes you to watch, like he wanted you to see every stroke, every twitch, every drop of precum—
"you're turning red," he says.
you look up. he's watching you over the rim of his water bottle, completely calm, one eyebrow slightly raised.
"i'm not."
"you are." he sets the bottle down. "what are you thinking about."
"nothing."
"uh huh." the corner of his mouth pulls up, just slightly. "nothing that happened friday, or."
"i actually have to go," you say, already reaching for your bag, sketchbook shoved in first, coffee cup grabbed second.
"we should probably talk about friday," he says, easy as anything, like he's suggesting you discuss the weather.
your bag nearly slides off the table. "i'm good, actually."
"you're good."
"yeah." you stand up, pulling your coat off the back of the chair. "totally fine. nothing to talk about."
"i feel like there's a little something to talk about."
"nope." you're already backing away from the table. "i have class."
"you have forty minutes until—"
"lots of things to do before class. very busy. full schedule." you point vaguely in a direction, any direction. "i'll see you around." you turn around before he can see how red your face has gone, already speed-walking toward the exit your coat not even properly on yet.
"we're gonna have to talk about it eventually," he calls after you, loud enough that two people at the next table look up.
you pretend very hard that you didn't hear that.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
it's thursday afternoon when professor lee hands back the assignments, moving through the rows with a small stack of papers tucked under her arm. you're barely breathing by the time she stops at yours. she sets it down in front of you, face up.
A, circled in red pen. and underneath it, in her small, neat handwriting:
best in class. exceptional sensitivity to form and proportion. the familiarity with the subject is evident. it elevates the entire piece.
you stare at it for a second too long.
"i mean it," professor lee says, pausing at your station instead of moving on, which she doesn't usually do. "this is genuinely impressive work. the best figure study i've seen from this class in a few semesters."
"thank you," you manage, still a little stunned.
she tilts her head, glancing at the drawing one more time. "your model—a friend, you said?"
"yeah. just a friend."
"he's clearly very comfortable in his own skin." she says it so matter-of-factly, so professionally, that you almost don't register it. "do you think he'd ever be willing to come in? to pose for the whole class? we're always looking for new models and frankly, he has exactly the kind of build we look for."
you blink at her. "i'm sorry?"
"as a paid model, of course. it's a standard arrangement." she's already moving on to the next student, completely unbreezy about the bombshell she's just dropped. "just think about it. ask him if he's interested."
you sit there for a full minute after she moves away, staring at your a, thinking about how on earth you're supposed to look gojo satoru in the eye and ask him if he wants to get naked in front of your entire class.
you'd survived the sketchbook discovery. you'd survived the dorm room. you'd survived the hallway, and the door, and the sounds, and the cafeteria where you'd basically sprinted away from him like your shoes were on fire.
you had, very carefully and deliberately, been in the process of letting things go back to normal between you. or as close to normal as they could reasonably get given everything.
and now this.
asking him once had been mortifying enough. asking him to do it again, in front of twenty other people, with proper studio lighting and your entire class staring at him—all of him—for three hours straight... you'd rather fail the semester.
you decide, firmly and with great conviction, that you are not going to ask him.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
professor lee catches you on the way out of class the following tuesday.
"did you speak to your model?"
"i—not yet," you say, which is technically true. "i've been meaning to."
"no rush," she says, in a tone that suggests there is a little bit of rush. "i'm planning the spring model schedule and i'd love to lock it in. he'd be compensated well."
"right. yeah. i'll ask him."
you do not ask him.
by friday she stops you again on your way in, before class has even started, a scheduling sheet in her hand and a hopeful look on her face that makes your stomach sink straight to the floor.
"i don't want to keep pestering you," she says, in the way that people say things when they are absolutely going to keep pestering you. "but i showed his study to a colleague of mine and she was equally impressed. if he's open to it, we'd love to have him for at least two sessions."
"two sessions," you repeat faintly.
"the pay is quite good for a few hours of work." she smiles, warm and completely oblivious to the internal crisis happening right in front of her. "and i have to say—your work this semester has been good, but that piece was on a completely different level. there's something that happens when you draw someone you actually know. the confidence in your work, the attention to detail." she tilts her head, like she's genuinely thinking it through. "i think having him as a recurring subject could do a lot for your portfolio. potentially best of semester material, if you keep working at that level."
you stare at her. "best of semester."
"it's early to say," she adds, already heading toward the front of the room. "but i'd be lying if i said i wasn't thinking about it. just something to consider when you talk to him."
she says it so casually, like she hasn't just dangled your entire artistic future in front of you like a carrot on a stick and walked away.
"yeah," you hear yourself say, like someone else has taken over your mouth entirely. "yeah, i'll ask him." you walk to your seat, drop your bag, and sit down.
fine. you're going to have to ask him. however embarrassing, however awkward, however many new levels of humiliation this opens up between you—you are going to have to look gojo satoru in the eye and ask him to come and be naked in front of your entire class.
you pull out your sketchbook and stare blankly at a fresh page.
the things you do for a good grade.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
you find him coming out of the locker room just as training wraps up, which in hindsight you should have timed better. you'd figured you'd catch him on his way out, fully dressed, easy and normal, a quick conversation and then you'd be gone before either of you had time to be weird about it.
instead he pushes through the door with a towel around his waist and another one hanging around his neck that he's using to roughly dry his hair, still dripping, chest still damp, looking entirely too good.
my god, why—why is this a thing now? you went years without ever seeing this man like this. years. it wasn't even hard, it just didn't happen, and you were fine, you were completely fine. and then something changed like three weeks ago and now it's just—towels. constantly.
like the universe looked at your life and went, you know what this needs? more of him, wet, with very few layers on. thank you. very helpful. really appreciate that.
he spots you immediately, eyebrows lifting in surprise. "hey. what are you doing here?"
"i needed to talk to you about something." your eyes have already gone somewhere safe, like the floor, the wall, the water fountain twenty feet down the hall. "sorry, i didn't realize you'd still be—i can wait outside."
"why?" he pulls the towel off his neck, draping it over his shoulder, looking genuinely confused by your reaction. "you've already seen me naked."
"that was different."
"how."
"it just—it was for class, it was a whole—it was a different context, satoru."
"you literally drew my body for weeks without me knowing and now you can't look at me in a hallway." he tilts his head, amused. "make it make sense."
"it makes complete sense and you know it," you mutter, still not fully looking at him. "can you just—put a shirt on or something."
"i just got out of the shower."
"i'm aware."
"my shirt's in my bag."
"then get it out of your bag, satoru."
he laughs, but makes no move toward his bag whatsoever. just stands there, like he's genuinely enjoying watching you try to hold this conversation with the water fountain. "okay. what did you want to talk about."
you take a deep breath, eyes still fixed somewhere over his shoulder. "i need to ask you something and i need you to not make it weird."
"when do i ever make things weird."
"satoru."
"fine. ask."
"my professor asked me—" you stop, start again. "she really liked the drawing. like, a lot. best in class, apparently."
"obviously." he leans against the wall, arms crossing over his bare chest, completely unbothered. "and?"
"and she wants to know if you'd be willing to come in." you say it fast, the way you rip off a bandaid. "to pose. for the whole class. like, as a proper model. she'd pay you."
he stares at you for a second. "the whole class," he repeats.
"yeah."
"like, all of them. sitting there drawing me."
"that's—yes. that's what a class model is."
"naked."
"that's what a figure model is, yes."
he's quiet for a beat, which is somehow more nerve-wracking than if he'd immediately said something. then he tilts his head, studying you with that unreadable look he gets sometimes. "and you'd be there."
"i mean—it's my class, so yes, i'd—"
"so you'd be drawing me again."
"along with twenty other people, yes."
"hm." he looks almost entertained now, pushing off the wall. "and you ask this because—"
"professor lee said it could be best of semester for me," you mutter, hating how small it sounds out loud. "my portfolio. if i keep drawing you, apparently my work is on a different level and—"
"so you need me."
you close your eyes briefly. "yes. fine. i need you."
he's quiet for a second. "okay," he says finally.
you blink. "okay?"
"yeah." he shrugs, like it's nothing at all. "i'll do it."
"just like that?"
"just like that." he reaches back for the towel around his shoulder, giving his hair one last rough pass with it. "but i want something in return."
"what kind of something."
"a drawing."
"a drawing," you repeat slowly, waiting for the rest of it.
"yeah." he says it completely simply, like that's the whole sentence, like that explains anything at all.
"what kind of drawing."
"i'll let you know when the time comes." he's already turning back toward the locker room, clearly very pleased with the level of vagueness he's just gave you.
"satoru." you take a step after him. "what does that mean, you'll let me know when the time comes. you have to give me more than that."
"it's a drawing. you're an artist. not exactly a hardship." he glances back over his shoulder, smirking. "unless you're worried about what i'm going to ask for."
"i'm not worried."
"you look a little worried."
"i look normal. tell me what the drawing is."
"later." he pushes the locker room door open with one hand, completely unbothered, like he hasn't just left you standing in a hallway with the world's most open-ended agreement hanging over your head. "talk to your professor. set up the dates."
"satoru—"
the door swings shut behind him. you stand there for a second, staring at it.
what did you just agree to.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
the following days are, frankly, not great for your mental health.
it starts small—a passing thought while you're brushing your teeth sunday morning, a quick what did he mean by that before you shake it off and move on. fine. totally manageable.
by monday it's less manageable. you're sitting in your color theory lecture staring at a slide about complementary palettes but your brain is persistently thinking about it in the background like an app you forgot to close. a drawing. what kind of drawing. why wouldn't he just say what kind of drawing.
tuesday you're in the studio working on a still life and your roommate asks you three times why you keep stopping to stare at nothing and you say you're just thinking about composition which is technically not a lie.
wednesday is when it gets genuinely bad. you're lying on your bed at midnight, sketchbook resting on your stomach, pencil tapping against the page, going through the options in your head.
a portrait, maybe. something normal. that would be fine, that would be completely fine, you could do a portrait no problem. except satoru doesn't do anything without a reason and he definitely wouldn't have been that mysterious about a portrait. which brings you back to the other option sitting at the back of your mind that you keep trying to evict.
a nude.
another one. something he could actually keep this time, something personal, not a class assignment. a drawing he could—your brain unhelpfully supplies the image of him showing it to some girl, grinning, look what my friend drew me, isn't that insane—
you groan and pull your pillow over your face.
that's what it is, isn't it. he wants a proper one. something finished and framed and entirely too detailed that he can use as the world's most unhinged conversation starter with whoever he's currently interested in.
he'd basically said it himself, that night in his dorm. the most insane nude i could ever send to a girl, he'd said, grinning like the thought genuinely delighted him.
you'd laughed at the time. you're not laughing now.
or maybe this time he wants you to actually draw him pleasuring himself or something, his hand wrapped around that thick length, stroking himself the way he had that night while he looked at you and told you to stay and watch.
you wonder how that would go, would he stare at you the whole time, eyes dark and locked on yours while his hand moves on his cock? would he moan loudly, the low rough sounds filling the room the way they had that night? would he have to go a few rounds if you are not fast enough to finish the drawing the first time, his cock getting hard again and again while you try to capture every detail? does he take long to finish, or would he come quick and hard with you watching every twitch and every drop?
you would not survive this.
at least professor lee was happy when you told her. she'd practically lit up, already pulling out her scheduling sheet before you'd even finished the sentence, penciling satoru in for two sessions with the kind of excitement she usually reserved for particularly good student work. she'd called him a find, which was such a professor way to describe gojo satoru that you'd almost laughed.
it was the only good part of the whole week.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
the morning of the first session you get to the studio early, which you tell yourself is because you want a good spot near the window for the light and absolutely not because you need five minutes alone in the room before everyone else arrives to mentally prepare yourself.
your classmates filter in one by one, morning chatter filling the studio and the usual scrape of easels being adjusted and pencils being uncapped. normal. fine. you set up your station, clipped a fresh sheet to your board, told yourself this was just another class.
and then maya, who sits two easels down from you, glances at the model release sheet professor lee has left on the front table and does a very audible double take.
"wait." she picks it up, turning to the room. "is our model today gojo satoru?"
the energy in the room shifts immediately.
"the gojo satoru?" someone says from the back. "from the athletics team?"
"oh my god, i've seen him at the games." this from jess, who is already setting up her pencils. "he's like, genuinely unreal looking. i saw him at the spring championship and i thought i was going to pass out."
"same, he's so tall—"
"and his shoulders—"
"i heard he's like, built like actually insanely well—"
you are staring very hard at your blank page, pencil gripped too tight in your hand, willing yourself not to react to a single word of this.
"wonder what he looks like underneath all that," maya says, in that way that makes three people laugh and makes you want to fold yourself directly into your easel and never come out.
"i mean, we're about to find out," jess says.
"lucky us."
"lucky us is right."
you make a very small, very quiet noise into your sketchbook that no one hears, which is good, because you don't fully have a way to explain it.
professor lee chooses this moment to walk in, satoru a half step behind her, and the room goes just slightly electric in the way it does when someone walks in and everyone clocks them at once. he's in his regular clothes still—sweatpants and a loose shirt—looking completely unbothered by the sudden weight of twenty pairs of eyes, because of course he does, he's satoru, he was probably born unbothered.
his eyes find you immediately across the room. he grins. you look back at your paper.
"good morning everyone," professor lee says, setting her bag down. "as you can see, we have a new model joining us for the next two sessions. this is satoru. please make him feel welcome and remember our studio etiquette—professional environment, focused work."
"hi satoru," the class choruses, with significantly more warmth than you've ever heard directed at a model before, and a few of them are already giggling before they even finish saying it.
"hey," he says easily, lifting a hand, and you can hear the smile in it without even looking.
"oh he's even better up close," someone whispers, not quietly enough.
you close your eyes briefly.
i drew him, you think. i spent a friday night in his dorm room watching him stand there like that and i drew every single line of him and then worked on it for two days and i got an A and none of you will ever know that and i am going to take it to my grave.
so, there's nothing to worry about. you've already seen him naked, you remind yourself, very firmly, like a person who is totally fine. this is nothing new. this is just—a repeat viewing, basically. a familiar subject in a professional context. you have already seen everything there is to see, you have already drawn it, you are already ahead of everyone else in this room by approximately one very eventful friday night.
there is absolutely nothing to be worried about.
you are not going to survive this class.
professor lee gestures toward the changing area. "satoru, whenever you're ready."
"sure." he glances across the room one more time, finds you again, and there's something in his expression that's almost like he's checking in, just briefly, before he disappears behind the curtain.
you pick up your pencil.
you are so not going to survive this class.
and then the curtain moves, and satoru steps out. the room goes completely quiet.
not the polite, professional quiet of a figure drawing class but the stunned, collective, nobody-planned-to-stop-breathing quiet of twenty people registering something all at once and not quite having a response ready for it.
you keep your eyes on your sketchbook for exactly four seconds before you look up, because you're only human.
he's standing at the edge of the platform professor lee uses for her models, completely at ease, even though he's standing in front of a room full of art students in absolutely nothing at all. one hand resting loosely at his side, weight shifted onto one leg, like he's just waiting for someone to tell him where to stand.
"okay," maya breathes, from two easels down, in a tone that isn't really meant for anyone in particular.
someone's pencil rolls off their easel and hits the floor. nobody moves to pick it up.
professor lee, bless her, clears her throat. "alright. let's start with a few short gesture poses, two minutes each, before we move into the longer study. satoru, if you could—"
"yeah, wherever you need me." he steps up onto the platform, and the light from the studio windows catches him in a way that makes the whole thing feel almost unreasonably unfair, like the universe is just showing off now.
"oh my god," jess whispers, so quietly it barely counts as a sound.
you look back down at your paper.
you've seen this before, you remind yourself. you've seen all of this. you are calm. you are professional. you are an artist in a figure drawing class doing exactly what artists in figure drawing classes do. and he is not standing there enjoying every second of the effect he's having on this room, and you are not nervous about it.
you chance one more glance up at him.
he's already looking directly at you, the smallest smirk sitting at the corner of his mouth, like he knows exactly what every single person in this room is currently experiencing and finds it very funny.
you look back down so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
the two minute gestures blur into longer poses, and the room settles into the kind of quiet that only really happens when everyone is actually invested in what they're drawing. except the investment in this particular class feels distinctly less academic than usual.
maya keeps exhaling these small, controlled breaths like she's actively regulating herself. someone in the back row has been erasing and redrawing the same line for the last ten minutes, which has nothing to do with the line being wrong and everything to do with needing an excuse to keep looking. jess fanned herself with her reference sheet at one point, caught professor lee's eye, and stopped.
and then there's the girl to your left. hana, who is usually one of the most technically precise people in the class, ruler-straight lines and perfect proportions. you glance over at her sketchbook once, casually, the way you sometimes do to check where everyone else is in the drawing.
she is on her fourth detailed study of satoru's... manhood.
fourth.
you look back at your own paper immediately, pressing your lips together very hard. professional environment, professor lee had said. focused work. you add a careful shadow along satoru's shoulder and say nothing.
the class continues, pose after pose, and the light shifts slightly as the morning progresses. you almost forget that satoru gojo, your longest friend, is standing right in front of you, naked. it's easier than friday night, somehow, with twenty other people in the room and professor lee moving quietly between easels. more structured. safer. except—
you look up to check the angle of his jaw for the third time and find him already looking at you yet again. you glance back down. look up again a minute later to check the line of his shoulder. still looking at you.
not at the room, not at the middle distance the way models usually do when they're holding a pose. at you, specifically. you drop your gaze back to your sketchbook. look up again two minutes later. still you.
you try, very subtly, to gesture with your eyes. a small, deliberate flick to the left, toward the window, toward literally anywhere else in the room that isn't directly at you. he blinks. stays exactly where he is, gaze not moving an inch.
you try again. a tiny tilt of your head. look somewhere else, you are sending him every possible telepathic signal you have, you are burning through your entire reserve of nonverbal communication, look at the wall, look at the window, look at maya, look at literally anything—
he almost smiles. doesn't move his eyes.
you widen yours slightly, a last desperate attempt.
he raises one eyebrow, barely perceptible, like he's asking what exactly you think you're doing.
"satoru." professor lee's voice cuts through the room, not looking up from the student drawing she's currently reviewing. "eyes forward please."
the class doesn't look up. you look down.
and from across the room, so quietly that you're almost sure you imagined it, you hear him exhale something that sounds very much like a laugh.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
you take longer than necessary packing up your things. unclipping your sheet from the easel slowly, sliding your pencils back into their case one by one, straightening the edge of your sketchbook even though it doesn't need straightening. around you the rest of the class files out, and they are not quiet about it.
"his shoulders," someone says, not even bothering to lower their voice, and a round of giggles breaks out near the door.
"did you see his—" jess starts.
"yes," two people say at once.
"does anyone have his number?" someone asks, completely serious, and the giggles tip over into full laughter that echoes down the hallway and slowly fades.
you stare very hard at your pencil case.
from behind the curtain comes the soft sounds of satoru getting dressed, and professor lee is tidying the platform, humming quietly to herself. then she pauses, glancing toward the curtain.
"satoru, i just want to say—you were wonderful today. very natural in front of the class. some models take weeks to settle into it."
"thanks." his voice comes through easy and relaxed. "wasn't so bad."
"the students responded really well. you have a real presence. it translates onto the page beautifully."
"good to know i'm useful for something other than sports."
professor lee laughs, soft and genuine, in a way you've genuinely never heard from her in a full semester. you hear her gather her things shortly after, the click of her bag, the soft tap of her shoes crossing the studio floor.
"see you both next week," she says warmly on her way out, and then she's gone, door swinging shut behind her, and the studio is suddenly very quiet.
you're still standing at your easel pretending to organize your pencils when the curtain shifts and satoru steps out, fully dressed, hair slightly disheveled from pulling his shirt on. he's looking down at his phone with an expression you can't quite read from here.
"hey," you say.
"hey." he holds his phone up, turning it slightly so you can see the screen without fully crossing the room. there's a new contact open. a name you recognize. "i think your professor just gave me her number."
"she did not."
"slipped it under the curtain on a little piece of paper." he sounds genuinely amazed, somewhere between flattered and delighted. "like an old school note. actual handwriting and everything."
"satoru, she's our professor—"
"she's your professor." he tucks his phone away, grinning now, fully pleased with himself. "i'm just the model."
"you cannot date our professor."
"why not? she's smart, she has good taste—" he gestures loosely at himself, "—clearly. i think we have a real connection."
"oh my god." you finally give up on pretending to organize your pencils, turning to face him fully. "i am not having this conversation."
"you're the one who brought me here. this is on you."
"i did not bring you here so you could get my professor's number—"
"technically you did though." he leans back against the nearest easel, arms crossing, way too comfortable with all of this. "you asked me to come. i came. connections were made. can't control chemistry."
"satoru—"
"relax." the grin shifts into something softer. he tilts his head, watching you with that quiet look again. "i'm messing with you."
"i know you're messing with me."
"do you? because you went pretty red pretty fast for someone who knew."
you open your mouth. close it.
he uncrosses his arms, pushing off the easel, and there's something different in the way he moves now, slower, more deliberate, like he's not in a hurry anymore. he closes the distance between you by one step, then another, until he's close enough that you have to tilt your head up slightly to look at him properly.
"don't worry. i'm not gonna call her." his hand comes up and he tucks a loose strand of hair back from your face, fingers barely grazing your cheek, the touch so brief and light you almost convince yourself it didn't happen. "there's already someone i like."
the studio goes very quiet.
you should say something. you are a person with a working mouth and a functional brain and you should say something.
"you don't want to ask who?" he says, and there's the ghost of a smile there, but it's softer than usual. less like he's winning something and more like he's nervous and trying not to show it.
you look up at him. "...who?"
he looks at you for a long second. his hand hasn't moved far, still hovering near your cheek, close enough that you can feel the warmth of it. and then he leans in, slow enough that you could step back if you wanted to, close enough that you can feel him before you can hear him, his lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear when he speaks.
"you," he says, quiet, just for you. "obviously."
he stays there for a moment, close, warm, not moving away yet. you're pretty sure you've forgotten how breathing works.
and then satoru backs up, easy and unhurried, like he didn't just say that, like the last thirty seconds didn't happen at all. he picks up his bag from the floor, slings it over his shoulder, and glances back at you on his way to the door. "see you next session," he says, and the smile is back.
the door clicks shut behind him.
you stand there in the empty studio for a very long moment.
"next session," you repeat, to no one.
note: please do not ask for updates or comment "next part?" or something like that. if there is an update, i will post it. ppl who continue to demand updates will be blocked.
i appreciate your comments and love hearing your thoughts on the story, but demands for updates make me anxious. have a good day everyone ♡
︵ ೀ mdni. satoru finds your secret sketchbook full of him and in a haste to explain yourself, he offers to be the nude model for your assignment ( artist!reader x sports!satoru / college au / wc 5.7 k )
satoru finds your sketchbook on the library table, left behind in the rush to make it to class on time. he almost doesn't open it—almost. but his name catches his eye, written in pencil at the corner of a page peeking out, and curiosity wins.
the first few pages are normal. simple shapes, little notes about elbows and shoulders, the kind of boring practice sketches he has seen you do countless times. he almost closes it, kind of bored. but he keeps flipping, and then he stops.
it's him. there's no mistaking it.
his jaw, drawn in a few quick lines. the way his head tilts when he's only half listening to someone talk. his eyes are on the next page, his sunglasses pushed up into his hair the way it sometimes is. you got the little crease at the corner of his eye right, the one that shows up right before he laughs.
he turns the page again. his hands this time. three different versions, like you couldn't decide which one you liked best. then his shoulders. the curve of his neck. a quick sketch of him stretching after practice, his shirt riding up a little at his side.
he keeps flipping. faster now. and then there's a full body drawing. him, shirtless, soft shading along his stomach and chest. his hipbones. the dip of his waist. it's not messy or rushed. it's careful. like you spent real time thinking about where the light would hit him and where the shadows would fall.
satoru sits down on the edge of the table, the sketchbook open in his lap, and stares at it for a second too long. he's not sure what he's feeling. he's used to people looking at him. he's not used to being looked at like this—slow, careful, like every detail actually mattered to the person drawing it.
he's so caught up in it that he doesn't even hear you walking up until you're right next to him, out of breath and a little panicked.
"satoru, have you seen my—"
you stop talking. your eyes drop to his hands, to the sketchbook open on his knees, to the exact page he's on—the shirtless one—and your face goes white for a second before turning bright red.
"oh my god."
he looks up at you, a grin already pulling at his mouth. "you draw me?"
"give it back." you reach for it, but he just lifts it out of your reach, way too entertained by this.
"wait, wait, wait." he flips back a page, holding it up. "are these abs? i don't think i actually have abs like this."
"satoru—"
"i mean, kind of," he says, grinning even wider, "but you really went all in here. there's shading. you gave me a six pack i don't fully have."
you try to grab it again. he holds it just out of reach again, smiling down at you.
"you drew my hands three times. why does a hand need three tries."
"because hands are hard, okay? that's not weird, hands are literally one of the hardest things to draw, ask anyone—"
"never said it was weird." he finally lowers the sketchbook, though he doesn't hand it back yet. he just looks at you for a second—your face completely red, your arms crossed tight like you're trying to disappear. "it's flattering."
you groan and cover your face with both hands. "it's for class. i'm not being weird about it."
"didn't say that either." his smile softens a little, more curious now than teasing. "but seriously. why me?"
you peek at him through your fingers, like maybe if you don't fully participate in this conversation it'll just end on its own. "we started a new unit," you mumble. "figure drawing. like, anatomy, proportions, the whole body. they bring in models for class and it's just—it's so awkward, satoru. you're sitting there for three hours trying to draw a person you've never even talked to."
"so you draw me instead."
"my professor said it's easier when you draw someone you actually know," you say quickly, like talking fast will make this less embarrassing. "like, it helps to already be familiar with the person. and you're a sports major, you're literally built like the examples in our textbook, so i thought... i don't know. it made sense."
"so you thought, 'oh wait. i've got a pretty handsome friend. i'll draw him.'"
"i did not think about it like that."
"you basically did."
but he's not really laughing at you. there's something kind of warm in the way he's looking at you now, the sketchbook still resting on his knee like he's in no rush to give it back. "you know," he says, his voice a little quieter now, "you could've just asked me."
"i didn't want to make it weird."
he raises an eyebrow. "weirder than it already is?"
you groan and bury your face in your hands again. "stop it."
he chuckles, finally closing the sketchbook but still not handing it back, just holding it loosely against his chest like he's claimed it now. "so what's the assignment actually for? like what's due."
you hesitate. this is the part you really didn't want to get into. "it's, um. it's a full figure study. like, a finished piece, not just sketches."
"okay. so like what you already drew?"
"kind of. except—" you stop, feeling your face heat up all over again.
"except what?"
you sigh, giving up on hiding it. "it has to be a nude study. that's the whole point of the unit. like, the body without clothes, the way the muscles and proportions actually work without fabric getting in the way."
his eyebrows go up, surprised, but he doesn't say anything teasing this time, just listens.
"and everyone else in class already has their reference done," you continue, the words spilling out faster now that you've started. "they've all been going to the model sessions for weeks. i missed like three of them and now i'm behind. i don't have anything to actually work from, and it's due monday, and i don't know what i'm gonna do."
he's quiet for a second, turning the sketchbook over in his hands like he's thinking. then he shrugs, easy, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "so draw me."
you blink at him. "what?"
"draw me," he says again, like he's repeating himself for someone a little slow. "for the assignment."
"satoru, i don't think you understand what i just said—"
"i understood it fine." he leans back against the table, arms crossed now, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "you need a body to draw. i have a body. solves your problem."
"that's not— you don't have to do that."
"you didn't ask. i offered."
"satoru."
"what? you already drew me shirtless without even asking," he points out, smirking. "feels like i should at least get a say in it this time."
your mouth opens and then closes again, no actual argument coming to mind.
"so," he says, holding the sketchbook out to you now, finally, "when do you want me."
you stare at him for a long moment, waiting for the joke to land, for him to laugh and say he's kidding. it doesn't come. he just watches you, sketchbook held out between you, patient in a way that's almost worse than if he were still teasing.
"you're serious," you finally say.
"dead serious." he wiggles the sketchbook a little, like he's reminding you it's still there, still yours to take. "i mean, unless you don't want it to be me. i get it if that's weird."
"it's not that i don't want it to be you," you say quickly, before you can think better of it, and then immediately wish you could take the sentence back the second you hear how it sounds out loud.
his grin widens. "oh?"
"shut up. you know what i mean." you finally take the sketchbook from him, hugging it to your chest like it might protect you from the rest of this conversation. "i just don't want you to feel like you have to. it's a big ask."
"could just say thank you, you know." he checks his phone, then looks back up at you. "okay, so. when's good. you said it's due monday?"
your stomach does something complicated at the thought of this actually happening, of him actually meaning it. "i mean—if you're really down, friday night could work. gives me the whole weekend after to finish the piece."
"friday night works. come by my dorm, like, eight?" he says it so casually, like he's inviting you over for a movie and not offering to sit there while you draw every inch of him. "more privacy than the studio anyway. don't gotta worry about randos walking in."
"right." your voice comes out a little higher than you mean it to. "yeah. that makes sense."
"bring your stuff. pencils, whatever you need." he's already turning to go, slinging his bag over one shoulder, looking far too unbothered for someone who just volunteered for this. then he glances back at you, smirk creeping in again ""and hey—make sure you get the good angles. i have a reputation to maintain."
"i make no promises."
he laughs at that, walking backward a few steps before finally turning around fully and heading off down the hall, leaving you standing there with your sketchbook clutched to your chest and friday suddenly feeling very, very far away and not far away at all.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
you knock on his door right at eight, sketchbook tucked under your arm. when the door swings open, you almost forget how to speak entirely.
he's standing there in nothing but a towel slung low around his hips, hair still damp and pushed back messily from the shower, a few stray drops sliding down the side of his neck. he looks completely unbothered by it, leaning one arm against the doorframe like he just answered the door for a pizza delivery and not for you.
"hey," he says, grinning at the way your eyes immediately snap up to his face. "you're early. or i'm late. one of those."
"you said eight," you manage, voice coming out a little strangled.
"yeah, and it's eight." he steps back to let you in, completely at ease, while you do your absolute best not to stare at the water still tracking down his collarbone. "wanted to shower first. figured you'd want clean reference material, not sweaty me."
"right. that's—considerate." your face is heating up fast, and you hate how obvious it probably is.
he notices, of course he notices, smirk pulling wider as he shuts the door behind you. "you're already red and i haven't even dropped the towel yet."
"i'm not red."
"you're very red." he says it gently, almost fond, like he's enjoying this a little too much. "relax. you're gonna see me naked in like, five minutes anyway. no point getting shy now."
"that's—that doesn't make it less weird, satoru, that makes it more—" you cut yourself off, setting your bag down on his desk a little too forcefully, mostly to give your hands something to do that isn't fidgeting.
he just laughs, clearly enjoying every second of your suffering. "you're the one who's been secretly sketching me for who knows how long without even telling me. i'm just catching up to the project at this point."
you need something to say, anything, because the silence stretching between you feels too loud, too charged, like it's just waiting for you to do something stupid like keep staring at him. "so, um." you clear your throat, eyes darting anywhere that isn't directly at the towel. "how was practice?"
he glances at you over his shoulder, clearly clocking the fact that you're filling dead air for the sake of filling it, but he humors you anyway, padding over to the little kitchenette tucked in the corner of his dorm. "long. coach had us running rounds for like two hours straight. my legs are gonna hate me tomorrow."
"sounds rough."
"it was fine." he pulls a shaker bottle down from a shelf, dumping in a scoop of protein powder with one hand while the other holds the towel in place at his hip. "you get used to it after a while. body adjusts."
"right. makes sense." you nod way too many times for someone agreeing with such a simple statement, perching yourself on the edge of his desk chair, flipping your sketchbook open.
he adds water, screws the lid on, and shakes it, the muscles in his forearm shifting in a way you absolutely do not need to notice right now and notice anyway. then he tips his head back and drinks, and you watch—you can't help it, your eyes just go there on their own—the long line of his throat moving as he swallows, a bead of water from his still-damp hair sliding down the side of his neck and disappearing somewhere past his collarbone.
you realize you're staring a full two seconds too late.
"you're staring," he says, lowering the bottle, that slow grin spreading across his face like he's been waiting for an excuse to call it out.
"what?" your voice comes out a little too fast.
"you heard me." he sets the shaker down on the counter, leaning back against it. "staring. at me. just now."
"i wasn't staring," you say, way too quickly, your face heating up all over again as you fumble to look anywhere else—the ceiling, the floor, the stack of textbooks on his desk, anywhere that isn't him.
"you were so staring." he pushes off the counter, walking closer with that unhurried way he moves, like he has all the time in the world and fully intends to use it to torture you. "it's fine. i get it. i'm a lot to take in."
"oh my god."
"i'm just messing with you." he laughs. "relax. you look like you're about to pass out."
"I'm fine."
"uh huh." he doesn't push it further. he turns and heads toward the open space near his window, where the evening light is still soft and golden enough. he glances back at you over his shoulder. "okay. so how do you want me. like, pose-wise."
"oh—right." you fumble for your sketchbook, flipping it open to a blank page, grateful for something to focus on besides the fact that he's still only in a towel. "um. standing's probably easiest to start. maybe just—natural. however you'd normally stand."
"natural how. like this?" he straightens up, shoulders back, doing this exaggerated, stiff superhero pose that's clearly meant to make you laugh.
it works. a small laugh escapes you despite everything. "no, not like that. just—relaxed. like you're not thinking about it."
"hard to not think about it when you're staring at me with a pencil." but he loosens up anyway, settling his weight onto one leg, one hand coming up to rest at the back of his neck. "this work?"
your pencil is already moving before you fully register deciding to start. "yeah. that's—that's good. don't move."
"wasn't planning to." his voice has dropped a little, quieter now, watching you work. "you gonna tell me when the towel needs to come off, or am i supposed to guess."
your pencil stutters against the page. "right. um. whenever you're ready, i guess. it's—it's for the assignment, so."
"so professional," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching like he's fighting back a grin. "okay. you ready?"
"yeah." you swallow, gripping your pencil a little too tight. "ready."
he reaches up and tugs the knot of the towel loose, and it drops to the floor without any of the fanfare your racing heart seems to think the moment deserves. he doesn't flinch, doesn't make a big show of it—just steps back into the same easy stance from before, one hand resting at the back of his neck, weight settled onto one leg, completely at home in his own skin in a way that makes your nerves feel almost silly by comparison.
you keep your eyes on the page for a long moment before you let yourself actually look, telling yourself it's just reference, just anatomy, just the same thing you'd be doing with any model in class.
but it doesn't feel like just anatomy. it feels like every line of him is something you've already know from the sketches you didn't think anyone would see, except now the soft pencil shading has nothing on the real thing—the actual shape of his shoulders, the dip of muscle along his stomach, the lean lines of him standing there like an italian renaissance sculpture.
and god, he's better than you imagined. better than he looked in your head late at night when you couldn't sleep, which—not that you dream about him, obviously, that would be ridiculous, that's not a thing that happens—but if you did, hypothetically, this would still somehow be better than that.
it's almost unfair, really. the way his body looks like it was carved out of stone, like michelangelo himself spent way too long getting the proportions exactly right—shoulders broad and strong, the muscle down his arms, the curve where his waist narrows into his hips.
it's the kind of body you'd expect to see behind glass in a museum somewhere, with a little plaque underneath, except this version breathes and makes dumb jokes.
you let your eyes trace lower, the way you would with any reference, you tell yourself, purely for the sake of the assignment. his cock rests heavy between his thighs, thick and full, and bigger than you thought it would be (not that you'd ever thought about his dick, obviously, that's not a thing you do.)
the head shows a soft flush where it brushes against his leg, and the fair hair trails down from his navel and gathers in pale curls at the base. the sharp v of his hips frames it all in clean lines that make your fingers itch to draw every shadow and curve.
"you still with me?" he says, a little amused, like he's clocked exactly how long you've been staring without actually drawing anything.
"yeah—sorry, yeah." you blink, snapping your eyes back up to his face, pencil finally moving again.
"should i have, like, shaved or something?"
your face goes instantly red all over again. "what? no—it's fine. you're fine. it's not—that's not a thing you need to worry about."
"figured i'd ask." he shrugs. "usually i shave when i've got a girl coming over, but i was running late today, so."
"oh my god." you cover your face with one hand, pencil still somehow managing to keep moving against the page with the other. "i did not need to know that."
"only wanted to clear the air."
you peek at him through your fingers, deciding two can play this game. "so what you're telling me is you haven't had anyone over in a while, huh?"
a short surprised laugh, like he wasn't expecting you to fight back. "wow. okay. didn't think you had it in you. but—i mean, i have someone over now."
"to draw you. that's different."
"you're still seeing my dick or whatever."
"that's not the same thing and you know it."
"feels pretty similar from where i'm standing."
"so, the other girls sit across the room admiring you for twenty minutes with a sketchbook before anything happens? is that what you're telling me?"
"oh, so you're admiring me."
"that's not what i—i meant artistically."
"sure you did."
"i hate you."
"just so you know—they're not usually sitting across the room admiring me for twenty minutes. they're usually under me about thirty seconds after they walk through the door."
"oh my god, satoru."
after another ten minutes or so, your pencil finally slows, then stops altogether, hovering over the last few finishing strokes before you sit back to actually look at what you've got. it's good. better than good—the proportions feel right in a way they never quite did with the strangers from class, like having an actual person in front of you instead of just a body made all the difference.
"okay," you say, clearing your throat. "i think i've got what i need. you can relax."
"oh thank god." he drops the pose immediately, shoulders slumping, rolling his neck out with an exaggerated groan like he's been holding some kind of intense athletic stance this whole time and not just standing there looking effortlessly good. "puhhh. finally. you have no idea how hard it is to stand still that long."
"you literally do athletic training for two hours a day."
"that's different, that's moving. this was just—" he shakes out his arms, grabbing the towel off the floor and wrapping it back around his waist, "—standing there being stared at. way more exhausting than it sounds."
"you're so dramatic."
"i'm a very dedicated model, is what i am." he flops down onto the edge of his bed, finally looking properly relaxed for the first time all evening, then immediately perks back up, craning his neck toward your sketchbook. "okay, lemme see it."
you instinctively pull the book a little closer to your chest. "it's not done done. it's just the reference sketch."
"i don't care, i wanna see." he's already getting up, padding over. "c'mon. i posed for, like, twenty minutes straight. i've earned a peek."
"fine. but you can't make fun of it." you hold the sketchbook out, a little reluctant, watching his face carefully as he leans over to look.
he goes quiet for a second, which is rare enough on its own that you almost want to comment on it. his eyes move slowly over the page, taking in the lines of his own shoulders, the careful shading along his stomach, his easy stance you'd worked so hard to get right.
"huh," he says finally.
"what? is it bad?"
"no, it's—" he tilts his head. "it's really good, actually. like, you made me look good good. not just accurate good."
"that's literally just what you look like."
"i don't know, i feel like you're being generous with the shoulders." but he's smiling now, something a little softer underneath the teasing, still looking at the drawing instead of you. "you're actually talented. like, properly. i wasn't expecting it to be this good."
"you say that like you thought i was bad."
"i didn't know what to expect! you draw secret abs sketches of your friends, forgive me for having questions about your technical skill." but he says it gently, nudging your shoulder with his again, and when he finally looks up at you there's something warm in his expression that wasn't quite there before, something that makes your stomach flip a little. "seriously, though. this is really good. you should be proud of it."
"thanks," you say, feeling a little warm under the actual sincerity of it, fumbling slightly for something to do with your hands besides just standing there basking in gojo satoru's approval like it means something. "i mean, it's still rough. i've gotta clean it up before monday."
"still." he's still looking at it, then glances up at you with a grin starting to spread. "can i take a picture of it?"
"what? why?"
"i don't know, for personal use." he's already reaching for his phone on the nightstand. "this might genuinely be the most insane nude i could ever send to a girl. like, nobody's topping that."
"satoru, oh my god, no." you yank the sketchbook back against your chest, half laughing despite yourself. "you are not sending this to anyone."
"think about it though. any other guy sends a regular picture, basic, boring, zero creativity behind it. i send this and i'm instantly the most romantic man alive." he's grinning, clearly enjoying how flustered you've gotten all over again. "it's basically a love letter. you put thought into this."
"it's an anatomy assignment."
"a very thoughtful anatomy assignment." he reaches for the sketchbook again, more playful than serious about actually taking it. "c'mon, one picture. i won't even send it to anyone. probably."
you let him, mostly because you know arguing further is a losing battle, and he snaps a quick picture before setting his phone back down, looking entirely too pleased with himself about the whole thing.
"okay," he says, dropping back down onto the edge of the bed. "anything else you need from me? more poses, weird angles, you want me to flex my biceps?"
"no, it's fine." you start gathering your things. "i think i stressed you out enough for one night."
"you didn't stress me out." he watches you for a second, head tilted, clearly not buying the way you said that. "spill it."
"what?"
"you've got a face. the 'i want to say something but i'm not gonna' face." he leans back on his hands. "what is it."
you hesitate, fingers tightening slightly around your pencil case. "i mean—maybe we could do one more pose? like, a different angle or something. just so i actually have options when i sit down to finish it properly. i don't wanna hand in the first thing i drew if there's something better i could've gotten."
he blinks, then grins, already pushing himself back up off the bed. "yeah. sure. why not." he rolls his shoulders out, stepping back toward the open space by the window. "you're the artist. tell me where you want me this time."
he settles into the chair this time, leaning back with his head tipped against the top of it, one leg stretched out, the whole thing far more relaxed than the standing pose from before. one hand comes to rest loosely in his lap, fingers resting near his cock without much thought behind it.
"oh, this is way better. way less work than standing there like a statue." he glances down at where his hand landed, a flicker of realization crossing his face, and he laughs a little, shifting like he's about to move it. "oh—sorry, that's just habit. didn't even think about where i put my hand."
"no, it's—" you hesitate, voice catching, face going hot all over again. "it's, um—it's fine. really. genuinely fine. do whatever's, uh—whatever's comfortable for you. i'm not—this isn't a big deal."
he looks at you for a second, like he's checking you actually mean it, then shrugs, settling back into exactly the same position, hand staying right where it was. "okay. if you're sure. i'll stay like this, then."
your pencil is already moving, eyes flicking between him and the page. it takes you a few minutes to notice that he's stopped looking out at nothing and started watching you instead, head tilted slightly against the back of the chair.
"what?"
"nothing." but he doesn't stop watching you. there's something almost soft about the way he's looking at you now, the corner of his mouth pulled into a small smile, like he's caught himself thinking something he wasn't planning on. "you get this face when you're drawing. all scrunched up and serious."
"i do not."
"you so do. little furrow right here." he reaches up, tapping a finger lightly between his own eyebrows to demonstrate, careful not to actually shift out of the pose. "it's kind of cute."
your pencil stutters against the page. "don't move," you mutter, mostly to give yourself something to say that isn't reacting to that.
"i'm not moving."
he settles back again, and keeps watching you. his cock twitches once under his hand where it rests in his lap. he feels the slow thickening start before he can stop it. oh fuck. the words stay stuck in his throat but they echo in his head as he presses his fingers down a little harder. he tries to hold the growing length discreetly against his thigh but it is no use. another twitch makes the head nudge up against his palm.
your pencil pauses on the page. you see it. the subtle flex of his fingers. the unmistakable twitch that makes his cock strain despite the way he tries to keep it down. heat spreads low in your stomach and between your legs so fast it leaves you dizzy.
"sorry about that," he mutters. the flush on his neck deepens and his hand stays pressed over the twitching length like he can will it back down. but it twitches again anyway. slow and heavy and impossible to ignore. "long day, i guess. lot on my mind."
you swallow. "it's fine."
"i don't know, i normally kind of—wind down at night. on my own. you know. guess my body didn't get the memo that tonight's schedule looked a little different."
"oh! uh—i can go," you blurt out, already half reaching for your bag, face burning. "like, seriously, if you need a few minutes or—whatever, i don't want to make this weirder than it already is—"
"no, no, you don't have to go." he sits up a little. "it'll pass. it's fine. i'm fine."
"are you sure? because i really don't mind waiting outside, or coming back tomorrow, or—"
"i'm sure." he gives you a small, almost sheepish smile, the most genuinely embarrassed you think you've ever seen him. "just finish your drawing. i swear i'm not gonna combust."
"okay." you sink back down slowly, still not entirely convinced, sketchbook settling back into your lap. "if you're sure."
"i'm sure." he resettles into the chair, head tipping back again, doing his best to look casual about it even though his ears are still a little red. "c'mon. let's just—finish this. pretend it's a normal tuesday."
"it's friday."
"pretend it's a normal friday, then. work with me here."
you pick your pencil back up, trying to focus on the page instead of the very obvious tension radiating off him from across the room. for a minute or two it almost works, both of you pretending pretty hard that everything's fine.
the quiet stretches between you. you try to keep drawing but your focus slips every time he shifts in the chair. his hand presses down harder in his lap. he is trying to push his cock fully flat against his thigh now. his breathing turns heavy and uneven like he cannot quite catch it. you hear every inhale, every slow exhale. he is getting so worked up just from sitting there while you look at him. his cock under his palm thickens and twitches against his fingers no matter how he tries to hold it still.
then his fingers move slower. deliberate. he touches himself a little. just the barest drag of his thumb along the side like he is checking how hard he is getting. it twitches again under the touch. bigger this time. he presses down quick to try and calm it but it does not help. his breath catches on a low sound he does not quite manage to swallow.
your pencil stops moving. heat floods through you so fast your face burns.
"okay," he says, dragging a hand down his face. "okay, i think i actually need a few minutes this time."
"oh god, yes, okay." you're already on your feet, sketchbook nearly sliding off your lap in your rush. "i'll just—i'll wait outside, or—"
"you can stay." he says it quickly, almost too quickly, like it surprises even him. "i mean—if you want. it won't take long."
"satoru."
"what? i'm just saying, you don't have to leave the building over this."
"i'm not waiting in here while you—"
he does not look away from you as his hand slides back down between his legs. he is already painfully hard. his cock stands thick and flushed in his palm, the head dark and wet at the tip. he wraps his fingers around the length and strokes once slow and tight like he has been holding back for too long.
"i think i like it when you watch," he almost moans.
"i'm gonna—" you don't even finish the sentence, just grab your bag and bolt for the door, nearly tripping over your own backpack strap on the way. "air. i need air. i'll be right back."
"wait! you don't have to run—"
but the door already slams shut behind you, and you stand in the hallway for a solid ten seconds just catching your breath, face burning, heart absolutely pounding, before you let yourself slide down against the wall and bury your face in your hands.
you stay quiet. your breathing slows but your heart does not. then you hear it, muffled through the door. the low rough sound of his voice. a groan, and the wet sound of skin moving on skin. another sound comes through, sharper this time, and a low fuck.
you press your thighs together where you sit on the floor. the noises do not stop. they get a little louder like he has stopped holding back now that you are gone. you can picture it perfectly, his hand moving fast on his thick cock. another groan filters through the door and your body reacts hard, heat flooding between your legs.
you sit there against the wall, staring blankly at the hallway carpet while your brain refuses to move away from his door and not listen to his moans and groans anymore.
how. how are you supposed to look him in the eye after this. how are you supposed to sit across from him in the dining hall next week, or wave at him across campus, or exist in the same general vicinity as gojo satoru ever again without your whole face just instantly catching fire.
you bury your face deeper into your hands, groaning quietly to yourself. it was one thing when it was just sketches. it was even survivable when he found the sketchbook, mortifying as that had been. but this. this is a whole new tier of humiliation you didn't know existed until tonight.
you're going to have to transfer schools. change your name. move to another country, probably. there's no version of monday where you walk into the dining hall and he's there and you don't immediately die on the spot.
somewhere behind the door, things have gone quiet.
you really, really don't want to think about what that means.
