➽────── gojo…has a girlfriend. ──────❥
a/n ~ hopefully we liked this instalment of the frat verse! i really enjoyed this series! geto next..?
gojo knows he’s in trouble when he starts planning things days in advance. real planning, too.
not the lazy “yeah let’s hang out” texts he used to send girls at two in the morning. not the effortless, thoughtless flirting he could do in his sleep.
this is different. you’re different, and it scared him a little, if he’s being honest. because somewhere between the matcha dates and the dinner dates and the multiple galleries you’ve gone to and the nights spent sitting in his car talking long after he should’ve driven home, gojo realized something deeply humiliating.
he likes you in a way that matters. not casually or temporarily or in the fun, fleeting way that he’s used to.
he likes knowing how you take your coffee. likes the way you get quieter when you’re tired. likes the tiny furrow between your brows when you’re concentrating on something. likes that you still roll your eyes at him even after kissing him.
especially after kissing him.
and god, the kissing. he thinks about it constantly. the one that replays in his head was from two weeks ago, outside your apartment after dinner one night, your hand loosely curled in the front of his hoodie while he leaned down into you, slow and careful like he was trying not to scare the moment away. your fingers brushing his jaw while he smiled against your mouth. his hands settling at your waist instinctively every time he saw you.
little kisses in parking lots. outside cafes. against your front door while you quietly told him he was being clingy.
he’s never taken things slow before. usually he’s impatient, careless, all instinct and confidence. with you, he finds that he doesn’t mind it, because every time you look at him softly, every time you text him first, every time you lean into him without thinking, it feels earned. like he’s building something instead of just chasing it.
which is why, on a random thursday afternoon, when he texts:
your typing bubble appears almost immediately.
and suddenly gojo’s entire body goes into crisis mode. he bolts upright so fast he smacks his knee on the edge of his desk. “fuck.”
downstairs, toji yells, “what’d you break now?”
gojo sprints down the stairs, mind reeling. “didn’t break anything. but she said yes to hangout.”
toji doesn’t even glance up from the couch. “congratulations. your girlfriend agreed to see you.”
gojo points aggressively. “she’s not technically my girlfriend yet.”
geto looks up from his book. “yet?”
gojo freezes. “…shut up.” but then he’s thinking about it.
the word sits warm in his chest, and suddenly tonight can’t just be a hangout anymore. it has to be perfect.
by six o’clock, the frat house looks unrecognizable, mostly because gojo’s terrorized everyone out of it. he also voluntarily cleaned. there isn’t a speck of dust in sight.
“you’re kicking us out,” toji says flatly.
“for my future wife,” gojo corrects automatically.
geto bursts out laughing. toji looks physically ill. “jesus christ.”
“leave,” gojo says, shoving at them both toward the door. “go be unemployed somewhere else. or get a girlfriend, like choso.”
“he’s there all the time,” geto says, giving toji a look. “i’ve never seen you leave the house.”
“i leave the house,” he says indignantly. “at least i get action.”
“i get plenty of action,” geto splutters on his way out, the pair arguing until the house empties and the door shuts. gojo stands alone in the suddenly quiet living room and exhales.
he ordered from your favorite thai place earlier, double checking your usual order from the notes app in his phone like a psychopath. there are flowers on the counter again because now he can’t stop buying you flowers. your favorite movie is already queued up on the tv.
everything smells faintly like takeout and the candle he panic-bought an hour ago because you said you liked how that specific scent reminded you of a bakery.
he stares at the room. fixes a pillow, fluffs it up. checks his phone. checks the food. checks his reflection.
“i’m gonna throw up,” he mutters. then, five minutes later, the doorbell rings, and his heart nearly exits his body.
the last few weeks have felt strange. you've felt strange. the way your phone is suddenly always full of gojo. dumb pictures from campus. blurry selfies where he’s making some ridiculous expression. random messages at two in the afternoon saying things like this guy in my lecture looks exactly like toji if toji had brown eyes and blond hair and lizard lips.
the way your friends - specifically choso's girlfriend - have started looking at you knowingly every time his name comes up. the way you’ve stopped pretending not to smile when he texts you.
it’s unsettling, honestly.
you thought gojo would lose interest after the chase ended. thought eventually he’d get bored once he realized you weren’t going to melt every time he flirted with you.
instead, he got more attentive and affectionate and obvious. like once he realized you liked him back, something in him relaxed completely. he reaches for your hand constantly now, like it belongs there. kisses your forehead absentmindedly while talking. he remembers things you mention once in passing and brings them up weeks later like it’s nothing.
and every time he looks at you, there’s this softness in his expression that catches you off guard so badly it almost makes your chest hurt.
you don’t know what to do with that kind of sincerity, especially because you’re realizing you’d miss it terribly if it disappeared.
you’re still thinking about that when you stand outside the frat house later that night, adjusting your bag on your shoulder before ringing the doorbell.
the door swings open two seconds later and gojo’s standing there slightly breathless, hair messy, eyes wide. he's wearing a black hoodie and grey sweats, and looks unfairly good despite the fact that he looks out of breath. “…hi,” he says.
you stare at him. “did you just run a marathon?”
“so you just look athsmatic on a daily?”
“irrelevant,” he says quickly, stepping aside to let you in. “come in.”
you walk inside slowly, immediately noticing how suspiciously clean everything is again. you narrow your eyes. “did you disinfect the walls?”
gojo shuts the door behind you. “maybe.”
“and it smells like a candle store in here.” you turn to face him, small smile on your lips. "it's that scent i like."
you stare at him for another second, then at the living room, the movie already paused on the screen, the takeout containers neatly set out. the flowers, again.
your chest does that annoying thing, again.
“you’re unbelievable,” you mutter softly.
gojo’s grin flickers nervous around the edges this time. “is that bad?”
he laughs quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. you set your bag down while gojo hovers nearby awkwardly, like he wants to kiss you hello but is overthinking it.
you look up at him finally. “…what.”
“okay,” he says immediately. “i wanted to kiss you.”
you roll your eyes a little, but step closer anyway. his hands settle automatically at your waist when you tilt your head up toward him, and the second your lips touch, he melts.
it still surprises you a little, how gentle he is with you. gojo kisses like he’s trying to savor something, slow and warm and careful, like he’s still amazed you let him do this at all.
when you pull away, he follows for half a second unconsciously before catching himself. you smile faintly. “clingy.”
“yeah,” he says, entirely unashamed. “really bad actually.”
you laugh softly under your breath and it makes him look stupidly pleased with himself.
later, you’re curled up together on the couch, your legs draped over his while the movie plays quietly in the background mostly ignored. gojo’s fingers are tracing lazy patterns against your ankle absentmindedly while he talks about something to do with campus drama.
you’re not really listening. you’re watching him instead.
the way he smiles halfway through stories and the way he talks with his hands when he gets excited and the way he keeps looking over at you like he’s checking you’re still there.
it’s strange. you’ve dated people before. talked to people before.
but nothing has ever felt this…safe. with gojo, you never feel like you have to perform coolness or detachment. you don’t have to calculate texts or pretend not to care.
he just likes you, openly and fully. without making you guess. somewhere along the way, you realized you’ve started doing the same thing back. the realization settles warm in your chest right as gojo suddenly goes quiet beside you.
you glance up. he’s staring at you again. there’s that look.
he hesitates this time. something about that instantly makes your stomach tighten. gojo sits up a little, suddenly nervous enough that you can practically feel it radiating off him.
“okay,” he says. “don’t laugh.”
your brows lift slightly. “that’s never a good start.”
you study him for a second before nodding once. “…okay.”
he exhales slowly, then reaches beside the couch. flowers again. pretty lilacs. you stare at them, then at him, and suddenly your heartbeat is enough to make you dizzy.
“wait,” he says quickly, already looking panicked. “lemme finish before i psych myself out.”
you go quiet immediately. he shifts closer on the couch, holding the flowers carefully now and handing them to you. you hold them softly in your lap, looking at him, and for the first time since you met him, satoru gojo looks genuinely scared.
not nervous-flirty, or awkward. scared. like your answer matters too much.
“i know this is probably stupid,” he says quietly. “and i know we haven’t been doing this for that long, but—” he laughs softly under his breath. “i really like you.”
your chest aches instantly.
“and i think,” he continues carefully, “you might actually be the first person i’ve ever wanted something serious with. i've...i've never had a girlfriend. like, a real one. or dated. it's always been just casual with people but with you, i.—i want something else, y/n.”
your throat tightens. gojo looks down briefly before meeting your eyes again. “i just…” he smiles nervously. “i wanna keep doing this. all of it.”
you don’t think anyone’s ever looked at you like this before, like you’re something precious. he looks at you like you're something he's terrified of losing before he even really has it.
“so,” he says softly, “can i be your boyfriend?”
and suddenly everything in your chest goes painfully warm, because the answer has been obvious for weeks now. probably longer. you just didn’t realize how badly you wanted to hear him say it out loud.
gojo notices your silence almost immediately and starts panicking. “okay, wait, actually don’t answer yet if you don’t want—”
you cut him off by grabbing his face and kissing him. harder this time, more certain. his breath catches sharply against your mouth, his hands tighten instinctively at your waist. you pull back just enough to feel him chasing your lips again, and you smile softly.
then whisper against his mouth, "obviously."
the look on his face afterwards makes your heart feel hopelessly, utterly gone.
gojo kisses you like he still can’t quite believe this is real. the flowers get abandoned somewhere on the couch between you as he pulls you closer, one hand warm against your waist while the other slides carefully up your neck. his thumb brushes along your jaw and you feel him smile shakily against your mouth when you kiss him back harder.
“obviously,” you’d whispered.
and he genuinely thinks that might be the best thing anyone’s ever said to him. “you’re my girlfriend,” he says suddenly against your lips, sounding a little dazed by it.
you snort softly. “don’t make it weird already.”
“too late,” he murmurs immediately. “i’ve been weird about you for, like, a month.”
you laugh quietly into the kiss and something about the sound seems to make him lose composure entirely, because suddenly he’s kissing you deeper, more desperate now that he knows for sure you want him too.
his hands slide up your waist carefully, fingertips pressing into the soft fabric of your shirt while he leans into you fully this time, warm and dizzying and so obviously gone for you it almost makes your chest ache. you can feel him smiling against your mouth.
“and boyfriend,” he murmurs between kisses, sounding a little stunned by it. “you called me your boyfriend.”
“i actually didn’t,” you mumble back.
“happy,” he corrects softly.
your stomach flips annoyingly hard and you kiss him again before he can see it on your face.
that seems to completely derail his remaining brain function. his grip tightens slightly at your waist, pulling you closer against him until your legs are tangled together on the couch, and suddenly the whole thing feels warmer somehow. slower.
the movie’s still playing quietly somewhere behind you, forgotten entirely now. gojo kisses like he’s learning you by memory and every time you kiss him back harder, he melts for it instantly.
it's addictive, honestly. you pull back just enough to breathe and his eyes open slowly, half-lidded and fixed on your mouth like he’s trying very hard to think about anything else and failing miserably.
he looks ruined already. you almost laugh. “you’re staring again,” you murmur.
you hum softly, fingers brushing through the hair at the nape of his neck. he visibly shivers at that.
interesting. your eyes narrow slightly and gojo notices immediately. “…what.”
“that look means something.”
his face goes pink instantly. “i’m not sensitive.”
you drag your nails lightly against the back of his neck again just to test it. his breath catches then he glares at you weakly while you try not to smile.
“you are,” you say quietly.
“okay,” he mutters, voice already rougher now. “maybe a little.” before you can answer he pulls you back in, exhaling sharply against your mouth, one hand sliding up your side carefully before settling at your jaw, tilting your face toward him deeper.
you end up half in his lap at some point without either of you acknowledging it. his fingers brush against the bare skin just under your shirt and he pauses for half a second like he’s checking if that’s okay. when you nod, he pulls it off of you, breath catching in his throat because is dream girl is in a bra and shorts sitting in his lap, on his couch. and dream girl = his girlfriend. his girlfriend. his girlfriend.
your heartbeat feels ridiculous now. gojo keeps mumbling little things against your lips, his hands sliding up over your stomach, over your chest to cup you over your bra.
every single one makes your stomach flip over harder. “you talk too much,” you whisper finally, trying very hard to sound unaffected while he kisses along your jaw.
“can’t help it,” he murmurs against your skin. “i’m having, like, the best night of my life right now.”
you laugh softly and comb your fingers through his hair at the base of his neck. he goes still, and you remember that he's sensitive there, and you smirk a little. “what?”
gojo just looks at you. “nothing,” he says quietly. “i just really, really like you. and you have no idea how long i've been wanting to kiss you.”
"we've kissed before," you say.
“yeah, but now it’s official kissing. official kissing and you're in a bra.”
you stare at him flatly for half a second before laughing despite yourself.
he looks at you like you hung the moon personally. it makes your chest ache in this unbearable, warm way. “c’mere,” he murmurs quietly.
you barely have time to process the words before he’s kissing you again, slower this time, sinking deeper into the couch with you half sprawled against him.
he stares at you straddling him and he hoodie off, cheeks tinged red. you have to will your expression to stay neutral - you knew gojo was fit, but he was hiding that under his clothes?
talk about sleeper build.
"i know, i know," he says smugly, like he knows what you're thinking, and you click your tongue, scraping your fingernails down his chest to pull a reaction out of him. his abs tense and he moans softly, immediately going a deeper shade of red after like he's embarrassed of the sound.
gojo looks horrified immediately after, one hand flying up over his face while the other stays firm at your waist like he physically can’t let go of you now. “fuck,” he mutters into his palm. “ignore that.”
your brows lift slowly. “was that a moan?”
“sounded suspiciously like one.”
“i’m choosing not to participate in this conversation.”
you laugh softly and his eyes flick back to your face instantly, expression helpless. there’s something almost unfairly endearing about him like this. satoru gojo, campus flirt, serial menace, chronic ego problem, completely ruined because you scratched your nails down his chest a little.
you drag your fingers lightly over his stomach again just to see what happens. his entire body tenses beneath your hand and his lips part slightly, eyes screwing shut. “…you’re evil,” he says weakly.
“you're sensitive,” you correct, dragging your nails up until they scrape softly against his nipples. he whines again, both hands gripping your waist so hard you're sure there'll be bruises tomorrow.
you hum innocently and kiss him again before he can recover and his hands are sliding along your thighs carefully. you kiss him slower this time, feeling the way he exhales softly against your mouth when your fingers slide into his hair again. he leans into it instinctively, head tilting just slightly into your touch.
affection-starved, you think suddenly.
the realization makes your heart hurt. gojo acts like someone who’s always wanted, always chased, always desired, but this version of him feels different. softer around the edges, like nobody’s ever really held him gently before.
your hand brushes his cheek. his eyes open immediately. “what,” he whispers.
you shake your head once. “nothing.”
he studies your face for a second like he knows there’s more to it than that, but then your thumb brushes over his bottom lip and his thoughts visibly short-circuit again. “you’re really pretty,” he says quietly, like it just slipped out.
“you’ve said that already.”
“yeah, well.” his hands tighten slightly at your waist. “still true.”
your chest feels dangerously soft. you kiss him again, addicted, and his hands slide back over your thighs, fingertips pressing into your skin through your shorts. you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. you circle his nipples again gently and he makes another quiet sound before catching himself. your eyes flick up immediately, his face goes red on impact.
“don’t,” he warns weakly.
“like you’re about to make fun of me.”
you smile a little against his mouth. “you keep making noises.”
“you keep touching me,” he shoots back instantly, scandalized.
you laugh softly and his expression goes completely helpless again. god. he looks so gone for you. your fingers slide through his hair slowly and he leans into your hand instinctively, eyes fluttering shut for a second. something about that tiny unconscious movement makes heat curl low in your stomach.
you kiss along his jaw this time just to feel him shiver. “you’re doing that on purpose now,” he murmurs. "you're evil."
you smile and his hands drift carefully beneath your thighs, pulling you closer against him until your chest is pressed against his bare skin. you can feel his heartbeat now. it's fast. really fast. you glance down briefly, then back up at him. “you nervous?”
you kiss him down his neck now, sucking at the junction of his collarbone, and one of his hands slides up your back carefully, fingertips brushing against your bra strap before settling there. "can i take this off?" he murmurs, voice strained from restraint, and when you nod against his skin he exhales almost in relief, unclasping it with practiced ease.
you’re looking at him with your hands in his hair and your lips swollen from kissing him and trusting him enough to let him touch you like this, and for once in his life, gojo feels almost overwhelmed by how badly he wants to do everything right.
“still okay?” he asks quietly.
you nod once. his hands slide the straps carefully down your shoulders, slow enough that it makes your skin prickle, and his breath catches softly when the fabric falls away completely.
for a second, he just looks at you in silence. your face warms. “don’t stare.”
“can’t help it,” he murmurs honestly, hands coming up to cup your tits, squeezing them gently. there's genuine awe all over his face like he can't believe he gets to have this. gets to have you.
the warmth of his bare skin against yours makes everything feel hazy. the room smells faintly like the candle still burning somewhere behind you and the forgotten takeout on the coffee table and gojo’s cologne.
it’s dizzying. he kisses down your neck again, slower than before, and your fingers tighten in his hair when his mouth brushes over your chest. he groans softly at the feeling, forehead dropping briefly against your skin. “fuck,” he whispers quietly.
you feel warm everywhere now and when your hands tug his hair again he groans before kissing you deeply.
the room feels smaller suddenly. warmer. his hands are everywhere all at once but still careful somehow. you shift against him and both of you freeze for a second when you feel how hard he is beneath you.
gojo’s entire face goes scarlet instantly.
“…sorry,” he says automatically.
you stare at him then laugh softly in disbelief. “did you just apologize to me?”
“i don’t know,” he mutters, horrified. “i’m having a very difficult evening.”
you laugh again and he looks so lovestruck hearing it that your heart twists painfully. his expression shifts when you roll your hips onto his lap again, his eyes screwing shut.
"can you--shit." all words die in his throat and he just holds you tighter to him, rocking your hips together, the friction sending heatwaves up the both of you.
"you sensitive here too?" you tease, and his protests turn into whimpers when you lean down and lick a long stripe up his chest, tongue circling his nipple. his hands squeeze your chest, head falling back against the couch cushions when your hands fumble to pull down his sweats, just enough to see the prominent bulge in his boxers.
your heart lurches. you'd heard the campus rumours, but...
"holy hell," you mutter softly when you take his cock out, the tip already blushing red and leaking furiously as it slaps against his stomach. gojo's panting, ears red now too, unable to look you in the eyes.
"stop teasing," he whimpers when you thumb his slit carefully, giggling as you slowly pump your hand down his cock, the pace agonizing.
those campus rumours - go-all-night gojo. seven-inch satoru. (whatever beast between that man's legs is not seven inches. the rumour must apply when he's soft. surely.)
all that talk about stamina, and how "good it is," and all that gossip that used to make your eyes roll.
imagine your surprise when gojo gargles out a moan, hands gripping your thighs tightly, and he cums, cock twitching as he shoots his release across your chest and his stomach.
"i--i swear i usually last longer, fuck," he rambles, mortified. he looks genuinely devastated, bright red all the way down to his neck, chest rising hard while he looks up to the ceiling in complete horror.
“i swear,” he repeats weakly, voice cracking a little. “i’m not usually this pathetic.”
you’re still half laughing, wiping some of the mess from your chest with the edge of his abandoned hoodie. “you came in under a minute.”
“please don’t say the numbers out loud,” he groans immediately, dropping his head back against the couch cushion. “jesus christ.”
"you're a loser," you say fondly. "pathetic as hell."
“okay,” he says, pointing weakly at you. “you were literally in my lap half naked playing with my hair like some kind of evil siren. let’s not act like this was entirely my fault.”
you grin a little and his expression softens helplessly immediately there’s a beat before he sighs dramatically, dragging both hands down his face. “this is horrible. i finally get my dream girl and i blow it in ten seconds.”
"well, we're not done, are we?" you say, giving him a look. gojo swallows thickly, eyes following how his cum drips down the curve of your chest, before snapping back up, shaking his head quickly.
"n--no. not done yet. if you..if you wanna keep going."
"i do," you whisper, kissing his jaw again, then the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips.
“c’mon,” he whispers softly against your lips, arms wrapping tighter around you as he stands carefully from the couch with you still clinging to him.
you laugh quietly in surprise, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist. “show off.”
“absolutely,” he murmurs, kissing you again as he carries you toward the hallway.
the bedroom door bumps open behind him a second later.
and when he lays you down against the sheets afterward, looking at you like you’re something unbearably precious, your chest aches with the realization that this means far more to you than you ever planned for it to.
okay, maybe the rumours were true. go-all-night satoru was pretty accurate. you'd been able to make a couple observations for yourself, too.
1. gojo trembles when he's close. his legs start to shake and he begs. (you tease him about this. actually, you think he likes it when you're a little mean to him.)
2. he keeps going, even if he's shooting blanks. (embarrassment doesn't exist to him, seven rounds in. he just wants to keep going.)
3. though the rumours all claimed his favourite position was doggy, he had you in any way he could see your pretty face. ("wanna see what you look like when you cum", he'd said.)
-> that being said, you'd say (from field research), that he enjoyed cowgirl the most.
4. eight and a half inches.
5. he's a tits guy. definitely.
6. he looks at you too much during sex. like, he won't break eyecontact once you’re into it, like he still can't quite believe it's happening.
7. he is, unfortunately, yours.
8. you think you might be his too.
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