Heyy!! I'm Kristen, a decently new fanfic writer! I'm 19, and go by she/her pronouns.
Also, people who have unethical opinions such as being a trump supporter, racist, sexist, homophobic, ect. Are not invited to my page. Thank you!! (And sorry for making that so upfront just wanted that to be up there)
Same with people who use ai for art, writing, and other arts in that sense.
What I write:
Mostly anything jjk, but usually Gojo or Megumi! I also enjoy Blue Lock and Haikyuu, so if you have rq on that, lmk!!
(probably won’t be as good with blue lock though, so give me some patience please!! 💙)
I will probably be updating this a lot, so stay posted.
I will likely write many female gender centered fics. (Sorry!!)
I also do not write for male gender, though I will for gender neutral.
Also, I will most likely only be writing one shots for a bit, so be patient with me lol.
CRYING DURING SEX --chapters XIX, XX, XXI [ENDING]
content: gojo satoru x fem!reader, MDNI (18+ ONLY), college au, friends with benefits, s3x worker gojo satoru, TW: rap3, angst, trauma, addictions.
previous chapters: HERE
DISCLAIMER: the final chapters contain heavy themes. if you're struggling with your mental health or feel like you might not be able to handle it, please take care of yourself first and don't read. there are somewhat graphic scenes. i'm warning you now without wanting to spoil it for those who do want to continue.
this has been a big project, i've worked on it for hours and hours over the past month and it means everything to me.
You and Keigo have been best friends for as long as you can remember, so why is he so upset when you say you're going on a date?
Content Warnings: fluff, suggestive, childhood best friends to lovers, college AU, miscommunication, fluff, courting, Keigo acts like a bird, idiots in love, talks of firsts (kisses & loss of virginity), talks of oral (f and m receiving) and sex in general, reader is a little slow, Keigo isn't much better, dialogue heavy, hurt/comfort(?), happy ending
Word Count: 4.2k
A/n: art by @/melwakame on x. No beta reader this time, so if it's shit... just turn a blind eye and forget I ever wrote this 🙂↕️
Keigo Takami has always been a man of many words, always drawing syllables between those pretty lips of his whenever he teases you—those same lips that never once stop moving whenever the two of you are alone.
It’s been like that ever since the two of you were younger. Kindergarten is a scary place for many toddlers, having to be without their parents for multiple hours on end, surrounded by other snotty gremlins for the rest of the day.
Sticky hands were pressed to every surface in the classroom, dirtying the place up. Some of the kids started playing with each other, while others were more reserved.
Keigo wasn’t one of them. No, he wanted to play with other people, finally having the time to actually walk around without being afraid of his father yelling at him. Here he could just be himself, surrounded by other kids. Or so he thought.
Some of the kids were old enough to have gotten their quirks already, showing them off whenever they could with proud smiles on their faces while other kids watched in awe.
But none of them looked at Keigo that way. The boy with the crimson wings and weird markings around his eyes that made him seem more scary to the others than he actually was.
Most of the kids would scurry away when they saw him approach with a small smile on his face, mouth open to ask them if they would want to play together, only for the other kids to tremble in fear and vehemently shake their heads.
It made him sad in all honesty. The fact that a lot of the kids would just interact with others, but not with him, did something complicated to his tiny heart.
Sure, he didn’t have to be scared of his father anymore, but now there was a different issue he didn’t account for—and who could blame him? He’s a child himself, not thinking about how complicated other kids could be—which was people being scared of him.
Neither his mother nor father had warned him about this—about the fact that heteromorphs were looked down upon in society. Why would they warn him about that anyway? His dad is an alcoholic who is on the verge of losing his job while his mother is a stay-at-home mom.
Unfortunately, he’s been thrown into the deep end without any guidance, and his wings seem to be dragging him under much quicker than anticipated.
The excitement he had started to slowly dwindle the more time went on and no one even wanted to sit next to him during class. There were whispers about him from the other kids, ones they thought he couldn’t hear, but his feathers took in every single vibration that came from kids’ throats. While he couldn’t decipher everything, he could decipher enough about the fact that they thought he was scary.
That was how he spent most of his first month in kindergarten—alone, punished to hear every cruel whisper they said about him, and not reacting to it.
But then, one day, came you. The transfer student. There was this cute smile on your face as you waved at all the new faces of your new peers before the teacher had pointed at Keigo and told you to sit next to him.
He was already bracing for impact, waiting for you to shake your head and tell her that you didn’t want to sit next to him—that he was too scary to sit next to. But none of that happened. You just pranced over to him and sat down.
His tiny brain couldn’t compute it, the fact that someone would willingly sit down next to him. As if he hasn’t spent most of his time pouting and staring at other kids’ friendships longingly—which led to dirty looks and them turning their backs toward him.
It’s only when you asked him his name that he finally could function again. His wings puffed up behind him as he looked you over, a shy look that made him take in all of you, before he finally told you his name.
You’d merely smiled at him and told him your own, saying something about becoming the bestest friends in the whole wide world, because sitting next to him meant that the two of you were going to become friends. That’s how that works!!
That was the first time since the start of kindergarten that Keigo smiled again, all of his tiny teeth on display while his eyes crinkled. Oh how lucky he was to have finally found someone who wanted to be his friend.
The smile was quickly wiped off his face when you gasped, though. Eyes widening as you planted one hand on your desk.
He’d stilled, afraid he already did something wrong. His wings trembled uncomfortably behind his back as he noticed other kids staring at the two of you, some already whispering about him—or you for that matter.
Then you leaned forward with a smile so big, it was a wonder it didn’t split your chubby cheeks. There was this certain sparkle in your eyes as you leaned in uncomfortably close, your little eyes looking at his lips.
‘You have sharp teeth!’ you had exclaimed, voice full of excitement. There was this little twitch in your fingers, like you were itching to pull up his lip to examine his teeth yourself.
And it is true that Keigo had sharp canines, something that came with his quirk. It is quite nice that he could just tear through solid foods in an instant, but it also sometimes hurt him. The canines would poke into his lip, drawing some blood out of them. Yeah, he hadn’t fully grown into them yet.
But instead of being afraid of them, you were more fascinated than anything. Fingers still twitching against the desk as you leaned in far too close, your noses almost touching.
Keigo had only blinked at you—a slow blink that you would later point out as well along with a lot of other bird traits he had—before finally nodding his head.
The rest was honestly history.
The two of you got close, much closer than anyone could’ve anticipated. Fingers were always intertwined whenever you’d dragged him somewhere with you, smile on your face as you blabbed on about the thing you just saw and needed for him to see too.
And Keigo? Keigo had just gripped onto your little hand a little tighter, his feathers puffing up behind him as he kept up with you, nodding his tiny head at whatever you were saying, his golden curls bouncing with the motion.
That’s the dynamic between the two of you—you dragging him along with you and him following you wherever you went without so much as a huff.
Soon, he’d forgotten all about other people being scared of him, discriminating against him purely because he has wings and has more bird traits than other winged heteromorphs. All he could think about was you, his best friend.
With those thoughts also came the fact that the two of you trusted each other completely, to the point of having no secrets or so you thought. It was something that was established early on, the fact that the two of you could tell each other everything.
For two children such as yourselves, that meant talking about quirks and their little side effects. This was mostly a topic surrounding Keigo himself, considering he didn’t just get wings but also got some bird traits along with it.
The first one you noticed—aside from the obvious: wings, eye markings, and his sharp canines—was the fact that he reacted strongly to shiny things. His golden eyes always zeroed in on a glint somewhere. Sometimes it was just a little tab from a soda can that lay abandoned on the street, the sun hitting it just right, while other times it was your earrings.
When you’d pointed it out, Keigo had looked away with a faint blush on his face, denying the fact that he was even looking at it. He isn’t that much of a bird! But then it kept happening, and you noticed. Of course you did, you noticed everything about the crimson-winged kid.
You never made fun of him for it; if anything, you started collecting shiny things for him. From soda tabs to shiny coins to little trinkets, all little gifts for him that you presented with a smile on your face.
Keigo just looked at you with those unblinking eyes of his—another bird trait, the fact that he blinks super slow—before he snatched the little thing out of your hand and squeezed you against his body, little arms wrapping around your frame as you just laughed against his skin.
That’s something you haven’t stopped doing—giving him shiny things. Little gifts he keeps in a box under his bed, which you’d found when you were cleaning his room one day.
When you asked him about it, he just shrugged and walked over. Crouching beside you, he wrapped his wing around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. Your head automatically rested itself on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist.
“I’ve saved everything you’ve ever given to me, why would I stop now?” he had mumbled into your hair, giving it a faint kiss.
That had warmed your cheeks, the small smile on your face widening as you realised he was serious. Even after sixteen years of friendship, he still collected everything you gave to him, even though most of it was trash.
To this day, he has done that. Little trinkets he has gifted you and vice versa spanning your dorm room. There’s a small cup-holder full of shiny things in your little kitchen; A few red feathers laying on your bed—’So you’ll think of me when I’m gone.’—and, of course, that stupid rock you gave him back when the two of you were six years old.
You’re lying on your bed, practically surrounded by blankets and pillows. They swallow you whole as you lazily type away on your laptop, trying to get this annoying assignment done before tonight.
The door to your dorm opens with a heavy thud, rattling the walls slightly. The sound has your head snap up, just in time to see a grumpy blond walk through the door.
His wings droop behind him, primaries just shy of touching the floor, shoulders sagged as he beelines straight to the bed after kicking the door closed behind him. Shrugging off his backpack, he lets himself fall face-first into the matrass.
“Long day?” you ask, head lazily lolling to the side to watch him kick off his shoes. There’s a faint grumble in response, probably a hum in agreement while also telling you… something.
The next second, two red plumes detach themselves from his wings. They hover in the air before one closes your laptop and the other gently puts it on your desk.
Keigo rolls onto his side, giant wings hanging off the side of the bed, before he pulls you closer to him. You let yourself be dragged into whatever position is needed, ending up on your side as well, before he inches closer and puts his forehead against yours.
Right, okay, really bad day it seems.
Closing your eyes, you just let yourself get lost in the sensation for a little while. Pressing your forehead further into his—something he’s told you he liked you doing—you just let him have a little moment to himself.
While this doesn’t really do anything for you, you know Keigo likes to do this when he feels stressed, or when he needs some reassurance. It’s some kind of bird thing that releases serotonin for him, and who are you to deny him his happy hormones?
It’s something the two of you have done since you were little. The first time he did it startled you, not really knowing exactly what he was doing, and back then neither did he. It was his first time doing it, so he shocked the both of you.
There was a small pause, devoid of anything, before he finally scrambled to apologise, saying he didn’t know what he was doing.
You merely tilted your head—a small habit you picked up from him, yet another bird trait; tilting your head when something peculiar happens—and asked him if it felt right doing it. When he’d shyly nodded his head, golden curls bouncing, you’d just smiled and put your forehead against his.
At first it was stiff, the two of you looking at each other while literally having your foreheads pressed together—and if your mom were to walk in, she’d surely have some questions neither of you could answer—before he finally closed his eyes and let himself lean into you a little more.
You’d kept your eyes open, just looking at the way he relaxed into you. His wings stilled, feathers no longer stiff, shoulders sagging. There was this small exhale of relief that came from his nose, and that’s when you knew it was just a part of his brain telling him this was right, this was okay.
But Keigo isn’t all bird. He still has his human side, and his human side also craves connection. So it doesn’t surprise you when, after a few minutes of having your heads pressed together, he pulls you into his chest, arms circling your waist as he puts his chin on top of your head.
Exhaling, you let your own hands find his back—careful not to touch the base of his wings, a mistake you’ve only made once in your life.
“Feeling better?” you ask him, making yourself more comfortable in his embrace. “Mhmm.”
You smile at that as your eyes start to feel a little heavy. You note the way Keigo has draped one of his wings over you, crimson feathers twitching against your skin, almost as if they’re coaxing you to sleep. And before you know it, your eyes close and sleep takes you under.
Waking up, you blink a few times. You’re still cocooned in the red feathers as Keigo is sleeping soundly beside you, his arms still wrapped around your waist. Glancing outside you note how the sky has significantly darkened, and you’re suddenly wide awake.
Shit. What time is it?
Feeling around the bed blindly, your fingers finally find the smooth screen of your phone. Grabbing it, you look at the time. 7:15 pm. With one new notification staring up at you:
We still on for tonight?
Okay. This is okay, nothing to be freaked out about. You have forty-five minutes to get ready—freshen up, do your hair, and put on a cute outfit, which you’ve thankfully laid out already. You can do this, you can so do this.
Wiggling yourself free from Keigo’s embrace, you nearly make it out of the bed when you hear a sleepy grumble come from the guy.
“Go back to sleep, Kei,” you whisper to the guy, waiting for him to fall back asleep before you finally go to make yourself ready.
You’re in the bathroom when Keigo finally wakes up, his feathers twitching against his back as he listens to you hum some sort of tune under your breath—something you’re aware he would hear if he were awake, but soft enough to not wake him up.
For a second he wonders if you’ll come back to bed, but when he feels the spot next to him is cold, he realises you might’ve been awake for longer than he thought.
Rolling over with a groan, he finally sits up. His hair sticks out in odd directions, a few feathers sleep-mussed, which he immediately straightens, and there’s a small pillow crease on his face.
Rubbing his face, he swings his feet over the edge of the bed before making his way over to you. The harsh light from the bathroom fixture makes him blink a few more times before he can finally focus on you. And when he does, all the air leaves his lungs.
Fuck, you look hot.
All dolled up, having put on a pretty black dress, done your hair and makeup, and are currently putting on a necklace.
“Let me help.” His voice sounds raspy, but you just smile at him. Walking behind you, he gently takes hold of the necklace before clipping it together, letting it rest against your collarbones. “Why are you so dolled up, hmmm?”
Because you don’t look like this that often, most of the time preferring to stay inside with him, watching some sort of movie or series. The last time you got all dressed up was for his birthday, which has been some months already.
Fuck, did he forget the two of you had plans?
“Going on a date,” you casually say as you lean forward, adjusting the necklace slightly.
That makes his mind scramble a little. A date? Did he seriously forget about a date? Fuck. Looking down, he notes how he’s still in the same clothes he went to lectures with—a white hoodie and black sweats. Not very date ready. “When are we supposed to leave?”
That makes you look at him funny through the mirror, watching him with a furrowed brow. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, with how busy I’ve been these past few days, I must’ve forgotten that we were going out. So how long do I have to get ready?”
“Keigo, you’re not coming with,” you carefully say, turning around to face him now.
Wait, what? “What do you mean? You just said you were going on a date.”
“Yeah, with this guy from my physics class.”
His brain is malfunctioning now, alongside his mouth. Opening and closing a few times, he tries to find the right words, but they just won’t come out.
“I- did I do something wrong?” he asks, stepping a bit closer to you now. His eyes frantically search your face for any signs, but all he can see is confusion. “I know I’ve been quite busy lately, and that I haven’t really spent much time with you, and we constantly keep having different schedules, but if I’ve done anything wrong, please just tell me—”
“Keigo,” you interrupt him. “You’ve done nothing wrong. We always tell each other when someone does something that they don’t like, remember?”
It was a pinky promise the two of you made when you were mere children, little fingers interlocking when the two of you promised you would tell each other when the other did something wrong or something that hurt their feelings.
“Then why are you going out on a date with a guy who isn’t your boyfriend?”
That stops you in your tracks, your fingers uselessly twitching beside your frame as you look at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re going out with a stranger when you’re dating someone already.”
“I’m not dating anyone,” you carefully say, taking a small step back from him. Because what is he talking about right now?
“You’re dating me, chickadee.” Desperation creeps into his voice as he looks you over a few times. You only shake your head, brows furrowing even further.
“Why would you even think that, Kei? We’ve never even done things people who date do.” because it’s true, you’ve never even been on a date with the guy. The only times you’ve gone out were for either of your birthdays, and even that could hardly be called a date.
“You tell me you love me almost every single day.”
“Yeah, because I do. You’re my best friend.”
“You sucked me off last month!” he throws his hands up in the air, voice nearly cracking from how loud he says it.
“That was to practice,” you grumble, looking away from his pleading eyes. Those same eyes that are always looking at you, now blinking faster than you’ve ever seen him blink.
“Practice for what?!”
“For when I get a boyfriend!”
“I am your boyfriend!” He exclaims, completely desperate now. His feathers twitch behind his back, like they want to reach out to you, press every word against your skin.
“Since when, Kei. Because last time I remember, neither of us has ever asked the other person out.” Because you surely would remember if that happened, having had a crush on him since… kindergarten.
“I- oh my god. So you’re meaning to tell me when you sat on my face, it was ‘just as friends’; when we took each other’s virginity, it was just as friends; when we were making out last week, it was just as friends?” His voice is getting steadier every time he comes up with new things, and you’re sure he could name ten more things that “just friends” wouldn’t do.
“Well…” when he puts it like that, it does sound a little silly, but it all made sense in your head when the two of you did it. Sure, you’ve thought about the fact that normal best friends wouldn’t do all of this without the ‘benefits’ label behind it, but still!! “Don’t make it sound like that.”
“Sound like what, dove? The fact that we’ve been dating for eleven years already and you’re only now finding it out?” He steps closer to you, wings spreading out a bit as he looks at you in that pretty dress, before they snap shut again, remembering the fact that it wasn’t for him.
“What in the ever-living fuck are you talking about, Keigo?” Seriously, did he hit his head or something?
Thinking back on it, he has flown into a building before, showing off to you and not looking where he was flying. He smacked the window so hard, he chipped his tooth—which he had to get fixed later that same day.
“The gifts, the nesting, the forehead thing, the preening, me showing off my wings to you—you even let me do a free-fall with you in my arms!”
“What about those things?”
“Oh for fucks sake, chickadee,” he grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. Exhaling, you can hear him count to five under his breath before he finally looks at you again. Those pretty amber eyes looking you dead in the eye as he says: “I was courting you.”
“I- you- what?” Your brain is malfunctioning, because surely you heard that wrong.
Courting, something birds did to attract their mates. You know that some species showed off their dancing skills while others sung their little lungs out. And then there was the fact that some species gathered things for their mates, and— oh.
You think back on all of the times where Keigo would gift you things. Some of them were shiny things his little magpie brain liked, while others were just normal gifts—plushies, earrings, bracelets.
Then your eyes drift past Keigo, toward the bed, where all those pillows and blankets lay in a comfortable little square. There are a lot of pillows and blankets now that you think about it.
A nest.
Keigo had been nesting and you hadn’t even once realised it. Despite being always there with him.
“You seriously didn’t know? Didn’t even for a second think to look up the meaning behind all of those things” the sound of his voice makes your eyes snap back to his.
“Why would I? You’re you, and you’ve always told me everything about your quirk anyway. And yeah, sure, you’ve told me how close you’d have to be to someone to do the whole forehead press thingy and preening, but you never said anything about courting!”
“That’s because I thought you knew—that you were reciprocating those feelings,” he whispers. One of his hands comes down to your arm, fingers hovering uselessly above your skin before he finally slides it down to where your hand is resting beside your body. Taking it, he starts playing with your fingers—a small habit he’s had since the two of you were kids. “and you’re meaning to tell me you just… did all of those things, without knowing what they meant?”
“Well, duh. They were important to you, so why wouldn’t I let you do them?” Because that’s the thing about Keigo. He has some traits that don’t fully align with yours, but even if you don’t inherently understand them, you always just let him do whatever felt right for him. Whether that be gifting you random objects, or letting him press his forehead against yours because it released happy hormones in his brain, you’d just let him do whatever he felt like.
“I can’t believe I’m in love with a dumbass,” he mumbles, too low for you to catch.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, dove, absolutely nothing,” his fingers finally still as he looks you in the eye. “Now tell me. Do I have to watch my girlfriend of eleven years walk through the door to go out on a date with another man, or can I bring her back to bed and fuck her brains out for even thinking that we were doing all of those things as just friends?”
“Come here, you stupid birdbrain.” You tug on his hands before crashing your lips on his.
You might not have gone on that date you weren’t looking forward to, but you did get dicked down by the most important person in your life. And you’ve gained a boyfriend! (Which you apparently already had for eleven years.)
That’s a win in your books.
A/n: I think this is the most dialogue-heavy fic I've ever written and idk how to feel about it.
there was a little oneshot thingy made by polaroidsex where Gojo was hopelessly in love with the reader like one sided fuckbuddies and i just loved it sm i asked if she could do a pt two and she REBLOGGED her info thingy and pinned it like obviously turning my request down (which is fine no offense) and i came across your comment in that fics commemt section and just hopelessly scrolled through your reblogs and OH MY. I saw fics similar to onesided/yearning satoru and i was genuinely so happy i CRIED. YPU SAVED ME ILY SM WAAAAUGHHH I WAS UGLY CRYING FOR AT LEAT 10 MINS ILY ILY ILY
yay of course!! Love you too, I’m glad I could satiate your fanfic needs! :)
hii! i'm auctioning off some of my ideas/requests that are in my drafts for the sake of me not being burnt out, but also preparing for a 2k special! any writers are free to take these ideas (the first-come, first-served thing isn't literal; anyone can write any of these), but please credit me!
i'll add more later if i think of any (this will be constantly updated)
・friendly! yuta x strict! reader ⸝⸝ reader runs a strict program and constantly has to put yuta back in his place because he can sometimes get a little too friendly with other women. though, he has no ill intention
・husband! nanami matching your lingerie to your anniversary dinner oufits ⸝⸝ i just think its soooo cutie and something he would def do
・sending the jjk men boob pictures to see if they'll notice they're yours or not
・yuji and his girlfriend's numerous attempts to cum in unison ⸝⸝ its just so silly to think about after so many failed attempts
・choso or megumi fucking you to deftones
・megumi buying you a promise ring
・higuruma can only cum during missionary
・megumi being a kissing canvas for yuji and the reader
OMG HEY CUTIE!!! I’m doing alright!! I’ve been pretty sick for a while and haven’t really eaten anything, but I’m starting to feel better so that’s a plus!! I hope you’re doing good!! Love you always 😽😽
hey guys!! I just wanted to apologize because I haven’t been really writing anything lately. (if you couldn’t tell lol) I’ve been dealing with a lot of stressful things recently that require my full attention. Things like school and also being aware of the opinions of politics in my area has become soso much harder to keep basic conversation with people. (And before you come at me asking about my political stance, and start bashing me for it being such a big thing for me, please just don’t. I live in a blue area, but that doesn’t make it feel any less lonely in my views of things when most people just pretend that they’re blue or just blue no matter who when it affects me and my family personally.) I’ve been trying my best to at least write when I’m away or have time in between classes. Thank you to the people who have still supported me along the way, and I promise to get something out to you all soon!! 💙
𝓲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ♰ satoru spirals with jealousy, realizes he’s in love with you, and ends up desperately confessing before wrecking you all night to prove you’re his.
✿ ◞◟) gojo satoru 𝓍 female!reader
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, fwb to lovers, jealousy, pussy eating, fingering, oral (f! receiving), nipple play, multiple orgasms, heavy overstimulation, desperate & needy satoru, marking, crying during sex, praise kink implied, dirty talk, begging, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie.
the thing about gojo satoru was that he’d never had to work for much of anything in his life.
it wasn’t arrogance, well… not exactly — or maybe it was, but it was the kind of arrogance that came from being six-foot-three with a face that made people stop mid-sentence, from having a laugh that filled up whatever room he was in, from being the kind of person who could walk into any party and leave with whoever he wanted without ever having to try.
and satoru knew what he looked like; he knew what he did to people. and somewhere along the way, he’d learned that keeping things light, keeping things easy, was the only way to make sure nothing ever got messy enough to hurt.
that was why, freshman year, when he’d first pulled you aside after a night of too many drinks and way too much static between you both, he’d laid it out plain and simple;
no feelings. no complications. just having fun.
of course, you’d agreed; you’d shrugged, even, like it was nothing, and something about that had made satoru like you even more. there was no whiplash, no pining, simply two young people who happened to fit together really, really well, and who were smart enough not to ruin it by wanting more.
and it had worked, for three whole years, it had worked.
you were satoru’s go-to, his reliable, the only person he texted at midnight with nothing but an address or a you up? and you’d show up, or he’d show up, and there was no pretense, no performance, just the two of you, falling into each other like it was the easiest thing in the world.
satoru knew by heart the pretty little sounds you made when you were trying to stay quiet, satoru knew the way your hands fisted in his sheets when he hit the right spot, satoru knew the way you’d shove at his chest afterward, laughing, telling him to go get a towel, you menace.
and he knew — he knew — that there was no one else.
not because you’d ever promised each other anything; you hadn’t, that was the whole point. but somewhere along the way, it had just become… understood. you were his. not in a way that required words, but in a way that was simply true.
so when nanami mentioned, so casually it almost didn’t register, that he’d seen you at that café on fourth street with some guy from the business school — tall, dark hair, looked like he was trying way too hard — gojo didn’t react.
really, he didn’t react.
he just stood there in the doorway of nanami’s apartment, a red solo cup dangling from his fingers, and blinked.
“what?”
“your friend,” nanami said, unbothered, because nanami was always unbothered, which was probably why gojo kept him around. “the one you’re always with. she was on a date.”
a date?
the word landed somewhere in satoru’s chest like a stone dropped into still water, and the ripples spread outward before he could stop them.
“it wasn’t a date,” he heard himself say, and even he didn’t believe it at all.
nanami just raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his beer.
“she was laughing at his jokes. he paid. and she let him walk her to her door.”
satoru’s jaw tightened.
he didn’t even ask how the hell nanami knew about the door part. actually, he didn’t ask anything. he just stood there for a beat too long, then laughed — a short, sharp sound that didn’t reach his eyes — and said something dismissive, something about good for her, and walked away.
but the feeling didn’t go away.
it sat in satoru’s chest for the rest of the night, heavy and hot, and by the time he got back to his own apartment, he’d convinced himself it was just… surprise. yeah, that was all. you’d never once mentioned going on a date. you’d never mentioned anyone else. and okay, fine, you didn’t owe him that, you didn’t owe him anything, but—
but…
satoru woke up the next morning with that same weight pressing down on him, and it didn’t lift; not when he went to class, not when he sat through a lecture he didn’t hear a word of, not when he pulled out his phone and stared at your name in his messages; his thumb hovering over the keyboard, typing and deleting and typing again.
hey, you free tonight?
what are you doing later?
heard you went on a date???
satoru deleted that last one before he could send it.
it sounded crazy. it sounded jealous. and gojo satoru didn’t get jealous; no, gojo satoru was the one who’d set the rules in the first place. gojo satoru didn’t do complications.
so why did it feel like his chest was caving in?
he told himself he wasn’t going to say anything. he told himself it was none of his business. he told himself that whatever you did, whoever you saw, it didn’t matter, because you weren’t his, and that was exactly how he’d wanted it.
but, three days later, satoru saw you walking across campus.
you were smiling. not at him — you were smiling at your phone, your thumbs moving fast over the screen, your cheeks a little pink. and you were dressed differently, too. not in the sweats and oversized hoodie you wore when you came over to his place, but in a pretty skirt. a pretty skirt. with your legs bare and your hair down and something soft and open about your face that satoru had never seen before.
or maybe he had, maybe he just hadn’t been looking.
oh.
the realization hit him like a freight train.
satoru was in love with you.
not the casual, comfortable fondness he’d let himself feel. not the you’re fun, you’re hot, we work well together kind of affection, but something real. something terrifying, something that had been growing in the spaces satoru purposely hadn’t been paying attention to, rooting itself deep, and now it was way too late to pull it out.
satoru stood there in the middle of the quad, simply watching you walk away, and for the first time in his life, gojo satoru had no idea what to do.
he spent the next two days trying to talk himself out of it.
it was just habit, he told himself. you’d been around for three years, of course he’d miss you if you weren’t there anymore. it didn’t mean anything. it was just—
but every time he closed his eyes, he saw you in that skirt, smiling at your phone, laughing at some other guy’s jokes.
and the thought of someone else’s hands on you, someone else’s mouth, someone else waking up next to you in the morning, made something in him go white-hot and feral.
satoru couldn’t eat, he couldn’t even sleep; the boy was pacing his apartment like a caged animal, running his hands through his soft white hair until it stuck up in every weird direction, and when his phone buzzed — your name lighting up the screen — he nearly dropped it.
hi, you okay? haven’t heard from you in a few days.
satoru stared at it.
and then, before he could think better of it, he was grabbing his keys and walking out the door.
satoru didn’t knock.
actually, he never knocked — you’d given him a key ages ago, back when it was easier than you having to get up and let him in at 2am — but this time, when he pushed the door open, there was nothing easy about it.
you were sitting on your couch, a textbook open on your lap, a pen prettily tucked behind your ear. your hair was up in a messy bun, and you were wearing those ridiculous fuzzy socks you loved so much, and you looked so normal, so you, that his chest physically ached.
“satoru?”
you looked up, eyebrows drawing together. your eyes swept over him — at the wild hair, the dark circles under his blue eyes, the tension in his jaw — and something shifted in your expression. now there was concern, and confusion.
“what’s wrong? you look—”
“don’t go.”
the words roughly came out before satoru could stop them; cracked at the edges, not his voice at all.
you blinked. “what?”
satoru stood in the doorway, completely frozen, his hand still on the doorknob. he’d imagined this moment a hundred times in the past two days, and in every version, he was smooth, he was charming, he found the perfect words, the perfect smile, the perfect way to make this easy.
but that wasn’t what happened at all.
what happened was that satoru’s hands started shaking. what happened was that his voice cracked in the middle of your name. what happened was that he stood there, six-foot-three and undone, looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.
“i heard you went on a date.”
your mouth opened before closing again.
“how did you—”
“it doesn’t matter.”
satoru stepped forward, then stopped, like he wasn’t really sure he was allowed to come any closer. his hands were shoved in his pockets now, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was working, the way he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.
“just—don’t go on another one.”
“satoru…”
“i know,” he laughed, but it was hollow, nothing like the easy, carefree sound you were used to. “i know i don’t have the right to say that. i know what we are. i know i’m the one who said no feelings, no complications, no—”
satoru’s voice broke.
he stopped, slowly swallowed, and when he looked up at you, his eyes were bright, his usual arrogance stripped away until all that was left was something raw and desperate and so achingly human it made your chest tighten.
“don’t go,” he said again, softer this time. “please.”
you set your textbook aside slowly, your heart pounding.
you’d never seen satoru like this. hell, you’d never seen him anything less than composed, less than perfectly in control, and the sight of him right now — messy, shaking, his carefully constructed walls crumbling around him — made something twist in your stomach.
“satoru,” you said carefully. “what are you saying?”
he crossed the room in three long strides and dropped to his knees in front of the couch.
your breath caught.
satoru’s hands came up to rest on your knees, his fingers curling into the fabric of your sweatpants like he was holding on for dear life. he was looking up at you now, and there was nothing playful in his gaze, nothing teasing, just heat and fear and something that looked terrifyingly like love.
“i’ll do anything,” satoru said, and his voice was low, rough, cracking on the last syllable. “i’ll be whatever you want. whatever you need. just—just don’t—”
satoru couldn’t even finish the sentence.
his forehead dropped to your knee, and you felt the shudder that ran through him, felt the way his hands tightened, and your heart, your stupid, traitorous heart, was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.
“i’ll stop being an idiot,” he mumbled against your leg. “i’ll stop pretending i don’t—that i don’t—”
he lifted his head, and his eyes were wet.
gojo satoru, who literally never cried about anything, who laughed in the face of anything serious, who had spent three whole years keeping you at arm’s length so he wouldn’t have to feel this — was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
“i love you,” he said, and the words came out broken, desperate, nothing like the smooth confession he’d probably imagined. “i love you, and i’m an idiot, and i know i don’t deserve to ask you for anything, but please. please. don’t go.”
you stared at him.
and then, before you could think, before you could second-guess or talk yourself out of it, you were leaning forward, cupping his face in your hands, and pulling him up.
satoru came easily, eagerly, his huge hands sliding up your thighs as he rose to his knees, then higher, until his face was level with yours. his breath was warm against your lips, his alluring eyes searching yours for something you weren’t sure you knew how to give.
“say something,” he whispered. “please. i’m losing my mind.”
you simply kissed him.
and this kiss was three years of pretending you didn’t want more, three years of biting your tongue and telling yourself it was fine, three years of loving him from a safe distance — all of it poured into one desperate, messy press of lips.
satoru made a sound against your mouth, something between a gasp and a groan, and then his hands were in your hair, pulling you closer, tilting your head back so he could kiss you deeper. his tongue slid against yours, and the taste of him, the feel of him — familiar and yet completely new, now that there was nothing held back — made your head spin.
“i really thought—” satoru broke the kiss, his forehead pressed to yours, his breathing ragged. “i thought you were going to—some other guy, and i really couldn’t—i couldn’t breathe, i couldn’t think—”
“there was no other guy,” you said, and you heard your own voice crack, heard the tears you hadn’t realized you were holding back. “i went on one date, and i spent the whole time wishing it was you.”
satoru’s hands tightened in your hair.
“say that again.”
“i wished it was you, satoru,” you whispered. “i’ve always wished it was you.”
the sound he made was almost pained, and his mouth found yours again, hungrier this time, and his huge hands slid down your body — your shoulders, your arms, your waist — like he was relearning every single inch of you, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.
“i’m sorry,” he breathed against your lips. “i’m sorry i was so stupid. i’m sorry i made you think—”
“satoru.”
“—that i didn’t want this. that i didn’t want you. because i do, i want you so much it scares me, i want—”
you kissed him quiet, and satoru completely melted into you, his weight pressing you back against the couch cushions, his body covering yours like he was trying to shield you from the rest of the world.
“show me,” you said, pulling back just enough to look at him.
satoru’s pupils were blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen, his hair a complete mess; he looked wrecked, he looked beautiful.
“show me how much you want me.”
his breath stuttered out of him.
“fuck,” satoru whispered.
and then the boy was kissing down your jaw, your neck, the hollow of your throat, his huge hands pushing up under your shirt, his palms flat against your stomach, your ribs, the undersides of your breasts.
“i’m gonna make you feel so good,” he said, and his voice was low, rough, and reverent. “i’m gonna make you forget anyone else ever existed. i’m gonna make you mine.”
satoru looked up at you then, still on his knees between your legs, his face flushed, his eyes dark, and there was nothing playful about him; just a man who’d spent three whole years running from something he should have been running toward, finally, finally done pretending.
“tell me you want that,” he said. “tell me you want me.”
you reached down, cupped his face in your hands, and pulled him up until his lips were a breath away from yours.
“i’ve always wanted you,” you said. “i was just waiting for you to catch up.”
he kissed you like a man drowning, and you let yourself fall.
satoru’s mouth was desperate, hungry, like he was trying to make up for three years of holding back in a single kiss. his hands were everywhere — your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, your waist — like he couldn’t decide where to touch first, like he needed to feel all of you at once or he’d forget how.
you kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, closer, until there was no space left between you. satoru’s weight pressed you into the couch cushions, and you could feel his heart pounding against your chest, or maybe that was yours, or maybe it was both of you, tangled up together and beating out of sync.
“need—” satoru gasped against your mouth, pulling back just far enough to breathe, and his voice was wrecked, barely there. “need you in your room. now.”
you didn’t have time to respond before he was pulling you up, his huge hands sliding down to grip your thighs, lifting you without apparent effort. your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and his mouth was on yours again before you could even register that you were moving.
satoru didn’t break the kiss.
not when he stumbled slightly in the hallway, not when his shoulder bumped the doorframe, not when he slowly lowered your body onto your bed and followed you down, his body completely covering yours like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go for even a single second.
your back hit the mattress, and satoru was there, everywhere, his lips never leaving yours. his tongue slid against your lower lip, then into your mouth, slow and deep, and you moaned, your hands coming up to tangle in his white hair, pulling him closer even though there was nowhere left to go.
“satoru,” you breathed, and he made a sound; low, almost pained, against your mouth.
“say it again.”
“satoru—”
his hips pressed into yours, and you felt him then, already hard and so so so desperate through his jeans, and the way he shuddered when you instinctively rolled up to meet him sent a thrill through your entire body.
“fuck,” satoru whispered.
his lips trailed away from your mouth, down your jaw, your throat, the sensitive spot just below your ear.
“i’ve got you. i’ve got you, okay? just let me—”
satoru’s hands were shaking as he pushed up the hem of your shirt, his palms sliding against bare skin, and he pulled back just enough to look at you; and oh, his eyes were dark, pupils blown so wide there was barely any blue left.
“you have no idea,” he said, and his voice cracked. “how long i’ve wanted to do this. for real.”
you reached down, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and tugged it; satoru helped you pull it over his head, and then he was bare above you, with broad shoulders and lean muscle, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon.
you let your hands trace down his collarbone, his chest, the lines of his abdomen, and he shivered under your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a second.
“you’re so pretty,” you said without thinking, and he let out a breathless laugh — the first real laugh you’d heard from him all night, soft and surprised and a little embarrassed.
“that’s supposed to be my line.”
satoru dipped his head, pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat, then lower, his lips dragging down your sternum as his fingers found the hem of your shirt again. he pushed it up, slowly, uncovering you inch by inch, and when his mouth reached the lace of your bra, he paused.
his breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel him trembling again as he looked up at you through his lashes.
“can i?”
you nodded, not trusting your voice, and satoru smiled before hooking his fingers under the fabric and pulling it down.
satoru’s hands were so careful as he bared you, reverent almost, and the way he looked at you completely made your stomach flip; like you were something precious, something he couldn’t believe he got to touch.
“god,” the boy breathed, and then his mouth was on you, hot and wet and so perfect, his warm tongue circling your nipple before sucking gently.
your back arched off the bed, a gasp tearing out of you, and his hand came up to cup your other breast, his thumb brushing over the peak in slow, deliberate circles.
“satoru—”
“i know,” he murmured against your skin, switching to the other side, his teeth grazing lightly before his tongue soothed the sting. “i know, baby. i’ve got you.”
the words sent a rush of heat through you, pooling low in your belly, and you could feel yourself growing wetter by the second, your thighs pressing together instinctively.
satoru must have noticed, because his hips rolled into the mattress, a soft groan escaping him, and his mouth started moving lower again; down your ribs, your stomach, your hipbone, his lips and teeth and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake. he paused at the waistband of your sweatpants, his fingers hooking into the elastic, and looked up at you.
“okay?”
well… you were pretty sure you’d never been more okay in your entire life.
“fuck, yes,” you said, and your voice came out breathless, desperate. “please.”
satoru’s eyes darkened.
he pulled your sweatpants down slowly, dragging them over your hips, your thighs, your knees, his knuckles brushing against your skin with every inch. when he reached your ankles, he tossed them aside, and then he was just staring at you — you, laid out beneath him in nothing but a pair of thin cotton panties that were definitely already soaked through.
satoru’s hands slid up your calves, your knees, the insides of your thighs, pushing them gently apart. you let him, spreading for him without hesitation, and the noise he made when he saw the dark spot on your underwear was almost animal.
“fuck,” he breathed. “you’re already so wet.”
your face burned, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed — not with the way he was looking at you, like you were something he’d been starving for.
satoru hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with the same agonizing slowness; you lifted your hips to help, and he slid them off, discarding them somewhere on the floor, and then—
then he was just looking at you. all of you. his gaze so intense it made your thighs twitch, made you want to close them, but satoru held them open, his hands firm on your knees.
“so pretty,” he said, echoing your words from earlier, and his voice was rough, reverent. “so pretty, and you’ve been right here the whole time, and i was too stupid to—”
he cut himself off, shaking his head, and then he was lowering himself, his shoulders spreading your thighs further apart, his breath hot against the inside of your leg.
“satoru—”
“i’m gonna take my time,” he said, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, just inches from where you needed him. “i’ve waited three years. i’m not rushing this.”
satoru pressed a soft kiss to your thigh, then another, then another; each one higher, closer, until you were squirming beneath him, your fingers twisting in the sheets, a whine building in your throat.
“please,” you gasped. “satoru, please—”
“tell me what you want.”
“you know what i want.”
satoru hummed against your skin, and you felt his smile, his lips curving against your thigh.
“i want to hear you say it.”
your face was burning, your heart pounding, your entire body pulled taut like a string about to snap.
“i want you to—” you swallowed, your voice dropping to barely a whisper. “i want you to taste me.”
satoru’s exhale was shaky, almost surprised, like even though he’d asked for it, hearing you say it hit him harder than he expected — even though it’s not the first time.
“yeah?” his voice was low, a little rough. “you want my mouth on you, baby?”
you nodded, unable to form words, and he made a guttural sound before finally, finally lowering his head.
the first touch of his tongue was so light you almost thought you’d imagined it; it was a slow, flat lick from your entrance to your clit, broad and warm and unhurried, and your hips jerked off the bed, a cry tearing out of you.
“god,” satoru breathed, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “you taste even better than before.”
he did it again, slower this time, dragging his tongue through your folds like he was savoring you, and your hand flew down to tangle in his white hair, holding him there.
he groaned against you, the vibration shooting straight up your spine, and his arms slid under your thighs, hooking over his shoulders, opening you up even more.
“stay still for me,” satoru murmured, and then his mouth was on you properly, his lips closing around your clit, his tongue circling in slow, deliberate strokes.
you couldn’t have stayed still even if you tried.
your hips rolled against satoru’s face, chasing the pressure, and he simply let you, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you steady enough for him to work. he sucked gently, then harder, then released with a soft pop that made your breath hitch, before diving back in.
“satoru—”
“i know,” he said against you, his voice muffled, and the vibration made you moan. “let go. i’ve got you.”
satoru’s tongue flattened against your clit, pressing down just right, and your vision went white at the edges, but then he pulled back, switching to something slower, softer, and you whined in protest.
“patience,” he said, and you could hear the smirk even if you couldn’t see his face. “i told you. i’m taking my time.”
he kissed your inner thigh again, then your other thigh, then back to the center, teasing you with the lightest flick of his tongue before pulling away again. you were shaking now, your thighs trembling against his shoulders, and he seemed to sense that you were at your limit, because he stopped playing.
satoru’s mouth covered you again, his tongue working your clit in tight, focused circles while one of his hands slid up your thigh, his fingers brushing against your entrance.
you were so wet that he slid inside without resistance — one finger, then two, curling up just right, and your back arched off the bed, a broken cry escaping your lips.
“there she is,” satoru murmured, his breath so warm against you. “there you go, baby. that’s it.”
his fingers moved slowly at first, matching the rhythm of his tongue, in and out, curling against that sweet little spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.
you could feel yourself tightening around his long fingers, your climax building low and deep, and satoru must have felt it too, because his pace quickened, his tongue pressing harder, his fingers curling faster.
“come for me,” he said, his voice rough, desperate. “wanna taste it. wanna taste you when you fall apart.”
his mouth closed around your clit again, sucking gently, and his fingers pressed deeper, and the combination was too much, too perfect, too everything—
you shattered.
your orgasm crashed over you in waves, your hips bucking against satoru’s face, your hands fisting in his hair, a scream caught in your throat, but he didn’t stop; satoru kept licking, kept sucking, kept his fingers buried deep inside you, working you through it, drawing it out until you were gasping, trembling, completely undone.
and then, when you thought it was over, when you thought he’d finally let you breathe—
satoru didn’t stop.
his tongue was still moving, slower now, gentler, but still there, still circling, still pressing, and your overstimulated nerves lit up like fireworks, too much and not enough all at once.
“satoru,” you gasped, tugging at his hair. “satoru, i—”
he hummed against you, and the vibration made you whimper, your thighs trying to close around his head.
“shh,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. his chin was wet, his lips red and swollen, his eyes dark and half-lidded. he looked drunk. “i’m not done with you yet.”
“i can’t—”
“you can,” satoru lowered his mouth again, pressing a soft kiss to your clit that made you jolt. “you’re gonna give me one more. i know you can.”
his fingers started moving again, slow and deep, and his tongue went back to your clit, lighter this time, barely there, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge.
“you taste so fucking good,” he said, his voice muffled, and you could hear how much he meant it, could feel it in the way his hips were grinding into the mattress, desperate for friction he wasn’t giving himself. “i could stay here all night. i could eat you out until you forget your own name.”
your hands pushed weakly at his head, but he didn’t budge. if anything, he pressed closer, his tongue flattening against you, his fingers curling deeper.
“t-toru, please, it’s too much—”
“it’s not,” satoru said, and his voice was thick, almost reverent. “it’s not too much. you’re doing so well. you’re so good for me. just one more, okay? just one more, and i’ll stop.”
his thumb found your clit while his fingers kept working, rubbing slow circles that had you seeing stars, and you could feel the pressure building again, faster this time, sharper, too intense and too perfect and you couldn’t—
“that’s it,” he breathed. “that’s it, baby. let go. let go for me.”
your second orgasm hit before you could brace for it, ripping through you like a wave, and you did cry out — a broken, sobbing sound, your back arching off the bed, your hands shoving at his head, trying to push him away because it was too much, too much, too much—
but satoru didn’t move.
his mouth stayed on you, his tongue gentler now but still present, still tasting, still drawing out every last shudder until you were lying there, limp and trembling, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes.
only then did he lift his head.
satoru looked wrecked; his lips were slick, his chin wet, his hair a wild mess from your fingers. his chest was heaving, and when you looked down, you could see the obvious strain in his jeans, the way his hips were pressing into the mattress like he was trying to get any kind of friction.
but he was smiling, like he’d just been the one to come.
“hey,” he said, his voice rough, and he crawled up your body, his weight settling over you, his face hovering above yours.
satoru reached up, softly brushing the tears from your pink cheeks with his thumb, his expression tender in a way you’d never seen before.
“you okay?”
you couldn’t speak, so you just nodded, your breathing still uneven, your legs still shaking.
he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose.
“you were so good,” satoru murmured against your skin. “so perfect. tasted like heaven.”
you let out a shaky laugh, your hands coming up to rest on his chest; you could feel satoru’s heartbeat under your palms, racing as fast as yours.
“you’re insane,” you whispered.
satoru grinned — that familiar, cocky grin, but it was softer around the edges.
“yeah,” he said, his hips pressing into yours, letting you feel exactly how much he’d enjoyed himself. “but you like it.”
and you didn’t deny it.
you just pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him, tasting yourself on satoru’s lips, and felt him smile against your mouth.
“i’m not done with you yet,” the boy said when you finally broke apart, his forehead resting against yours. “but we’ve got all night. yeah?”
you smiled, your fingers tracing down his chest, over his stomach, to the waistband of his jeans.
“yeah,” you said. “all night.”
satoru’s grin softened into something warmer, something that made your chest ache in the best way ever.
he kissed you again — slower this time, deeper, like he was trying to pour every word he’d said tonight into the way his lips moved against yours. your fingers found the waistband of his jeans again, fumbling with the button, and for a moment he let you, his breath hitching when your knuckles brushed against the hardness straining beneath the denim.
but then satoru’s hand gently caught yours, his long fingers lacing through yours and pressing your palm flat against his stomach instead.
“wait,” he murmured against your lips. “wait.”
you blinked up at him, confused. “i thought—”
“i know what you thought,” his voice was low, rough, but there was a softness underneath it that made your stomach flip.
satoru brought your joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
“and i love that you want to. but not tonight.”
“satoru—”
“tonight,” he said, releasing your hand only to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “you’re the one getting taken care of.”
you opened your mouth to protest — you really wanted to touch him, you wanted to make him feel as wrecked as he’d made you — but he simply shook his head, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“let me,” he said, and his voice cracked just slightly on the words. “please. i need to show you. i need to—” he paused, swallowing, his eyes searching yours. “i spent three years pretending i didn’t want this. pretending i didn’t love you. and i can’t—i don’t want to be selfish anymore. not with you.”
your throat tightened. “toru, you’re not—”
“let me do this,” he whispered. “let me love you the way i should’ve been loving you this whole time.”
you couldn’t argue with that; not when satoru was looking at you like that, like you were something so precious, something he was afraid to break. you nodded, your hand coming up to rest over his on your cheek.
“okay,” you breathed. “okay.”
the smile he gave you was radiant — not the cocky, practiced grin he wore for the rest of the world, but something real, something so raw.
and then satoru was kissing you again, and this kiss was different from all the others; it was way slower, and it was way deeper. his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that made your toes curl, his hands sliding down your sides, your hips, your thighs, relearning every curve.
when he finally pulled back, you were both breathing hard. he sat up, kneeling between your legs, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as he reached for the button of his jeans.
satoru didn’t rush; his fingers worked the button open, then the zipper, and the sound of it seemed impossibly loud in the quiet of your room. the white haired boy pushed his jeans down his hips, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes dropped, couldn’t help the way your breath caught when you saw him — the thick length of him straining against his boxer briefs, a dark spot already forming at the tip.
“fuck,” you whispered.
you reached out, your fingers brushing against satoru’s, and helped him push them down.
he was — god. you’d seen him before, of course you had, three years of this arrangement meant you knew every single inch of him, but this was different. this was satoru, your satoru, kneeling above you with his heart in his throat and his cock now heavy against his stomach, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that really mattered.
you’d always known that satoru was big, but seeing him right now, flushed and leaking and so hard it had to be painful, made your mouth water.
“you’re staring,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice, but there was a tremor underneath it.
“you’re worth staring at.”
satoru’s cheeks flushed — a pretty pink that crept up to the tips of his ears — and something warm unfurled in your chest. you reached for him, wanting to touch, wanting to wrap your hand around him and feel the weight of him, but he caught your wrist again, gentle but firm.
“i told you,” satoru said, lowering himself over you, his forearms bracketing your head, his hips settling between your thighs. “tonight’s about you.”
you could feel him then — the heat of him, the press of his cock against your inner thigh, so close to where you were still slick and sensitive from before.
your hips twitched involuntarily, seeking friction, and he let out a low groan, his forehead dropping to yours.
“so impatient,” he murmured, but there was no teasing in it, just wonder. “you have no idea what you do to me.”
satoru shifted his hips, and then he was there — the head of his cock sliding against your wet folds, nudging against your sensitive clit before dragging back down, coating himself in the wetness that was still there from when he’d had his mouth on you, and the sensation made you gasp, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders.
“satoru—”
“i know,” he breathed. “i know, baby. i’ve got you.”
he did it again; a slow roll of his hips that had his cock sliding against your entrance, but not entering, just teasing, just feeling. the friction was maddening, the heat of him searing against your most sensitive parts, and you could feel yourself clenching around nothing, desperate for him to fill you.
“please,” you gasped. “please, satoru, i need—”
“what do you need?” satoru’s voice was strained, his jaw tight, and you could see the effort it was taking him to hold back; his arms were trembling on either side of you, his abs tense, every line of his body drawn taut. “tell me.”
“you,” you said, and your voice cracked. “toru, i need you inside me. please.”
his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, a shudder running through him, and when he opened them again, they were dark, pupils blown so wide there was barely any blue left.
“yeah?” he reached down between you, his hand wrapping around his cock, and the sight of him — the way his fingers didn’t quite close around the girth of him, the way his knuckles brushed against your wetness — made your thighs tremble. “you want this? want me to fill you up?”
“yes. god—yes.”
satoru guided himself to your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against you, and for a moment he just stayed there, not pushing in, just letting you feel the stretch of him. you were already so wet, already so ready, but he was so big that even the pressure of him made you gasp.
“breathe,” he whispered, and then he was pushing in.
slowly. oh, so slowly you could feel every inch of him; the way your body had to open up to take him, the way he had to pause halfway to let you adjust. his jaw was clenched, his eyes squeezed shut, and you could feel him shaking again with the effort of not just slamming into you.
“f-fuck,” satoru gritted out. “fuck, you’re so tight. you feel—” his voice broke, and he pressed his forehead against yours again, his breath coming in ragged pants. “you feel so good. so fucking good.”
he kept going, inch by inch, until finally — finally — his hips were flush against yours, and you were full, so full you could barely breathe, could barely think. satoru was buried inside you to the hilt, and the weight of him, the heat of him, the way he was stretching you so perfectly made your eyes water.
“okay?” he asked, and his voice was wrecked. “are you okay?”
you couldn’t speak properly, so you simply nodded, your hands sliding up into his soft white hair, pulling him down until your foreheads were touching.
“move,” you whispered. “please move.”
satoru pulled back slowly, the drag of him against your walls making you whimper, and then he pushed back in, just as slow, just as deliberate; the rhythm he set was unhurried, almost lazy, his hips rolling against yours in a way that made every nerve in your body light up.
“look at me,” he said, and you did, your eyes meeting his.
satoru’s face was flushed, his lips parted, his hair falling into his eyes; he looked so beautiful like this, undone, all his carefully constructed walls stripped away.
“i want to see your face when i make you cum.”
his pace picked up, just slightly, each thrust pressing him deeper inside you, harder, until you could literally feel him in your throat. satoru’s hands slid under your hips, tilting you up, changing the angle, and when he hit that sweet little spot inside you — that spot that made your vision go white — you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“there?” he asked, and there was a desperate edge to his voice. “is that the spot, baby?”
you couldn’t answer, hell, you couldn’t do anything but cling to him as he drove deep into you, each thrust hitting that same spot over and over again. satoru was kissing you everywhere now — your mouth, your jaw, your throat — his lips and teeth leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched.
“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough. “so fucking beautiful. i can’t believe—” he thrust harder, and you moaned, your back arching off the bed. “i can’t believe i almost lost this. almost lost you.”
his mouth found your collarbone, your shoulder, your breast; satoru took your nipple into his hungry mouth, sucking hard, and the combination of that and the way he was deeply fucking you made you sob.
“satoru—satoru, i’m close—”
“i know,” he said, and he sounded drunk, drugged, his words slurring against your skin. “i can feel you, baby. you’re squeezing me so tight. fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”
satoru reached down between you, his thumb finding your clit, and the touch, even through the overstimulation from earlier, sent a jolt through you so intense that you nearly screamed.
“cum for me,” he said, his voice breaking. “cum on my cock. let me feel it.”
satoru pressed down on your clit in slow, tight little circles, matching the rhythm of his hips, and the pressure built and built and built until—
you completely shattered.
your orgasm ripped through you like a wave, your body arching off the bed, your walls clenching around him so hard that he groaned, his hips stuttering against yours.
“fuck—fuck, i’m—”
satoru came with a broken cry, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, his hips grinding into you as he emptied himself inside you, hot and thick. you could feel it — the pulse of him, the warmth of him filling you up, and the sensation was so intense, so intimate, that you felt tears slip down your cheeks.
for a moment, neither of you moved.
his weight was heavy on top of you, his breath hot against your skin, his hands still gripping your hips like he was afraid to let go; you could feel his heart pounding against your chest, or maybe it was yours, or maybe it was both of you, tangled together and beating as one.
“toru,” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair.
he lifted his head slowly, his eyes dazed, his lips red and swollen; he looked wrecked, completely undone, and when he saw your tears, his expression crumpled.
“hey,” he said, his voice hoarse. “hey, what’s wrong? did i—”
you shook your head, pulling him down until your foreheads were touching again.
“nothing’s wrong. i just—” you laughed, the sound watery. “i love you. i’ve loved you for so long.”
satoru’s breath caught, and then he was kissing you again, soft and slow, his lips moving against yours like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.
“i love you too,” he said when he finally pulled back. “i love you so much it scares me.”
you smiled, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
satoru pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the spot just below your ear.
“i love you,” he said again, like he was testing the words, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to say them. “i love you. i love you. i love you.”
you could feel him still inside you, softening but not fully, and when he shifted his weight, you winced —nsensitive, so sensitive, every nerve in your body still humming.
but satoru didn’t pull out.
instead, he lowered himself onto his elbows, his face hovering above yours, and started moving again; slow, shallow thrusts, barely pulling out before pressing back in, and the drag of him against your overstimulated walls made you gasp.
“satoru,” you whimpered, your hands pushing weakly at his chest. “i can’t—i’m too—”
“shh,” he murmured, and there was a wildness in his eyes, something desperate and hungry. “you can. you can take it. you’re doing so well, baby. so good for me.”
his hips kept moving, that same slow, torturous rhythm, and you could feel yourself growing wetter around him again, your body betraying you, responding to him even when you thought you had nothing left to give.
“i’m not done with you,” satoru said, and his voice was low, reverent. “i told you. all night.”
his hand slid down between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit again, and you actually sobbed, the sensation too much and not enough all at once.
“you feel that?” satoru asked, his thumb circling, his hips grinding. “you feel how wet you are? you’re dripping, baby. you’re dripping all over my cock.”
and you were. you could feel it, the mix of his cum and yours sliding down your thighs, soaking into the sheets beneath you; the filth of it, the intimacy of it, made your face burn, but you couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t do anything but cling to him as he fucked you slow and deep.
“i want to feel you cum again,” he said, and his voice was shaking. “i want to feel you squeeze me again. can you do that for me? can you give me one more?”
you shook your head without even thinking, but satoru just give you that soft, devastating smile.
“you can,” the boy said. “i know you can. you’re so good for me. my good girl.”
the praise washed over you, warm and intoxicating, and you felt something loosen in your chest; your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and satoru groaned, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before picking back up.
“that’s it,” he breathed. “that’s my girl. take it. take all of me.”
satoru was moving faster now, his hips snapping against yours, his thumb still working your oversensitive clit in tight, focused circles, and the pleasure was building again, sharp and bright, and you could feel yourself climbing toward something that felt almost too big to contain.
“satoru—i’m gonna—”
“i know,” he said, and his voice was wrecked, desperate. “cum for me. cum again. let me feel you.”
you came with a scream, your body convulsing around him, your nails raking down his back; satoru followed you a moment later, his hips stuttering, his mouth finding your shoulder to muffle the sound of his own groan as he spilled inside you again, adding to the mess, to the heat, to the overwhelming fullness that had you trembling beneath him.
he collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his face buried in your neck. you could feel his pulse racing against yours, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps, and for a long moment, neither of you moved.
finally, satoru lifted his head.
his face was flushed, his hair a complete disaster, his lips parted and kiss-swollen; he looked like he’d been thoroughly ruined, and the sight of him made your chest ache.
“i love you,” he whispered again.
he smiled; that soft, real smile that you were starting to think was made only for you, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“this is just the beginning,” satoru said, his voice rough but warm. “i’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”
Summary: You transfer to Tokyo Jujutsu High School and are so excited to meet Satoru Gojo until you realize he’s a total douchebag. This series will follow a timeline of your high school days and morphing into adulthood as Gojo falls more in love with you and has to make up for his shitty teenage attitude. Will contain angst, fluff, smut(later down the line), *Will add more if needed.
