Hii!! Welcome to Six Eyes Pastry! Where Gojo runs the kitchen and I bake the stories ♡
Cursed treats, sweets and pastries all with a touch of six eyes precision from the chef himself.
I write stories primarily about jjk x reader!! And I write all kinds of fluff, angst and smut but that is only for adult characters (I will not do aged up or write inappropriately about minor characters!!) My account will be mostly Satoru centered.
I’m new to writing on Tumblr so I hope my stories will suit your tastes! Also, English isn’t my first language, so please forgive any small mistakes 💛
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Fresh out the oven! The moonlit rooftop chapter 2
🍪 sweet - fluff, comfort
🍋 sour - angst, heartbreak
☕️ savory - longer fics, plot
🌶️ fiery - smut, suggestive (18+ minors DNI)
Every story will be marked with these based on its genre.
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I am from the Czech Republic and I’m studying arts. My favorite anime is Jujutsu Kaisen, but I also enjoy others like Death Note, Nana and Paradise Kiss. Though I don’t write for those because I’m not sure how 😔 My favorite characters in jjk are Gojo, Yuki, Geto and Maki. I hope you’ll enjoy my future writing!! I’ll try to post regularly since I have holidays at the moment.💕
Synopsis : You often smoke on the rooftop of your apartment building during long nights. Your life was draining and lonely, until a new first-year, who also happened to be your new neighbor next door, decided to interrupt you.
Author’s note : Please stay patient for the smut 😼 it’ll be in chapter 4 but I swear it’ll be GOODD.
Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Epilogue
Enduring yet another horrible day at your college, you were already exhausted. The deep fatigue built not only from the total lack of sleep following your midnight rooftop session, but also because you had been forced to spend your morning writing a brutal, three hour exam straight into a Blue Book.
Your right hand was still hurting from the absolute torture of pressing the pen against the paper for hours, leaving a painful red mark on your middle finger. The tiny, blue exam booklet had been filled with your messy, rushed analysis of complex law cases, and by the time you finally handed it in to the professor, your mind felt completely blank.
The university wide mandatory course for English right after that was just adding fuel to the fire. Sitting in the very last row of the large university amphitheater, your warm hoodie pulled tightly over your head, you prayed for the clock to move faster. Your eyes burned with every blink while your entire body was feeling heavy and drained.
Clutching a cup of bitter black coffee from the school automat, you desperately tried to regain some energy before the lesson started. Your English notes were opened on the table in front of you, and you decided to look through them, knowing all too well that the professor loved to catch everyone off guard with unplanned tests.
You just wanted to remain invisible, just another in a crowd of hundreds of students. But the quiet peace of the hall shattered the exact moment the front doors creaked open, letting in a group of the first years from the business department. All the rich, extroverted morons who just went with the flow, gliding through life on pure charisma and the wealth of their parents.
And right in the middle of them, effortlessly catching the attention of every girl in the room, was a familiar mop of snowy white hair.
Letting out a quiet sigh to yourself, you quickly glanced away from him. You forced your eyes back down to your notebook, staring at the text while checking the time on your phone, seeing the lesson was about to start in three minutes.
Satoru lazily looked around the crowded amphitheater, his sharp gaze cutting through the room until his eyes finally locked onto you. Watching you read through your notes with that warm hoodie pulled over your head and your hair falling softly down your face, a quiet thought crossed his mind. Yeah, you were gorgeous.
His friends headed straight toward the back rows as well, but unlike you doing it to find some peace, they did it simply to look cool. Oh, they were pissing you off. The university had recently started combining multiple departments and years for basic classes like English to save up time, but for you, it only meant that the business and management students would be loud and obnoxious right behind you, forcing your head to ache even worse.
And on top of it all, you could feel Satoru’s intense eyes piercing through you for the whole lesson. You tried your absolute best to ignore it, but it wasn’t easy. Whenever your eyes involuntarily darted back to him, he was already staring right back at you. The worst thing was he didn’t even have the decency to look away. He just kept smiling at you from across the rows, looking as if he was enjoying your irritation.
About twenty minutes into the incredibly dry lecture, the professor turned his back to the amphitheater, furiously writing grammar rules onto the whiteboard with a black marker.
Suddenly, a tiny movement in your peripheral vision caught your attention. Before you could even look up, a small, tightly folded paper triangle glided through the air across the class, landing with a soft click right on the side of your head.
You furrowed your brows, your hands freezing over your pen for a moment. Without thinking you glanced to the side. A few desks away, Satoru was sitting leaning back in his seat. A black pen was balancing between his long fingers, and the moment he caught you looking, his confident, smug smile widened as he gave you a slow, teasing wink.
Your heart made a strange, uncomfortably warm thud against your ribs. Turning away from him with a deep frown, you unfolded the piece of paper, your eyes scanning the messy handwriting scribbled across the note.
“I bet my family's money you didn't hear a single word because you're too busy pretending you don't feel me staring. Relax, need another cigarette and my company to calm you down?”
A sudden wave of burning heat rushed straight to your face, a mix of pure irritation and a strange fluster you still refused to acknowledge. Tightening your jaw, you crumpled the note in your fist until the paper crushed into a tight ball, shoving it deep into the pocket of your hoodie.
Who does he think he is? Yesterday he interrupted your peace smoking on the rooftop and now he’s acting even more smug. Yesterday he was at least sweet. Well, in his own way, but whatever. It made you spiral a little bit. Was he trying to impress his friends? Maybe you were a bet? Well, you weren’t exactly popular, not that you were a weirdo or something, just very introverted and quiet.
The moment the bell rang after what felt like forever, you packed your things as soon as possible, rushing out of the class. Your morning lessons were over and no other classes were mandatory or needed for you. Instead, you had another afternoon shift in the cafe.
Getting to your locker, shortly all of your books were back on the shelf and you were dressed and ready to go, until a shadow cast over you. You felt yourself internally dying.
Before you could even turn around and slam the metal door shut, a long, pale hand effortlessly caught the edge of the locker, completely blocking your path. The heavy, rich scent of expensive cologne instantly flooded your senses, replacing the lingering smell of cheap automat coffee. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
Satoru leaned his tall frame a bit closer, invading your personal space with an infuriating lack of hesitation. Slowly, he pushed his round dark sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes locking straight onto your irritated face with a lazy, teasing spark.
“Hey, You looked like you wanted to murder someone during the whole English class, y'know?”
You let out a dry, unbothered sigh, forcing your expression to remain as cold and unreadable as you could. Your head was still throbbing, and your patience was entirely worn thin.
“Move your hand, Gojo” you muttered, your voice flat, completely unimpressed by his presence.
He didn't move an inch, but the cocky, superficial grin he usually wore in front of his classmates subtly vanished, replaced by a softer, more genuine expression. His eyes scanned your tired face beneath the oversized hoodie with a look of quiet curiosity.
“I wasn't trying to annoy you with the note” he said softly, his voice losing that loud smug edge from the classroom. He looked down at you, completely ignoring the passing students in the crowded hallway. “I just noticed you looked drained. I wanted to see if you were okay, maybe cheer you up a little”
You finally turned your head, meeting his intense, piercing gaze. You could feel the quiet whispers of the people around you, but looking into his eyes, you realized he wasn't doing this to show off. There was no audience for him here. But your pride and sheer exhaustion won the battle. Tightening your jaw, you reached for the edge of the metal door.
“I have a real job to get to. Some of us actually have to work for a living” you muttered.
Satoru slowly blinked, a small smile forming on his lips as he gently pulled his pale fingers away from the metal, giving you space. You slammed the locker door shut, slung your heavy bag over your shoulder, and walked away into the crowded hallway. Satoru didn't chase after you. He just stood there, quietly watching you leave, completely detached from the rich, superficial world around him.
Arriving at the cafe, you quickly slipped on your barista apron. Your shift started at 13:00 and ran until 19:00, a long stretch of brewing espresso and serving desserts to a bunch of customers.
The afternoon was quiet, the heavy exhaustion from your morning classes still weighing down your limbs. You spent most of the time cleaning the espresso machine and putting dirty cups into the dishwasher, just to keep your hands busy. But no matter how hard you tried to focus on the routine, your mind kept drifting back to the university hallway. To the warmth of Satoru’s cologne and the unexpected softness in his voice.
Once your shift finally ended, you gathered your things. Before leaving, you took one of the remaining baguettes that weren’t sold. It would just end up thrown away anyway, and you figured it was better than wasting it, especially since it saved you the money for dinner.
Waiting at the bus station, you quietly ate your baguette before the bus arrived. Buying your ticket and stepping inside, you noticed that unlike yesterday, it wasn’t raining at all. Instead, the evening sun cast a beautiful yellow hue over the entire city, creating a warm, nostalgic atmosphere as the bus drove past the familiar streets. Sunlight poured heavily through the window, falling right onto your tired face.
Getting to your apartment, the sun was slowly starting to set, soft pinkish clouds stretching across the sky. Worn out from the endless seeming stress you had since morning, you knew it was time for your favorite part of the day.
Dropping off your things and changing into some comfortable home clothes you had in your closet, you reached out for your pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes and a lighter waiting for you on your shoe cabinet as usual.
You sneaked to the roof unlocking the large metal doors and pushing them open. Breathing in the cozy mood of a warm evening all around you. The sun was sinking low, its light spilling over the horizon. Warm hues gathered on the clouds. For a moment, the whole sky was just a blend of colors.
Sitting on the concrete ledge of the apartment building and lighting up the cigarette, you hoped that idiot wouldn’t show up this time, though it seemed to not help you at all.
“Smoking up here again? You come here everyday?” Satoru said softly, coming up to you again with that wide smile of his.
Sitting right next to you just like yesterday he watched you with a curious look.
Exhaling tiredly, you turned your gaze towards him “you really can’t leave me alone, can you?” you responded maybe a little too coldly.
Satoru’s smile faltered a little. Every time you pushed him away he was just smug about it, but not this time? Why?
“Hey, I'm sorry. I just wanted to be your friend, you seemed nice and interesting and I thought maybe you will warm up a little, but I don’t want to actually annoy or bother you” he admitted, his voice carrying a tinge of disappointment.
Your heart tightened at the sound of his voice. Hearing him that sad hurt more than it should have.
“Why are you even that interested in me? A rich popular attractive guy hanging out with many people, having tons of girls drool over you, invited to many parties and events, it’s making me feel like you’re just making fun of me. Why would you want to be my friend? Honestly, why are you even living in this apartment building? Small cheap studio apartments sold to students because it’s close to the university? Don’t you come from a wealthy family?” You asked him with confusion, your voice softer than before, not able to keep up your sharp facade anymore.
Satoru blinked at that, but his soft smile returned “You know it’s not as easy as it sounds. Yeah I have many friends and money and am invited to events but to be honest? It’s all superficial. They only care about materialistic things and girls as well as parties and drinking, and even though that can be fun, it lacks any depth. I can’t talk to them about anything meaningful”
“And to answer your question about the apartment building, well living in a big villa with everything luxurious may also seem perfect, but it’s pretty boring honestly. I wanted to live like a normal guy and experience that college life, instead of just spending my whole day with my snob family” he offered a faint explanation.
Your expression changed completely at that “you’re saying that you’re different than your friends, huh?” you remarked sarcastically.
He laughed a bit at that “you could say so”
Your eyes locked on him again, he felt genuine, which did shock you, however, this time you trusted him.
“And you’re trying to find that in me, or?”
You asked, taking a puff of your cigarette and breathing it out into the air.
Satoru smiled slightly at that, his eyes turning away from you, glancing at the setting sun coloring the sky “maybe” he muttered
You gave him a tiny amused huff “interesting choice for a guy like you” you noted.
“Oh come on, stop lumping me together with them” he said with a sarcastic offense.
Chuckling at that, you held out the pack of cigarettes, offering him one.
“Thanks” he murmured, taking one of the cigarettes and lighting it up himself, inhaling the smoky haze “You never told me your name, y’know?” he added.
Raising your eyebrows, you replied “I’m [your name]”
His lips curved up as he took another puff “pretty” he just muttered.
You got a little too flustered at that, the daylight gradually faded away as darkness took over.
“You see, you made it pretty clear earlier that you work for a living…” he started with a tinge of playfulness in his voice “what cafe do you work at?” Satoru asked
Snorting, you answered “the one in the red building on the right from the school”
“That one? I haven’t been in that one yet, will make sure to check it out” he winked with a hint of mischief
Just rolling your eyes at him, your voice light “Anything but that” you commented jokingly.
Today’s morning classes at the university felt completely different from the chaotic blur of the previous days. Walking through the crowded campus corridors, you noticed the heavy weight in your chest had finally started to ease up. The professors surprisingly kept their words, not throwing any sudden, unannounced assignments at the class, and the lecture halls remained relatively quiet.
When the final bell rang and everyone began rushing toward the main exits, you checked your phone to see it was already early afternoon.
The outdoor air was pleasantly cool, a light breeze moving softly across the streets as you made your way toward the familiar red building. It was a short, peaceful walk, and for the first time in a while, you didn't feel that crushing sense of dread about the upcoming hours.
Stepping through the back entrance of the cafe, you quickly swapped your outfit for the dark barista apron, tying it tightly around your waist. Your schedule today was the usual long block from 13:00 to 19:00, a steady routine of grinding fresh espresso beans and setting up dessert plates.
The initial part of the shift turned out to be pretty hectic. A constant stream of customers began entering the shop, keeping you moving behind the counter. You spent hours steaming milk into thick foam, washing ceramic mugs, and wiping down the sticky tables near the windows. Your shoulders felt strained from lifting the heavy plates and restocking the pastry display.
By the time 16:00 arrived, the busy rush slightly quieted down, the cafe was now pretty calm and comfortable. The bright afternoon sun leaned heavily through the front glass, stretching long golden lines across the wooden floor. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, leaning back against the cool metal of the espresso machine just to take a breath.
Then, you heard the cafe door open as another customer entered.
Keeping your eyes down on the counter you were currently scrubbing with a white cloth, you spoke out, out of pure habit. “Welcome, what can I get for you today?” you said, your tone completely flat and professional.
“Just a large iced vanilla latte, please. Make it extra sweet. The lectures were absolutely draining today” a familiar, relaxed voice answered.
Your fingers locked instantly around the damp rag. Your breath caught hard before you lifted your gaze.
Satoru was leaning slightly against the counter. He was by himself this time, wearing a simple black sweatshirt that made his tall frame look even broader, his white hair a bit tossed from the wind outside. He slowly pulled his dark glasses down his nose, his blue eyes staring straight at you with that teasing look.
“Told you I'd check it out” his tone lighthearted, a cute smile appearing on his face, completely lacking that loud arrogance he showed in front of his classmates.
You released a startled breath, trying to fix your surprised expression, even though the sudden heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “You actually came” you said under your breath, turning your back to him to reach for a cup as an excuse to hide your face.
“Of course I did. I don't break my promises” Satoru chuckled, his voice carrying through the quiet cafe. Before you could even type the order into the screen, giving him the finished drink, he carefully set a thick stack of business finance textbooks on the wooden surface.
You stared at the massive books, lifting your eyebrows in mild confusion. “Are you planning to study here?”
“Yeah, if that’s okay with you” he replied, taking a slow sip of the cold drink. “My apartment is too quiet, and my phone is blowing up with texts. I just wanted a peaceful spot where I could actually breathe. And I figured my favorite neighbor makes the best coffee on campus.”
Your jaw tightened a fraction, a strange wave of warmth spreading deep into your chest at his words. Not knowing how to respond, you simply gave a slow nod, reaching for your cleaning cloth again. “The corner table under the window is empty, Satoru. Just... keep it down.”
“Understood” he shot you a knowing look, picking up his heavy study materials and walking over to the secluded corner.
For the remaining hours of your shift, the cafe stayed peaceful. Satoru didn't interrupt your work, and he didn't make any noise. He just sat quietly in the sunlight pouring past the large window, his white head bent over his finance notes. You stood there polishing the bar, completely unable to look away from his profile.
He stayed all those three hours until the cafe reached closing time. Walking over to him, you patted his shoulder gently. He looked up at you, slipping off his headphones and looking up with his lovely eyes. “Hm?”
“We’re about to close” you let him know.
Satoru nodded. “Well then, I’ll stay until you’re done and walk you home, whatcha think?” he offered with a nudge.
I hope you liked it!!! I’ll appreciate any kind of support or feedback 💕
Chapter 1 warnings : smoking, depictions of exhaustion, toxic family dynamic, slight slow burn, college au
Synopsis : You often smoke on the rooftop of your apartment building during long nights. Your life was draining and lonely, until a new first-year, who also happened to be your new neighbor next door, decided to interrupt you.
Author’s note : My very first mini series!! This is the first chapter and next chapters will be linked under once finished. Hope you’ll enjoy! 💜
Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Turning the wooden sign on the glass door from Open to Closed, your shift was officially over. You quietly cleaned the remaining dishes and wiped down the sticky tables before gathering your things and heading out toward the nearby bus station.
A heavy wave of deep exhaustion immediately washed over you. Your life was draining. Every single morning, you had to drag yourself out of bed early to attend classes at your university, law school, to be more specific. It was a school you absolutely despised, a department you had zero passion for, yet you attended it anyway simply because your parents pressured you to.
You came from a prestigious family of lawyers, so it was no wonder they held such suffocatingly high expectations for you. But to underline it all, you had to rush straight to work at a local cafe right after your classes ended. And why? Your parents were filthy rich, no? Yes, but because of how strict and completely unempathetic they were, treating you like nothing more than a burden who failed to live up to their legacy, you had decided to pack your bags and move out the moment you turned eighteen.
The thing was, they didn't approve of your independence either. Refusing to give you any financial support to fund your cramped, small studio apartment, they made their cruel plan crystal clear. Because they hadn't wanted you out of the house before you finished law school, they figured that by cutting off financial support completely, you would eventually give up, pack your pride, and crawl back home.
Right?
Wrong. You might have been tired and broke, but this suffocating little room was still a thousand times more peaceful than it had ever been back home.
Looking out the bus window, little droplets of rain started to pour down the fogged glass. Another rainy evening took over the city, creating a melancholic ambiance. Your umbrella was in your bag, fortunately.
Finally returning to your apartment after a long, silent bus ride, you turned the key in the lock, opened the door, and kicked off your shoes along with your coat. You let the solitude of the room swallow you whole.
The hunger was getting unbearable. You had eaten almost nothing the whole day, too busy to get yourself some snack because of the hectic schedule.
Opening the fridge, you took out the leftover pasta from yesterday's dinner. Learning how to cook easy, cheap, but filling meals helped you a lot with your small budget. The microwave beeped once the dinner was heated up, so you sat to the small dining table in your kitchen, quietly eating.
Many feelings and thoughts ran through your head. Your life was calm, yeah, but very far from fulfilling. Due to so much work, you had practically zero free time, meaning getting closer to people and making friends was almost impossible. While others were out having fun and partying, making memories, you were coming home exhausted, not having any energy to go out or even truly want to socialize.
You had a few casual friends at school, people you would chat with during lunch or between classes, occasionally texting, but you weren’t truly close with anyone. It was deeply lonely, though over time, you had learned how to make peace with it. A large book collection, drawers overflowing with fully finished sketchbooks, and a corner filled with vintage CDs right next to a cheap, second-hand record player. Watching old films during those agonizingly long, quiet nights became your escape, along with so many other little hobbies that you had grown to love.
But that wasn't all. To cope with the heavy silence of your mind, you also smoked. Quite a lot. You had tried to stop a few times, but it always proved to be pointless. The sensation of warm, thick smoke filling your lungs, instantly making your mind feel grounded and calm, was a feeling far too intoxicating to ever let go of. Over time, you found yourself buying stronger and stronger cigarettes, chasing that subtle, floaty feeling in your head reacting to a larger dose of nicotine to make you forget the rest of the world.
It quickly turned into a cold night after the evening rain, causing the air to fog around the sleeping city. Outside, the raindrops mixed with the city air, creating an almost comforting atmosphere, and a warm dusty aroma was rising from the soaked pavements.
You opened your closet to take out a warm black hoodie to protect you from the chill of the night. Your hand grabbed a pack of red Lucky Strike cigarettes and a lighter that were sitting on the shoe cabinet where you kept your boots near the exit of the small apartment. They always sat there, prepared for another night smoking session.
Closing the door behind you, you got up the stairs towards the rooftop, silently stepping up to the large metal entrance leading to the roof. Taking your keys and finding the right one, you unlocked it. Pushing the doors open, you slipped outside, feeling the atmosphere and smell immediately hit you.
Coming over to the damp ledge of the apartment building, you tried to wipe away the water with your sleeve. It only got slightly dry, but honestly, you could care less. You sat down anyway, looking over the roofs of other houses and the city lights shining so bright in the darkness.
The cigarette box was in the pocket of your blue loose jeans that you loved to wear. Sneaking your hand into the pocket, you pulled the box out and took one of them.
The cigarette hung between your lips as you pressed the lighter, inhaling the smoke while the cigarette lit, and then breathed it out. Everything was at peace again. The cold feeling, the nicotine, the damp air, and the darkness, it was all just so peaceful.
These moments were always the most effective at clearing out your head. You were relaxed, yet had so much time to think deeply about things, and no one was there to disturb you.
Well, at least you thought so. You heard the door open and felt your heart dropping. Was it the landlord? He had stated multiple times that the keys were only for special occasions and to not climb on the roof for no reason. But when you turned around, it wasn’t the landlord.
“Hey” said the man.
Who was that? Was that the new neighbor who moved in? The one from the other department of your university? You heard that a new first-year moved into the apartment building. He was in the third department of the university, business and management. All the rich, extroverted morons went there, using their charisma and intelligence to their fullest.
You frowned at him. “Who are you?” you said before taking another puff. That definitely sounded unimpressed and annoyed, but you were, and had nothing to hide anyway.
“That's not a nice greeting, y’know?”
Just a soft sigh could be heard as you looked away, turning your gaze back to the view of the dark rooftops. “My question still stands”
“I’m Satoru Gojo, the new first-year, and your new neighbor” he said with a soft though wide, confident smile, sitting down right next to you. He was really pretty, with snowy white hair, bright blue eyes, a tall frame, and an undeniable charisma. But you had your prejudices. You absolutely hated business department frat boys.
“I’m new to the apartment building and wanted to get to know more people, especially the ones living under the same roof, no?” Oh, he was so lively it was practically pissing you off, but at the same time, why was he being so sweet?
“I'm none of your business. What are you even doing up here anyway? You know it's prohibited” you reminded him, maybe a little too bitterly.
His bright blue eyes opened a little wider at your sharp tone, but his confident, smug smile hadn’t faltered. “Oh, you’re so mean to me. I’m just trying to be nice, y'know? I saw a pretty neighbor heading up to the roof, and I got curious”
Taking another puff of your cigarette, your eyes just rolled. “Don’t flirt with me”
His smile only got wider. “Oh, we got an ice queen here. Come on, I’m actually curious about you. You’re out here smoking alone on the top of the roof, looking so mysterious, huh?” he teased.
Keeping on smoking, too tired to really give him any attention, you kept looking at the scenery. “There’s nothing to be curious about”
Satoru’s smile softened at that “Really? Then why am I? You look pretty cool”
For him, it was actually refreshing, being an attractive and charismatic guy from a wealthy family, all the girls were pooling around him trying to get his attention, while you just sat there acting as if he was ruining your moment.
He always longed for a genuine connection, most of his friends were rather superficial or just those business department morons, he was maybe rich and attractive but he was not a frat boy. He loved people and parties, loved having fun and all but he had a good heart.
You looked at him not making any expression, still with that unimpressed look, but to his soft smile you couldn’t really be mean. Though you wondered why someone from a business department would be nice? Hating the people there and basically the whole business department was not a foreign concept to you, you still didn’t trust his nice acting at all.
“You want one?” You asked just offering one cigarette from the pack, you didn’t know how to respond to his previous compliment or how to continue the conversation so offering a cigarette seemed like an adequate thing to do
“Sure” he took one of the cigarettes and you handed him the lighter. Lighting it up as well and taking a puff he gave you the lighter back “so… what department are you studying?”
“Law” you answered not very enthusiastic
“Law? Damn, poor you” he joked
You just shot him a death glare and he immediately apologized “hey hey sorry, I was just joking” he said taking another puff “You don’t look really excited about it though, do you like studying law?”
“No” you simply said
“Really? It’s true you don’t look like someone to study law, honestly from your vibe I’d say like arts or history, maybe philosophical university?” He said still smiling, he seemed pretty energetic.
“I wanted to study design but my parents wouldn’t let me, I tried to at least offer maybe architecture? I’d like that too, I'm pretty good both in technical things and art but they had their minds made up, either law or no school” you responded bitterly.
His face turned a little more serious at your words “That’s so fucked up? Don’t they mind you’re not happy?”
“They don’t. They just want respect in the justice institutions and a family legacy, bunch of narcissists” you scoffed, massaging your temple
He gazed at you with even more interest now “and you’re not planning on continuing their legacy, right?”
“Hell no” you said like it was obvious. Stubbing out your already finished cigarette against the damp concrete, you reopened the pack to smoke another.
“Even if I had to work in that small cafe forever, I’d gladly pick it over my family’s wishes. They never gave me an ounce of the comfort I wished and begged for my whole childhood” you lit the cigarette
Satoru smiled at that, your stubborn pride kind of amused him, but underneath that playful smile, he respected it, a lot.
“A cafe worker who holds a grudge against her whole family of lawyers” he remarked, taking a slow, long drag from his cigarette before blowing the smoke into the cold air. His bright blue eyes focused on you. “I like that. To be fair, It’s pretty attractive. Most people would just take the money and let their souls die in those boring courtrooms.”
You just stared at him indifferent, your voice flat “what’s it to me anyway? that you find it attractive”
Satoru just let out a chuckle, leaning slightly closer to your side. His eyes crinkled with genuine amusement. “Nothing, really. Just thought you might appreciate some honest feedback” he teased, his smile widening. “Consider it a complimentary evaluation from a business and management student himself”
You internally, and maybe even outwardly rolled your eyes at his words “I really hate business and management students” you muttered to yourself
“Hey! I heard that, I tried to be so nice and you treat me like this? How devastating” he said dramatically but was smiling “Come on, I actually want to be your friend”
Your friend? It was a weird thing to hear. Because of your schedule, exhaustion and introverted personality you never had many, and definitely not because someone actively sought you out. Inside you felt a little hopeful, however you wouldn’t admit it to yourself, yet…
“Don’t be ridiculous, we have nothing to talk about or share” you murmured halfway done to finishing even the second cigarette.
“I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve been having a pretty nice conversation” Satoru said playfully but it had genuine warmth.
You could feel yourself internally melting, even so it would take a lot more warmth to melt you completely.
Taking multiple last puffs of your cigarette, not replying to his words, you stubbed this cigarette as well. Turning your phone around, you checked the time.
“2:14”
Your eyes widened a little, The teacher scheduled an important exam tomorrow and you managed to let yourself get carried away like this.
Satoru noticed your reaction and frowned “what’s wrong?” he asked curious about what could have made you widen your eyes like that
“It’s late, I have an exam tomorrow, I’ll get going now, bye” you told him picking your things up as you stood up ready to leave
“Hey! Wait, let me walk you home” Satoru offered with another cute smile
“Whatever” you responded and walked together with him through the large metal doors, locking them quietly with your keys. Walking down the stairs, he was right next to you still with that annoying little smile of his.
Once you got to the door of your apartment, you glanced at him the last time.
“Thank you for the talk, see you soon, good night” Satoru waved goodbye turning around, going to his own apartment. You noticed he had his apartment right infront of yours, oh great.
“Bye” you mumbled before entering your own apartment.
You headed straight into the bathroom to wash yourself from the smoke, or your own feelings perhaps as well? You started to fill the bath with water and threw in a bath bomb. Lying inside the water, surrounded by bubbles, your eyes fixated on the ceiling.
There was a warm fluttering feeling in your chest. Not used to people being so interested in you, especially guys, not in such a sweet way. Were you actually anticipating seeing him again?
You hoped not.
I actually finished writing this on the train back home from my trip with friends 😸 We went bouldering and then swimming in a lake and slept in a small cabin together!!
Warnings (18+) : Nerdjo, Established relationship, fingering, edging, teasing, college au, roommates
Your exams were coming, sooner than you wanted them to. You were pretty devastated, all this reading and studying, yet it seemed to go in one ear and out the other. It was as if your brain decided it didn’t have a single good reason to retain anything.
You laid on your bed, deeply annoyed. Outside, the heavy rain was tapping against the glass and the window ledge. Your coffee cup was already empty. Sighing, you finally got up from the mattress and walked straight into his room.
“Satoru?”
Your boyfriend, who also happened to be your college roommate, looked up from where he sat. He was reading some book, quietly listening to his playlist.
“Yes, sweetheart?” he murmured softly, his cute reading glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just a bit.
You sighed dramatically, stepping closer until you could close his book. “Satoruu… I’m trying to study, but the words just aren’t sticking. It’s like they fly right out of my head! How do you even do it??” you groaned out.
He just smiled up at you, his pretty eyes blinking behind the frames. “Is that so? You want my help?” he asked, his voice dripping with teasing warmth.
Soon enough, you were both on his bed. His long fingers were already buried deep inside you, coated by your own heat, but instead of feeling good, you were agonized
His method was definitely effective. Enjoyable, on the other hand? Hardly. Satoru, however, seemed to be having the time of his life.
“Focus for me, sweetheart” he murmured, looking down at you over the frames of his glasses. “Which cranial nerve is primarily responsible for the parasympathetic innervation of the heart and gastrointestinal tract?”
His two fingers remained perfectly still inside you, refusing to move. His thumb occasionally brushed over your clit in lazy, unhurried circles, giving you absolutely nothing to work with other than pure frustration.
“The... the vagus nerve. Cranial nerve ten” you choked out while you desperately sought some friction, but he held you pinned down against the mattress.
“You got it right. Good job” he praised softly, finally pumping his fingers in and out of you in a few deep strokes.
It was maddening. This was the first time your brain actually started to recall the answers. Maybe it finally decided it had a solid reason to care, because it did. You were being ruthlessly edged, left nowhere near a climax.
“You can do this, you’re so talented” he cooed, leaning down to press a small kiss to your jaw. “Once you get every single question right, sweetheart... only then I’ll let you cum.”
I started a new series the moonlit rooftop so you can check it out!! 🌟
synopsis — satoru gojo is your bestfriend and you are his. but sometimes, lines between friendship and something more seem to blur.
pairing — bestfriend! satoru x reader
word count — 10.6 k
warnings — making out, somewhat heavy petting, they take off each other's shirts but that's about it LOL, angst (not a sad ending though), reader feels unwanted at times.
Satoru Gojo.
How long have you known him? Your whole life, probably.
Scratch that. Not your whole life, but definitely the majority of it.
It started in preschool.
You were the quiet kid—the one who clung to the edges of the classroom, never quite fitting into the messy, chaotic whirlwind of children who seemed to make friends like it was the easiest thing in the world. You didn’t know how they did it—how they found each other in the noise, how they paired up so effortlessly, how they just knew where they belonged.
You, on the other hand, spent most of your time alone, stacking blocks in the corner, drawing quietly, or waiting for the teacher to tell you what to do next.
And then there was him.
Satoru Gojo, the loudest, brightest, most obnoxiously happy kid you’d ever met. He was the kind of child who ran instead of walked, who laughed at things no one else found funny, who always had a scrape on his knee but never seemed to care. He was larger than life, in a way that made your stomach twist—not quite jealousy, not quite admiration, just… confusion.
So when he plopped down next to you one day, completely uninvited, you weren’t sure what to do.
“Whatcha doin’?” he asked, peering at the tiny house you were building out of wooden blocks.
You shrugged. “Building.”
“Cool,” he said, grinning. “Can I help?”
You hesitated. You didn’t want help. But before you could answer, he was already reaching for the blocks, stacking them in ways that made no sense.
“You’re ruining it,” you mumbled, frowning.
He blinked at you, then back at the house. “Oh.” And then, without missing a beat, he knocked it over entirely.
You gasped, horrified.
He just laughed. “Now we can build it again!”
You decided, in that exact moment, that you hated him.
But Satoru Gojo was persistent.
He started following you around—not in a creepy way, just in an annoying way. Every time you thought you’d shaken him off, he’d pop up again like a bad penny, grinning that ridiculous grin of his.
Eventually, you just… let him.
It was easier than trying to get rid of him.
And somewhere along the way, he became your first real friend.
Your moms met not long after.
It happened at pickup time, when Satoru ran straight past his usual waiting spot to grab your hand instead. “Can I go to their house?” he asked his mom, all wide eyes and uncontainable energy. “Please, please, please?”
Your mom looked vaguely alarmed, having not expected to suddenly be responsible for another child, but Satoru’s mom just laughed.
And that was that.
Your friendship expanded beyond the preschool walls, spilling into weekends and playdates. Satoru’s house became as familiar as your own, with its too-big windows and fancy furniture that he absolutely wasn’t supposed to jump on (but did anyway). In return, he practically lived at your place, showing up unannounced, eating snacks straight from your pantry, making himself at home in a way that should have been irritating but never really was.
By the time middle school rolled around, he was less of a friend and more of a permanent fixture in your life.
“Okay, but listen,” Satoru said one afternoon, sprawled across your bedroom floor, Switch in hand. “If you had to pick one Digimon partner, like one to be stuck with for the rest of your life, who would it be?”
You barely looked up from your homework. “I don’t know. Agumon?”
“Agumon?” he repeated, scandalized. “That’s so basic. It’s like saying your favorite Pokémon is Pikachu.”
You raised an eyebrow. “It’s literally the main character’s Digimon.”
“Exactly!” He threw his hands up. “No originality. None. Zero. I expected better from you.”
“You asked me,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes.
“Yeah, but I thought you’d at least think about it.” He sighed, dramatically flopping onto his back. “I should’ve known. I’m best friends with a casual fan.”
“You should be grateful you have a best friend at all,” you shot back.
Satoru grinned, tilting his head toward you. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”
At some point, he started wearing glasses. Not for fashion, not because he wanted to, but because years of staring at screens in the dark, playing Digimon and Pokémon and whatever else he was obsessed with at the time, had officially caught up to him.
“I’m blind,” he announced the day he got them, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. “Absolutely, totally blind.”
You snorted. “You’re, like, mildly nearsighted.”
“Same thing,” he said, already taking them off to examine them. “Do I look smarter with them?”
You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Not really.”
“Rude.” He huffed, sliding them back on. “What about cooler?”
You threw a pillow at his face.
He laughed, catching it easily. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
—
Then came high school.
At first, nothing changed.
Satoru was still Satoru—loud, annoying, always in your space. He still showed up at your house unannounced, still texted you at odd hours about random nonsense, still sat next to you at lunch like it was a law of the universe. He was your best friend. Your person.
And for the first two years, you were inseparable.
There wasn’t a single moment where people saw one of you without the other. Satoru Gojo and you. You and Satoru Gojo. Always a pair. Whether it was cramming for exams together, getting kicked out of the arcade because he got too competitive, or spending Friday nights playing whatever old game he got obsessed with that month, he was your constant.
Until junior year.
It started small.
A casual comment in gym class about how fast he was. A joke from a teacher about how he should try out for the football team. A half-dare from some of the guys he barely knew.
And somehow, against all odds, Satoru Gojo became an athlete.
You didn’t think much of it at first. It was just another one of his phases, right? Like that time he swore he’d master speedrunning or decided he was going to learn five languages at once. But he was good—annoyingly good. Tall, fast, with ridiculous reflexes that made him impossible to catch on the field.
And people noticed.
By mid-season, he wasn’t just some new player—he was the star. The guy everyone knew, the guy who had a crowd around him in the hallways, the guy who got called out over the school speakers for game-winning plays.
The guy who no longer just belonged to you.
The first time you really felt it was when he showed up at your house one evening. That part was normal. He still did that, still made himself at home on your couch, still stole whatever snacks he wanted.
But something was different.
You were sprawled out on your bed, flipping through a book, when you glanced up and noticed.
“Where are your glasses?” you asked.
Satoru blinked, as if he had to think about it. “Oh. Right.” He shrugged, plopping down next to you. “They’re kind of a hazard in football, so I switched to contacts. Figured I’d just stick with them.”
You sat up, frowning. “But you hate contacts.”
He grinned, stretching lazily. “Not anymore.”
And just like that, something in your chest twisted.
It wasn’t just the glasses.
It was the way he stopped rambling about Digimon, the way he never asked if you wanted to rewatch old anime together anymore. It was the way his schedule started filling up with team hangouts and parties you weren’t invited to. It was the way people started looking at you differently when you were with him.
Because Satoru Gojo wasn’t just Satoru Gojo anymore.
He was Gojo.
Senior year was when it really started to hurt.
He still sat with you at lunch, still texted you silly memes at night, still acted like nothing had changed. But everything had.
He would often cancel on your invitations, his responses still typed in that absurd, unmistakable way of his—yet his excuses always seemed to follow a familiar pattern. It was always something urgent, something unavoidable: he had to rush off to practice, or there was a party he couldn’t miss, or someone needed his help and he simply couldn’t bring himself to say no. Each time, it felt like a rehearsed script, as though his priorities were perpetually elsewhere, leaving you to wonder if you’d ever truly make the cut.
Every time he plopped down next to you, people stared. Whispered.
“Why’s he sitting with her?”
“Shouldn't he sit with the rest of the team?”
“Is she, like, his childhood obligation or something?”
You weren’t an idiot. You heard it. You felt it.
And it made you snap.
“You don’t have to sit here, you know,” you muttered one day, keeping your eyes on your tray.
Satoru frowned. “What?”
“I said, you don’t have to sit here,” you repeated, sharper this time. “If you’d rather be with your actual friends—”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
You clenched your jaw, hating how defensive he sounded. “Nothing. Forget it.”
He didn’t forget it.
You fought about it. About how he didn’t get it, about how easy everything was for him, about how he could walk into any room and belong while you felt like you had to justify existing.
“You act like I abandoned you,” he snapped, voice low and frustrated. “But I’m right here. I’ve always been here.”
And you hated that he was somewhat right.
So you patched things up. Not because you fully understood each other, but because you both wanted to. And by the time graduation rolled around, you could almost pretend things had gone back to the way they were.
But then came college.
And somehow, Satoru Gojo managed to be even more himself than ever.
Bigger. Louder. More impossible to ignore.
If high school had turned him into a star, then college made him a supernova.
He was everywhere—at parties, in clubs, on the field. Everyone knew him. Everyone wanted to be around him.
And somehow, despite it all, he still tried to keep you close.
“Come with me tonight,” he’d say, sending you an invite to some massive party. “It’ll be fun.”
You always said no.
At first, he laughed it off. But after a while, he started looking at you differently—like he noticed the way you avoided him now, the way you barely answered his texts, the way you pulled away whenever he tried to meet your eyes.
And one night, when he showed up outside your dorm after another party, half-drunk and grinning, you saw the exact moment that grin faltered.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “Why would I be mad at you?” you replied, your tone lighter than you felt, as if you could brush the question aside with a casual shrug.
Satoru studied you intently, his glasses nowhere to be found, his hair disheveled from running his hands through it one too many times. His gaze was sharp, unrelenting. “Because you’re avoiding me,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place—frustration, maybe, or hurt.
You forced a laugh, the sound brittle and unconvincing. “I’m not—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Not you.”
The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and your throat tightened. You looked away, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s just—” you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to piece together the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for weeks. “You don’t need me anymore, Satoru. You have them. All your cool—I don’t know, jock and cheerleader friends, everyone else who likes you. You don’t have time for me now.”
He blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice rising slightly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. His hands gestured vaguely, as though trying to grasp the words you’d just thrown at him. “You think I’d just—replace you? Like it’s that easy? No, like seriously fucking explain to me what the absolute hell you mean?” He mutters out angrily, words slightly slurred.
The air between you felt heavy, charged with emotions neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, leaving only silence hanging in the space between you.
You let out a bitter laugh. “It means I’m tired, Satoru. Tired of feeling like a ghost when I’m with you. Tired of pretending I’m okay with being the weird friend you keep around out of habit.”
Satoru opened his mouth, then closed it.
And for the first time in your life, you saw it—hurt. Real, genuine hurt in his stupidly bright eyes.
“You think that’s what this is?” he said, voice quieter now. “Habit?”
You didn’t answer.
Because if you did, you might have to admit that you missed him. That you missed the late-night anime marathons, the dumb inside jokes, the way he used to act like you were the only person in the world that mattered.
But you weren’t sure if that version of him still existed.
And you definitely weren’t sure if you had the courage to find out.
Satoru stared at you for a long time, the weight of your words settling between you like a stone. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, couldn’t decipher the way his lips pressed into a thin line, the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for something—but wasn’t sure if he should.
Then, after what felt like forever, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
“I don’t get it,” he admitted, voice lower now, quieter, like he was afraid too many words would push you further away. “You’re acting like I left you behind, but I’m right here.”
You bit your lip. “You don’t see it.”
“Then make me see it,” he shot back, suddenly frustrated. “Because all I know is that one day we were fine, and the next, you started treating me like a stranger.”
That stung.
Because wasn’t that what he did first?
He wasn’t the one being looked at differently in high school when he sat next to you at lunch. He wasn’t the one feeling like a burden when you tagged along with him to something you thought was just going to be the two of you. He wasn’t the one realizing, little by little, that your best friend was outgrowing you.
But how could you even say that? How could you explain it in a way he’d understand?
“It’s not just one thing, Satoru,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… everything.”
Satoru exhaled sharply, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “That’s real specific.”
You rolled your eyes, the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. “You wouldn’t get it.”
“Try me.”
You hesitated. He looked serious, standing there under the dim glow of the dorm hallway lights, arms crossed, gaze steady. But what would it change? Telling him wouldn’t undo the years of growing distance, wouldn’t erase the fact that you felt like you didn’t fit in his world anymore.
Maybe it was better to let it go.
So you shook your head, stepping back toward your door. “It’s late. You should go.”
Satoru let out a quiet, frustrated laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fine,” he said, jaw tightening. “Run away, then. You’re good at that.”
That hurt more than it should have.
But you didn’t argue. You just stepped inside, closed the door, and pretended the ache in your chest wasn’t real.
It got worse after that.
You thought maybe that argument would clear the air—that he’d finally see why you had been keeping your distance. But if anything, it only made things weirder.
Satoru still texted you, but not as much. He still invited you to things, but there was something almost hesitant in the way he asked, like he was bracing for rejection. And when you turned him down (because of course you did), his replies became shorter, more clipped.
Then, one night, he stopped asking altogether.
You didn’t realize how much you had come to expect it—his name popping up on your phone, his easy confidence that somehow, eventually, you’d say yes. But when Friday night came and went without a text, something inside you twisted.
Maybe this was what you wanted. Maybe it was easier this way.
So why did it feel so awful?
A week later, you ran into him by accident.
Literally.
You were coming out of the campus library, arms full of books, when someone rounded the corner too fast and nearly tackled you.
“Oh, shit—sorry—”
You looked up, heart dropping to your stomach.
Satoru.
Your hands clenched around the books, pulse stuttering. It had only been a week, but he already looked different—like he’d fully settled into his role as that guy. Loose hoodie, messy hair, the faint scent of cologne and something vaguely alcoholic clinging to him.
You swallowed hard. “Hey.”
His expression flickered—just for a second. “Hey.”
It was awkward. Awkward. When had things ever been awkward between you?
You shifted your grip on your books. “Uh—sorry. Didn’t mean to—”
“Yeah, no, my bad,” he cut in quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Silence stretched between you. Too long, too tense.
Then, suddenly, his eyes dropped to the stack in your arms. “Of course you’re carrying, like, ten books at once.”
It was such a Satoru thing to say that, for a second, you almost smiled.
Then his gaze flicked up to yours, something softer in his expression, and your breath hitched.
And then—
A voice called his name from across the quad. Some guy you didn’t know, waving him over. Satoru hesitated. Then, with a small exhale, he gave you a lopsided grin. “Guess I’ll see you around.”
He didn’t wait for a response before turning away.
And you stood there, watching him go, feeling like something important had just slipped through your fingers.
Days passed. Then a week. Then two.
And for the first time in years, Satoru Gojo wasn’t part of your life anymore.
No more texts. No more unannounced visits. No more standing at your dorm door at 2 AM, grinning like he belonged there.
You had wanted this, hadn’t you? You had wanted the space, the distance, the freedom to not be caught in his orbit.
But now, without him, everything just felt… quiet. You hated it.
You missed him.
—
It was months before you and Satoru spoke again.
At first, you kept waiting for him to text you, to pop up at your door with some stupid excuse, to send you a meme like nothing had happened. But days passed. Then weeks. Then months. And Satoru Gojo—your best friend since childhood—became just another person you saw in passing.
Sometimes, you spotted him across the quad, surrounded by his usual crowd. Sometimes, you caught glimpses of him at the library, laughing too loudly with friends who barely even acknowledged your existence.
And it hurt.
More than you wanted to admit, it hurt.
But you told yourself this was how things were meant to be. That he had moved on, and you needed to do the same. That whatever had existed between you belonged to another lifetime, one where you weren’t the quiet girl who spent her nights buried in books, and he wasn’t the golden boy who belonged to the whole damn world.
You thought you were doing fine. You thought you were getting used to it.
Until the professor announced lab partners.
The moment your name was called, a small, high-pitched voice cut through the classroom.
“Uh… who?”
Laughter rippled through the room. You felt your face go hot, every muscle in your body locking up as the girl—some blonde from Satoru’s usual group—looked around in exaggerated confusion.
It was humiliating.
Because she wasn’t just some random classmate. She was someone who had spent actual time with Satoru. Who had probably been to his dorm, who had probably sat next to him at parties, who had probably heard him talk about people in his life.
And she had no idea who you were.
You didn’t even dare look at Satoru. Didn’t want to see his reaction. Didn’t want to see whether he’d step in, whether he’d say anything—
But he didn’t.
He didn’t laugh, but he didn’t correct her either.
Didn’t turn to acknowledge you. Didn’t make some joke to brush past it. Didn’t do anything at all.
Just stared at the table like he was somewhere else entirely.
And that, somehow, was worse than anything.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral as you scribbled down the details of the assignment. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t a big deal. At least, that’s what you told yourself.
—
Working with Satoru again was… weird.
Not just because of everything that had happened between you, but because neither of you seemed to know how to be around each other anymore.
Gone were the days of effortless conversation, of teasing remarks and stolen fries and arguments about Digimon evolutions. Now, everything felt stilted, careful, like you were two strangers trying to relearn the language of each other.
Sometimes, it almost felt normal.
Like when you sat across from each other in the library, bent over research notes, and he’d randomly hum the Sailor Moon theme song under his breath. Or when he muttered something stupid under his breath about the professor’s handwriting, and you nearly choked on your water holding back a laugh.
But then, inevitably, the moment would pass.
Because girls from his usual group would come over, acting like you weren’t even there, their voices too sweet as they draped themselves over the back of his chair.
“Satoru, are you coming to the party on Friday?”
“Satoru, when are you free? We should all hang out.”
And he’d always answer them. Always give some noncommittal shrug or a lazy smirk. But you could tell—even if no one else seemed to notice—that he wasn’t really there. That when he looked at them, he wasn’t listening.
And yet, he never told them to leave. Never told them that you were working. Never acknowledged you at all when they were around. So, after a while, you just stopped expecting him to.
And then, one day, you got sick.
Not just a little sick. Not just a sore throat or a cough you could push through. No, you were the kind of sick that made your whole body ache, that sent shivers down your spine no matter how many blankets you curled under.
But it was a project day. And despite everything, you still had responsibilities. So, begrudgingly, you shot Satoru a text.
Come to my dorm. I can’t go out today.
He didn’t reply right away. But twenty minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You barely managed to drag yourself over, your vision swimming slightly as you opened it.
And there he was.
Looking the same as always—messy white hair, sharp blue eyes, hoodie slung over his frame like he’d just rolled out of bed.
The only difference? The way his expression immediately dropped the second he saw you.
“Shit,” he muttered. “You look awful.”
You groaned, stepping aside to let him in. “Thanks for the confidence boost.” He kicked off his shoes, setting his bag down before eyeing you carefully. “Have you been drinking water? Eating enough? D’you eat somethin’ you weren’t meant to eat?”
You rolled your eyes. “How am I supposed to know, I just woke up sick as hell.”
Instead of a snarky remark, Satoru just sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, before you could protest, he was guiding you toward the bed, nudging you to sit.
“You’re not working like this,” he said firmly. “Lie down.”
“I’m fine—”
“Lie down.”
You hesitated.
This wasn’t him. This wasn’t the version of Satoru you had gotten used to in the past year. The one who was always a little distant, a little out of reach. This was… him.
The Satoru you had known since childhood. The one who always knew when you were exhausted, even when you swore you weren’t. The one who used to push his fries onto your plate when you were too stressed to eat.
The one who, for the first time in months, was looking at you like you were still his best friend. So, slowly, you lay back down.
Satoru exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll get you some tea or something. You have any?” You nodded weakly. He moved toward your desk, rummaging through your stash of instant tea packets like he had done it a million times before.
And for the first time in a long time, the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was familiar.
Safe.
And even though you felt like death warmed over, for the first time in months, you didn’t feel so alone.
—
From that day on, something shifted.
It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t dramatic, but it was there—a quiet, almost imperceptible change in the way things were between you and Satoru. The library, once the default meeting spot for your project sessions, was suddenly off the table. He stopped suggesting it altogether, and at first, you didn’t think much of it. But then, one afternoon, he showed up at your dorm unannounced, arms loaded with snacks and a careless shrug when you stared at him, bewildered.
“Library’s too loud,” he said, brushing past you and stepping inside like he owned the place. “Figured we’d get more done here.”
You didn’t question it. Not then, and not a week later when you found yourself in his dorm instead, sitting cross-legged on his bed while he scrolled through research notes on his laptop.
“Library’s too crowded,” he explained that time, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
After that, it just became… routine. Your project meetings moved from the library to your dorms, back and forth, as if by some unspoken agreement. The shift was gradual, almost imperceptible, but it was there. You still weren’t quite friends again—not the way you used to be, back when everything was easy and uncomplicated. There was still a careful distance between you, an unspoken awareness of all the time that had been lost, all the moments that had slipped through your fingers. But things weren’t cold anymore. They weren’t distant.
Satoru filled the quiet moments with mindless chatter, the way he always had. He teased you about your typos, stole your pens when you weren’t looking, and groaned dramatically whenever you made him do too much reading. Slowly, bit by bit, the pieces of your friendship started falling back into place. Not completely. Not yet. But enough that sometimes, when the two of you were laughing over something stupid, it almost felt like the past year had never happened.
Then, one day, everything cracked open.
It was late—much later than usual—and the two of you were sitting in his dorm, textbooks and notebooks sprawled across his desk. You were both exhausted, the kind of tired that made your eyes burn and your thoughts sluggish. Satoru was absentmindedly flipping through one of your old notebooks when he suddenly snorted.
“Oh my God.”
You blinked up at him, too tired to muster more than a mumbled, “What?”
He turned the notebook toward you, pointing at a messy doodle in the margin. It was a Digimon—a rough, scribbled outline that barely resembled anything recognizable. But something about it made him grin, leaning back in his chair like he’d just uncovered a hidden treasure.
“Damn,” he said, shaking his head. “Feels like a whole different lifetime ago.”
And then, in a voice so casual, so familiar, he added—
“Remember when we made a whole ass PowerPoint ranking every Digimon evolution?”
That was it.
That was what broke you.
It was so stupid—just a random memory, an offhand remark. But the second he said it, something in your chest twisted violently. You clenched your jaw, swallowing hard, telling yourself not to be dramatic. But then your vision blurred, and suddenly, you were crying.
“Oh—oh shit.”
Satoru’s chair scraped against the floor as he shot up, eyes wide with panic. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
You barely managed to shake your head, your hands gripping your knees as you tried to steady yourself. But the tears kept coming, and then—through the hiccups, through the pathetic, trembling gasps—you broke.
You clenched your jaw, trying to hold it together, but the tears spilled over anyway. Your chest heaved as you choked out the words, “I miss you. I—God, Satoru, I miss you.”
His face went slack, his usual confidence faltering as he stared at you, stunned. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak, like he was trying to process what you’d just said. Then his voice came out quiet, almost fragile. “What are you talking about? I’m right here.”
You shook your head, your hands gripping your knees so tightly your knuckles turned white. “No, you’re not. Not really. You’ve been… gone. For so long. And I—” Your voice broke, and you hated how weak you sounded, how raw and exposed you felt. “I don’t want to be without you anymore. I don’t—I don’t want you to hate me.”
Satoru’s breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw his composure crack. His eyes glistened, and he blinked rapidly, like he was trying to fight it, but a single tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, his voice trembling as he muttered, “You’re so fucking stupid. How could I ever hate you?”
You let out a shaky laugh, but it came out more like a sob. “I don’t know. You just—you stopped talking to me. You stopped needing me. And I thought… I thought you didn’t care anymore.”
He shook his head, his hands reaching out like he wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if he should. “I care. I care so much it’s stupid. I just—” He paused, his voice cracking. “I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know how to come back after everything. It felt like you were pushing me away.”
“You could’ve just— I don’t even know what to say,” you hiccuped, your voice barely audible. “You could’ve just… stayed. I don’t know— like yell at me, tell me that you care for me or something. I wish I wasn’t so stubborn about not speaking to you either, but god, maybe I just wanted you to like— tell me how much you needed me. Because it never felt like you did anymore.”
Satoru’s face crumpled, and he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping like the weight of everything had finally caught up to him. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry for leaving you behind. I didn’t mean to. I just… I didn’t know how to be around you without feeling like I’d already ruined everything.”
You looked up at him, your vision blurred by tears. “You didn’t ruin anything. I just… I needed you. And you weren’t there. And really, it was my fault too, for not communicating—”
He cuts you off, his own tears falling freely now, though he didn’t seem to care. “I know. But I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how to fix it. I— I should’ve been there for you more often because God, life without you is just so horrible, and I’ve been so horrible— ”
“You’re fixing it now,” you said, your voice trembling. “Just… don’t leave me again. Please.”
He let out a choked laugh, his hands finally reaching for you, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you tightly, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. “I won’t,” he murmured into your hair. “I won’t. I promise.”
You buried your face in his shirt, your hands clutching the fabric as you cried. His body shook against yours, and you realized he was crying too—quietly, almost like he was trying to hide it, but you could feel the way his breath hitched, the way his hands trembled as they held you.
“I missed you too,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Every fucking day. I just didn’t know how to say it.”
You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, because the weight of everything—the months of silence, the distance, the ache of missing him—was finally crashing down on you. But for the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t a bad kind of crash. It was relief. It was the feeling of something broken finally starting to heal.
Satoru’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice firm despite the tears. “Not again. Not ever.”
You nodded against his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”
It took a long time for the tears to stop, for the sobs to quiet into shaky breaths. But even when they did, neither of you moved. Satoru kept holding you, his arms tight around you, his chin resting on the top of your head. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. You felt like you were home.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes were red and puffy, but he was smiling—a small, tentative smile that made your chest ache in the best way. “You’re stuck with me now, like y’know, the annoying kid who’d follow you around as kids,” he said, his voice soft. “Just so you know.”
You laughed, the sound watery but genuine. “Good. Because I miss that Satoru, and I’m not letting you go again either.”
He grinned, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Deal.”
And just like that, something shifted. The distance between you closed, the cracks in your friendship slowly mending. It wasn’t perfect—not yet—but it was a start. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was going to be okay.
—
After that night, Satoru made it a point to talk to you during class.
It was weird at first—uncomfortable, even. Because now, whenever he sat beside you, people stared. People whispered. But Satoru didn’t care. And after a while, neither did you.
Then, one day, it happened.
You were in the middle of a conversation when one of the girls from his usual group strolled up, her friends lingering just behind her.
“Dude,” she drawled, arms crossed. “We’re waiting for you.”
Satoru didn’t acknowledge her.
She huffed, looking at you for the first time.
“Who even are you?” she said, wrinkling her nose.
Silence.
Then—calmly, lazily—Satoru turned to her.
“Fuck off.”
Her expression twisted. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said, resting his chin in his hand. “We’re talking.”
You swore you saw steam coming out of her ears.
She spun on her heel, storming off in a flurry of designer fabric, and Satoru just turned back to you like nothing had happened.
You blinked at him, stunned. “That was… aggressive.”
He shrugged. “Don’t like her.”
You snorted. “You used to hang out with her all the time.”
“Yeah, well.” He gave you a pointed look. “I was an idiot.”
And maybe it was the way he said it. Maybe it was the certainty in his voice, the way he leaned in just a little closer like this—this—was what mattered.
But for the first time in a long time, you felt something settle inside you. Something warm. Something steady. Something that told you, without a doubt—
Satoru Gojo wasn’t leaving you behind again.
—
It happened slowly.
At first, it was just the way things had been before. You and Satoru were best friends again—finally, properly—and you were making up for lost time.
You sat together in lectures. You ate together between classes. You spent hours holed up in each other’s dorms, either working in silence or complaining about whatever god-awful assignment was due next.
And it was good. It was easy.
But then—then—things started to shift.
It was subtle at first.
A hand brushing against yours for just a little too long. The warmth of his body pressed against yours in a too-crowded study session, his breath fanning over your ear as he leaned in, muttering something you could barely focus on.
The way his eyes lingered when he thought you weren’t looking.
The way yours lingered, too.
—
It was a Friday night, and you were at Satoru’s dorm, lying on his bed while he sat at his desk, spinning lazily in his chair.
“I don’t wanna study,” he whined, stretching his arms over his head. “Let’s do something fun.”
You turned a page in your book, unimpressed. “And what exactly do you define as ‘fun’?”
“Dunno,” he mused. “Wanna go for a drive?”
You sighed. “Satoru, it’s almost midnight.”
“And?” He grinned, kicking his feet up onto his desk. “C’mon, live a little.”
You exhaled sharply through your nose. “You just don’t want to do your readings.”
“Obviously.” He snorted. “But also, I feel like getting snacks.”
You hesitated, torn.
Then, finally—
“Fine.”
His eyes lit up. “Knew you’d cave.”
You rolled your eyes, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go before I change my mind.”
—
It was raining by the time you got to the convenience store.
Not heavily—just a light drizzle, enough to make the streets shimmer under the streetlights.
Satoru grabbed half the store’s supply of junk food while you rolled your eyes, paying for your single bottle of tea. Outside, the air was cool, the pavement slick beneath your feet.
“I’m driving,” you said as he dug through his bag of snacks.
“Nah.” He grinned, tossing a chip into his mouth. “I got this.”
You gave him a look. “You almost crashed last time.”
He scoffed. “That was a red light, not a crash.”
“You ran the red light.”
“Meow.”
You cringe, snatching the keys from his pocket. “Oh my god. Absolutely not.”
Satoru laughed but let you.
And for some reason, that made your stomach flip.
—
Back at your dorm, Satoru made himself at home—because of course he did.
He sprawled across your bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other mindlessly tossing a snack in the air and catching it with his mouth.
“You should be paying me rent at this point,” you muttered, shutting the door behind you.
“I would,” he said, grinning, “but I’m broke.”
You huffed, settling onto the bed beside him. “What, your trust fund isn’t enough?”
He smirked. “Nah, gotta save that for important things.”
You rolled your eyes. “Right. Like overpriced sunglasses.”
“Exactly.”
You shook your head, reaching for the remote.
And then—a shift.
Satoru turned his head to look at you, and when you met his gaze, something in his expression softened.
“Hey,” he murmured.
You swallowed. “Hey.”
He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
Your breath hitched.
His fingers lingered at your temple, just for a moment. His touch was warm, featherlight.
You exhaled, heartbeat stuttering.
And then—just as quickly—he pulled back, flopping onto his back with a dramatic groan.
“What should we watch?” he asked, stretching like nothing had happened.
You exhaled.
Your chest felt tight.
“Uh.” You cleared your throat. “Dunno.”
And just like that, the moment passed.
—
But the tension didn’t. If anything, it only got worse.
It was in the way his hand brushed your waist when he reached past you.
The way he sat just a little too close, his knee knocking against yours under the desk.
The way his fingers trailed across your wrist when he grabbed something from you, his touch slow, deliberate.
And—God—it was in the way he looked at you.
Like you were something he couldn’t quite figure out.
Like he was waiting for something.
Like he wanted something.
And maybe—just maybe—so did you.
—
By the time second year rolled around, you weren’t sure what you and Satoru were anymore. Still best friends, technically. Still Satoru and you. But there was something else, too.
Something unspoken.
Something fragile and complicated and new. And neither of you dared to acknowledge it.
—
The weather had started to change, the air cooler as autumn crept in. You could feel it in your bones—when the days shortened, and the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows. It made everything seem a little softer, like the world had gone quiet just to give you and Satoru a chance to breathe, to figure things out.
You were both sitting in the small, somewhat neglected corner of the university park, surrounded by towering trees with golden leaves fluttering to the ground. You were both on the grass, sitting close enough that your shoulders brushed whenever you shifted. It was the kind of quiet afternoon you could’ve stayed in forever, and maybe that was why you weren’t quite ready to let it end.
Satoru stretched, his arms reaching high above his head. “Ugh, my back’s killing me. Who knew studying could be so physically demanding?” He rolled his shoulders, groaning dramatically.
You shot him a sidelong glance, your lips curling into a smile despite yourself. “I think that’s just you, Satoru. You’re a professional at making everything harder than it is.”
He shot you a grin, a smug little thing, like he knew you couldn’t resist teasing him back. “Oh, please, I make things look easy. It's a gift.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, the great Satoru Gojo.”
He raised an eyebrow at that, catching the teasing tone in your voice. “That’s right. You should be honored to sit next to greatness.” He nudged your shoulder with his, the warmth of his body spilling into yours. The touch was light but undeniable. Familiar.
You chuckled, nudging him back. “I don’t know if I’d call you ‘great’ when you still lose to me in Mario Kart every time.”
Satoru gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d just struck a mortal wound. “You—I’m just going easy on you because I don’t want you to feel bad. I’m a gentleman like that.”
You could hear the playful teasing in his voice, but the way he looked at you—his eyes crinkling at the corners with that boyish grin—felt like something deeper.
“I don’t need you to go easy on me,” you teased, leaning in just a bit too much, your voice soft. “I’m pretty good on my own, thanks.”
That was when you noticed it—the way his eyes flickered for a second, his lips curving down ever so slightly before he caught himself. His gaze held yours for a second longer than normal, and for the first time in a while, you both just stayed there. Not a word. No jokes or banter. Just the space between you thick with unspoken things.
Satoru was the first to look away, clearing his throat. “Anyway, want me to go grab us something from that little café over there? You could use some food if you’re gonna keep up with me.”
You hesitated. He’s back to that again. The Satoru who was always making sure you were fed, always thinking ahead for both of you, even when he had to act like nothing was different.
But you didn’t want to ruin the moment, not now. Not when everything felt right.
“No, I’m good,” you said softly, shaking your head. “But... thanks.”
Satoru studied you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly, before he dropped his shoulders with a sigh. “I swear, you’re impossible.” But even as he said it, his hand reached out—just a quick pat of his large hand atop yours. The briefest of contact, and for a moment, the world paused around you.
The warmth of his hand lingered even after it was gone, and you could feel your chest tightening, your pulse picking up. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to.
And for the rest of the afternoon, you stayed like that. Silent. Comfortable in the space between you, letting the quiet be enough. But you both knew it wasn’t just the park that made the air heavy—it was everything unsaid that clung to it.
Eventually, the sun began to dip low on the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched across the grass. You sighed, looking up at Satoru. “We should probably get back soon. It’s getting late.”
He glanced at his phone, then at you, and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.” He paused. “Hey, you want to walk with me to my dorm? I’m not ready to head back alone yet.”
It wasn’t even a question, not really. But you could feel his eyes on you, like he was waiting for your answer to matter just as much as the offer itself.
You nodded, and the tension between you both lifted just a little as you both stood, stretching out the stiffness in your legs. “Sure, let’s go.”
As you and Satoru walked side by side, the night air crisp and cool against your skin, the silence between you felt heavier than before. It wasn’t uncomfortable—quite the opposite. It was charged, like something waiting to tip over the edge. Every step you took together seemed to draw you closer, and you could feel the warmth of his body beside you, even in the chill of the evening.
You weren’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, his hand brushed against yours again. This time, neither of you pulled away. The tips of his fingers grazed your knuckles—light, tentative. Like he was testing the waters. Like he was waiting for you to stop him.
But you didn’t.
You swallowed, trying to focus on the rhythmic crunch of leaves beneath your feet rather than the way your skin tingled where he touched you. It was such a small thing, barely even a touch, but it sent your heart skittering against your ribs. And when you finally dared to glance up at him, Satoru was already looking at you, his lips curled into something between amusement and something softer, something unreadable.
“What?” you asked, trying to sound casual.
Satoru tilted his head, his silver-white hair catching in the glow of the streetlights. “Nothing.”
A lie.
Because there was something—so much something—wrapped up in the way his eyes flickered over you, lingering for just a second too long on your lips before he looked ahead again.
The air between you felt tight, humming with something unsaid.
You were nearing his dorm now, the pathway growing quieter, fewer students passing by. It was just the two of you, footsteps slowing, the night pressing in close.
Satoru exhaled a slow breath, and then—without thinking, or maybe because he had been thinking about it too much—he reached out again. This time, his fingers laced through yours, not just a brush, not just an accident. A deliberate touch, a quiet declaration.
Your breath caught, and you felt him squeeze—just slightly, just enough.
“You okay?” he murmured, his voice low, like he wasn’t sure he should be asking.
You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah. You?”
His lips twitched, like he wanted to smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Dunno,” he said, squeezing your fingers again. “You’re kind of distracting.”
Your stomach flipped, heat crawling up your neck. “Oh, I’m distracting? That’s rich, coming from you.”
He huffed a laugh, the sound warm, teasing. “No, I mean it.” He stopped walking, tugging you gently by the hand so you turned to face him. “You ever notice how quiet things get when it’s just us?”
You blinked, your throat tightening. “Satoru—”
His free hand lifted, his fingertips barely skimming your jaw. He wasn’t quite touching, just there, like he was still giving you room to pull away. Like he wasn’t sure if he should close the space between you.
And God, you wanted him to.
Your pulse pounded in your ears. It would be so easy. Just one step closer. Just one little push, and—
Satoru exhaled sharply through his nose, his hand falling away, his fingers untangling from yours. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair. “Never mind,” he muttered, laughing under his breath like he was scolding himself. “Forget I said anything.”
Your fingers twitched at your sides, the absence of his touch making your skin feel cold.
“No,” you said, firmer than you expected. “I don’t want to.”
His head snapped up, eyes wide, startled. “You don’t?”
You took a breath, steeling yourself. “No.”
Satoru stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a low chuckle, he shook his head. “You really are impossible.”
And then, before you could overthink it, before you could talk yourself out of it—you stepped forward, pressing your palm against his chest, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his hoodie. His breath hitched, his body going still under your touch.
The silence stretched again, thick and unyielding.
“Say it,” you whispered.
His hands hovered at your sides, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. “Say what?”
You looked up at him, unflinching. “Whatever it is you’re holding back.”
Satoru exhaled, a sharp, unsteady thing. His hands finally settled on your waist, hesitant at first—then firmer, more certain. His fingers pressed into your hips, grounding himself in the feel of you.
And then, his voice—low, raw, real.
“I don’t want to be just your best friend anymore.”
Your breath caught.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The words hung between you, heavy and dangerous and everything.
Then, Satoru leaned in, his nose just barely brushing yours, his lips hovering so close. His breath was warm, and when he spoke again, it was barely a whisper.
“I want more.”
And then, finally—finally—you closed the space between you.
The kiss wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t shy. It was hungry, desperate, like the both of you had been waiting too long to do this, like neither of you wanted to waste another second. His lips crashed against yours, and you gasped against his mouth as he backed you up against the door of his dorm, hands gripping your waist tighter like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, feeling the heat of him seep into you. His body pressed against yours, and the air between you turned thick with something intoxicating, something impossible to stop now that it had started. The small, breathless noises you made against his mouth only seemed to push him further, his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt, thumbs brushing over your bare skin, warm and firm and so much.
The door behind you dug into your back, and for a fleeting moment, a thought broke through the haze—what if someone sees us?
As if he could read your mind, Satoru groaned against your lips, impatient, and without breaking the kiss, he reached behind you, fumbling for the handle. The second the door swung open, he practically pulled you inside with him, kicking it shut before his lips were on yours again, urgent, demanding.
You barely had a second to catch your breath before he was guiding you backwards, hands never leaving your body, mouth never straying too far from yours. You stumbled together, his grip firm, his kisses growing deeper, hotter, more insistent as you moved through the dark room.
By the time you reached the bedroom, your pulse was a wild, unsteady thing, your skin burning under his touch.
His mouth was warm and soft against yours, kissing your lips like he was afraid you were gonna disappear. Using his strength to his advantage, he manhandled you into his lap on the bed, while he sat up against the headboard. His tongue prodded into your mouth experimentally, and when you obliged him entry, he swirled it around with yours before licking into the cavern of your mouth, tasting you as if you were one of those sickeningly sweet delicacies he enjoyed.
His hands roamed from your waist to your hips, to your thighs before stopping hesitantly over your ass, to which you dragged them down until he was squeezing and kneading the supple flesh with his hands, mouth slotted against yours.
You pulled back slightly, gasping for air, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. But Satoru didn’t let you go far. His hands were firm on your ass, keeping you anchored to him as his lips trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head to give him better access, your fingers tangling in his hair.
His mouth moved lower, pressing hot, lingering kisses along the column of your neck. Each touch of his lips against your skin felt like fire, and you couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped your throat. His hands slid up your sides, his touch firm but gentle, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. One hand came to rest on the small of your back, pulling you closer, while the other cupped the curve of your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek.
“Satoru,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, but he didn’t respond—not with words, anyway. Instead, he captured your lips again in a desperate, hungry kiss that left you dizzy. His tongue slid against yours, and you melted into him, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as the world around you seemed to fade away.
His hands roamed your body with a kind of urgency, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. One moment they were in your hair, the next sliding down your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt, and you tugged at it impatiently, wanting—needing—to feel his skin against yours.
He broke the kiss long enough to yank his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before his lips were on yours again, more insistent this time. His hands found the hem of your top, and you lifted your arms without hesitation, letting him pull it off and discard it somewhere on the floor. The cool air of the room hit your skin, but it did nothing to quell the heat building inside you.
Satoru’s hands were everywhere—tracing the curve of your waist, skimming over your ribs, brushing the underside of your breast under your bra. You arched into him, chasing the friction, desperate for more.
His mouth found yours again, urgent and unrelenting, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, deliberate stroke that left you breathless. He kissed you like he wanted to consume you, like he didn’t care about anything else but this—you.
Your fingers tightened in his hair, your breaths mingling, heavy and uneven. Every kiss, every touch, every press of his hands left you dizzy, lost in the haze of heat and want.
And when he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide and his lips swollen from kissing, you swore you’d never seen him look at anything the way he was looking at you now.
Like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.
Both of your chests were heaving, your own shirt flung on the bed somewhere and Satoru’s completely off and forgotten somewhere on the floor. His hands were still settled on your waist, thumbs tracing slow circles over your heated skin. His head lolled back against the couch, a lazy, satisfied grin stretching across his lips.
“Damn,” he exhaled, voice slightly hoarse. “I think I saw the pearly gates for a second there.”
You scoffed, giving his shoulder a weak shove, while reaching for your shirt. “Dramatic.”
He only laughed, the sound bright and breathless. “I mean it, nerd. Who knew you had it in you?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, fingers curling against his shoulders. “Satoru.”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
His grin widened, but he obeyed—for all of two seconds. Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, he waggled his brows. “You know, we should really make this a regular thing. Like, for health purposes. I feel like I just did an entire cardio session.”
You smacked his arm. “Oh my god.”
He gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand to his bare chest. “See? That was uncalled for. Here I am, trying to improve my well-being, and you’re—”
“Satoru.” You fixed him with a look, but the corners of your lips twitched. He was impossible.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating under your fingertips. “Okay, okay, I’ll be good.” His grip on your waist tightened slightly, as if to ground himself—or maybe to keep you exactly where you were. “But… just so we’re clear, this isn’t, like, a one-time thing, right?”
You blinked, his sudden shift in tone catching you off guard. His usual playfulness was still there, but there was something else beneath it—something genuine, something careful.
You swallowed. “What do you mean?”
His gaze flickered over your face, searching. “I mean…” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before looking at you again. “I was serious, you know. About liking you. More than a friend.”
Your breath hitched. “You were?”
Satoru scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Obviously. You think I just let anyone straddle me and—”
You smacked his chest. “Can you not ruin the moment?”
He caught your wrist before you could pull away, lacing his fingers through yours. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, quieter. “I was serious,” he repeated. “I am serious.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I like you, and I want to do this properly.”
Your heart thudded against your ribs. “Properly?”
He nodded, suddenly looking almost shy. “Like… an actual date. Multiple dates. Boyfriend privileges. All that cute shit.” His lips curled into a lopsided grin. “So, what do you say?”
Your stomach flipped, warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re actually asking me out?”
Satoru huffed a laugh. “Well, yeah. What, you thought I’d just kiss you senseless and leave you hanging?”
You bit your lip, pretending to think. “I dunno. You are kind of a menace.”
His brows shot up. “A menace?”
You giggled, and he groaned, tightening his grip on your waist. “Okay, that’s it, you’re legally required to say yes now.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile stretching across your lips. “Yes, Satoru. I’ll go out with you.”
His face lit up, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you again, arms wrapping fully around your waist. He shifted, rolling you onto the bed so he was hovering over you, his weight pressed deliciously against yours.
“Guess that makes you my girlfriend now,” he murmured against your lips. “Which means—” His fingers trailed down your side, teasing. “—I get unlimited make-out privileges.”
You huffed a laugh. “You’re so weird.”
“Would you like it if I said sex privileges too?”
“I’m gonna seriously hurt you—“
Satoru only smirked before cutting you off with another kiss.
—
A few months into dating Satoru, you realised three things.
One, he had absolutely no concept of personal space. If he was near you, he was touching you—whether it was throwing an arm over your shoulder, draping himself across your lap, or trapping you against a wall just to say hi like a complete menace.
Two, he was shamelessly, overwhelmingly, ridiculously obsessed with you. If he wasn’t texting you, he was calling. If he wasn’t calling, he was physically finding you. And if he couldn’t find you, he’d send a stupidly dramatic voice memo about how he was “perishing” without you.
And three, he was always teasing. Always testing his limits, pushing your buttons, flashing that damn smug grin whenever you got flustered.
Like right now.
“I think you should stay over.”
You blinked up at him from where you were curled up on his bed, wearing one of his hoodies that was way too big for you. “I am staying over.”
Satoru huffed, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow. “No, I mean, like, actually stay over. Move in.”
You snorted. “Satoru.”
“What? I’m serious.” He nudged your knee with his own. “Just think about it. That trust fund has enough money— actually maybe more— for an apartment near college. We basically live together anyway.”
“Not even close.”
He scoffed. “Oh, please. You leave clothes here, you steal my hoodies—”
“They’re practically dresses on me.”
“—and you’re here more than you’re at your own place.”
“That’s a lie.”
Satoru gasped dramatically. “Oh, so I’m imagining you in my bed every night?”
Your face warmed, but you shot him a glare. “You’re exaggerating.”
He only grinned, scooting closer until your noses nearly brushed. “You love sleeping here,” he drawled. “You love my bed, you love my cuddles, you love this d—”
You smacked a hand over his mouth, but it barely muffled his muffled laughter.
“I swear to God, Satoru—”
Before you could finish, he grabbed your wrist and flipped you onto your back, caging you beneath him in one smooth motion. His weight was just enough to make your breath hitch, his silver lashes casting shadows over sharp blue eyes.
“You love me,” he finished, his voice dipping lower, teasing, smug.
Your stomach flipped.
“…Debatable,” you muttered.
Satoru barked out a laugh. “Debatable?” He leaned down, nuzzling into your neck as his hands slid under his hoodie, warm palms settling against your waist. “You’re literally in my bed wearing my clothes right now.”
Your breath stuttered as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss just below your ear.
“Admit it,” he murmured. “You’re obsessed with me.”
You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers gripping his bare shoulders. “Satoru—”
“I mean, I don’t blame you.” He grinned against your skin, pressing another kiss, this one lower. “I am insanely hot.”
You groaned. “You ruin everything.”
Satoru laughed, bright and breathless, before rolling over, pulling you fully on top of him with ease. His hands never left your waist, fingertips dancing over your skin in slow, lazy patterns.
Then he suddenly reached behind him, grabbed something off the nightstand, and slid his glasses onto his face.
You blinked. “I thought you preferred contacts now?”
Satoru hummed, adjusting them slightly as he gazed up at you. “Yeah, but I dunno…” His lips curled into a small, lopsided smile. “You always liked me better in these, didn’t you?”
Your breath hitched slightly. He wasn’t wrong—there was something about the way his glasses framed his face, how they softened him just a little, made him look more like the Satoru you’d known before he became everyone else’s.
“…You’re so full of yourself,” you muttered.
His grin widened. “And yet, you’re still staring.”
You scoffed, reaching up to pluck them off his face, but he caught your wrist, tugging you down until your noses brushed.
“Admit it,” he murmured. “You like me better like this.”
Your heart pounded against your ribs.
“I like you anyway,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.
Something flickered in his eyes—something soft, something warm—before his grin turned teasing again. “Good,” he said, rolling you onto your back in one smooth motion. “Because I was gonna keep you here all night either way.”
You barely managed to mutter, “You’re so weird,” before he cut you off with another kiss.
i don't like this work at ALL lol but tbh i wrote this because i want to be wanted UGH hdhjsdh
It’s the night before the exam and Satoru can’t focus. So, you spread your legs and touch your dripping pussy right over his precious notes, forcing him to keep reading out loud ♡
CW: NSFW. Perv reader x Perv Satoru. Masturbation. Dry humping. Power dinamics. Humiliation.
cr: @/koramiarts on X
The tension between you and Satoru Gojo had been building for months. You were study partners in quantum mechanics, always tucked away in the quiet corners of the library or lingering over half-finished coffees in dimly lit shops.
Truthfully, you liked him. But there was a darker edge to it. You were a total perv for him. But the best part was that he was just as guilty as you were.
He was painfully shy, but he wasn’t as subtle as he thought. In the lecture hall, you’d constantly catch him staring. His bright blue eyes would linger hungrily on your legs, the curve of your ass, or your lips. But the moment your gaze met his, he’d snap his head down, desperately scribbling nonsense into his notebook to hide the flush creeping up his neck.
Tonight, you’d finally bridged that gap. You’d invited him to your dorm, promising a quiet night of studying for tomorrow’s exam.
Satoru arrived exactly on time, in his usual oversized cardigan and slacks, his backpack heavy with textbooks and binders. He looked adorably rumpled, like he’d been bracing himself for this all day.
Now you were sitting on your bed, legs crossed, wearing a short pleated skirt. He was kneeling on the floor, leaning forward onto the mattress to arrange his notes. As he hunched over, his elbows resting on the bed, he looked completely focused. Or at least, he was trying to be.
For the first twenty minutes, it was normal. But beneath your skirt, you were bare—and you were already dripping, wet and aching just from the way he breathed. It didn’t help that his gaze kept wandering. Every time you shifted your weight, his eyes would inevitably flick toward the hem of your skirt, his pupils dilating as he caught a glimpse of skin.
You knew exactly what you were doing. You wanted to corrupt this beautiful, sweet boy. And by the way his hands trembled, you knew he wanted to be ruined just as badly.
“You’re going somewhere else again, Satoru” you said softly, tilting your head to catch his eye.
He jolted, his glasses sliding precariously down his nose. “I—I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice stuttering with that familiar, endearing fluster. He looked down at his binder as if it were a shield, but he couldn't help himself. “It’s just… you distract me” he confessed, the admission barely a whisper.
You offered him a smile—sweet, but laced with a dangerous, knowing intent. “Mmm, that’s a shame. We really need to get through this, Toru. The exam is tomorrow.”
“I know… I’m trying,” he murmured, his hands trembling slightly as he reached up to adjust his glasses.
Watching him struggle, you decided right then that if he was going to be distracted anyway, you might as well make it impossible for him to think about anything else.
Without warning, you stopped pretending to study. You uncrossed your legs, and scooted forward, spreading your knees wide right in front of his face. You leaned in close enough that your bare thighs brushed the scattered pages of his notes, effectively trapping him between your legs.
You watched his breath hitch, his entire posture freezing as the reality of what you’d done—and what you were offering—settled over him. His eyes went wide, pupils blowing huge behind the lenses as he stared at your dripping cunt, inches from his carefully handwritten notes.
“Just a bit of encouragement, Toru” you murmured. “Read.”
Your hand slid down as two fingers parted your slick folds, circling your swollen clit with obscene wet sounds. He remained frozen, his eyes glazed and lost as he watched.
“I said read, Satoru”
He swallowed hard, his throat tight as he forced himself to look at the textbook. He needed this—he needed the rigid logic of the math to keep from losing his mind. His voice was thin and shaky as he started, his eyes desperate to stay on the page.
“‘The—the Schrödinger equation for a—a particle in a box’” He took a shuddering breath, his hips twitching involuntarily against the edge of the mattress. “In this model… the particle is… it’s free to move inside the box but—’”
His words faltered completely as you sank two fingers deep, the wet sound of your slick skin filling the space between his sentences. A thick, heavy drop of your arousal escaped, landing right over the paragraph he was reading.
He couldn't finish the sentence. His eyes were wide and glazed with pure, unadulterated need. The academic lecture died in his throat, replaced by a desperate, strangled whimper.
The sound was so helpless it made you throb. More of your slick fell, spotting his neat handwriting and colorful annotations until the ink began to blur in tiny, darkened patches.
His cock was painfully hard. He tried to keep reading, but his voice cracked and faltered with every wet sound your fingers made.
“It is described by a… a wavefunction… which represents the probability…ah—’” Another drip landed on a paragraph about wave functions. Then another. Your pussy was dripping steadily now, small shiny puddles forming on his precious notes.
Satoru’s breathing grew ragged. He was grinding against the mattress now, slow, desperate rolls of his hips like a needy puppy, rubbing his clothed cock against the bed while he tried so hard to focus on the book.
He tried. God, he tried to keep going “The boundary conditions imposed…Jesus—’” His hips moved faster, humping the bed with shallow, frantic thrusts. The shy boy who could barely look you in the eye was falling apart right in front of you. “Please…” he whispered, voice hoarse
“Look at you” you moaned softly, fingers speeding up. “Humping my bed like a desperate dog while my pussy drips all over your notes.”
A broken whine escaped him. “Please… I need— you’re so wet” he said, voice trembling, his eyes glued to the way your fingers disappeared inside your glistening cunt again and again.
“You’re such a fucking perv” you said, close to the edge “How many times did you imagine this?”
Satoru’s hips stuttered. A wrecked sob left his throat. “S-so many… every night,” he confessed, voice cracking. “After study sessions… I’d go back to my room and stroke my cock thinking about your legs… under your skirt… fuck— I’m sorry”
His honesty sent a fresh rush of heat through you. You rubbed your clit faster, fingers plunging deeper as your pussy clenched.
His hips moved desperately now, grinding his hard cock against your mattress like a pathetic, needy puppy, his movements making the bed frame creak softly in the quiet room.
“I wanna cum, Toru,” you groaned, your hips bucking, “but you’re going to have to rewrite every single one of these pages.”
“Please— please cum,” he begged shamelessly, voice hoarse and broken. “Cum on my notes… I don’t care— I’ll rewrite everything”
His desperate begging pushed you over the edge. You cried out, back arching as your orgasm crashed through you. Your pussy pulsed hard around your fingers, your thighs shaking with the intensity of it. A thick, clear rush of slick gushed out, dripping directly onto the center of his open binder.
Satoru whimpered loudly, hips jerking erratically against the bed as he watched every second of it, completely transfixed. The sight of you shivering, your pussy pulsing and flooding his notes, was finally too much for him to bear.
A sharp, guttural cry tore from his throat as he bucked upward one last time. His hips seized, shuddering violently against the mattress as he came, a dark, growing stain blossoming across the front of his slacks. He went limp, his forehead dropping heavily against the mattress, gasping for air as his body continued to twitch in the aftermath of his release.
You slowly pulled your fingers from your dripping cunt, letting the last few drops fall onto his ruined notes.
You looked down at him with a wicked, satisfied smile.
“Do you wanna fuck me, Toru?”
His head snapped up so fast his glasses nearly flew off—a desperate, pathetic sight. His pupils were blown wide, black voids drowning out the blue, and a ragged, needy sound tore from his throat.
“Y-yes— please—” he stammered, his composure completely shredded.
“Okay then,” You spread your legs wider for him and grabbed the messy, stained notes from beside you. Pressing the open binder firmly against your chest, you smiled.
Warnings (18+) : Established relationship, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, use of fingers, fluff, teasing, kissing
Author’s note : My second fic!! Hope you’ll like it, I really enjoyed writing this one.😼 I would appreciate any kind of support 🤎
The warm, rich chocolate smell filled the cozy evening kitchen as the brownie batter was slowly spilling into the baking pan. You decided to bake brownies this late only because Satoru had whined about having a crazy sweet tooth. Once the baking pan was full, you carefully placed it inside the preheated oven.
Closing the recipe book, you looked at the mess you had made and just sighed to yourself, picking up the chocolate wrappers on the counter and throwing them away. Just when you wanted to start putting the dishes into the dishwasher, you felt Satoru’s soft hands gently squeezing your shoulders.
“Let me help you with that” he murmured, placing a tender kiss on your head.
Carefully moving you out of the way with his hand resting on your lower back, he started setting the dirty dishes inside and cleaned the spatulas. Watching him with a soft expression, you wiped the counter smudged with chocolate.
The evening felt slow and cozy, a record player playing music in the background and lit candles setting a yellow hue in the kitchen, which smelled entirely like chocolate. As soon as the oven beeped at twenty‑five minutes, you eased the brownies out to leave them on the counter to cool down.
Once it was all done, Satoru came up to you to kiss you, but something caught his attention. You looked up, puzzled, when his thumb slid over your lip into the corner.
“You have chocolate here” he teased, brushing it away before closing the distance, going in for a kiss.
You both kissed for quite a while, just enjoying the soft, cozy atmosphere, but the mood escalated the moment Satoru picked you up effortlessly, setting you right onto the counter. Your hands instinctively flew to his neck, your fingers tangling into his soft, milky hair, holding onto him and caressing the strands as his hands settled firmly on your hips, pulling your body tightly against his warm chest.
The kiss kept becoming deeper, turning from sweet to hungry. Satoru breathlessly continued, nipping teasingly at your lower lip. You let out a soft, needy gasp right into his mouth, a sound that made his grip on your hips tighten until it almost bruised, completely pinning you to the edge of the counter.
As you both finally pulled back to breathe, gasping for air, with a smug grin he placed a warm hand to your cheek, cupping it, his breath mingling with yours.
“The brownies are taking too long to cool down, y’know? I’m kinda hungry” he purred, his voice dropping low while his hands slowly slipped to your waist, then firmly back to your hips.
Oh, you hate this man. He always knows just what to do.
“And what exactly do you want me to do about it?” you teased back, looking right into his pretty eyes.
“Nothing, actually” he murmured into your ear, his voice still dripping with that smug satisfaction as his warm breath ran over your neck. “Just lay back for me, sweet girl.”
Pushing you back against the cold kitchen tiles, making a shiver run down your spine, his hands moved down to take off your shorts.
With one swift motion, his hands pulled your pants and underwear down, letting them pool around your ankles. You let out a soft gasp as the cool kitchen air hit your bare skin, but before you could move, Satoru stepped closer, trapping you against the counter.
His eyes stayed locked onto yours as his hands gently opened your legs and his warm thumb slowly slid directly over your slick entrance, checking how wet you were.
He smiled at you, bringing his thumb up to his lips to slowly lick your juice off his skin with pure satisfaction.
“Look at you, so wet for me already” he murmured, his deep voice raspy as he looked down at your shaking thighs. “You’re gonna let me have a taste, no?”
Of course you are. Soon, he was on his knees between your legs, palms on your thighs holding you still as his fingers dug into them, his tongue sliding up your entrance, tasting you, making satisfied noises.
“Mm, so sweet” he said softly.
His tongue pushed past your entrance, feeling just a bit of your velvety walls just to tease you, before moving to play with your folds. He was sucking and biting on them, absolutely loving the noises coming out of you. You were always so sensitive, and he loved it.
“You’re doing so well for me, baby” he murmured, and you could practically feel him smirking between your legs.
His fingers dug deeper into your thighs, anchoring you in place as the pace of his tongue quickened. It was maddening, sending electric bolts straight to your core. You threw your head back against the tiles, a loud, broken moan escaping your lips. Satoru hummed against your skin, clearly liking your reaction, his thumb rubbing your clit in perfect sync with his lapping tongue.
You were on the edge, well aware you were not holding on much longer.
“Satoru… please” you breathed out, your thighs trembling, begging to close, but he held them too firmly.
“I’m gonna…”
“Go right ahead” he mumbled against your wet heat before you could finish your sentence.
With a few final strokes of his thumb and his unrelenting tongue, your body arched as the climax crashed over you, your thighs shaking as he comfortingly caressed them while licking up your juices.
While your breath slowly returned to your lungs, you looked down just to see his annoying, playful face.
“Mm, so tasty” he teased, still caressing you and stood up.
“I don’t think I even want the brownies anymore. Anything will be too bland after this” he said, helping you dress up again.
Hearing that, you thought your blood was going to boil.
“Are you serious? I literally baked them just for you!” you said, but he just kissed you again.
Where infinity ends - Satoru Gojo Coming home after a long day, sometimes he just needs to be taken care of. 🍪🌶️
Sweet tooth - Satoru Gojo You were baking brownies because your boyfriend kept whining that he wants something sweet, but was it really the brownies? 🍪 🌶️
Teaching method - Satoru Gojo 🌶️ Having a hard time learning for your upcoming exams, Satoru tries a very unconventional method of teaching you.
The moonlit rooftop - Satoru Gojo Being a college student, not having a good relationship with your parents resulted in living in a small cheap studio apartment for over a year now. Going to the rooftop at night to smoke, the new neighbor decided to join you. ☕️🍪🌶️
Underworld sanctum - Suguru Geto, in the oven!! Being a curse user with a powerful technique operating in the underworld. The cult leader Suguru Geto became a little too interested in you. ☕️🍪🌶️
Nuclear breakout - Satoru Gojo, in the oven!! The government wanted a strong weapon against the jujutsu world. Controlled and trained you since you were a kid. You were hid from the world by the government and in disguise working for JAEA (Japan Atomic Energy Agency). But even the biggest secrets can't be hidden from some people. ☕️🍋🍪🌶️
-`♡´-
All coming soon!! I have so many ideas so l'll try to finish them soon but I won't rush myself too much because I still want it to be well written!! Hope you'll all enjoy.
Author’s note : Hi!! This is my very first fic and I am a little nervous. I would appreciate any kind of feedback, reblog or support. 💕 Hope you enjoy it!
Infinity.
For some it could look like a blessing, but was it truly? Being untouchable may have protected him from harm, yet it also isolated him from something so ordinary and vital, like human warmth and touch. Which only made him crave it more.
Satoru came home later than usual. He had mentioned in the morning he would have tons of work today, including attending a council assembled by the higher ups.
You were in the living room lounging on the large couch because you had already completed your missions, watching some show on Netflix while mindlessly eating the sweets Satoru had bought yesterday. He always made sure the cabinet was stuffed with candies and desserts for his endless sugar addiction.
The sound of the door being unlocked broke the silence, with Satoru stepping inside and taking off his coat and boots, but he was strangely quiet. Usually, he barged in with street food takeout, loudly proclaiming how he missed you the whole day and couldn't wait to get home. The heavy silence already told you his day must not have gone well.
“Oh, hey,” he murmured with a soft, weary voice, approaching the couch and sitting down, pulling you onto his lap right away. He wrapped his arms around you really tightly, like you might just disappear. His embrace was always so soft, so loving, giving you no choice other than just melting into it.
“Satoru…” you whispered, placing your palms on his cheeks, tracing gentle, soothing circles with your thumb along his cheekbone. “What happened?” you asked with a tinge of worry in your voice.
His clinginess was normal by now. After being isolated his whole life, he lacked genuine connections with others due to the fact he was so overwhelmingly powerful. With the only person who had ever made him feel human leaving him behind, it made perfect sense that after meeting you, he grew attached. As a sorcerer yourself, one who had a powerful technique and had been blessed by talent, you knew what it was like being objectified and viewed merely as a weapon.
Sighing tiredly, he explained how the higher ups were just spouting nonsense about how he had a negative influence on the students, while they also tried to manage his time and work. “It’s always so dehumanizing, listening to their speeches. Hearing that I should have been exorcising curses over and over again while also treating my students more strictly... it really pissed me off.”
Hearing his words, you just snorted to yourself. “Typical,” you murmured, caressing his face again. “Forget about them. They’re just a bunch of idiots with complexes about their fragile egos, needing to be in control just to feed it,” you said, pulling him into a kiss.
Without a second thought Satoru melted into it, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them fiercely, fingers digging into your skin. Always kissing so deeply, letting out a shaky exhale while matching your pace. He captured your top lip in a breathless exchange, softly nipping on it.
Dragging your hands down from his face to his shoulders, squeezing them and massaging his tense muscles, you both finally broke the kiss to breathe after the fervent makeout. “Shit... that was good…” he just mumbled, sneaking his hand to your waist, about to pull you back to continue. However, you had a different idea.
Still on his lap, you gently pushed him back into the couch with your hands on his chest and got off him. “Hm? What’s wrong...?” he asked, confused, but as you sunk onto your knees before him, he couldn't help the little smile creeping up his lips at the realisation. “Is that so?”
“Got to relieve the tension somehow, no? Can’t watch my boyfriend feeling so down because of those old geezers,” you said with that annoying smirk he loved so much, slowly undoing the button on his pants and unzipping them, gently pulling them down. “You really know how to cheer me up, huh?” he murmured, leaning back, letting you take charge.
Throwing his pants away like they personally offended you by even being there and covering him, you reached out your hand to palm him through his boxers. “Hard already? Am I that seductive?” you teased him, and he just smiled down at you. “Isn’t that obvious?”
His boxers were soon discarded as well as you stroked him with your hand. He really was one lucky bastard blessed with good genes. It was long and thick, and he kept it clean and shaven. Wrapping your fingers around the shaft, working up and down, you looked at him. “You like that?” Satoru was lying down, completely sinking into the couch with his head thrown back. “Yeah, I do” he admitted, breathing shakily.
With a soft smile to yourself at how cute he looked when he was just letting you do all the work, you finally took him into your mouth, starting off by licking up his length and then sucking on his sensitive tip to tease him just a little bit, leaving him breathing in and out and twitching. “Come on…” he exhaled.
Not wanting to provoke him further, you finally sunk down, taking him in fully and wrapping your lips around his base. Satoru sneaked his hand into your hair, slightly tugging on it at the sensation before loosening his grip, just caressing your head and your hair. “Mhm… like that… so talented” he rasped, praising you like always. It was like he was truly reveling in it.
You were bobbing your head up and down, tongue on the length, quickening your pace, leaving Satoru feeling like he was going to start flying. “Baby, oh shit…” he moaned out, letting his guard down, still caressing your hair.
Soon enough, Satoru was a moaning mess, climaxing into your mouth while gripping the couch like his life depended on it, making his knuckles turn white. “That was… ah, that was amazing, love. You did so well” he praised you once again, caressing your hair and pulling you up into a kiss. “You don’t even know how much I love you.”
You kissed him back smiling against his lips. “Love you too.”
