gojo doesn't drink but when he does he's such a menace! it's like watching a child on a sugar high, only sloppier. he's yelling, singing off-key, and stumbling around, convinced he's dancing. you show up to take him home from boys night, but he’s somehow activated Infinity and doesn’t even realize it given his drunken state. the rest of the night is spent trying to coax him to put down the barrier but all he's doing is giggling and swaying and trying to kiss anyone near him. you were frustrated with the never ending night so you throw him a pout and your saddest puppy eyes
"babe won't you let me give you a kiss"
and just like that, Infinity's off. shoving his face away, with the help of nanami and geto you get him to bed. while tucking him in, you notice his eyes open staring at your lips. you can only giggle, pressing your lips to his
You know it. He knows it. Everyone knows it. Yet for whatever reason he had decided to drink when you'd gone out tonight.
Three shots. It had taken three shots to get here. He's on one knee in the middle of the bar, holding up a shot glass instead of a ring as he attempts to propose to you.
At the mention that you're already married, his big blue eyes light up. He grins. The innocence in his expression is completely at odds with the amount of trouble he's causing you right now.
"Reeeaally?" He chuckles out. "Wow.. m' so lucky!
Without warning, he stands up, suddenly towering over you. He picks you up, twirling you around and almost hitting several bar patrons in the process. You yelp, but his grip on you only tightens.
"Have we had a honeymoon..?" He asks.
"Satoru, put me down-" you start to say, despite the smile on your face.
"Let's go have one right now!"
"Wha-"
You're entirely helpless as the man carries you off, your friends and colleagues all but forgotten. And you most definitely do not know where he's taking you on this supposed honeymoon.
Given the fact that he attempted to propose to you with a shot glass, you're sure this can't be good.
This adventure is short lived however, when he sets you down on the dance floor. Twirling you around. His eyes roam over your figure appreciatevly, pausing on your smile. The expression on his face matches your own.
"Is this our honeymoon?" You ask him.
"Eeeeh? What honeymoon?" He answers, a little too loudly.
Really, Satoru is drunk enough that you should be taking him home. But he's making that almost impossible for you, as his strong arms wrap around you on the dance floor. There isn't much space for you to escape, not with the amount of people here.
So you let him have his fun, indulge him for now. You dance and laugh and let him kiss you in front of everyone. His breath tastes like alcohol and whatever fruity liqueur he's been having, and he smiles against your lips. You're a little tipsy yourself so you don't notice as the hours drift away.
It's much later when you finally drag your mountain of a man home. He's leaning his large body onto yours, swaying back and fourth with every step.
"Come on you" You say "let's get you ready for bed"
"Bed.." He hums. That seems to be the only word he registered, because he lifts you up once again and carries you off to your shared bedroom.
"Toru!" You yelp. "We gotta change- and I have to wash my face-"
It all goes unheard. He pulls you into bed, long limbs wrapping around you, making it impossible to move. He nuzzles against your shoulder, till all you can see is his mess of white hair.
"We'll get the bed dirty.." you complain, even as your hand comes to brush over his undercut. The sensation sends shivers down your husband's spine.
"Love you.. s' very much.. you know that? You're.. my world" He mutters out. His voice is soft, tired, and almost childlike in innocence.
You take a moment to respond, it seems like he's not intent on moving anytime soon. "I know.. I love you too"
"I'm so lucky..." His voice draws out on the last word. And you feel him relaxing with tiredness.
Satoru will most definitely have a headache in the morning. If not because of the alcohol then because he lost his blindfold somewhere at the bar. But you try not to think about that.
Instead, you focus on his soft breaths, and the comfortable weight of having him wrapped around you like this. You wonder how he could be so adorable, even when he's causing this much trouble.
But the trouble is all worth it. It always will be for him.
Credits for the dividers go to @aquazero
The blue manga panels were edited by myself 🫧
Once again thank you so much for reading! This took ages to write because I have 0 motivation at any given time.
summary ♡ A house full of Christmas lights, accidental drinks, and far too many mistletoe everywhere. Some things feel like coincidence. Others feel written in the stars.
tags ♡ satosugu, christmas au, modern au, holiday party, mistletoe, mutual pining, friends to lovers, drunk gojo, caretaker geto, fate themes, tarot themes, wintery' and christmassy', first kiss — geto's perspective
disclaimer ♡ alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking, drunkenness
The house smells like pine, citrus, and whatever crime someone committed in Suguru's parents’ house.
There's a pot on the stove that seems to look like mulled wine but is now a cautionary tale. Cinnamon sticks and star anises float sadly on the crimson surface. No one is taking accountability and Suguru files it away as Haibara's fault by default. If not him, he'll amend the judgment later when his living room isn't blasting with festive music and filled with drunk people his age.
Christmas lights hang along the ceilings in uneven lines, some strings drooping where the tape has begun to fail and unstick. Haibara had also helped decorate, which explains the excess. There's mistletoes everywhere. Taped on all the doorframes, the coat rack, the downstairs and upstairs corridors, even in the bathroom for some strange reason.
Suguru moves through the living room with a red cup in his hand, nodding, smiling, performing the vague duties he assumes hosts whose parents are very far away and blissfully unaware of the chaos that's wreaking havoc in their home.
He pauses near the edge of the couch when someone laughs too loudly and nearly knocks over his mother’s very special, very important crystal vase he forgot to hide away. He watches it wobble precariously, nearly tipping over the edge of the side table before stabilising back into place.
He exhales. Crisis postponed.
“Impressive turnout,” Shoko whistles low, appearing at his side like she materialised out of judgment alone. She's holding the sad mulled wine in a cup that Suguru doesn't trust and swirls it around. “You throw one party and suddenly everyone remembers you exist.”
Because Satoru Gojo is the more popular one. The brighter one between the two of them. The one who garners more attention. But he doesn't mind. As long as Satoru is still smiley and starry eyed, he’s okay with being a few steps behind him.
He doesn’t mind obviously. Standing a few steps behind Satoru has always felt natural, like giving space to something good. As long as Satoru keeps smiling like that, warm and unburdened, Suguru is content to stay right where he is.
“I'm honoured,” he finally says. “I didn't think my parents' absence would be such a community event.”
Shoko glances around the room for a moment. “You okay with this many people here?”
Suguru shrugs. “It's fine.”
“That didn't sound convincing.”
“Give me an hour and more alcohol in me.”
Shoko's eyes narrow on all the mistletoes hung around. “Why did you tape up so many mistletoes? There's even one in the bathroom.”
“I didn't,” Suguru says flatly. “I would never.”
Shoko tilts her head. “Yeah, you're right. That has Haibara all over it.”
“Exactly,” He says. “I'm merely complicit through inaction.”
She takes a sip from her drink and grimaces. “What is this?”
“Something that will make you Nanami's problem later.”
“Oh good,” her eyes flick past him. “Speaking of problems.”
Satoru is near the window, white hair bright under the twinkling Christmas lights with reindeer antlers pushed messily into it, laughing so hard he has to brace himself against the wall. Haibara says something animated, hands moving everywhere while Nanami looks like he's dissociating.
Suguru feels the unfamiliar, unwelcome tightening in his chest. He ignores it with the same efficiency he managed to hone over the years.
“Don't.” He says.
Shoko smiles slowly. “Don't what?”
Whatever you're about to say.”
She hums. “You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were supervising.”
“I am,” he says. “He's a liability.”
“Aren't we all”
“He's a structural liability. He has like, no spatial awareness.”
Satoru laughs again, loud and unrestrained, and bumps into the table beside him. The spiced fruit punch bowl sloshes ominously.
Suguru straightens immediately.
Shoko clocks it immediately. “Wow. Very Pavlovian.”
“I don't know what you're implying. I don't even know what that means.”
“You didn't even process,” she says. “You, like, just activated.”
“He nearly knocked it over.”
“Maybe,” she agrees, flicking her lighter open and close between her fingers.
“I'm just being attentive.”
“You're being obvious.”
“That's rich coming from someone who's been playing with a lighter and hasn't smoked yet.”
“It's my comfort object,” she grins. “Besides, it's snowing so I can't smoke outside.”
“Nothing has ever stopped you from smoking inside my house before, I even disabled my smoke detectors for you.”
Shoko just rolls her eyes and pulls out a cigarette from the folds of her dress.
They stand there for a moment, watching the Christmas party breathe. Lights twinkling, music thumping, laughter layering over itself.
“So,” Shoko says between puffs. “You and Satoru.”
Suguru groans. “You said you wouldn't.”
“What? No I didn't.”
“We're friends.”
“Yes,” she nods. “Extremely close friends. Intimately codependent friends. Friends who share personal space with no second thought. Remember when I caught you and Satoru cuddling?”
“We weren't cuddling.” He insists. “He just doesn't understand personal space.”
“And you don't enforce it.”
Suguru opens his mouth, closes it, then says: “I'm hosting, Shoko.”
“Huh? What's that got to do with anything? That's not even a rebuttal.”
“It's the only one you're getting.”
Shoko laughs, all warm and genuine. “Relax, I'm not judging. I just think it's funny.”
“Everything is funny to you.”
“True,” her gaze softens, just a little bit. “You okay?”
Suguru considers the question. The noise, the mistletoes, the laughter, the way Satoru's laughter seems to cut through everything else like it has a direct line to him.
“I'm fine,” he says. “No one has caught fire yet.”
“Low bar.” Shoko replies.
“I set realistic expectations.”
“Well,” she leans off the couch, flicking the ash of her cigarette between her fingers into the nearest empty cup, “I'm going to go find Utahime before she finds Satoru and bicker with him.”
“I think she already did that when she first got here.”
“Oh well.” She gives him a lazy two finger salute, cigarette now dangling between her lips as she melts into the crowd, someone already grabbing her attention.
Suguru takes another sip from his cup and grimaces at the taste. He really should get a different drink. Maybe some of the spiced fruit punch.
When he lifted his gaze to look at the bowl, Satoru was nowhere near it. Instead he finds him by the window, snow matching his hair drifts slowly behind him as his face glows at whatever the girl in front of him is saying.
Suguru watches. He doesn't move or shift his weight, doesn't do anything that would suggest that this moment had snagged him in any way. He just watches Satoru lean closer in interest, head tipping back as he laughs in delight, reindeer antlers slipping out of place. The girl in front of him says something Suguru can't quite hear—something that makes Satoru smile so brightly, it rivals the glow of the Christmas tree in the room. He says something back, hands moving with each word, animated and bright and completely at ease.
Suguru's jaw strains as his cup wrinkles beneath his finger tips.
He tells himself it's nothing. Satoru talks to everyone like that. Laughs like that. Looks at people like they're the most interesting thing in the room until something shinier catches his attention. That's just how he is.
Still, he feels completely, uncomfortably aware of the distance between them. On the way Satoru's body is angled away from him to huddle down to whatever the girl is showing him in her hands. On the way his delight isn't directed to him but someone else.
He swallows, jaw setting, and finally looks away, just in time to miss the exact moment Satoru looks over at Suguru.
“-Suguru!”
The call cuts through all the music and chatter easily. It always does.
Suguru looks back up and finds Satoru already moving through the crowd with little regard for personal space and obstacles, grin wide and cheeks flushed pink. He looks warm in that only way Satoru ever does, like the cold outside the house couldn't touch him even if it tried.
He stops directly in front of Suguru, close enough he can smell the spiced fruit punch and gingerbread biscuits clinging to his breath.
“You disappeared!” Satoru says accusing, though there's no real weight to it. He sways slightly where he stands. “I was looking for you!”
“I was right here,” Suguru replies. “You're the one who split off from me.”
Satoru hums, unconcerned. “Did I?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,” he grins, like that settles it all. “Anyway, I got a tarot reading!”
Suguru raises a brow. “Did you now?”
“Yeah!”
“What did you ask about?”
Satoru leans in, dropping his voice a little bit like he's about to share a secret. “I asked about us.”
Suguru still. “Us?”
“Mhmm!” He nods enthusiastically, his antlers headband bouncing. “And guess what?”
“I'm almost afraid to.”
“One of the cards was The Star,” He says excitedly, eyes all sparkly and glimmering. “Isn't that so good? She said it was, like, hope. And new love and guidance. And-” He squints, trying to wrack his brain to remember. “Something about the future.”
He beams at Suguru like he's just been handed a present.
Suguru exhales slowly, something in his chest loosens despite himself.
“That's… festive.” He says.
Satoru laughs, soft and pleased, and edges a little closer, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. He just watches him, close enough his shoulders bump into his chest. He doesn't pull away. He smells sweet. Like sugar, spice and something citrusy'.
Suguru squints at him.
“...How drunk are you?”
Satoru blinks. Once. Blue eyes all glassy and unfocused then smiles, wide and offended. “I'm not.”
“That wasn't convincing.”
“I am not,” he insists, pointing a finger that doesn't go anywhere near Suguru's face. “You know I don't drink. I've only had the fruit punch.”
Suguru closes his eyes.
Very slowly, he exhales through his nose.
“The fruit punch?” He repeats slowly, opening his eyes to look at him. “The one Haibara made amongst all the other drinks he made?”
Satoru nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! It's really good! Kinda burns a little though.”
Suguru drags a hand down his face.
“Satoru,” he says, already tired. “That punch is at least half vodka. Maybe more.”
There's a pause.
Satoru processes the information with the seriousness of someone attempting to do trigonometry.
“...Oh.”
He laughs. Loud. A little too loud.
“That explains so much,” he explains, immediately losing his balance and grabs Suguru's sleeve to balance himself. “Wow. I was wondering why the ground kept doing that.”
“It's not doing anything.” He says, catching him by reflex before he could tip over. “That's all you.”
Satoru beams at him, completely unguarded and grabs Suguru's forearm. “You're sturdy.”
“That's not a compliment, I don't think.”
“It is to me.”
Satoru spaces out, suddenly fixated on something past Suguru's shoulder. Then he immediately leans too far to the left.
Suguru tightens his grip automatically. “Okay. Nope. Absolutely not.”
“I'm fine!” Satoru says, words slurring just enough to be alarming. “I just- woah!”
“That was a wall!” Suguru says flatly, steering him to his other side before he could collide with it again. “You almost made friends with it.”
“The wall started it.”
“I'm sure it did.”
Satoru laughs, bright and breathless, and promptly forgets how walking works. Suguru ends up with one of Satoru's arms slung over his shoulders, half-holding, half-guiding him across the living room.
“Where are we going?” He asks, his head tipping dangerously close to Suguru's.
“Upstairs,” he replies. “Before you knock yourself or something far more fragile over.”
“Oh,” he hums. “Your room?”
“Yes.”
“Nice.” He says, like that's excellent news. “I like your room.’
“You've been in it like a thousand times.”
“I still like it.”
They make it to the stairs with minimal casualties, just the occasional trips. Suguru takes one step at a time, fully aware of the way Satoru keeps drifting closer, like he's magnetised.
Halfway up, Satoru stops dead in his tracks.
“Wait.”
He pauses. “What's wrong?”
Satoru squints upwards, blue eyes trying their very best to focus. “Is that a… mistletoe?”
He follows his gaze.
Of course it is.
Haibara, he decides, is going to pay for this tomorrow morning.
“Yes.” He says very carefully. “It is.”
Satoru smiles spread slow and delighted. “Wow! That's so… festive.”
“Don't.” He warns, already resigned.
“But it's tradition!” He argues, leaning in conspiratoriously. “I think the rules say-”
“I don't care what the rules say.” Suguru cuts in quickly, “I'm taking you to bed.”
He sways forward just enough that Suguru has to steady him again. “Okay.”
“Okay,’ Suguru repeats. “You're going to lie down.”
“Yeah.” He nods immediately. “That's a good idea.”
Suguru's bedroom is a lot quieter than the rest of the house, insulated away from all the noise and Jingle Bell Rock. The Christmas music from downstairs fades into something dull and indistinct, like it's happening in another world entirely.
Snow drifts past the window in lazy, unhurried flakes, the curtains half open from earlier in the day and pale snowlight spills across the bed in uneven bands.
He sets Satoru down gently, less out of necessity and more out of habit. He would've flopped down on his own if given the chance.
“Here, drink.” He hands him a bottle of water. “And don't move too quickly, you'll feel sick.”
He takes it, squints at it suspiciously, then drinks anyway. He drains half the bottle in one go and exhales loudly, as if he’s just completed a monumental task.
“Wow,” he says. “You’re really responsible.”
“Someone has to be,” Suguru replies. “You thought vodka punch was a hydration source.”
“In my defense,” he says, leaning back on his elbows after flinging his headband off, “it tasted like Christmassy’ fruit.”
“I don't think that's much of a defense.”
Satoru grins at him, unabashed. Then without warning, he starts tugging at the hem of his red and green jumper.
He sighs. “You'll freeze if you take that off. And I won't put it back on you again when you start shivering.”
“It's itchy,” he complains. “And you're warm.”
“That's unfortunate for both of us.”
The jumper ends up discarded on the floor anyways. Satoru flops back on the bed, stretching out his arm. In the pale light, Suguru could see the blue veins running up his arms. He could really see how pretty he was in the dim light.
Satoru stays staring at the ceiling like it might reveal something if he looks long enough.
Suguru sits beside him, close enough for him to feel the heat of his body, not close enough to admit he chose the distance deliberately.
He turns to smile at him. A bright, sparkling smile that makes Suguru look away. “You're very kind.”
He scoffs. “You're drunk.”
“Still counts.”
Snowlight catches in his wispy lashes when he blinks. His gaze shifts, unfocuses for a moment before returning to settle back on Suguru. He shifts beside him, idly picking at the duvet before he finally pipes up.
“Hey, Suguru?” He says quietly.
Suguru hums in response, eyes still trained somewhere neutrally on the opposite wall.
“The girl who gave me the tarot card reading,” He starts, words slower and more deliberate. “She said it's a special card, and something about having someone to guide you. Like-” He frowns slightly, struggling to phrase it, “like knowing where you're supposed to go, even when everything is dark.”
Suguru glances down at him despite himself.
Satoru still stares at the ceiling, but his expression has softened into something earnest, almost shy. It's strange to him. It's sweet.
“She asked if there was someone who felt like that to me,” he says. “Like… my constant.”
Suguru breath catches.
“And I thought of you,” Satoru puts simply, turning his head to look at him. His eyes are glassy but focused now, blue and open and pretty in a way that feels almost unfair. “Is that weird?”
Suguru doesn’t answer right away. His mouth opens, closes. He wasn’t prepared for this. Not the question, not the way it’s asked so gently, without bravado or teasing to soften the blow.
“No,” he says finally, voice lower than he expects. “It’s not weird.”
Satoru’s smile is small, relieved. “Good.”
There's a beat of silence after that. Thick but not uncomfortable. The snow keeps falling outside the window, steady and patient.
“You're-” He clears his throat. “You’re important to me too.” He admits, the word feeling fragile as he lets them exist between them. “You always have been.”
Satoru blinks. Once, twice, before his smile grows small and sly before whispering, “there was a mistletoe on the stairs.” Something playful and hopeful flickers across his face. “Just saying, it feels relevant.”
Suguru huffs out a small breath. “You’re impossible.”
“I know,” he says simply, still smiling. He shifts a little closer, the side of his stomach brushing against Suguru's thigh. “But you didn't say no.”
“I didn't say anything.”
He tilts his head, studying him with the intensity that makes Suguru all fluttery and too tight for comfort. “You’re thinking very loud.”
“That's not a thing.”
“It is when I'm around,” Satoru says, all gentle and earnest, sitting up with his elbows. “You pause like that when you want something but don't think you're allowed to.”
Suguru looks at him then, eyes tracing the soft curve of his sweet smile, the warmth lingering in his eyes, the way he's suddenly still, like he's waiting for the green light.
“Satoru,” he says quietly.
“Yeah?”
“You’re drunk.” He says, not unkindly, more just like a statement.
“Maybe,” he admits. Then after a few heartbeats, “but I know what I'm asking.”
Suguru's breath stutters. “And what are you asking for?”
He sits up straight now, leaning towards him. “Can I kiss you?”
The room feels impossibly quiet.
Suguru’s thoughts scatter, trip over themselves, then settle into something steady and certain. He nods once, slow and deliberate.
“Okay,” he says.
That’s all it takes.
Satoru leans in slowly, giving him more than enough time to change his mind. He doesn't. Their noses brush first, a soft, accidental brush that makes Satoru huff out a small, little laugh before pressing his lips against his. It's warm, and slow, and delicate, and tentative, like they're both still learning the shape of it, brushing against each other carefully as if it's something fragile they don't want to crack.
Suguru exhales into him, tension easing out of his shoulders as the kiss lingers. Satoru shifts closer, just a little, enough that he can feel the heat of him properly now, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. The kiss deepens without urgency. Another press, then another, slower this time. Satoru’s lips part instinctively, inviting rather than asking, and he follows, tilting his head to fit them together better.
It turns soft and unhurried, a quiet exchange of breath and warmth. Satoru’s hand comes up to curl into the fabric of Suguru's sleeve, knuckles brushing his wrist like he’s anchoring himself there. Suguru responds without thinking, his fingers resting at Satoru’s side, thumb tracing a small, absent circle through the cotton of his shirt. Each movement feels careful, reverent, like they’re both acutely aware of how long they’ve been standing on the edge of this.
Satoru's smile is small and shy, a little bit dazed and kiss-stained when he pulls back.
“Hey,” he whispers, fingers curling into Suguru's sleeve. Suguru closes his eyes and breathes him in, warmth and sugar and something so familiar. “Thank you.”
PART 1: Okay guys i genuinely don’t know what to do like i have no ideas and i was scrolling on TikTok and saw frat gojo au so i was like okay bet let me just make frat gojo fic and I NEED you guys to PLEASE give me some ideas tw: slight nfsw/ kissing
The music in the party house is loud enough to rattle the windowpanes, and the air is thick with the scent of expensive cologne and cheap fruit punch. In the center of it all, leaning against the kitchen island like it’s a throne, is Satoru Gojo.
‘He’s wearing a white t shirt that has two arrows pointing to his mouth and his dick!? It doesn’t make it any better that they both say ‘two seater’ he’s obviously wasted, you can most definitely tell by the way he reeks of alcohol and that musky scent of his cologne, that you wish you could just smell every time he- wait no! Get your head out of the gutter Y/N!. He’s the star of the track team, the guy with the perfect GPA he never seems to study for, and currently, the target of every wandering eye in the room! Ugh he’s just so perfect’
Then a voice broke you out of your thought as a High pitched voices called out to Satoru grabbing your attention
"Satoru, seriously, you have to try this," a girl in a tight sequined dress says, leaning into his space and holding out a red cup. She’s laughing at something he didn't even say, her hand lingering on his forearm.
Satoru offers a polite, bored tilt of his head, but he doesn't take the drink. His gaze is already drifting. "Yeah, maybe later."
"Gojo! We're headed to the balcony, come on!" another group calls out, waving him over.
He doesn't even look at them. His posture shifts the second he spots you standing by the snack table, looking a little overwhelmed by the crowd.
The disinterested smirk he’d been wearing for the last hour vanishes, replaced by a grin that actually reaches his eyes.
He ignores the girl at his side, stepping around her without a second thought, and weaves through the dense crowd with a single mindedness that makes the room go quiet in his wake.
"There you are," he says, his voice dropping an octave as he reaches you. He doesn't just stand near you he claims your space, putting a hand on the wall behind your head and effectively screening out the rest of the party. "I was starting to think you ghosted me."
"I just got here, Satoru," you say, looking up at him. "And it looks like you were a little busy."
He scoffs, sliding his glasses down just enough so you can see those striking blue eyes. They aren't scanning the room for the next best thing they are locked onto yours, intense and unwavering.
"Busy? Please. I was dying of boredom," he murmurs, leaning down so his lips are inches from your ear. He smells like cool mint and the crisp night air. "The only reason I stayed at this lamer was because I knew you’d show up."
Someone tries to tap his shoulder to get his attention a guy from the team wanting to talk shop but Satoru doesn't even turn around. He just shifts his body closer to yours, his hand moving from the wall to catch yours, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over your knuckles.
"Satoru, people are staring," you whisper, slightly moving your footing to seem like you guys aren’t getting heated up
"Let 'em stare," he chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks at you like you're the only person in the room who matters, dismissing the noise, the lights, and the dozens of people vying for a moment of his time. “You know I only have eyes for you so why still try to push me away?”
“Satoru that’s not what it is and-“
He then cut you off “then what is it Y/N! Every time I get close to you, you always get shy or quiet or just turn and walk the other way! It’s like you hate me for some unknown reason!”
“Satoru maybe you had too much drink! Let me get you some water and-“
“No! See y/n you’re doing it again! You’re pushing me away!” He raised his voice slowly getting louder and louder as people then began to turn and stare
“Toru please dont make a scene…! I’m sorry okay I know that I’ve been turning you away but it’s not because the reason you think it is!”
Satoru then stayed silent for a while before he composed himself “Then what is the reason huh? Because I’m pretty sure you hate me”
You then looked around the room as the party was still going on but some were staring at you, making you feel uneasy. You then saw a door into a guest bedroom and you dragged him into there and locked the door
“Satoru I don’t hate you! If anything it’s the opposite! I love you! I’ve loved you for ages but I don’t think you can even see that because you have so many girls around you or trying to have sex with you or-!’
You were spiralling and he could tell, even if he’s drunk he could tell. Then he did the thing that he thought he would never do, he kissed you on the lips first slowly, then began to get more dominant and rougher with all of that pent up anger and frustration of you not being able to see his signals from before. The kiss it was sloppy after months of mixed signals to each other it all came crashing down at once as the kiss stilled.
You pulled away to breath as a line of spit was still connected to your lips “toru…” you panted still trying to catch your breath “I- I really”
He didn’t give you time to speak as he crashed his lips into yours again and after what felt like forever he pulled away and rested his forehead onto yours. As he was about to speak, that same girl from before began banging her fist on the door begging to be let in thinking that Satoru was being taken advantage of by alex since he couldn’t hold his liquor well
“Satoru!” Her high pitched voice rang in your ears “Satoru baby please let me in! I don’t know what the bitch is doing to you but she’s taking advantage of you! Please unlock this door for me baby!” She banged on the door harder and even from five feet away and a door in between both of you, you could smell the vodka reeking on her.
Okay you guys get to choose what happens next because I was thinking about it for a long time
A: You and Satoru run away with each other out the window and head to his house
B: the girl behind the door opens the door and rushes to Satoru kissing him and whatever and you slap her to show her place
C: you and Satoru open the door and head to the party like nothing happened, it was just a kiss right? It’s not like it was anything serious
So I have a collegeAU WIP, and it got me thinking about Satoru's stages of drunkenness.
First of all, he's a lightweight, but he also doesn't give a shit. One sip, and he's Mr.Mayor which is just his regular bullshit x100. Then comes Slut-atoru, where he's just grinding against anything with a pulse. And at some point, I feel like he would start speaking other languages. Not in tongues, actual other languages, and he'd get so annoyed that no one could understand him, but he'd be too drunk to realize it's because he's literally speaking another language.
What are your Satoru drunk headcannons? I'd love to hear them
