no contact with gojo never really meant no contact. he’d still be at your apartment, waiting for you in his favorite bean bag that you’d bought just for him. you were sure you took his key away during the very first break up. how the hell did he keep getting in?
“satoru..?” you shook your head as soon as you walked in the door. of course he’s here, you should’ve known. if only you’d stayed at shoko’s for the night like you were planning to. the white-haired bastard sat in his usual spot, eyes shut, legs spread, and head leaned back on a pillow. almost as if he was sleeping and you were interrupting him, like he wasn’t the one breaking and entering.
the man perked up from his seat at the sound of your voice, finally you were back. he was waiting here for hours, it even crossed his mind to go track you down. he let out a low chuckle that eventually turned into a fit of laughter.
“you’ve got some nerve y’know?” he took one glance at you before licking his lips and running his hands through his hair. you were driving him crazy, dressed in that tiny little dress that barely covered anything. who knows how many creeps were staring at you while he wasn’t there, staring at what’s his.
“why’re you coming home this late (y/n)?” you scrunched your face at his question, resisting the urge to laugh in his face. no way he was really asking you this?
you shrugged your shoulders while throwing your purse on a random coat rack. “we’re not together anymore.. it doesn’t concern you,”
there he goes again. the burst of laughter, and random claps that went along with it. he made you feel like every word that came out of your mouth was a joke and you hated it. one of the very reasons you both weren’t together now.
he tapped his lap, signaling he wanted you there and now. the look on his face had an edge to it— showing he was clearly done playing games, though that still didn’t make you move an inch.
“nuh uh,” he kissed his teeth when you crossed your arms. “none of that shit. c’mere mama, don’t make me say it again okay?”
you didn’t know why, you didn’t even have time to register it but your body was moving on it’s own. it must’ve recognized the tone of his voice, and you didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.
rough hands gripped your waist and pushed you down until your chest was hitting his. the two of you sat in silence as you nuzzled your head into his neck, the ink behind his ear catching your attention.
he had your name branded on his skin in a gorgeous red, big enough for all eyes to see. and you had his.. right on the lower part of your back, sitting pretty between your back dermals.
a hand wrapped around your neck and forced you to meet his icy glare. gojo smiled that beautiful smile before leaning to your ear, “ill kill anyone that tries to take you from me. y’know that, yeah?”
you knew better than to ignore him, causing you to give him a small nod. the hand on your neck shifted to your waist, then down to your ass where he ripped that fucking dress straight down the middle.
his thumb ran across the healed ink on your skin, a sense of pride filling him. “never forget what this means (y/n). you’re mine ‘til we both die, it’s too late to back out now.” he trailed off, tracing his name over all parts of your body.
“and get rid of these fuckin’ dresses too. only want you wearin’ them for me.” a chuckle fell from his lips, but you knew he wasn’t joking and you couldn’t help but to laugh along with him.
yeah.. maybe you were just as bad at no contact as him.
⟡ Summary: Your transfer to a new university was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to prove yourself as figure skating’s rising star. Instead, you find yourself colliding with the campus’ most untouchable circle: the hockey team. Their captain is Gojo Satoru, dazzling, ruthless, and impossible to ignore. What begins as sharp words and cold stares soon twists into a game of power and obsession, where every glance is a challenge, every move a gamble. The team can’t decide whether they want to tear you down or pull you closer, and you can’t afford to lose- on the ice, or in their dangerous orbit.
⟡ Tags: f!reader, 18+, college AU, alternate universe, modern AU, figure skater reader, jjk characters are hockey players, psychological drama, toxic jjk characters, multiple x reader, mind games, romance, smut, eventual smut, friendship/love, love/hate, Gojo has a god complex, mental health issues, alcohol use, drug use, overall it's messy tbh, English is not my first language
⟡ Word Count: 10,1k.
⟡ A/N: See this huge chapter as my early Christmas gift to you all Xx
Even though it’s the same frat house, the energy tonight is nothing like what you experienced the first time. The hockey team hasn’t even arrived yet, fashionably late to their own party. The music is loud, the crowd is buzzing. Everyone is talking about the highlights from the match, and it suddenly dawns on you how big of a deal the team actually is at this university.
You’re in the kitchen with Nobara, sipping on a sweet drink she mixed for you. Megumi is close by, caught in a conversation with Haibara and Shoko. Nobara leans against the kitchen counter, eyes drifting over the herd of people in the living room. You’re still too sober for your own liking, a little too anxious as to where the night will bring you.
“Just wait until the team arrives, everyone always goes wild.” She comments.
“Another ego boost they don’t need.” You say, and she chuckles in return.
“I’m excited to see how you’ll stir the pot.”
“What do you mean?”
She gives you a sideways glance, raising one eyebrow to say ‘really?’ Then she smiles and shakes her head. “Okay, don’t take this the wrong way, but everyone can see that Gojo’s got a thing for you.”
“I don’t know about that.” You try to deflect, not really wanting to go into detail about the confusing dynamic. Besides, you’re not sure as to why Nobara is bringing it up. It’s not like you have talked about this with Megumi or anyone else yet, it’s making you nervous.
“Look, Gojo’s into you. Like, ‘annoying boy in class pulling your hair’ level of into you.” Nobara slightly turns herself towards you, the conversation becoming more private.
A groan escapes your lips, you can’t run away anymore. “Well, I’m not sure I’m interested.”
“He probably doesn’t really care. That man hears the word ‘no’ the way most people hear elevator music. He’s decided you’re interesting, that’s all he needs. He’ll take it as a challenge.”
“That’s comforting…” You sarcastically tell her.
“Oh, don’t act all surprised.” She smirks at you. “And while we’re at it, congrats: you’ve reignited the Gojo–Sukuna Cold War.”
You frown. “No, no way. They hated each other way before I got here. I’m not the cause.”
“You’re not the reason, you’re just caught in the crossfire.” Nobara clarifies. “Guys like them don’t let feuds die, they keep them alive like houseplants. They’ll use whatever’s closest as an excuse.”
With a dramatic raise of your brows, you look at her as you cross your arms. “So what, I’m an excuse now?”
Nobara shrugs. “Pretty much. Sukuna stepped in at first just to get under Yuuji’s skin, he’s not subtle. But now he realizes messing with Gojo gets him a bigger reaction. And Gojo treats everything like a contest he refuses to lose. Especially if Sukuna’s the opponent.”
“And I’m stuck in the middle.” Is the conclusion you get to. Your stare at the crowd again, realizing your predicament. Anxiety stirs.
“I don’t want you to get blindsided by how messy they can get."
That makes you look back at her. She sips her drink and averts her gaze to some random person walking by. Only now do you understand what she had been trying to get at. For some reason you’d still felt like you couldn’t be as open and honest with her as you are with Megumi and Yuuji. Even though she knows a lot about your personal life and was even in the room during the phone call with your mom, there had been an awkwardness. Maybe that’s still a remnant of the past, of what your mom taught you. Maybe there’s someone genuine standing right next to you, and you’ve not been seeing her for who she is.
“Thanks.” You say. It’s quiet, sounds smaller than you wanted it to, but she hears it.
Nobara locks eyes with you, then gives you a small smile together with a shrug. She holds out her drink to you, and you tap it with your plastic cup. Some sudden commotion in the space of the living room catches both your attention.
She leans in, voice low. “Here they come. We’ve got a front-row seat to the stupidest macho contest in sports history.”
A laugh bubbles up from your chest, and you take a sip of your drink when you return your gaze to the direction of the front door. Like she predicted, there they are. And the crowd goes wild, clapping and cheering loudly. The hockey team arrives together, loud, confident, still high on their win and looking to prolong the feeling. Gojo walks in first, because that’s what the captain does. Famous sunglasses on, hands in the air and pretending to be bashful as if he doesn’t usually grovel for any kind of praise. Getou is with him, hands casually slotted in his pockets and tipping his chin up to greet a few people. Then there’s Yuuji, wearing casual but sporty clothes. He’s got one arm slung across his twin’s shoulders and cheers back just as loud as all the students who welcome them. Chousou and Nanami keep to themselves, letting the other guys take the attention. Naoya follows, looking smug as if he contributed the most to the game today. It sure is a sight you’ve never seen before, and once again it strikes you how different their world is.
You look at the twins, trying to make eye contact with Yuuji since he invited you here. Instead, Sukuna is the one who spots you. When you look into his eyes he quickly averts his gaze like he hasn’t seen you. Had you interpreted his gesture at the hockey game in the wrong way? Or is it something else? If this is the game he wants to play, he’ll get it. Then you turn your eyes to look at his brother, and a bright and cheerful grin awaits you. Yuuji breaks away from his twin and makes his way over to the kitchen. He daps up Megumi first, greets Haibara and Shoko. Then he opens his arms wide and closes them around Nobara and you in a group hug.
“I’m so glad you guys came!” Yuuji beams. The only visible remains of the fact that he got into a brawl today is some bruising on his cheekbone. You’re glad it’s nothing more than that.
Nobara punches him on the arm after he pulls away. “Congrats on your first penalty of the season, champ. Really setting the tone. Truly inspirational.”
Yuuji winces and rubs his arm, but plays it cool. “I’m so happy you’re here….”
“And congrats on the win?” You add with a smile.
Yuuji shifts, draping his arm over your shoulder and giving Nobara a skeptical look. He points a finger at you. “This is what you call ‘being a nice person,’ Nobara. Take notes.”
“Yeah, yeah congratulations.” She pushes herself off the kitchen counter, locking eyes with you. “Let me know if he gets bored and decides to throw hands again. Sometimes he just needs enrichment like a zoo animal. Make him do some backflips, or something.”
She walks off, but Yuuji shouts after her. “Get your jokes in. I’ll remember this when you need help carrying your shopping bags!”
“This is why girls don’t like you!” Nobara replies before getting out of earshot.
“How do you know they don’t like me!” Yuuji yells, but there’s no reply. He pouts.
You slip away from under his arm and grab a red cup, dangling it in front of his face. “So, what can I get you?”
But he doesn’t get time to reply. A familiar voice calls his name, and both of you turn to the person it belongs to.
“My brother!”
It’s Toudou, apparently he stayed after the game to attend the party of the team that beat him. Real sportsmanship isn’t dead after all. The muscular guy claps your friend on the back, and Yuuji grins back at him. Back then at Kyoto University he was always the nicest guy on the hockey team, never bothering you and trying his best to keep his teammates from doing so. Besides that quality he’s a little strange, but then again it doesn’t surprise you at all that he’s friends with Yuuji.
“Hey Toudou.” You greet him with a smile.
“You two know each other?” Yuuji asks, nervously looking back and forth between the two of you.
“I used to go to his university, remember?” You reply.
“Oh, yeah. Right.” He stammers, awkwardly looking away.
Toudou grins at Yuuji before turning to you. “How have you been, (Y/n)? I see you’ve befriended the best guy walking around campus, so you must be doing well.”
You chuckle at his behavior. “Good, the university has been treating me well.” A small glance in Yuuji’s direction tells you how different he suddenly is with Toudou around. The fact that you two know each other must have surprised him. You decide to give him a little boost. “And so has Yuuji.”
“I expected nothing less of you, bro.” Toudou says, patting Yuuji on the shoulder who’s found his trademark grin again.
“So, are we drinking yet?” You ask, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. Stupid anxiety. The kitchen area is getting more crowded, some of the hockey guys push past to get their drinks and people come and go to refill their cups.
“Let’s do shots.” It’s Yuuji’s suggestion, and the loudness of his voice carries just a bit too far. Others pick it up.
“That’s more like it, Yuuji!”
The ever infuriating voice of Gojo cuts through the air. He’s on the other side of the kitchen island that separates the two of you. He flashes a wide grin when he sees you turn to him, bright eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
“Pour one for me too, baby.” He says. Gojo leans on his palms, a black short sleeved shirt clinging to his physique. He looks good like this. The party and the never ending flow of attention directed towards him make sure he’s totally in his element. Maybe even more so than on the ice. Some heads turn, mostly girls, trying to see who Gojo is referring to. Some aren’t impressed at all, familiar with his telltale nature.
Gojo drinks your appearance in. The tint of his glasses hides his stare, but even if he wouldn’t have been wearing them he would not be ashamed of ogling you. He’s never ashamed of anything, not even of the way people can see how hard he’s trying to get you. They’re probably all making bets on how long it takes him to wrap you around his finger. But it’s never taken him this long, and he can feel the edge of embarrassment creeping closer and closer the longer you keep denying him. Satoru doesn’t know that feeling. Doesn’t even recognize it for what it is. He just knows that it’s you who’s causing it and that you can fix it. Your ignorance is worse than any negative attention. He wants to light that fire he knows you have within you. Gojo wants to feed it until it’s out of control, pour out gasoline until it explodes.
There’s no response from your side, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Then you spot Suguru coming up beside him. He tips his chin at you, hands still in his pockets. You decide to return the gesture, ignoring Gojo’s baiting.
That’s exactly what Satoru doesn’t want to happen. People are never this far out of his reach. There is always something he can do, something he can offer that makes a person want him in the end. You’re infuriating, but he’s gotta control his own anger. He needs to stop lashing out to you because you deny him what he wants. How to approach you in the best way?
“You want one too?” You ask Getou.
“Count me in, sweetheart.” He replies.
Turning around, you move some bottles of liquor and soda around until you find the small, plastic shot glasses the frat got for the party. Since nobody told you what kind of shots they want to do, it’s your decision to make. You opt for vodka. With your back turned to your friends, you only hear their excited response when they see you pick the liquor. You line up the glasses and fill them to the brim, spilling a bit in the process. You give the first two to Toudou and Yuuji, and find out that Gojo and Getou have made their way around the kitchen island to collect theirs. Since it’s so crowded, the hockey captain leans against the kitchen counter next to you. Suguru leans close to Gojo to tell him something over the music, the captain just laughs and nods his head in response. It’s inaudible to you, and you honestly don’t really care what they’re talking about. Or at least, that’s what you try to convince yourself of. Without a word, you hold the shot glasses out to them.
“Thanks.” Gojo says, then he leans a bit closer. “You look pretty.”
He always uses the word ‘pretty.’ Never anything else, he’s not very original. It’s starting to sound sarcastic at this point, and maybe he’s doing it on purpose. You’re not sure if you would even categorize the outfit you’re wearing as ‘pretty.’ A low cut halter top with a mini skirt that is the perfect length for you, all in a dark color scheme. Where’s the word ‘hot?’
“I know.” You say back, giving him a small fake smile before turning away.
Toudou raises his glass, an invitation for all of you to do the same. “To the new season!”
You down the shot in one gulp, then wash the intense flavor down with the sweet drink Nobara mixed for you.
Gojo cringes at the shot, clearly not a fan. “Can I have some of that?” He asks.
You share a knowing look with Yuuji before handing your cup to Gojo. He takes a sip and you watch him to make sure he doesn’t drink the whole thing. Satoru stays polite, nodding his head at the taste when he swallows and hands you your drink back. Suguru starts a conversation with Toudou and Yuuji, stepping away from the pair of you.
“What is this? It’s really good.” Gojo says.
“You like sweets?” You ask, surprised that he’s not the kind of guy who only wants to drink beer.
There’s that smirk, sharp and familiar. His glasses slide down his nose, and you can see him looking you up and down. “You know I do.”
“Sure.” Is all you respond, holding eye contact over the rim of your cup as you take a sip.
He doesn’t reply, just wears that familiar unreadable look on his face. He then turns to grab a red cup and mix a drink for himself. Satoru seems torn between a few bottles and glances at your cup a few times.
“Let me have another sip.” He beckons.
“Why?”
“How else can I recreate it? Come on, just one sip.”
You narrow your eyes and drink from the cup, letting the flavors sit in your mouth before swallowing. Then you decide to hand it over to him, and he tips the cup back to have a taste once more. It’s unexpected, but he returns it.
“Okay, definitely… this, right?” He grabs a bottle with a picture of a peach on it.
“I think she also put this in.” You add and reach over his arms to take a bottle with clear liquid off the counter.
“Okay, okay.” Satoru nods, happy that you’re cooperating for once. He mixes the drinks and holds the cup out for you to taste.
You scrunch your face up after you’ve taken a sip. “We’re missing something.”
Satoru opens his mouth to say something, but then you see your phone screen light up from its place on the counter. The caller is Yuki, someone you will never ignore no matter what. There are a million important things she could be wanting to tell you. Gojo knows what it means and you see his shoulders slump a little.
“Fuck.” You mutter, and take the device. There’s a quick look shared between the two of you, and you don’t feel the need to explain anything. Gojo’s eyes settle on a spot over your shoulder, and he nods his head to point in the direction. When you turn around, you see he’s gesturing towards the doors leading outside.
You don’t thank him, you just grab your phone and excuse yourself to Yuuji when you shimmy past him in the crowded kitchen. The pink haired boy holds onto your arm to stop you for a second and asks you if you’re okay. You quickly explain the situation to him, and he nods in understanding. It doesn’t take long for you to find yourself outside, away from the noisy crowd. You pick up your phone as you take a seat on the porch.
“Hey (Y/n), everything alright?”
“Hey Yuki. Busy, but fine.”
“Sounds good. I wanted to let you know that I got a message from the costume designer. Your new dress for the free program is done!”
“That’s great! Do you have pictures?”
“I’ll send them after the call. I think it looks great, if you’re satisfied with it you can transfer the remaining amount and I’ll pick it up for you.”
The feeling quickly sinks to your gut. It’s not as if you can’t pay the costume designer what you owe her, it’s just that you still have to tell Yuki that your mom stopped sponsoring you.
“Right.”
“...Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I uh… no, not really.”
“What happened?”
Shit, you didn’t want it to come to this. There’s a familiar feeling unwinding in your chest, sharp and cold and suffocating all at once. The tears well up in your eyes, but you force yourself to keep it together. You’ll probably die of embarrassment if someone sees you crying on the porch of some frat party all by yourself. You wrap your free arm around your knees, digging your fingernails into the skin of your thigh. It leaves red crescent shapes in the flesh, but you don’t mind. Somehow the sting distracts you. It’s an anxious habit that rarely comes out anymore, and you honestly thought your mom had made sure you’d never do it again. Yet here you are.
“Yuki I’m- it’s my mom.” You can hardly get a word out at all. It’s as if they’re stuck in your throat.
“It’s okay (Y/n). You can tell me, you know that, right?”
“Y-Yeah.”
“Good. What happened?”
“It’s bad, Yuki. It’s bad. She cut me off.”
“Oh, (Y/n). It’s okay.”
“It’s my fault, I ignored her and–”
“Honey, listen to me. Whatever that woman has said or done, none of it is your fault. Do you hear me?”
You close your eyes, hoping that the tears stop coming. Luckily there’s not a lot of people outside, but you still try your best to hide your face from view. You sniffle.
“I don’t know what to do.” Is all you get out.
“I understand. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”
“But she pays for your–”
“I know, and we’ll still figure it out.”
“Okay.”
“Where are you right now?” Tension rises to your shoulders.
“At home. In the dorms, I mean.”
“Is Megumi nearby? Does he know?”
“Yeah.”
“Then go hang out with him, okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
“Take it easy for the night, everything will be fine.”
“Okay. Thanks, Yuki.”
“Night, (Y/n). Try to get some sleep.”
The quiet after she hangs up is almost louder than the muffled music blasting from the speakers inside the house. Even though the night air is cold, especially with what you’re wearing, you feel as if you’re on fire. With deep breaths you try to calm yourself down. After a few minutes, footsteps come your way and still beside you. When you look up, you see it’s Chousou. You almost didn’t recognize him with his hair down.
“You’re in my spot.” He says.
“Oh. Sorry, I can move.”
“You look like something hit you harder than our defensive line. I’m not gonna kick you off the ledge.”
“I don’t look that bad…” You try to argue, but the words come out weaker than you intended.
Chousou doesn’t respond to that after he’s taken a seat next to you, and you give him a pout as an answer to his silence. He fishes a lighter out of his pocket, you follow his movements with your eyes and realize he’s holding a joint.
“Fair enough.” You comment.
“You know, I figured you’d be inside with the others. You’re always with Megumi and Yuuji, or Gojo and Sukuna at parties… usually both of them hover around you like oversized mosquitoes.” Chousou comments absent mindedly. The sound of him trying to get his lighter to work fills the outside air.
“Wow, thanks.” You chuckle, and direct your attention to the grass growing from underneath the porch. Without thinking you wrap a few blades around your pointer finger and tear them from the soil, fidgeting with nothing.
“I’m just saying,” He starts, then lights his joint and inhales before continuing. “For someone who claims she wants peace, you only hang out with chaos.”
“Megumi’s been my best friend since childhood, so you get why I hang out with Yuuji too.” You tell, and see how Chousou nods at that. “And the others… Well, they’re just the people I’ve been around lately, I guess. I don’t know.”
For some reason you feel at ease with Chousou. Maybe it’s because he’s related to Yuuji, or because he helped out that time when you fell during practice. He seems like an honest guy, and you’re glad he’s the one that found you here.
Chousou shifts. “Yeah, but don’t you have any… I don’t know. Girls you hang with? You’re surrounded by enough testosterone to start a chemical fire.”
“I talk to girls. Nobara–”
“Nobara doesn’t count. She’s basically a wolf in lipstick.”
You’re completely caught off guard by his comment. “Damn, she’ll murder you for that.”
“Not if you don’t tell her.” He chirps. Chousou takes another long drag and exhales in the same lazy fashion. You wonder if he only comes to the parties to smoke weed.
You’re starting to get cold, and wrap your arms around yourself. The two of you sit in silence for a bit. The bass from the music drums through the walls of the frat house, acting as background noise. Only now do you realize you abandoned your drink that you put down next to you, and you decide to finish it in a few gulps. A warm, fuzzy feeling stays behind in your throat. It’s that moment that you conclude you’re gonna let go of all restraints tonight.
“There are no friends in figure skating.” It’s barely audible over the loud music coming from the house but Chousou picks it up nevertheless, looking at you from the corner of his eye as he takes another hit.
“Do you really believe that?” He asks.
“Sooner or later all the girls become your competition. My mom made sure I understood that from the moment I could stay upright on a pair of skates.”
“So, do you believe that?”
Chousou’s gaze burns, and you avert your eyes. You try to pretend that picking at your nails is of the utmost importance right now. “You stop questioning it at some point. You just… live by it.”
There’s the soft sound of him exhaling smoke. “That doesn’t make it true.”
“It made things easier. Or harder. I can’t really tell anymore.”
“Fuck.” Chousou states, then holds the joint out to you. “You want some?”
A small laugh escapes you. “I’m good, thanks.”
“The offer stands for the night.” He says as he leans back on one hand.
“Ahw, that’s so nice.” You tease. “I hear you’re expensive.”
“Hockey is crazy, but figure skating’s cutthroat. Yuuji told me enough stories about that world to make me glad I never tried anything where people wear sequins.”
“It’s not about the sequins.” You chuckle.
“Yeah, I figured.” Chousou lets out a laugh afterwards.
A door opens somewhere behind you, letting the sounds of the party escape momentarily, then toning down again once it closes. When you turn around to check who came outside, your face lights up. It’s Yuuji, who smiles back when he sees you.
“Speak of the devil.” You say.
“What about Sukuna?” Yuuji frowns.
“Nevermind.”
“I was looking for you.” He takes a seat, sandwiching you in between him and his cousin.
“Found me.” Is all you say. You then decide to rest your head on Yuuji’s shoulder, who lets you do as you please. Chousou side-eyes the interaction, and you catch his observation. “I’m kinda jealous of you guys, I wish I had teammates.” You say.
“What do you mean?” Yuuji asks.
You pull back, looking at him, Chousou, then back again. “Well, you know. Someone’s always got your back if you mess up. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to have the rink to yourself but it can get lonely out there if things go south during a competition.”
Chousou locks eyes with Yuuji past your shoulder. “She’s having an existential crisis.”
The comment earns him a shove to his arm, even though you're smiling through the action. Yuuji’s cousin barely responds to it, just shrugs his shoulders and tries to light his blunt again.
“Nooo!” Yuuji dramatically exclaims. “(Y/n), I invited you here to forget about your feelings. This was not the plan!”
With a dramatic sigh, you push yourself up from your spot. You look at Yuuji and flash a mischievous grin. “You’re right, let’s get fucked up.”
–
Another shot burns its way down your throat. It’s the second one in a row since you’ve made your way back to the kitchen area with Yuuji. Megumi and Nobara join you for this one but they aren’t drinking on the same level as you and the twin. Yuuji fills the glasses one more time and hands you the sticky shot. You’re just sober enough to realize that if you take this one too, you’ll go too hard too fast. When you tell him that you don’t want it, he points his thumb back over his shoulder. There is his twin brother, leaning against the wall just outside the kitchen. He’s talking to a familiar looking girl, and you recognize her as the zamboni driver. Sukuna hands her some cash and she gives him an object in return before walking away, but you can’t see what it is. You push yourself past some people before you get to him.
The look in Sukuna’s eyes is not as sharp as you remember, he must be tipsy already. There is no exchange of words. He takes the shot from your hand when he sees you hold it out to him. He downs it like it’s water, then reaches past you and puts it down on the kitchen island behind you. Sukuna leans back again, shamelessly raking his eyes over your figure.
“You look hot.” He says, voice low and gravely, meant for you alone.
That’s more like it. A confident but teasing smile makes its way to your lips. He looks like he wants to eat you alive. With the buzz of the alcohol running through your veins, you decide to let him see that you like it. It’s what you wanted to hear, not whatever Gojo told you earlier. You avert your gaze, following the retreating form of the zamboni girl.
“What’s she selling you?” You ask.
“Bangin’ blood orange.” Sukuna shows you a bottle of vape juice with no label.
You burst out laughing, and cover your mouth with your hand to muffle the sound. “You’re dealing hard drugs but you’re doing the most for some vape juice?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Mikey sells the ones above the legal nicotine limit.”
“Mikey? I thought her name was–"
“That’s her gamertag.”
“Right.” You chuckle.
“Surprised I have friends?”
“A little, yeah.” Sarcasm drips from your tone.
Sukuna rolls his eyes. “Want some?”
“No thanks. I’m not really in the mood for bangin’ blood orange…”
“Thought so.” He huffs. “Luckily I got something else too.”
Gojo isn’t even looking at you two. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. There’s a drink in his hand and he pretends to listen to whatever Naoya is saying to Suguru. But his eyes keep dragging back, magnetic and unwilling, to where you and Sukuna are talking. It’s too close. Too casual. Too something. And Satoru gets mad at himself once again, not able to comprehend why he hadn’t noticed before. At first he thinks it’s just annoyance prickling under his skin. Sukuna has a way of existing that’s annoying, so that tracks. But then you tilt your head, smiling at something the bastard says, it’s soft and genuine and– he looks away fast. Gojo stares at his cup before deciding to drink the whole thing in one go, hoping it’s strong enough to erase the image. It’s not. He truly can’t believe it. Sukuna’s got the charm of a brick and the emotional range of one too, but you’re still laughing. You haven’t looked at him like that. And his teammate is watching you like he’s already claimed something, like he knows Gojo is seeing it. Irritation, jealousy, something raw he can’t name brews hot under his skin. He tries to rationalize it in his mind, but then Sukuna leans in to murmur something close to your ear.
Gojo’s entire world stops. A flash of you leaning in too, your breath mixing with Sukuna’s, your lips maybe brushing, hits his mind so hard it sends a spike of heat through his chest. He sees the two of you leave together. His thoughts trip over themselves before he can stop them. There’s a sting tightening in his stomach, landing with the precision of a knife. Gojo knows that you’re probably about to sniff some coke off a key, but there’s another image working its way to the surface. He chokes out a laugh, too forced and loud. Suguru looks at him weirdly. Because, suddenly, Satoru is picturing it again. You. Sukuna. That mouth on yours, those hands on your waist. You letting him. Enjoying it, even. It’s a stupid fantasy, ugly and threatening. Satoru wants to scrub his brain clean with bleach. He can’t stop it. He hates that he can’t stop it. And for the second time that day, Gojo feels like picking a fight.
“Do you guys wanna go upstairs?” Is all he needs to say to get his friends to follow him.
They know what it means, it’s code at this point. They walk upstairs, careful not to gain too much attention. Gojo’s keys jingle when he takes them out, and he unlocks the door to his room to let Suguru and Naoya in. Suguru immediately sits himself down on the couch and Naoya lingers at the door after closing it. Satoru grabs a mirror from a cabinet and takes a seat beside his best friend.
What happens next is as good as second nature to him. It’s methodical, crushing the stuff, shaping the lines, he thinks the process is satisfying. Gojo likes things that make sense, that are logical. An intricate equation, mathematical formulas, things that guarantee a sure outcome. Like how the drugs take the edge off. Or the way girls bat their eyelashes and shyly look away when he compliments them. Hockey is the same if you look at it the right way. It’s all physics. The pressure he has to put on his edgework, balancing the weight of the puck with the resistance of the stick to command it however he likes. It’s the things he can control. And you’re not a part of that. Not yet.
He barely registers it when the line disappears up his nose. The others take theirs, and Gojo tells them a stupid excuse as to why he’s coming down later. His teammates know not to question it when he says something vague. He’s on it again when the door closes behind Suguru. Tapping the coke out of the packet, crushing, shaping until it’s perfect. The second line hits him better, perhaps together with the first. He feels the rush through his system, how his heart beats faster, how his jaw starts to strain- but in a good way. Some flow of energy rising to his chest, excitement, hope. It’s okay that he saw you leave with Sukuna earlier. He’ll just win you back. It’s always a back and forth between them anyway.
Gojo locks the door to his room when he leaves, making sure no random guests can decide to hang out in his space later. He feels light, pattering down the stairs, scanning the room to see that his friends aren’t here. Satoru finds them in the next, huddled around a couch and low table together with Toudou and Yuuji, Nobara, Shoko, Sukuna and you.
You’re sitting on the prop of the couch next to Yuuji. The group is shaped into a circle, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander across to find Sukuna’s from time to time. He’s sitting on the ground, elbow propped on his knee and sipping his drink, staring you down over the rim of his cup. It’s a game of cat and mouse. He likes it that way. Sukuna wants to build up the tension, make it rise and rise until it snaps, until he finally allows himself to indulge.
It’s why he didn’t kiss you when the two of you went into the bathroom together. Why he just stood close and let his fingers toy with the hem of your top. He’d let the air between you thicken, fingers ghosted, lips skulked along your pulse. How he just loved the way you subtly eluded his advances, pulling away then looking at him as if you were about to drop to your knees. A hand on his chest, fingernails that softly dug into the fabric of his sleeveless shirt. It felt like a thing between you and him. Similar to the first time you did drugs together, but with everything that had happened between you two in the meantime it felt much more intimate. The look you gave him before you strutted out of the bathroom was a challenge.
Sukuna knows you’re someone that charts her own course, and that’s why he realizes he needs to keep working to hold your attention. Toudou announcing that you’re all going to play truth or dare snaps him out of his train of thought. He’s not the kind of guy for this particular thing, he doesn’t participate but hangs around to see what happens. Yuuji’s embarrassed himself more than enough times with truth or dare, never shying away from a challenge and that’s something Sukuna won’t miss. As the group plays he notices Gojo’s joined, standing next to Getou. There’s a familiar tautness to his jaw and stupid grin. A small huff escapes the vice captain upon seeing it, and he redirects his attention back to the game afterwards.
“Okay! (Y/n), truth or dare?” Toudou asks you.
Sukuna sees you grin, contemplate. There’s that flirty, foxy glint in your eyes that drives him crazy.
“Dare.” And you bite your bottom lip afterwards. There’s a slight hazyness reflecting from your irises. You’re high and drunk enough to feel immortal, to leave your inhibitions behind. Sukuna recognizes it from that night with you. It’s exactly how he wants you.
Toudou lights up like he expected you to say that. “I dare you to kiss Yuuji.”
The group reacts instantly. Half whoops, half gasps, Nobara squeals. You’re lucky Megumi isn’t here to judge, and you intentionally avoid Sukuna’s burning gaze. Yuuji, sitting on the couch, freezes mid-sip of his drink. The hockey player looks up to you, as you’re sitting just a little higher than him, wearing an apologetic look on his face.
“You don’t have to.” He says. It’s sweet. He’s always so sweet.
And that’s exactly the reason why you put your hand on his jaw and pull him towards you. Breathing an “I know.” before closing the gap.
“Yuuji! My boy, get in there!” Gojo performatively cheers from the sidelines, trying to get a rise out of you.
You don’t even care that both Sukuna and Gojo are in the room with you. You feel light and loose and bold in the way only bad mixed drinks and drugs can make you. And Yuuji’s lips are soft, he smells good, he doesn’t push. Of course he doesn’t push. You know he has a thing for you and that this might have greater consequences than you’ll like, but he’s so gentle, it’s tempting. It persuades you, makes you want to treat him to see how much he likes you, no matter how toxic that might be. So you decide to slide your tongue against his lips, to ask for permission which he doesn’t hesitate to grant you. And fuck, something shifts. Yuuji finds his trademark enthusiasm and makes the moment worthwhile. Suddenly there’s passion and need, and you can feel just how much he wants you. Your gut dips like you’re on a rollercoaster, unexpected and exhilarating. There’s a sigh at the back of his throat that only you can feel.
The room erupts into cheers, laughter, teasing. The kiss lasts just a second longer than a dare needs to, the kind of moment that leaves your heart thudding a bit too hard when you pull away. Nobara’s voice rings shrill, calling for Megumi who’s missed the event of the century. When you find the courage to look back at Yuuji, Gojo appears behind the couch and slaps him on the back so hard the poor boy almost falls forward.
“Let’s go!” The captain grins, giving him some approving claps on the shoulder.
You’re actually laughing at the interaction between them, still feeling warm all over from the kiss. One of your hands hides your smile, a bit shy after realizing what you did. Then you accidentally look at Sukuna. He hasn’t moved. He takes a long, slow sip of his drink, gaze sliding over the chaos with murderously calm detachment. His jaw flexes once, barely but enough that you notice it and know exactly what's simmering under the surface. The tension coils tight around him, unmistakable to anyone paying attention. Sukuna doesn’t look at you again. Gojo notices, of course he notices, and shoots him a smug, almost taunting little smirk like he’s storing this away for later. Meanwhile, Yuuji is trying to breathe normally again, the tips of his ears flaming. And you… well, you suddenly feel very awake. The game moves on, but the shift lingers.
–
Yuuji slips away to the kitchen after the kiss, cheeks still burning, ears still buzzingly hot. Ignoring Gojo who wiggled his eyebrows at him the moment he stood up to leave. He grabs a cup of water like it’s a life raft, downing it in seconds.
Holy shit.
He presses a hand over his face. That wasn’t just a quick peck. The two of you fully made out in front of all of your friends. You’d leaned in. Wanted to. And he wanted to. God, did he want to. His heart feels like it’s trying to do sprints inside his chest. He knows you’re drunk, he’s not stupid, and he’s not going to read into it. Not like that. He laughed it off, he always does. Yuuji’s good at pretending he’s fine, at shrugging things away before anyone can look too closely. He feels dizzy. The way you smiled after, eyes bright and soft… it’s going to replay in his head for weeks, isn’t it?
Then he remembers Sukuna staring like he wanted to murder someone with a single thought. It wasn’t annoyance, not mockery. It wasn’t the “I’m messing with you just to see you twitch” expression Sukuna always uses when he wants to get under his skin. No, it was something else. And Yuuji’s stomach drops a little, because he’s seen that look before. Not often. Barely at all, actually. But a while ago, when Sukuna came back late to the dorm after claiming he was going to talk to you after Gojo hurt you. Hoodie half-zipped, hair a mess, that sharp “don’t you dare ask” look carved into his face. Yuuji didn’t ask. Back then, he told himself it was nothing. That Sukuna was just being Sukuna. That maybe he wanted to piss Yuuji off. Or maybe he was bored, or curious, or trying to provoke Gojo, anything but genuinely interested. He knows his brother doesn’t do interested, doesn’t do feelings.
But Yuuji feels it right in the center of his ribs. That Sukuna might care. And suddenly, so many things make sense. The way Sukuna shows up to the rink on time this season. The way he’s quieter when you’re around. The way he snaps at Gojo twice as fast nowadays. The way he never, ever mentions you to Yuuji. He’s hiding it, but it’s there. And Yuuji’s heart does something complicated, half aching, half accepting, with a sting of something he doesn’t want to name. Because he really, really likes you. But Sukuna seems already tangled, way in over his head. He’s never seen that before with his brother. Maybe the two of you slept together, he’s pretty sure that you did, but it’s more than that. Yuuji sees it clearly now. Sukuna’s existing feud with Gojo mixed together with you as the third player is a recipe for disaster. For a moment, he wonders if he shouldn’t have kissed you. It’s made things worse between all of you, he’s sure of that. But Yuuji doesn’t regret it, not for a second. He just wishes his brother wouldn’t look at him that way.
Yuuji groans. “Great,” he mutters, “I’m dead.”
“Hey, you good?”
There’s a hand on his shoulder and when he turns, Yuuji finds that it’s Megumi who came up to him. The panic he was trying to tame breaks loose. Yuuji stares at his best friend with wide eyes, caught like a deer in headlights.
–
The music has shifted to a deeper, heavier rhythm, techno blasting through the speakers. People drift in and out of the kitchen and living room, but Gojo finds Sukuna vaping alone near the door to the porch, the cold seeping in from outside through a crack. He strolls over with all the subtlety of a parade float and leans against the wall beside Sukuna. The two of them stand there like they’re two dads watching a neighborhood barbecue instead of a party full of drunk and high college students. Sukuna ignores him.
“Hey,” Gojo says lightly, nudging Sukuna’s arm with his elbow. “Your face is doing that thing.”
Sukuna doesn’t look at him. “What thing.” He spits out between gritted teeth.
“That thing where you pretend you don’t care but you’re seconds away from throwing someone through a wall.”
Sukuna takes a slow sip of his drink, unamused. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” Gojo hums. “Because the second she kissed Yuuji, you turned into a Greek statue of male jealousy.”
Sukuna’s laugh is sharp and humorless. “Jealous? Of Yuuji?” He scoffs. “I could bury him on the ice in one second.”
“That’s not the part you’re jealous of.” Gojo crosses his arms. “And you know it.”
“She can kiss whoever she wants.”
“Sure.” Gojo shrugs. “Then why do you look like you want to put Toudou through a wall for daring her in the first place?”
Sukuna’s fingers tighten around the bottle of booze he’s holding. “You’ve got a big mouth for someone who’s projecting.”
“Ooh, so you are mad.”
“I’m not mad.” The words are so fast they might as well have been pre-loaded. Sukuna continues, “They’re just idiots. Someone’s gonna get hurt this way.”
“You mean you’re hurt.”
Sukuna finally cuts him a glare, sharp enough to skin a man alive. “Back off, Six Eyes.”
“No can do,” Gojo chirps, bringing a hand up and poking Sukuna in the center of his chest. “Because this? This is hilarious.”
“Move your arm before I break it.” The twin seethes.
Sukuna inhales through his nose, muscles tight all over. “You don’t know shit.”
“I know you.” Gojo lowers his voice, leaning closer to Sukuna. Eyes daring, taunting like he always does because he knows the result it will bring him. It’s something logical. “And I know you hate losing. Especially when it’s to your own brother. Or me.”
That hits. Sukuna drops his drink, the glass of the bottle shattering instantly. The shards scatter over the floor, beer splashes, voices hush, heads turn. He forces Gojo to take a step back by shoving at his shoulder. The captain opens his arms wide, gladly accepting the escalation. Satoru loves to put on a show, and a laugh escapes his throat.
Gojo grins. “There he is.”
For a heartbeat, nobody moves. Then Sukuna does. He steps into Gojo’s space, chest brushing chest, jaw set like a locked blade. His hand curls into the front of Gojo’s shirt, not enough to drag him, but enough to promise he could. Gojo just tilts his head back and laughs again, louder this time, like he’s welcoming an audience.
“There he is,” he repeats, grinning wider. “The real Sukuna. I was wondering when you’d show up.”
Sukuna’s eyes shortly flit away from Gojo’s to do a quick scan of the room. Perhaps to find you, perhaps for no reason at all. But Gojo notices. Naturally. He takes that opportunity because it calls to him, like every possible altercation with Sukuna does. It’s a given that Satoru knows he enjoys almost just as much as scoring the winning goal in a tight game. The coke in his system is cheering him on to chase it.
“Say it again,” Sukuna growls, voice low enough that only the people closest can hear, but the threat ripples outward all the same. “Go on. I’m begging you.”
Gojo leans in until their foreheads almost touch, eyes bright and reckless. “What? That she kissed Yuuji and you’re losing your mind over it? Because it’s written all over your face, man."
That does it. Sukuna lunges, but he doesn’t get far. Chousou’s hand clamps onto his forearm like a vise, dragging him back before he can get his fingers on Gojo. Yuuji appears out of nowhere and throws an arm across Gojo’s chest at the same time, pushing his captain behind him.
“Back off, Satoru,” Yuuji snaps, the rare edge in his voice enough to shock a few onlookers. “You’re not helping.”
Gojo’s still smirking, but he allows the push. He’s not stupid, he knows two defensemen, half the team, and a room full of witnesses are between him and disaster. Sukuna thrashes against Chousou’s grip and Nanami steps in to support him, grabbing Sukuna by the shoulder.
“Let go of me.” Sukuna threatens, glaring daggers at his cousin.
“No,” Chousou says flatly. “You’re not touching the captain.”
More players move in. Getou appears at Gojo’s shoulder with a hand half-raised, ready to intervene if needed. Naoya slips through the crowd like a shark scenting blood, eyes glittering with delighted malice.
“Oh wow,” Naoya drawls. “Coach is gonna freak.”
“Naoya.” Getou warns, not even looking at him.
But Sukuna is past hearing anyone. He jerks forward again and Chousou swears under his breath, working together with Nanami and locking both arms around him from behind. Even with two of his teammates holding him back, Sukuna seems more than capable to break free.
“Knock it off!” Yuuji shouts at him. “What are you doing?!”
Gojo stares straight back at Sukuna. His voice drops, cruel in its clarity. “Look at yourself. You’re embarrassing the whole team.”
Sukuna goes still. Not calm, just still. Like a blade being sheathed before someone gets killed with it. A few players exchange uneasy looks. Someone mutters, “Just wait until coach finds out.” Another curses and starts picking up the broken glass. Nanami carefully lets go of his teammate and moves to face him.
“Sukuna,” Nanami begins, voice stern and leaving no room for argument. “You’re done. Party’s over for you.”
“Get your hands off me!” Sukuna snarls at Chousou.
Sukuna looks from Chousou’s stubborn grip, to Yuuji’s anxious glare, to Gojo leaning casually against the wall behind his teammates. He’s still smirking, but the kind of smirk that’s half shield, half warning. Then his eyes flick over to another corner of the room and he accidentally spots you. His dark expression stays there, just for a second. Just long enough to see your reaction. It’s not one of big shock, no gasping and teary eyes like some other girls. Just a slight frown, crossed arms, like you’re turning gears in your head. Even with your pupils blown wide from the coke and teeth tugging at your lip, he thinks you look good. And something in his expression fractures. Too quick, too raw, too furious to name. He yanks free of Chousou’s arms, hard enough that the motion startles a few people back. The music has long stopped, the air tight enough to snap.
Sukuna shoulders past Naoya first, shoving him into a table. Naoya yelps in outrage but doesn’t follow. He then storms toward the door, grabbing his coat off a chair with so much force that it topples over. The door slams shut behind him, loud enough that a few people flinch. An uneasy silence falls. Eventually, someone coughs. The music starts back up, low and uncertain until more people start talking and the party continues.
Gojo exhales, running a hand through his hair, trying and failing to look unbothered. “What a drama queen.”
Yuuji shoots him a look sharp enough to cut. “Dude. Seriously.”
–
The night continues. You drink more, you dance with Nobara. It’s a good feeling, finally letting yourself go again. Even the fact that Sukuna and Gojo almost fought, and the possibility of it being over you, doesn’t bother you at this point. Haibara and Shoko join to dance with you two, and even Yuuji dares to return to your side. The two of you don’t talk about it, not yet anyway. It’s just an exchange of smiles and your cups butting into one another as a ‘cheers.’ You don’t miss how Gojo brushes past your group, his hand lingering on your lower back before he disappears into the crowd like nothing happened. Something’s shifted in his demeanor. More secure, more certain of himself, if that’s even a possibility. It’s like a magnetic pull, to find his eyes through the dancing bodies that separate you. And for some reason you feel like provoking him again.
So you dance with Yuuji, still not speaking, just communicating with your bodies. He once again accepts your advances but stays respectful. Yuuji lets you place his hands on your waist, doesn’t move away when you slightly press yourself against him. Your back is to his chest at one point, and you lean your head back. The heat radiating off his body is making you feel hot as well, and you instinctively push back a little. His hands grip your waist in response. His nose brushing against the side of your neck sends shivers down your spine, and when you open your eyes you immediately find eye contact with Satoru across the room. The captain smiles at you, not seeming mad about you dancing with another. He then taps his nose before making a questioning gesture with his hand. Dizzy and reckless, you fall for it. And you turn back to face Yuuji, leaving his warmth excusing yourself by saying you’re getting another drink. You’re not lying, but you also fail to tell him what you’re doing after. His hands reluctantly slip from your sides when you move away.
Then you’re shuffling through the crowded kitchen, looking for more alcohol. The room is spinning a little bit, and a hand catches your wrist when you reach for a bottle of vodka.
“Wow, slow down princess.” It’s the mocking voice of Naoya.
The reaction is a little delayed, but you yank your arm out of his grasp. You wobble on your feet after doing so and lean back against the counter. The hockey player stands in front of you. He’s close. Too close.
“What do you want?” You ask him.
He shrugs, a smile on his face. Naoya pours himself a drink, and every movement he makes feels too close for comfort even though he isn’t touching you.
“So, which one are you actually after? Or are you just collecting them?” He questions.
“What?” You scoff. “What are you even talking about?”
Megumi’s cousin rolls his eyes. “Is warming up the hockey team your hobby or something? Did they get bored of passing you around at your former university?”
He’s cutting deep. Your current drunk state isn’t helping you regulate your emotions either. The fury builds behind your eyes, rising up in your chest. It’s taking you everything you have not to lash out in the same way as Sukuna just did. That is something you absolutely can’t allow yourself to do. An incident like that would mean the end of your career.
“Shut the fuck up, Naoya.” You hiss at him.
“Or what?” He taunts. “What are you gonna do? I mean, I gotta say I’m impressed. I never thought I’d see Sukuna throw hands over a girl. Makes me wonder what it is that’s got him so hooked, you know?”
“You’re disgusting.”
Naoya leans closer now, caging you in by resting both of his arms on the counter next to you. “But kissing Yuuji? A stupid move with Sukuna so close. It was cute though, I’ll give you that.”
You try to straighten your back to show him that he can’t intimidate you. “It was a dare.”
Naoya tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Right, a dare. Sure. That’s what everyone says. But tell me, do you actually want them all wrapped around your finger?” His grin sharpens. “Or is this just… habit?”
“I bet you’re the kind of guy that wants to fuck a virgin but then complains how bad she is in bed.” You fire back.
“Damn.” A laugh escapes him and he leans back a little. “You can just admit you’re a slut.”
You raise one brow. “Excuse me?”
“You’re entertaining. You’re fun. But careful, you’re juggling more than you think. Guys like them, they don’t forget. And some of them… they get territorial. Tonight was just a teaser."
You feel the warning in his tone, but your stomach twists. Not just annoyance, something else too. A prickle of unease. “I’m not… trying to make anyone fight over me.”
“Sure,” he says, voice low, amused. “But you like the attention. Don’t kid yourself.”
You glare at him, biting back a retort, because deep down you know he’s partially right. You haven’t been able to ignore the way their eyes track you, the way the competition between them feels like it’s fueled by your mere presence. It’s addictive, it makes you feel powerful. Naoya steps away then, something unexpected. His eyes narrow, sweep over your form. It’s as if he’s about to say something, but he backs out at the last second when he spots someone coming your way. Naoya leaves, disappearing into the crowd. When you check to see who he was looking at, you notice Megumi coming your way.
“Megs.” You breathe, relieved.
“Hey.” Is all he says before he wraps an arm around your shoulders. The gesture is so familiar and comforting that you immediately slump against him.
“I have to tell you something.” You say.
“What, that you kissed Yuuji?” Megumi chuckles, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow.
“It was a dare.”
His tone changes, compassionate but stern. “But you know it’s not that simple.”
A sigh leaves your lips. “I know.”
“You’re lucky Yuuji is nice. He’ll play it off if it goes nowhere.”
“I’ll fix it.” You say.
Megumi pulls back, feeling how you’re gradually leaning more and more onto him. He looks around and grabs you a glass of water. You drink it without complaints. He then takes the glass and refills it, urging you to drink even more water.
“You didn’t break anything.” He says.
You huff. “Not yet.”
“Are you planning to?” He asks.
It makes you halt mid-sip, and when you’ve swallowed you give him a serious look. “Of course not.”
“Well then,” Megumi shrugs. “The glass is half full.”
You glance at the water you’re holding, then back to him. “You’re an idiot.”
“An idiot who cares about you.” He sighs. “I’m leaving soon, are you good for the night?”
“You always leave so early!” You pout, but Megumi doesn’t look like he’s changing his mind. “Ugh okay, I’m gonna keep drinking water. Thanks for the save.” You tell him.
Megumi leaves shortly after. He’s right, you should take it easy for the night. And you had wanted to self-destruct because of the anxiety, he could probably see it on your face and that’s why he came to check on you. Probably also because he saw his cousin bothering you, but that’s another story.
You’re halfway through refilling your water when Gojo appears at your side like he’s always been there. No footsteps, no warning, just an annoying six-foot-something apparition with a grin that’s already looking like trouble.
He leans down, voice low and sing-song. “So…” He sips his drink loudly. “Kissing Yuuji, huh?”
You sigh, closing your eyes for one blessed second. “I knew you’d say something.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he beams, “I’m saying everything tonight.”
He props an elbow on the counter, chin in his hand, staring at you like you’re the most interesting channel on TV. “Didn’t know you were that bold. Or that into party games. Or that into—”
“Gojo.”
“—Yuuji specifically.” He finishes anyway, delighted with himself.
You glare at him, but he doesn’t flinch. If anything, his eyes sparkle brighter.
You lower your voice. “It was just a dare.” And you realize then that you keep using that excuse. Do you not have anything else to say about the situation? Or do you not dare to?
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” He waves a hand lazily. “A dare. Totally. But the chemistry? Don’t play dumb with me. I have elite senses.” He taps his temple dramatically. “Captain instincts.”
“Captain delusion.” You mutter.
“Oh, ouch.” He clutches his heart. “Right where I’m already sensitive.”
“Are you?” You ask, skeptical.
For a moment, just a moment, something honest flickers over his expression, softening his edges. “Only when it comes to my team,” he says, tone shifting so fast you almost miss it. “And the people orbiting it.”
Your breath catches, not sure what to make of that.
But then the grin returns like he never dropped it. “And also because I watched Sukuna short-circuit from across the room.” He beams. “Best entertainment I’ve had all night.”
Your face heats. “It wasn’t about him.”
“Oh, babe.” Gojo laughs quietly. “Everything’s about him. It always is.”
You don’t know how to respond to that, and he sees it. He nudges your shoulder gently, not teasing now, but almost reassuring.
“You don’t have to defend yourself to anyone,” he says. “Not me, not him. You’re allowed to have fun.” Then, lighter again, he adds: “And if you ever feel like kissing someone taller, hotter, and undeniably more fashionable…” He flicks invisible dust off his shirt. “My application is always open.”
You shove him in the arm. He pretends to stumble like you’ve punched him with superhuman strength, laughing. “Okay, okay,” he concedes. “Message received. For now.”
You manage to spot his dilated pupils over the rim of his sunglasses and you take a small step towards him, remembering his earlier gesture. “You got any more… you know.”
He knows. And the timing is godsent, because he was just about to find a private spot to sniff his keys. That’s why he invited you with his earlier gesture. Satoru only nods.
“Can I have some? Megumi made sure I’m stuck drinking water for the night, so…”
“And you listen to him? How unusually well behaved.”
Omg the new fic 🤤🤤🤤 tell me mooooore/// now what would happen if in a fit of jealous rage reader decided to cheat “back” on Satoru? Imagine he walks in on them with someone else and it’s all because they’re so paranoid and sure he’s cheating on them they wanted him to hurt as bad as they’re hurt. Does he forgive it? Or is he cuck enough that he even apologises for making them go to such lengths because of him.
Because I hope he does.
to anyone curious this is in reference to this fic, Love you so Bad.
this gojo is actually a bit of a romantic so i don't think he'd be okay with it, even in a kinky sense. he's toxic and ofc self-centered and an asshole, but he justifies everything bc he knows he's not cheating on you. again,,, toxic as fuck. it's like the whole "oh but i would never ACTUALLY do it" argument people use sometimes
i think that might be the tipping point for him to go yandere, but i also think, again, he's a romantic. he genuinely believes in your love, and all the more because of the fucked up things you do.
unfortunately that does probably mean like... a lot of emotional blackmail. i think that with you going to such extremes he might be forced to reveal the truth of his job to you, and possibly setting you up to get terrorized by curses here and there for him to rescue you from.
afterwards he's probably on the track of like, "testing" your love, because gojo definitely doesn't think cheating is okay, and that's part of why he's letting you suspect he's cheating (because you should be outraged by it, if you really love him).
possibly hints at leaving you, but now you not only know what curses are but you've been attacked by them, and you know they're invisible and you have no way of fighting... just like. really lets you stew in the terror and desperation.
he's deeply bitter and hurt that you would do this to him. maybe you can get some leeway if you genuinely believed he was cheating but he's still going to want a lot of affection, will probably keep you locked in his penthouse, and derives his own emotional satisfaction from terrorizing you by getting curses nearby.
he guilts you a lot, too. makes it very clear you hurt him really badly and he was just trying to protect you by keeping you in the dark. to gojo, love means being willing to suffer, so if you really love him, you should be willing to suffer through anything in order to keep him after this.
i can imagine him also pushing your sexual relationship in different directions. specifically seeking things you're not comfortable with, scared of, etc., and guilting you into doing them,,, LISTEN IT'S A TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, IT'S ON THE TIN. your suffering is the point! you made him suffer, so if you love him, you'll suffer in return!
as the person he saw you with... well, you never see them again. after gojo shows you sorcery, you aren't willing to ask.
⟡ Summary: Your transfer to a new university was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to prove yourself as figure skating’s rising star. Instead, you find yourself colliding with the campus’ most untouchable circle: the hockey team. Their captain is Gojo Satoru, dazzling, ruthless, and impossible to ignore. What begins as sharp words and cold stares soon twists into a game of power and obsession, where every glance is a challenge, every move a gamble. The team can’t decide whether they want to tear you down or pull you closer, and you can’t afford to lose- on the ice, or in their dangerous orbit.
⟡ Tags: f!reader, 18+, college AU, alternate universe, modern AU, figure skater reader, jjk characters are hockey players, psychological drama, toxic jjk characters, multiple x reader, mind games, romance, smut, eventual smut, friendship/love, love/hate, Gojo has a god complex, mental health issues, alcohol use, drug use, overall it's messy tbh, English is not my first language
⟡ Word Count: 8,2K
⟡ A/N: Finally a smut chapter Xx
The stairs creak beneath Gojo’s weight, then under yours. The music dulls with every step up, until it’s nothing but a distant thrum. Some people noticed the two of you leaving together, and you think about the consequences. For a moment you zone out, following Gojo without thinking.
“Quieter up here.” Gojo says over his shoulder, voice easy like this was always the plan.
The hallway smells faintly of cologne and old wood. Doors line the walls, some cracked open, others shut tight like secrets. Gojo stops at the end of the hall, fishing a key from his pocket before pushing into his room. It’s dim inside. A desk lamp casts a warm, low glow across rumpled sheets, hockey gear shoved into a corner, a window cracked open to let the night air in. Why do guys insist on opening a window even when it’s basically winter at this point? It’s a pretty big room, similar to the space you have to yourself in the dorms. The fact that Satoru has both this and shares a room with Suguru is becoming more idiotic the longer you think about it.
“Make yourself comfortable.” He says, fishing the drugs out of his pocket and throwing the plastic baggie down on the coffee table in front of his couch.
You hover for a second before stepping in, the door clicking shut behind you. The silence presses in, not awkward, just intent. Being alone with Gojo always feels like a gamble, unpredictable but exciting.
Gojo moves with practiced ease, sitting himself down on the couch. There’s a small mirror on the coffee table like it’s nothing special. “Long night,” he says lightly. “Figured we could… recalibrate.”
Somehow you like the way he uses ‘we.’ But before you can reply, there’s a knock. The door opens and Suguru leans in, eyebrow lifting the moment he sees you. Gojo makes a gesture with his hand, and Getou takes it as a cue to step in and close the door behind him.
“Knew I’d find you up here.” Suguru says to his best friend.
Gojo laughs shortly, already busy with lining up the coke. “You always do.”
Suguru’s gaze flicks between you and Gojo with quiet amusement. He’s caught between feeling guilty about interrupting or seeing this as an opportunity to help Gojo achieve his goal. But then he decides he isn’t going to bother pretending he didn’t clock the shift in the room the moment he walked in.
You sit down on a comfortable chair close to the coffee table. Not next to Satoru, and Suguru notices. The hockey player decides to join the two of you for a bit since he can see Satoru is already prepping a line for him too.
“All yours.” Satoru tells him when he’s done. He hands a rolled up banknote to his friend and Suguru takes it without a word. Getou snorts the coke in one smooth movement, and Satoru copies him afterwards. Your fingers briefly brush his when you take the banknote from his hands. Getou stands up from the couch, making his way over to a mirror leaning against the wall to check his hair. Satoru pushes the small mirror over to you and you snort the coke off the reflective surface. It dulls your senses immediately, making you feel weightless for a moment. It sobers you up, yet pushes you to a floating sensation of lightheadedness.
“You’ve got another talent,” Suguru says mildly and looks over to you. “For picking favorites.”
You glance at him, and you feel how Gojo takes the banknote from your hand. The captain goes back to preparing some more lines. “Do I?” You ask.
“Mhm.” Getou’s gaze lingers, sharp but curious. “It’s funny though, because you never let anyone know they are.”
Gojo hums from his place on the couch, clearly entertained by Suguru stirring up some possible trouble. “That’s because there isn’t one.”
Suguru smiles, low and knowing as he turns back towards the two of you. “Sure there is. She just likes stirring up some trouble first. Worked well tonight.”
“That’s a reach.” You scoff, shifting your weight out of nervousness.
“Is it?” Suguru steps closer, close enough now that you can smell his cologne. It’s something dark and understated. “Because from where I’m standing, everyone’s tripping over themselves trying to read you.”
You meet his eyes, unflinching. “Maybe they should stop projecting.”
It earns you a soft laugh from Getou. “See? That’s what I mean?”
Gojo watches the exchange with open interest, chin tipped up, eyes bright. He’s stopped shaping the lines. He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t need to. There’s something about seeing his best friend rile you up that gets him going. It’s making him feel fidgety, but good.
Suguru’s attention stays on you. “You know Satoru hates guessing,” he says casually. “Drives him insane.”
“Does it?” You ask, tilting your head slightly and glancing over to Gojo for a heartbeat before returning your gaze to Getou’s.
Gojo chuckles. “I survive.”
Suguru ignores him, stepping even closer, gaze dipping briefly to your mouth before lifting again. He’s towering over you now and you feel the need to stand up and reclaim your power, but somehow you stay still. Getou bends down to see eye to eye.
“You like that, though. Watching people scramble.” He says.
Your pulse kicks up, but you don’t look away. “And what if I do?”
Something shifts. You don’t notice, but Gojo watches in awe. The adrenaline coursing through his veins from seeing his best friend flirt with you is something he never expected. He lets it play out. Suguru’s expression softens, not amused now, but intent. He lifts a hand, not touching but softly tipping your jaw back with a finger like he’s testing the air between you. Somehow, you let him. There’s only the sound of your own breathing, and the presence of Satoru is so palpable that it adds to the tension and dip in your gut that Suguru’s dark eyes cause you to feel.
“Then you should be careful. Some of us don’t mind getting burned.”
For half a second, you think he might kiss you. The look in his eyes hides no secrets, you’re already laid out on Gojo’s bed in Suguru’s mind. You lean in without fully meaning to, breath mingling, the moment taut and electric. It’s so easy to stop caring about the consequences of your own actions when you feel so good. Maybe you should do another line with them. Gojo lets out a quiet, delighted sound. Not annoyed, not threatened. Interested.
“Well,” Satoru says lowly, “this is getting good.”
And the spell breaks just like that. Suguru exhales, stepping back with a crooked smile, hands lifting in surrender. “Relax. Just making conversation.” His eyes flick to Gojo. “Looks like she’s got you right where she wants you.”
Gojo grins wider. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Suguru takes it as his sign to leave. He sniffs the other small line of coke Gojo prepared for him and walks away. Suguru opens the door, pausing on the threshold. “Try not to start a war without me.”
“Out.” Gojo sighs and waves him away.
Then he’s gone. The room instantly feels smaller with the shut of the door. Gojo exhales, rolling his shoulders, then finally looks at you, really looks at you. Eyes bright, unreadable, softened at the edges.
“Sorry about him. He worries.” Gojo says.
You almost laugh. Almost. Instead, you meet his gaze. “I know he does.”
A shiver runs down your spine and goosebumps make their way down your skin. The chilly breeze of that damn open window suddenly reaches all the way to your bones. You hug yourself, hands moving up and down your arms to generate some heat.
“Cold?” He asks, too casually.
“I’m fine.”
He hums, distracted. Gojo snorts another line and stands up to walk over to the window anyways. He closes it with a thump. He makes a gesture as if to say “help yourself” when you look at him. The banknote lies on the coffee table, and you see it’s worth a hundred dollars when you roll it into a tube. You bend down and sniff, the coke enters your system with ease. The fact that Satoru casually carries that kind of cash around makes you wonder just how much money he has. And you remember the offer he made after kissing you in the bathroom at that former party. It’s tempting now that the situation has changed. Are you truly ready to let go of your pride like that? Is it smart? Sukuna apparently deals, so he must have a lot of money as well. Maybe you could ask him for some if it really has to come down to it. But is that even safe? It sounds stupid the more you think about it, but you don’t have time for a job on the side because of your practice schedule.
“You always end up in guys’ rooms at parties like this?” Satoru’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
You blink. “What?”
Gojo finally turns around and looks at you again. There’s a sharpness there now, buried beneath his easy smile. “Just wondering.”
It puts you on edge. “Why?”
He shrugs, leaning back against a desk. “No reason. Just… feels familiar.”
“Familiar how?” The thorniness of your tone is unmistakable. Does he mean when you went to the after in his dorm, or is he trying to talk about Sukuna and you? You cross your arms. If he wants to bring up Sukuna right now, you won’t back down. If Satoru wants a fight he can get it.
Gojo watches you carefully. Too carefully. Like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do with it.
“You’ve got a type.” He smiles. “Guys who don’t play fair.”
“That’s not what this is.” You say a little too fast, and the air shifts.
Gojo’s smile twitches. “Didn’t say it was.”
Silence falls, lasting longer than the last. You suddenly notice something you hadn’t before. A black hoodie tossed over the back of his desk chair, reminding you of the vice captain. It’s not Sukuna’s, but it looks like the one he usually wears. It’s close enough. Broad shoulders, dark, careless. It shouldn’t mean anything, but it does. Gojo notices where your gaze lands. His jaw tightens.
“You thinking about him?” He asks, tone a little colder than before.
Your chest tightens, and you shift in your spot. Hands fidget, smooth over your skirt in anxiety. “Why are you bringing him up?”
“Because he’s everywhere tonight.” Gojo says. “Even when he’s not here, apparently."
“That’s not my fault.”
“I know.” He replies quickly, defensively. “I’m not saying it is.”
But he is. At least a little.
You get to your feet and walk around the couch to face him, irritation creeping in like it always seems to do when you talk to each other for too long. He keeps leaning back against the desk, stupid smile on his face. There’s just a few steps of space between you now, and you cross your arms as you hold his gaze.
“Then what are you saying, Satoru?”
For a moment, something honest flashes across his face. Insecurity, frustration, maybe even jealousy, but the mention of his name was the trigger. It’s gone before you can identify it.
“I’m saying,” He starts carefully, a sigh escaping his mouth, “that I don’t like feeling like I’m stepping into something that’s already… happened.”
“You invited me up here. If you’re uncomfortable, say that.”
“I’m not uncomfortable.” He replies, and his smile returns. Sharp and defensive like always.
“Then stop testing me.” You spit back. “If you wanna slutshame me, do it to my face. I don’t have time for whatever this is.”
He doesn’t say anything. Those bright eyes flit between yours, he’s contemplating, deciding. It takes too long for your liking, and his casual demeanor makes your fury flare up. The need to hurt, to stab back, to make him clench his jaw overwhelms you with him pushing your buttons like this. Satoru always talks too much, however you’re starting to see that receiving nothing but silence from him might be worse than that. You hope he sees how disgusted you are with him, how your anger leads and that his stupid handsome face isn’t going to work in his favor. Not this time.
“Thought so.” You scoff, and turn around to leave his room.
But Gojo doesn’t let you, he takes a few strides and catches your wrist in his hand. He’s not about to let you get away with this. Not because you’re constantly running your pretty little mouth and getting on his nerves, but because he’s starting to hate this game between you and him. Or maybe it’s you, or Sukuna, or the complicated things he’s feeling. He hates that everything revolving around you is always something unpredictable. That’s also why Gojo doesn’t expect how you jerk your hand away from him, and the sting on his cheek that follows.
Satoru blinks, glaring at the ground before looking back at you again. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, and both hands cover your mouth in shock. It’s the most genuine look he’s ever seen on you. He doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean. It’s complicated.
The sound still rings. His cheek is already flushing red. Your hands twitch, not being able to decide whether to reach out to him or to shield yourself from a possible incoming answer. “Satoru I’m– are you? Oh my god, I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to– I don’t know why I–”
“Are you okay?”
The question is so wrong that it almost knocks the breath out of you. He’s not kidding. Gojo is genuinely asking you this. The first wave of shock passes, emotions doing something complicated, twisting and turning. Something sharp makes its way to the surface, like you’re a wounded animal driven into a corner. Lashing out is all you know.
“Don’t.” It comes out sharp and brittle at the same time.
“I’m serious.”
That makes it worse. You try to take a step back, but he closes the distance in a heartbeat. Satoru is standing right in front of you now, and his presence nails you to the ground. The atmosphere has changed.
“Like I’m gonna believe that.” You scoff.
His jaw tightens. “I’m not kidding.”
“Congratulations.” You fire back. “You finally stopped performing.”
For a split second, something flashes across his face. The white hot anger you know he possesses, different from Sukuna’s but just as strong. You realize you’re ruining your chance at an honest conversation with him, but you can’t get yourself to calm down.
He stays silent. Gojo just watches you, eyes cold and detached now. He’ll get the answer out of you, he knows he will. The outcome has already been predicted by him. Satoru can tell by the way your shoulders tense, how your breath stutters in your chest and the fact that you don’t dare to look away from him. He can see you’re all over the place tonight. So he doesn’t relent, doesn’t step away to make you more comfortable. He’s almost there, he can feel it. Gojo just keeps staring, as if it will force the answer out of you. There’s a hint of fear in your eyes and he has to stop himself from celebrating too early. You’re hovering on the edge.
“You wouldn’t get it.” You mutter, quieter now. Eyes flit to the door for a second, but quickly return to him as if it felt wrong.
“Try me.”
“Why?” You frown, anger flaring up hot and ugly once more. “So you can dissect it? Make a joke out of it?”
He snaps. “Just fucking tell me, (Y/n).”
The loudness of his voice makes you flinch, and you have to close your eyes for a second. It’s scary to look back at him once you open them again. Why bother to hide it from him anymore? He can use it, the bastard already dug around in your past too. Why give him that power?
“It’s a money thing.”
“...That’s it?” He says flatly, staring at you.
“Don’t say it like that.” Defensive heat rising within you.
“I’m not.” He replies immediately. “I’m just– is that why you’ve been like that all night?”
“Like what?”
Gojo groans out of frustration. “Forget it.”
“You don’t know anything about my life, Gojo.” You hiss, and you see how the way you say his name angers him.
A mocking laugh escapes him. “Well, I’m fucking trying to. Can’t you see that’s what I’m doing here?”
“You don’t understand.” You cut in. “You’ve never had to. You don’t have to worry about losing everything because someone decided you weren’t worth the investment anymore.”
“You think money makes me untouchable? You think I don’t know what it's like to be kept around only because I’m useful?”
“Please, you could burn this place down and they’d still worship you. Not to mention that it wouldn’t even matter if you did, because you still have another fucking room to sleep in. Spoiled asshole.”
Gojo laughs sharply. “God, you don’t know shit! If you ever took the time to stop playing around you’d know that I share a dorm with Suguru because he’s fucking depressed and he needs to be around people. You’re so fucking judgemental, Sukuna is a great fit for you, actually.”
The words slice. Reality dawns on you, and it hurts. It makes sense, he’s right. He’s telling you something vulnerable now, but the words slip out before you can stop them.
“Sukuna?” You say, voice low and eyebrows raised as a challenge. “Is that what this is about?”
“And you’re standing here acting shocked that it all caught up to you. You can’t even handle it.”
“I don’t belong to anyone.” You whisper. “Is that what you think?”
“You tell me.” He fires back. “Because whenever I try to meet you halfway, you turn it into a game.”
“You’re the one who treats everything like a game.”
“And you’re the one who keeps playing.” Satoru says, voice low.
You’re so close now you can feel his breath when he exhales, sharp and controlled like he’s holding something back. And his fingers twitch at his side. Impulses flood his brain, push you away or tear you apart? He wants to pull you close and throw you out of his room at the same time. It’s too much, too confusing. Despite everything, what angers him the most is that he still thinks you’re pretty.
“That is exactly why I shouldn’t be here.” A huff escapes your lips. “You don’t care. You just want to win.”
He shakes his head, jaw tight. “I asked if you were okay, and you treated it like an insult.”
“Because it was.”
“Why?”
“Because if I answer honestly,” you start, voice barely holding, “you’ll see me.”
He shifts even closer. “And that scares you?”
“No. That bores you.”
Gojo stares at you like he wants to argue again. You can see it in his eyes, a darker blue now because of the dimmed lights, but vivid nonetheless. Then his gaze drops to your lips before it flicks up again. There’s something different about him now, clear and decisive.
“Say that again.” He pleads quietly.
You don’t. Instead, you lean forward to capture his lips with yours. The kiss is all teeth and frustration, mouths colliding like neither of you planned it but neither of you can stop. His hand comes up fast, gripping your wrist, then your waist, grounding you like he’s afraid you’ll bolt even now. When he pulls back, breath uneven and eyes hazy, he touches his forehead with yours. Those hands keep gripping, pawing at you where he can. And you let him.
“Don’t do that.” He mutters. “Don’t run away and make me the villain because it’s easier.”
“Then stop caring.” You whisper.
“That’s not how this works.” He breathes and his grip tightens before he kisses you again. It’s slower this time, deliberate, like he’s choosing this fight instead of walking away. The heat is still there, like he’s angry at himself for wanting this. Gojo presses himself against you with need, and you have to take a few steps back until your back hits a wall and you can no longer escape from him. It’s like he’s daring you to pull away. You shove at his chest to test him, to see if he’ll give ground. He doesn’t. Satoru breaks the kiss instead by pushing you against the wall by your shoulder and moving away. He keeps you in place, breathing heavily as the other hand squeezes your waist in a way that reminds you of last time.
“Careful.” He murmurs against your mouth. “You keep pushing like that and you’re going to pretend you didn’t mean it later.”
“You think I don’t?”
His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up. Sharp, assessing. Satoru realizes he can’t stop thinking about kissing you, about stripping you and doing everything he’s been fantasizing about for the last weeks. He’s been pent up since that time he snuck into your changing room.
“I think,” he starts quietly, “you like control as long as you don’t have to admit you want it.”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me.” You snap again, even as your hand curls into his shirt, betraying you.
“Well you don’t get to act like you’re not standing here knowing exactly what this is.”
The fingers on your waist slide lower, until he reaches the hem of your skirt and dips underneath. It’s slow, intentional, and gives you every opportunity to refuse. However, nothing else leaves you but a small sigh at the back of your throat when he grabs a handful of your ass. You can feel every inch of his body pressed against yours, your heart races wildly, pulse everywhere.
“Tell me to stop, and I will.”
You hate that he gives you the option. That he’s that kind of guy. And you hate it even more that you don’t take it. Disgust for who he is and everything that he embodies is not enough to drown out the way his body calls for yours. The way you feel like begging to be touched even more by him. It’s ugly, doesn’t suit you, but you know he’s won. Gojo has seduced you up until this point, not the other way around. Not completely. He leans in, forehead brushing yours, breath warm and uneven. The closeness is unbearable. You can feel the tension in him like a coiled wire, held back, controlled with effort.
“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” He continues quietly. “You push people until they either break or prove they won’t.”
“And which one are you?” You whisper against his lips, a small smirk dancing on yours now that you’ve accepted the situation. You’ll never admit it, but you like how talkative he gets when he’s all worked up for you. Grabbing and grinding and running his pretty mouth.
“Undecided.” He smirks back, grip tightening just a fraction.
Then he kisses you again, harder this time. Not frantic, but claiming. Your fingers tangle in his hair and he hums into the kiss. That shameless side of him comes out without question. He moves his other hand down as well, pulling you against him by your waist. He bites your lip, moving away and then denying you when you lean back in to continue. Gojo loves to see the desperate side of you, panting with glossy eyes. But most importantly, you're only focused on him.
“This is a mistake.” You whisper.
“Yeah.” He smirks against your lips. “That’s why you’re still here.”
“Gojo.” You warn.
“What,” he challenges softly. “Say it.”
You don’t. You can’t. There’s no pulling away now, no backing out. And you tell him to lock the door. Gojo never lets people tell him what to do, but he finds himself moving quicker than ever before. When he turns back, he sees you’ve taken a seat on the bed. (E/c) eyes beckon him to come, to close the distance.
He’s on you immediately, pushing you down. “You don’t get to disappear after this. Not tonight.” Satoru whispers.
“And you don’t get to decide what this means.” You reply, already making room for him by opening your legs.
The words earn a breathy laugh from him, and he wastes no time before diving in to kiss your neck. His hands work their way down your body, kneading your breasts, caressing your sides. He’s everywhere, the feeling overwhelming but oh so tempting to lose yourself in. Another exhilarating thrill runs through your body when you feel his long fingers slip under your skirt again. They trace their way up, fiddle with the hem of your panties and hook over the sides before pulling them down. It hits you again that this is really happening, that you’re really letting him. You move and he pulls back so that he can slide them off your legs. Gojo pushes you further up the bed, and he sits up. He looks down at you as he holds your thighs, arrogant and rubbing it in your face that you’ve given in to him. With a flick of his fingers your skirt is flipped up, exposing you to him. And he looks down before locking eyes with you again.
“So pretty.” He smirks, voice low and velvety.
There is no way that you can reply to him. All you’re able to do is stare up, anticipate what his next move may be. It’s amazing and unbearable at the same time. Gojo’s smirk seems to widen the longer your silence lasts. Before you can get it together, he’s already planting kisses on your calf, then lower to your thigh. All the way down until he shifts to his knees on the bed and pushes your legs apart by the back of your thighs.
There’s no warning, you shut your eyes the moment you feel his breath on your core and the warmth of his tongue against your pussy. The sudden sensation makes you jolt, and you feel him exhale in a quiet laugh. He starts slow with long deliberate strokes, starting from your slit to where you’re most sensitive. You throw your head back into the pillow, bucking your hips yet trying to stay quiet. There’s no way you’re going to give him the satisfaction of moaning when he’s barely gotten started. Maybe the waves of pleasure his skilled tongue sends through your system are proof of how much you want it. Want him. Gojo readjusts his grip on your thighs, pushing himself further against you. You’re getting wetter by the second, and it’s almost too much when you feel him softly moan against your core. He ups his pace, getting impatient or either just more into it. His tongue darts through your folds, making obscene sounds. You let out small sighs, not being able to hold them in anymore. It spurs him on. Satoru wants nothing more than to hear you beg for him, moan for him. He wants you all to himself.
He suddenly pulls back and you snap your eyes open, a whine daring to leave the back of your throat. But then he spits on your pussy, shameless and filthy. He dives back in and closes his lips around your clit before he sucks, hard. It has you arching off the bed, body jolting in pleasure. A loud moan escapes you and you quickly cover your mouth with one of your hands. The sound muffles as you do so. Gojo doesn’t seem to agree with your actions, a sound rumbles in his chest. Something between frustration and want. Then he pulls back again, sitting up as he breathes heavily. Your chest heaves, it’s all too much to have him this close. To allow him to see you like this.
Satoru moves your thigh further to the side for better access like it’s his to play with. Then he decides to remove his shirt. The garment is off in one quick movement and you’re left staring at his muscles. He gloats. Gojo leans down to cup your face, and the affectionate movement makes you want to curl into his touch. He swipes his thumb across your bottom lip and you open your mouth for him as if you were reading his mind. You swirl your tongue about the digit, sucking on it like you know he wants to see. And you do the same when he removes his thumb and replaces it with his middle and pointer finger, lubricating them for what’s to come.
“Always so fucking talkative.” He says, distracted. “Not now, huh?”
It earns him a sound from the back of your throat, and Gojo pushes his fingers down as a response until you gag around them. Your hand latches onto his forearm, the other tries to anchor itself in the sheets. He pulls his fingers back to let you catch your breath. You then feel his thumb swipe over your clit in lazy circles, the other fingers prodding and sliding along your slit, coating themselves in your wetness.
A slack grin forms on his features. “You enjoying yourself, baby?”
“Shut up.” You manage to breathe out.
“No?” He questions with a raised brow. Then he presses his thumb down and you squirm beneath him, trying to fight the noises threatening to escape you. His fingers still haven’t entered you, and the teasing is driving you insane.
“You’re always so loud. Thought you’d live up to that…”
“Just get it over with– fuck–” You’re cut off when he slips his fingers inside. They curl and twist at the right spots, leaving you no mercy nor time to breathe. And he leans down again when you close your eyes, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look back at him again.
“You were saying?” He chuckles, but doesn’t wait for your response. Satoru kisses you again, slower, more passionately. He muffles your moans with his mouth, satisfied that he can feel the effect he has on you this way. You can taste yourself on his tongue. All you can do is grab at him, hold on to him. But Gojo does things in his own way, and he kisses down your body all while he’s still fingering you like no one ever has before.
The moment you feel him suck on your clit again, you’re gone. There’s no point hiding your moans anymore, not when he’s pushing all the right buttons and making you see stars. It doesn’t take long for him to tip you over the edge, sucking and licking and working you through your orgasm. You hate how easy it was for him. Hate how he can make you whine and sigh and how it fogs up your mind. Gojo pulls his fingers out with a slick noise. He sucks them clean and moves on to the next part immediately, pulling at the hem of your top.
“Off.” He commands.
You comply and hurry to pull it over your head. When you’re able to look at him again, you see that he’s slipped out of his pants. He’s already poking through his underwear, and you don’t waste a moment before moving up and cupping his length through his boxers. A groan slips past his lips at your sudden touch. But he lets you palm him and work him up while he rests a hand on the back of your neck and kisses you again. His other hand toys with one of your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers.
Gojo can’t get enough of it, of you. He’s envisioned this moment time and time again, but now that it’s happening he realizes his imagination can’t live up to the real deal. Satoru usually likes it when girls are needy and show him how much they want him. But it’s different with you. This is a side you don’t show anyone. In your daily life and on the ice, you’re untouchable and nobody bends you to their will. Except for now. So he lets you hear how much he appreciates it when you slide your hand down his boxers and grab his length. He’s slick and leaking precum, and your pace is relentless around him. Shit, he’s shown you a side of him that others don’t get to see often as well. That bratty version of him he usually camouflages. He likes how you’re tugging at him, making him feel good without him having to take from you. But Gojo feels that it’s too quick, too intense. So he pushes you back down, removes your hand from his boxers and slides them off.
You take your time to look at his dick. Long and veiny, flushed and ready for you. Gojo slides his dick through your folds with an agonizingly slow pace. The tip catches at your clit a few times, making you sigh and moan. The way you bite your lip makes him want to drag the moment out forever.
“Satoru…” You breathe.
“Hmh, what is it, baby?” He moans, eyes transfixed on your glistening pussy.
“Come on.” You urge him on. The coil in your stomach is wound too tight. You need him to fuck you, need him inside of you. It’s overwhelming with the way he’s looking at you, like you’re all he ever dreamed of and he’s never experienced anything better. When his eyes finally snap over to yours, he lazily smirks again. He ruts himself against you at a slow pace, making you believe he’s going to fuck you every time he pulls his hips back and he catches at your entrance.
“You know what to do.” He says.
A frustrated whine leaves you, and you buck your hips against him in the hope that it will give you some more friction. “Don’t make me say it.” You reply.
Satoru takes his dick in his hand and jerks it a few times before softly tapping it against your clit. “All you gotta do is play along, babe.” He chuckles dryly, a distracted look swims around in his eyes. “I know you want to. You’ve been good f’me before.”
“Please don’t.”
“Almost baby.” Gojo breathes, thrusting up in his fist upon seeing your pathetic state. This is what he wanted, what he’s been aiming for. You, compliant underneath him, begging, perhaps crying.
“Please.” You cry out again, wriggling your hips, hands trying to reach for him. It’s humiliating, overwhelming, but you don’t care anymore. You just want him.
He leans forward, bracing his hand on the mattress next to your head. Gojo pushes his tip past your folds, moaning as he looks down to where the two of you will join together. It drags a pitiful sound out of you, but you relax your limbs to welcome the feeling of him stretching you open. But it doesn’t come. Gojo pulls back again. Sweat beads his forehead, he’s struggling to keep it together, to prolong the game. He’s dedicated to it, and he will get what he wants. Satoru always gets what he wants. The look in his eyes tells you exactly what he expects of you. And for once in your life, you’re ready to give it to him.
“Please, baby.” You whine. The word sits sinfully wrong, yet blooms a heat in your chest you didn’t know you craved.
He immediately slides in upon hearing you, forehead resting against yours until he bottoms out. It knocks the breath out of you. Satoru moans loudly. He steadies himself with a hand on your waist. You’re so wet and ready for him that there’s no sting or burn, just the blissful sensation of being full. Gojo grinds his hips into yours, trying to go even deeper, be even closer.
What follows is rough but deliberate, deep thrusts that set a steady pace. Gojo loses himself in the feeling of you. In the heat of your skin against his, the way you clench around him when he fucks you at a certain angle, in the sounds that he knows he’s going to savor. He can’t stop moving his hands until he’s explored every inch of your body, he’s babbling praises and sweet nothings against your neck in between kisses. All you can do is moan, hold on to him for dear life, press your nails into the skin of his back. The sound of skin against skin drowns out the dull bass of the party that’s still going on downstairs.
“Shit, baby. You feel so good.” Satoru moans. He pulls back from where he was biting your neck to sit back and look at you. He hooks your knees over his shoulders and yanks your hips against his. The angle hits you even deeper, and you throw your head back in pleasure. He’s talking so much, too much. But it’s a struggle to find it in yourself to bite back, surrendering to him is just so easy. He’ll take care of you. You trust that. But it’s not who you are, you can’t lose to him yet.
“T-That all you got?” You manage to get out, challenging him.
Gojo bites back a laugh. He folds you in half as his answer and starts pounding into you. The bed creaks, the headboard slams against the wall, and you can’t contain the sounds you’re making anymore. All you can do is lay back and take every inch of him. The pale strands of his hair stick to his forehead. He’s moaning loudly, putting on a show and letting you see just how much he likes fucking you. When you catch his gaze you see how fucked out he is, completely under your spell even though he’s in control right now. A smirk curls at the end of his lips when he sees you staring.
“He fuck you like this?” He pants.
A pathetic sound escapes you before you can answer him. You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes, you can barely believe he’s bringing Sukuna up right now. Gojo isn’t hard to read at moments like this. Claiming earlier how you’re the one returning to the topic of the vice captain while it’s clear that Satoru can’t get the image of you together with his teammate out of his head. Even now it’s a competition between them.
“Nah.” You laugh. “I– ah, I fucked him.”
“Oh, fuck baby.” It seems that thought turns him on even more.
“Think you can last longer than him?”
Gojo slows his pace and gives you a knowing look. He hums, returns his hand to your jaw and kisses you leisurely. The captain moans against your mouth when he can’t help but fuck into you again, torn between letting you show him what you mean and continuing what he’s doing. He’s just completely hooked on the way your perfect pussy clenches around him.
You make the decision for him. Whereas you braced yourself against his chest before, you now daringly slide a hand to his neck. You trace his pulse, thumb brushing against his adam’s apple. A sigh at the back of his throat betrays how much he likes it. Satoru pulls out and grinds himself against you a few more times before leaning back and letting you move. He’s on his back before he knows it, steadying a hand on your hip and resting the other one behind his head. You slip your skirt off that was bunched around your waist all this time. And Gojo stares in awe when you climb on top of him. You’re perfect in his eyes. Perfect. So much better than he imagined. He doesn’t really register it, but you say something along the lines of him “having to behave,” and god does it feel like an easy task when you lower yourself down on him. You take him with such ease. And he sees your usual confidence return to the surface. It isn’t infuriating now. It’s just hot.
You roll your hips to test the waters. He’s enjoying this way too much, you can see that. There’s nothing that will satisfy you more than seeing him come undone underneath you. Gojo tries to guide your hips a bit, but doesn’t overstep it. He’s biting his lip, eyes glued to where the two of you are connected. When you raise yourself and almost let him slip out, you feel his fingers tighten on your hip. But you don’t continue, of course you don’t. Instead, you rock back and forth on his tip. Sometimes you slide down, taking him all the way unexpectedly before resuming your teasing pace again. Because that’s what it is, teasing but satisfying him at the same time. This always drives guys wild. They never know whether they want you to continue or if they’re gonna have to stop quickly before they bust. And Gojo is all the same, fingers gripping your hip tightly, flushed chest heaving.
“Fuck, oh fuck baby. You take me so well, shit.” There isn’t anything coherent leaving his mouth, he knows that. Satoru doesn’t care though, this is the best thing he’s ever experienced. But he feels the way his hips tempt to buck up, wanting to fill you up over and over again. He glances up, and your gaze pins him down.
“Is it too much for you, big boy?”
The sly lilt to your voice almost makes his eyes roll to the back of his skull. He scoffs out something between a laugh and a moan. Gojo is about to reply, but you sink down all the way so deliciously he can’t help but grip your waist even tighter. His other hand has joined there now, and you can feel the suggestion of him pounding up into you similarly to how Sukuna snapped when you rode him. But then his clutch relaxes, hands caress your thighs as if appreciating you. Satoru makes an effort to sit up, but you push him down immediately and continue riding his dick. He’s left with no choice but to undergo the building pleasure within him. The hand you put on his chest to push him down stays there, and you dig your fingernails into his chest. Another moan escapes him. Who knew Gojo Satoru is such a fucking slut?
“S’good babe.” All he can do is mutter praise in the hope that you’ll continue.
“Gonna cum?” You shoot back.
He doesn’t know how to read it. A challenge, or a command? Satoru can’t think straight, the drag of your tight cunt over his pulsing cock is too much. Are you even on birth control? You must be, he convinces himself. It’s a little late to be thinking about that now. He wants to cum. He wants it so bad. Gojo can feel the tension rise in his abs, he clenches his eyes shut.
“That’s too bad.” You pout and still your movements completely.
“No, no, no. Wait…” He frowns, eyes hazy and begging. But it’s too late, the feeling fades and he can't tip himself over the edge.
“I thought you were gonna last longer.”
“I will. I can.” The words come out too quickly, too miserable. He’s practically begging at this point. But Gojo has always been shameless, it’s not something he cares about. All he wants is for you to move your hips again. To feel you clench around him, flutter and gush. He wants you to cum on his dick. Needs it.
So he tries to focus on something else. The gloss of your lips, the shiny glow of your hair. How your lashes flutter, how you’re out of breath and the way he can see you’re trying your best to keep it together as well. It gets harder for him to distract himself when you start rolling your hips harder, skin clapping against each other. Your tits bounce along with the movement.
God, is it hard to stay composed. He needs to get a grip, regain control somehow before you make him bust. Satoru squeezes your ass with both hands, guiding your movements. Then, he suddenly brings one of his hands down with a harsh smack. You yelp, surprised but it doesn’t stop your movements. Better yet, he sees the way you bite your lip and how your eyes gloss over. And he takes the opportunity, the crack in your armor to flip the two of you around. He moves you into the position he wants, pushing you down on your belly and putting a pillow underneath your hips.
You nearly scream out when he enters you again. Pace fast and relentless, and he’s hitting spots you didn’t think possible. Gojo fucks you hard, bracing himself on his arms, muscles flexing and straining. He moves your hair away from your neck and blows cold air onto your back. The sensation makes you shiver, whine and beg for more. He ups the pace.
“Satoru! Fuck, please!” You cry out. Hands fisting the sheets, trying to find something to hold on to. All of the sudden you’re cumming hard on his dick, the feeling overwhelming you. You sob into the sheets, taking every thrust he gives you.
Gojo feels you clench around him. It’s so god damn tight he can’t believe it. He lands a final smack on your ass before he pulls out. He jerks himself off until he’s shooting ropes of cum onto your lower back. He swears a muscle in his leg spasms. Then there’s just the sound of two people catching their breath, the high coming down. The realization setting in. Both of you collapsing. Gojo grabs something from his nightstand, and you see it’s a blunt. You watch it glow red when he lights it, the smoke curling. He then offers it to you.
–
You wake slowly, consciousness surfacing in pieces. Sheets first. Soft. Too soft. They smell like something clean and expensive and unmistakably not yours. Then residual warmth, like someone was here not too long ago. Your eyes open. A white ceiling. Morning light spilling through half-drawn blinds. A room that’s too quiet, too controlled. You don’t recognize it immediately, and then it hits you all at once.
Gojo.
Fragments come rushing back without warning. The argument. The coke. Suguru. The slap. His low voice, sharp, unguarded. The kiss that wasn’t supposed to happen. The way everything blurred afterward, not because you blacked out, but because you stopped resisting. Smoke curling lazily through the room. The joint passed between your fingers, between his lips. Laughter that felt quieter than it should have. His shoulder warm beneath your cheek when you finally agreed to stay over. You remember falling asleep tangled together, your legs hooked with his without either of you acknowledging it. You remember thinking, hazily, stupidly, that this felt dangerous in a way you didn’t want to name.
When you sit up fully, the other side of the bed is cold and empty. Your chest tightens, irritation flaring before you can stop it. Of course he’s gone. Of course he wouldn’t be here when you wake up. Then you see the note. It’s folded neatly on the nightstand, placed with deliberate care. Not tossed. Not hidden. Right beside your phone. You pick it up.
Had to take care of something.
Don’t disappear.
Buy yourself a coffee.
- S
You snort softly, equal parts offended and almost fond. Typical. Cryptic. Annoyingly casual. Like last night didn’t happen the way it did. But then you notice the next thing. The cash. At first you think you’re seeing things. Your brain stutters, recalibrates. It’s a thick stack. Rubber-banded and way too much to be accidental. You pull it closer and you feel your pulse pounding through your skull. There’s an attempt to count and the idea of the final number scares you.
Five thousand dollars.
Your breath stutters. The room suddenly feels smaller. Claustrophobic. The intimacy you woke up wrapped in curdles into something sharp and ugly. Coffee. There’s a laugh, but it comes out wrong and hollow. Your first instinct is anger, hot and immediate. Like he reached into your chest and pressed exactly where it hurts most. Like he took last night, that rare, raw thing you let yourself have, and translated it into something simpler. Cleaner. Safer, for him. Telling you not to disappear but then leaving you with this? What kind of fucked up mind game is that? What kind of person does that?
You put the stack of money back on the nightstand as if it burns. He wouldn’t– No, he would. It’s what he is. Just careless in the way people with too much power often are. Your phone buzzes faintly in your hand as the weight of it all settles in. It’s a message from Megumi, but you can’t find it in yourself to look at it now. You think about the way Gojo asked if you were okay. And you think about what it means that this is how he chose to leave you. Not with regret, or an apology. But with something you didn’t ask for and can’t afford to misunderstand. However, when you leave, the nightstand is empty.
Yeah, BratTamer Gojo is good, but! BratEnabler Gojo?😩😩 that’s the good stuff
thank youuuuu he's soooo fun!! you have to encourage the behavior you want to see and gojo loves a needy, demanding, pissy brat of a girlfriend! he's never felt more loved than when you're crying, screaming, yelling, slapping his face and pulling his hair...
sure, he could shut you down. he could reassure you and be honest and make you feel better. but why do that when getting smacked around and watching you throw a fit over how much you love him feels so much more good?
and i always remember that interview with gege about gojo not having any hobbies because he's naturally good at everything, and it's not rewarding to just... be good at everything.
human interaction is one of the handful of things gojo isn't perfect at and i just know he loves a challenge. something that doesn't come easy, something he has to work at. being able to play with you, gauge your reactions, and change his behavior to get what he wants... he's AWFUL and god i love him so much <3
