VICKIE. NINETEEN. SHE/HER. UNI STUDENT. âËâčâĄ
writing blog! major fandoms are love & deepspace, jjk, and resident evil. i post and interact with nsfw content. mdni⊠or else i will appear under your bed at 3am.
NAVIGATION. writing and smau requests are open! ââË.â
RULES â§ MASTERLISTS â§ AO3 â§ SMAUS â§ SPIDEY CALEB SERIES â§ NSFW TAG (filter as needed!)
rich boy/nerd!gojo college au (currently at 17k)
ex bf hockey player!toji fic (currently at 4.4k)
fake dating guitarist!choso (currently at 1.6k)
husband/dilf!caleb
dadâs best friend!leon kennedy
art by ndsoda, thatsallitchief, taeics, aerosarrow, and kakashismain_ on twt
just a little psa that you never have to fear being âtoo weirdâ in my inbox because this is literally what i am listening to as i read your request â€ïž to be cringe is to be free
BREAKING NEWS: girl spends two years in undergrad pursuing a degree she isnât 100% confident in, only to realize that she doesnât wanna do that shit for the rest of her life
When are you posting part 2 of rich boy/nerd!gojo college au ??
i donât believe i ever said i was going to for sure post a part 2, i only have some rough ideas at the moment đ i loved writing them as a couple but iâm not sure where to go with them from there
one of my ideas was that reader is forced to marry sukuna anyway and she and gojo reunite at their class reunion, which is a little tooooo angsty for me so iâm back to the drawing board đ«°
so many people have asked for a part 2 but i genuinely donât know what to do with them !! any ideas would be appreciated
i rlly donât want to be annoying n allat butt⊠updates on spidey caleb??đđ
i am replying to all of these at once since theyâre related to the same topic!!
thank you all for your messages, iâm sorry iâve been super inactive and let these sit for a while :(
i have made a good amount of progress in chapter 5, however i am very busy at the moment as my uni semester comes to an end! even after the semester ends, i have soooo much coming up. in about 1-2 weeks, i should have the time to finish it :)
iâm sorry i never update ugh i genuinely feel like a bum đđđ
"Please...you can take one more, can't you?" Xavier litters soft kisses on your trembling thighs, while you blink away the spots in your eyes, your previous orgasm just barely fading away.
Youâd lost count after the fourth.
The worst, or rather best, part was that he was incredible. Youâd cum so many times youâre sure you wonât be able to walk tomorrow. Even if you could, the hickeys you sport along your neck and collarbones make looking professional nearly impossible.
But god, your boyfriend was just insatiable.
"Xavier I-I can't..." Your grip on his soft hair is tight, and when you tug him away just slightly he whimpers at the feeling.
Slick coats your inner thighs, but it doesnât stay there long. Xavierâs eyes nearly roll back as his tongue cleans it up, teeth scraping the thin skin and making you whine.
The sensation of his warm tongue, so so close to your aching pussy, is enough to make need stir in your stomach once more.
âI-fuck-I really canât handle your tongue anymoreâŠâ Your back arches, seeking out his warmth as he moves up your body. Lithe fingers grip your thighs, and suddenly youâre nearly folding in half as his bare cock grinds against your sensitive folds.
and a sneak peek for the fic about dead husband!nanami who comes back to life â€ïž it makes me cry whenever i write it so this is a slow process â€ïž i just miss my husband and need to grieve â€ïž
summary: a fortune, the student council presidency, and a future already negotiated for youâcomplete with a ryomen engagement ring after you graduate from university. youâve got it all⊠but is that really what you want? an unexpected friendship with gojo satoru makes the answer far less certain.
warnings: (18+) smut, porn with plot, fluff, light angst, college au, academic rivals/annoyances to lovers, oral (fem. receiving), p in v, criminally down bad!gojo, mentions of frat parties, alcohol consumption, marriages of convenience, family troubles, and overall rich people problems âąïž, the university they go to is heavily implied to be aristocratic, brief sukuna x reader but she doesnât fw him, anatomy & physiology facts that are probably incorrect but we shall ignore that for the sake of the plot
word count: 16.9k
art by bimyo_n!
Rumor has it that everything began the moment winter break ended.
You extended the handle of your suitcase and walked toward the foyer, where you were sure your mother was already waiting. By the time you rounded the corner, she was already unlocking the front door and pulling it open.
As if it couldnât be any more obvious that she was eager for you to leave the house and return to university.
If you had to guess, the end of each break between semesters was her favorite time of year.Â
Well, that and her birthdayâbecause your father had made a habit of buying her a new handbag each season, and if there was anything she loved more than a mansion to herself, it was a mansion to herself full of designer purses.
âThe car is waiting for you,â she said simply, her tone lacking the warmth of a mother wishing her daughter farewell.Â
You hardly noticed its absence. You hadnât felt it in years, anyway. Youâd be luckyâor unlucky, you werenât quite sureâif she hugged you goodbye.
Just as you opened your mouth to reply, you noticed the furrow in her brow. Wordlessly, she pressed her hand between your shoulder blades to correct your posture. âHow is it that youâve somehow managed to develop a slouch? Your father and I didnât pay for you to go to charm school for nothing to come of it.â
Your jaw tightened, the familiar urge to shrug her hand away flared, but you didnât let it show in your voice. âAnd where is he? He couldnât take an early lunch to come home and see me off?â
She released a breath that sounded more like a laugh than a scoff. âWhy would he? Youâre going to be back in two months for dinner with the Ryomen family. Heâll see you then.â
This time, your bitterness did reach your voice. âOh. Right. That.â
Your suitcase was plucked from your side by the family driver and you watched as he loaded it into the trunk.
âYes. That.â Your mother tugged at your skirt, as if that would make it any longer.Â
She looked at you sharply. Her message was clear, even though it remained wordless: donât show up wearing something like this the next time we see you.
After all, appearances were important. You had learned that from an early age.
By the time you were ten, your eyebrows were already being plucked biweekly. Sometimes, thrice in one month, should your mother notice a hair out of place. At eleven, you learned what pore strips were, why they were used, and what people would say about you if you didnât. Once you were fourteen, styling your hair came as easily as walking on two feet.
But the Ryomen family didnât care about that as much as your mother did.Â
What they truly cared about was securing a fortune that would create generational wealth. They cared about fostering a bond with your parents that would lead to a prosperous business relationship. They only cared about you because you were the businessâan investment that they expected to mature on schedule. Well, you and Sukuna, their son, whom you have practically been betrothed to since you were six years old.
Graduation was approaching, and you would bet your life that this dinner was a gimmickâone for both sets of parents to nudge you two closer together. Not that they cared whether you truly got along. Aligning the Ryomen fortune with your family name would make your combined estate as good as gold. They likely just wanted to ensure that the eventual marriage (business deal) would be lifelong.
Which is to say, they wanted to drill it into your head that filing for divorce was not an option once everything was said and done. How sweet of them.
You couldnât worry about that now, though. You were already running late, and you needed to get back to campus and unpack. Classes start tomorrow morning, and you would hate to be seen with bags under your eyesâand your mother would certainly hate to hear about it from the monumental amount of staff at Mikage Academy, who seemed intent on notifying her of nearly every step you took over the past few years.
âWell, I should be going,â you mutteredâmore to yourself than to herâbecause you werenât even confident she was listening anymore.
Your suspicions were confirmed when she muttered a final âdonât forget about the dinnerâ before shutting the door behind you. She didnât follow you out. Didnât hug you goodbye either.
Once you were inside the vehicleâheadphones on, with music blaring loud enough to drown out any chance at forming a coherent thoughtâyou relaxed your shoulders and slouched, because there was no one here to pester you about it.
At least that was something you could be thankful for.
â
The student council election was rapidly approaching, and that was just about all you were allowed to think about.
You knelt on the ground with a paintbrush in your hand, carefully mapping out the words Vote Y/N for Student Council President! :) on the posterboard.
The headphones in your ears were turned up a bit too high, because you hadnât even noticed that your best friend, Utahime, had entered the empty workroom until she accidentally kicked over the can of red paint you had been using. You gasped as it splattered all over the poster, leaning back on the heels of your feet to ensure, at the very least, that it didnât get on your clothes.
âUtahime!â
âIâm sorry!â she said quickly, tilting the can upright again.Â
The damage had already been done, though. She knelt beside you and carefully folded up the poster, tossing it into a nearby bin. Wiping her hands against each other, her eyes landed on you.Â
âLet the record show that I didnât mean to do that and am guilty of all crimes regardless,â she paused, then smiled at you. âYou know, you donât really need to campaign. No one has run against you in, whatâ three years?â
You frowned as you wiped your thumb over the dot of paint on your skirt. It was small enough that an untrained eye wouldnât notice. âI know that, but you can never be too sure.â
âActually, you can be,â she retorted, but retrieved a fresh posterboard for you anyway. âThe only way you lose this election is if a meteor penetrates Earthâs orbit and targets Mikage specifically, and in that case, we would all be dead anyway.â
You raised a brow as you dipped a fresh paintbrush into the can. âIn that case, I should campaign to make sure that everyone died with an intent to vote for me.â
Utahime laughed with a shake of her head but didnât push it any further. âI should run a smear campaign against you in the schoolâs newspaper. Maybe then, your effort wonât be for naught.â She paused. âSpeaking ofâ have you read the newspaper lately?â
You were stopped dead in your tracks. If Utahime had managed to read the entirety of the universityâs boring-to-death newspaper and felt it was important enough to bring up to you, you couldnât help but feel uneasy. âYeah? Not this weekâs issue, though. Why?â
âOf course you read it regularly,â she mumbled with a smile before fishing her phone out of her backpack. âThereâs a new column for blind items. About the students. Can you believe that this shit actually made the final cut? Itâs awesome.â
You invaded her personal space to look at her phone screen. âNo way. What are they saying?â
Utahime laughed. âJust read it for yourself. I had to change my outfit because I read them this morning while brushing my teeth and laughed so hard, I toothpaste-bombed my own shirt.â
Reading the blind items to yourself, you canât help but stifle your laugh that comes before the unease settles in. Someone had written these based on what they had observed, and despite how harmless they seemed now, the concept of that person walking among you was something that left a pit in your stomach.
A certain basketball player was seen coming back to his dorm room around 4 a.m. with multiple shades of lipstick on his neck.
A male who lives on floor three in the Newbrooke dormitory has been shitting in the showers for two weeks straight.
A sorority girl tossed the entirety of her roommateâs makeup collection out the window and blamed it on someone else, resulting in their expulsion from the sorority.
A notorious rich boy blew his semesterâs allowance on a new sports car.
You skimmed the rest and ensured that none of them could be about you before you handed Utahime her phone back. âIâm sure we all know who number four is about.â
She shrugged but nodded anyway. âRight? I mean, Gojo revs his engine like itâs nobodyâs business all the time.â She looked down at her phone. âI wonder whoâs shitting in the showers, though.â
âMaybe that oneâs about Gojo, too,â you quipped, too quickly to hide the bite in your voice.
You regretted how much you sounded like your mother then, and how easily it had come out.Â
Your familyâs disdain for the Gojo family stemmed long before you were born. Hell, before your parents were even born. The details of it all were up for interpretation at this pointânobody talked about it, and you never dared to askâbut to your understanding, Gojoâs great-great-great-grandfather had screwed over yoursâsomehow, some wayâand this was what had come of it. You would be reluctant to believe it. After all, there were quite a few tools in your own family, and you liked to believe you were nothing like them.
But the asshat that was Satoru Gojo lived up to his reputation, as far as youâd learned. That was enough for you to write him off.Â
Not to mention, he was the only student here at Mikage who posed a threat to you. He was academically gifted and never let you forget it; most things came easier to him than they did you, and you hated him for it.Â
Well, that and the time he spilled beer all over your shoes at a frat party freshman year. He probably didnât even remember it had happened, but you did, because some other dipshit had been recording the entire ordeal and posted it online.
The earful youâd gotten from your parents that day was enough for you to stay away from him entirely.
All the while, Utahime raised her eyebrow with a grin. âOh, wow. Youâd better hope he didnât hear that, or else you just lost a vote.â
â
All things considered, you were having a good day.
Even though your hair is still slightly damp from the rain and the perfume you put on only two hours ago has nearly worn off, youâre pretty confident that youâve just aced your first Anatomy & Physiology test.Â
Every other person in the lecture hall is already relaxed, scrolling on their phones while they wait for your professor to hand back the graded examsâbecause all things considered, itâs only worth three percent of your total grade after all calculations. And yes, you have done the calculations (twice!), because heaven forbid you be uninformed about anything relating to your academics.
You glance at your watch nervously. You hope this class is released on time, because attending it was only the second thing youâve checked off your mile-long to-do list for the day.Â
You have a student council meeting at 2 p.m., a meeting with Professor Yaga at 3:15 p.m. about an upcoming scholarship opportunity, and a study date with Sukuna at 4 p.m.âwhere he doesnât do much of anything at all aside from scrolling through red pill looksmaxxer Instagram reels for two hours.
A test is lazily tossed back onto your desk, and you pick it up immediately.
Itâs a 98%. An A.
You smile to yourself, but it doesnât last very long. It falters the moment you feel a presence looming over your shoulderâone that carries the scent of expensive cologne. Itâs light and masculine, and reminds you of summer, for whatever reason. You may have complimented it if the presence hadnât beaten you to speaking.
âOnly a ninety-eight? Poor thing. Didnât sleep well or something?â
Suddenly, your compliment dries up, because youâd know that voice anywhere. Satoru fucking Gojo.
You snap your head around so fast it nearly spins off your spine. âStay away from me and get a life,â you say through gritted teeth, but snatch his test from his hands despite yourself.
And there, in the top corner, written in pen, is a 100%. From what you can tell from all the talking heâs doing right nowâwhich you arenât listening to a lickâheâs pretty intent on rubbing it in your face.
He clicks his tongue and places his hand on the back of your seat, using it for leverage as he leans over you a bit more. âSee? You got number thirteen wrong. You said the fluid inside body cells is extracellular fluid. Ouch.â He pats the back of your seat, as if itâs any consolation. âYou know, Iâm free Thursday afternoons. I could tutor you, and once the exam comes around, that frown will be turned right-side upââ
You stand abruptly and hand his test back to him, your wrist so rigid it may as well cut through ice. âOh, Iâm so good off that. Iâd rather gouge my eyes out with an ice pick.â
Satoru tilts his head, his grin so smug it makes you sick. âWell, suit yourself. Speaking ofâpretty sure ice picks are usually on clearance this time of year. Yâknow, with it being spring and all.â
A single glance around the room tells you nearly everyone else has already left, and that itâs painfully obvious you and Satoru are the only ones who stayed behind to talk. Youâd rather not be spotted with him again. You donât bother hiding your eye roll as you zip up your backpack and walk away, crumpled test in tow.
âHey, where are you going? What about our riveting conversation?â he calls after you, and you can practically hear his grin when he speaks. âIt was a funny joke!â
The door slams shut behind you.
â
You canât stand Sukunaâno matter how hard you try.
âCan you at least turn that down?â
Sukuna grumbled under his breath before slumping even lower into the seat he dwarfed in size, but he lowered the volume of his Instagram reels just enough to pacify you. âWhatâs it matter, anyway? Thereâs nobody here.â
You huffed and tried not to take it personally, as the single person currently sitting beside him. âIt matters to me because, unlike some people, I actually care about my grades. Very shocking, I know.â
It might be shocking to mostâwhich youâd understand, because it even shocks you on most daysâbut Sukuna is one of the few people in your life who understands you.
Because at the end of the day, Sukuna doesnât see you. He doesnât want to. He doesnât have to. But after everything, he knows you better than most. He knows about the things you donât say out loud. He knows how much you hate going home, because he hates it just as much. He knows that none of this truly matters, because your parents have had your futures lined up for over a decade, and none of your hard work plays a factor in that.
Where the two of you differ is this: you still seem to be under the assumption that hard work might relieve you of your fate, but Sukuna has long since adopted a different worldview. He thinks that if everything is going to work out in the endâa nice house, a somewhat decent spouse, a few kids in the far futureâthen whatâs the point in trying in the meantime?
âJeez, woman. I was just asking. It that time of the month or somethinâ?â
You scoffed, but didnât dignify him with a reply.
You donât know what this is exactlyâwhatever you and Sukuna are. You arenât dating. You have kissed a few timesâexperimental and primarily drunk kisses shared at parties that never amounted to anything, because, well⊠you just donât like each other. You arenât sure if youâre even friends, or if youâd want to be.
At most, youâre familial acquaintances, which is the polite way of saying that he is supposed to be your husband one day, if your parents have anything to say about it.
âI just need to focus. Yaga said I have a good chance at landing the internship, but that doesnât mean I should start slacking off now.â
âWhat internship?â
You blinked.
âThe internship I applied for three months ago?â
Sukuna blinked.
âThe one I passed three rounds of interviews for?â
You scoffed. âFor fuckâs sake, Sukuna, itâs just about the only thing Iâve been talking about for months!â
He held his hands up in a placating gesture. âOkay, okay, okay. Jeez. The only thing Iâm noticing right now is that Iâm not the only one being loud in the library anymore.â
A swarm of harsh replies flooded your mind, but you tamped them downâbecause you were 99% percent sure Sukuna was far too dim-witted to grasp whatever insult you could chuck his way anyway.
âWhatever. I need to get going.â You packed up your belongings and stood, taking a step in the opposite direction before he caught your arm. You glared back at him. âWhat?â
âAre you mad at me or somethinâ? Whatâd I say?â
Once again, you didnât give him a reply and walked away.
Sukuna leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest with a shake of his head. âWomen.â
Once in the hallway, you approached the vending machine. You could use a pick-me-up, even if it were in the form of junk food. Just as you were within a few feet of it, an infuriating man with white hair slid in front of you. Satoru was quick to slide a dollar into the machine and punch in whatever he wanted.
âOhâsorry, did you want something?â he asked over his shoulder, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips.
You were fed up with men today. No, scratch that. You were more than fed up with men today. You rolled your eyes and began to walk away, and maybe Satoru had a change of heart, or maybe he realized that your fallen expression didnât just have to do with running into him.
âHey, noâ come back, Iâm serious,â he called after you. He reached into his pocket and slid another dollar into the machine. âWhat do you want?â
You turned around, eyeing him closely. âI donât need your dollar, Gojo.â
Unfazed by your tone, he laughed. It was boyish and carefree in a way that surprised you. âI know you donât,â he said simply. âWay to make me feel nice about my good deed, though. I didnât know a single dollar could move you so much.â You narrowed your eyes at him, and he tilted his head toward the machine in response. âCâmon. Pick something.â
And because you just couldnât catch a break today, your stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. You placed a hand over your abdomen immediately, your face nearly losing its color.
ââŠGummy bears,â you finally managed to choke out. âPlease.â
Satoru smiled and punched in the corresponding code for a bag of Haribo Gummy Bears. âDecent choice for a starving woman. Not sweet enough for my taste, but decent.â
You huffed out a breath, watching him retrieve both of your chosen snacks. âSour Patch Kids? Really?â
He handed you the gummy bears before nodding once. âYup. Really.â He paused, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. âI thought youâd like them. I mean, youâd definitely fit in with them.â
âFit in with who?â
Satoru tore the bag open and popped one into his mouth. âThe Sour Patch Kids. Yâknowâwith this whole mean-girl-who-hates-me getup youâve got going on. Really sour of you.â
Your eyebrows pinched together. âThatâs so stupid.â
âYeah, but you almost smiled. Saw it with my own eyes,â he chirped back, chewing on the candy. You smoothed your expression, and he shook his head. âNo, no, noâ donât hide it now. Thatâs just unfair. I paid a dollar for that smile.â
Your face tightened, because now you really were fighting the urge to smile, damn it. âWhatever,â you snapped as you started to walk awayâthen stopped, your expression tightening even more. âI mean⊠thank you. For the gummy bears.â You said one last thing before turning your back on him. âAnd donât think this means I like you now, because I donât.â
Satoru just smiled. âYeah, of course, wouldnât dream of it.â
â
Your phone vibrated late into the night.
If it were any other day, you wouldâve been fast asleep by now. Youâd been strict about your sleep schedule ever since you accidentally discoveredâat twelve years old, six hours into a late-night 3 a.m. deep diveâthat not sleeping enough can result in the brain eating itself.Â
But even the fear of having a peanut-sized brain by the time you were forty hadnât been enough to lull you to sleep tonight, which was how you found yourself watching ASMR cat spa day videos at 1 a.m.
You groaned when you glanced at the top of your screen and saw who dared to interrupt your doomscrolling.
sukuna: hey
sukuna: i can see u reading my texts.
sukuna: stop being mad at me and listen
sukuna: theres a party tomorrow night and i think you should come
sukuna: and before u get all âi need to focus and stay in and be boring all the timeâ on me just listen
sukuna: u should take time away from your hw and relax
You nearly smiled. This mightâve been the nicest thing Sukuna had ever said to you.
sukuna: plus i wanna go and it looks bad if we arent there together. people talk.
Never mind.
you: iâll think about it
sukuna: cool. be ready by 9
you: i never said i was going???
â
Spoiler alert: you wound up coming to the party.
The air is stale and smells of vape smoke and alcohol. The frat house is far too crowded, and from where youâre standing in the kitchen, everyone looks like a pack of sardines wiggling around to a 2010s pop song that no one has quite caught the rhythm for yet. And yet, for all of your complaining, youâre still hereâlooking your best, at that.
You werenât as much of a bore as Sukuna made you out to be, but you could admit that you didnât party nearly as much as you had when you first started at Mikage. The passing of time makes you more responsible, or whatever the poets sayâyou canât remember, and youâre honestly a little tipsy already, truth be told.
Suddenly, Shoko nudges your side with her elbow. âHey, party girl. You gonna stand in here all night, or do you plan on joining us at some point?â
âI didnât even see you there,â you say through a laugh, waving a hand through the air to dissipate some of the vape smoke Toji blows only a few feet away. âYeah, Iâm coming.â
You follow her through the crowd, only managing to bump into a few people along the way while clutching your Solo cup tight to your chest. Itâs warmer now that youâre enveloped in this sea of bodies; your cheeks feel hot, but you pay no mind to it. Youâre not sure how long it takes before you and Shoko reunite with Utahime and Nobara, the four of you forming a little circle for yourselvesâsomething that looks conspiratorial from the outside, but feels like a haven on the inside.
âTook you long enough,â Nobara says by way of greeting. She glances down at your cup. âWhatâd you find in the kitchen?â
âI donât even know what the hell this is. I just grabbed whatever was unopened and poured it into a cup with ice. Iâm hoping itâll water down,â you reply with a shrug.
Nobara scoffs. âToji never stocks shit for these partiesâdeadass, this is the worst frat. I donât even know why we come here.â
Shoko laughs, though you can barely hear it over the music. âWe come here because girls get in free at the door. I mean, if Iâm gonna get shitfaced and regret my decisions tomorrow morning, I sure as hell donât wanna pay for it.â
Utahime taps Shokoâs cup. âYeah, speaking of getting shitfacedâyouâre drinking water once you finish that. I canât carry you back to your dorm. The last time I tried, I basically dragged you there.â
Shoko groans but doesnât fight it. All of a sudden, the three of them lock eyes on something directly behind you, and their expressions fall.
Utahimeâs face goes white as she places her hands on your shoulders. âGirl, donât turn around. Iâm so serious.â
âWhat are you talking about?â Your brows knit together, even as youâre already turning.
And when you see it, your eyes widen.
Sukuna is making out with some girl in the center of the room, and while the sight doesnât make you sick, it does make you nervous. In the span of three seconds, a million thoughts rush through your mind.
Youâre granted a glimpse into your future: a future where you marry a man who invites you to a party just to make out with another girl right in front of you. A future where you never feel secure enough to let your guard down, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. A future where you die even more miserable than you feel right now.
Not because youâre jealous. No, you couldnât care less what the hell he does. Itâs the principle that bothers you.
If you were expected to keep up appearances and make time to âbondâ with him out of your already packed schedule, why was he allowed to do whatever he pleased?
You hope no one else is paying as much attention to him as you are, because the last thing you need is both of your parents finding out and breathing down your neck, trying to put Sukuna on a leash.
âJust classless,â Shoko hums.
You turn back around, laughing. âHeâs a mess. I donât know what the hell my parents are thinking.â
Nobara sighs. âYou should run away and join the circus or something. Theyâll never find you.â
You laugh to yourself, knowing theyâre only trying to make you feel better. But the impending doom of your upcoming graduation feels worse than ever now. You feel suffocatedâlike the air is too warm to breatheâso you mumble out a half-assed excuse before slipping through the crowd and out onto the balcony.
Itâs cold outside. Refreshing against your skin.
The party has spilled out onto the front lawn, and the sight is so ridiculous it brings you an odd sense of comfort. Choso wobbles on two unsteady legs with Nanami perched on his shoulders, currently tryingâand failingâto fish toilet paper out of a tree. Two seconds later, they go tumbling over together, face-planting into the grass.
âThatâs gotta hurt.â
You gasp, wrenching away from the edge of the balcony to look behind you.
And there he stood.
Satoru fucking Gojo.
Only now, he looks different. More casual. Relaxed, right down to the smoothed wrinkle between his eyebrows and the clothes heâs wearing now. Youâve never seen him in anything but collared dress shirts and black slacks, courtesy of Mikage Academyâs suffocating dress code.
He takes a step closer. Then another. Soon heâs beside you, forearms resting on the railing. His shirt stretches across his frame, and your eyes traitorously trace the curve of his bicep. The sharp line of his jaw. The slope of his nose.
You tear your gaze away before it gets embarrassing. Has he always looked like that?
Clearing your throat, you mirror his posture. âHi.â
âHey,â he replies easily. He glances at you, then back out at the lawn. âNice party. Solid DJ choice.â
You huff. âSmall talk? Really?â
Satoru shrugs. âI figured I should ease into it. You donât exactly look like youâre in the mood for my usual charm.â
âYou mean being insufferable?â
âWow,â he says. âI was more so going for memorable.â
Your eyes meet. Youâre the first to look away.
âSorry,â you mutter. âI donât really know how to talk to you when Iâm not irritated with you and your stupid gloating.â You pause, then lift a finger. âAnd before you say anythingâI aced the quiz yesterday. So if you came out here to rub it in, save it.â
âOh no,â Satoru deadpans. âMy entire planâ ruined right before my eyes.â
You glance at him. Heâs smiling, but itâs softer than usual.Â
âNo,â he continues, dropping his head slightly. âThatâs not why I came out here.â
Your brows pinch together. âNo?â
âNope. I needed air. And maybe a tetanus shot after sitting on that couch, âcause that thingâs disgusting.â
You laugh despite yourself.
âAnd,â he adds casually, âI saw you come out here.â
You turn toward him. Somehow, his eyes look brighter at night. âIs that your official reason?â
âMostly,â he says. âWhat can I say? Iâm curious.â
âAbout?â
âAbout why you look like youâd rather be anywhere else than at a party like this.â
You hesitate. âItâs⊠complicated, I guess.â
âAh,â Satoru nods.Â
You scoff, easily reading between the lines. âIt has nothing to do with Sukuna. Wellâ okay, maybe a little. But not like that.â
He tilts his head. âYou sure? Because from where Iâm standing, it kinda looked like your boyfriend might have a lot to do with it.â
âEw. No,â you say quickly. âHeâs not my boyfriend.â
Something shifts in Satoruâs expression. âGood to know.â
You blink. âWhy?â
He shrugs. âJust is.â
You roll your eyes, but continue anyway, words spilling easier now. âIf my parents have their way, heâll probably be more than my boyfriend someday.â You grimace. âWhich is terrifying, because heâs about as smart as a box of rocks, and I canât be around him for more than ten minutes without wanting to bang my head against the wall.â
Satoru lets out a low whistle. âDamn. Here I thought I was harsh.â
Panic flickers through you when he doesnât say anything else right away.
âI know it sounds stupid,â you rush on. âThere are people whoâd kill to have something lined up like that, and here I am complaining. My mom married my dad for business reasons and theyâre⊠fine. I think.â You run a hand over your hair. âBut I donât want that. I donât want to be married right after graduation. I donât even know if I want to get married at all.â
Satoru doesnât interrupt, but when he does speak, his voice is quieter. âThat doesnât sound stupid. In a place like this,â he gestures toward campus, âeverythingâs a transaction. Degrees, connections, last names.â He scoffs lightly. âMy parents wonât shut up about networking. Meanwhile, the best relationship Iâve built here is with the lady who gives me extra french toast in the dining hall.â
You laugh, clearly surprised. Not only because the french toast sucks, but because you wouldnât expect something like that from him. It should make you feel less impressed with him, but for some reason, it doesnât.
âIâm serious,â he adds. âPeace isnât exactly encouraged around here. If anything, youâre expected to trade for it.â
âAnd you?â you ask before you can stop yourself. âYou donât seem all that worried about it, for someone who comes from a family like yours.â
Satoru shrugs again, but this time itâs different. Less flippant. âGuess I just decided a while ago that Iâd rather disappoint my parents than disappoint myself.â
The quiet that follows is heavier than the music inside. You can hear the hollers and shuffling feet just inside, but it fades away just as quickly as it came.
âYou make it sound easy,â you say.
He smiles. âHey, I never said it was. Itâs just easier than the alternative, is all.â
You nod because it feels appropriate, and you arenât sure what else you should do. Talking with him is surprisingly easy, but that doesnât mean youâre supposed to be doing it. That you should be doing it. Even now, you wish you could resonate with Satoruâs ideology, because all you can think about is how much your parents would hate this.
âMy parents would hate this,â you blurt out, accidentally saying your thoughts aloud.
You look at him, embarrassed and doing your best to hide it. It feels strange, knowing just how much youâre supposed to hate talking to him yourself, but donât.
He rubs the back of his neck. âThis conversation?â
You try not to stare at his bicep, flexing right in your face.
âYeah,â you admit. âMy parents hate your family. Always have.â
âMine arenât exactly fans of yours either.â Satoru laughs, tilting his head slightly. The feeling was mutualâhe couldnât take much offense at it. Still, he asks, âDo you feel that way too?â
âWhat do you mean?â
He turns to look at you, his expression almost serious. âDo you hate me?â
You huff. âI donât even understand the reasoning all that much. I just know that the animosity exists, and that Iâm expected to respect itâ and I guess I have, for the most part.â
âThat isnât what I asked,â he replies simply. âDo you hate me? On your own terms?â He pauses then, and if you didnât know any better, youâd think he looked a tad nervous. âIâm sure Iâve given you enough of a reason to. More than one, Iâd bet.â He glances away. âThe first time we ever spoke, I spilled beer all over your shoes. I shouldnât have been holding it anywayâ I hate beer.â
âI knew you remembered!â you yell, pointing a finger at him. âIâve been holding that grudge against you for years now.â
âWhat? Of course I remember. I apologized immediately,â he says quickly. âPretty sure I almost got on my knees and everything.â
You click your tongue and shake your head. âThe damage was already done.â
The conversation stills for a moment, and you choke over your words before managing a more serious reply.Â
âFor as obnoxious as you are, I donât hate you. No. I donât even know you well enough to hate you if I wanted to.â
âAlright, Iâll take it.â Satoru smiles to himself. âI think youâd form a better opinion of me if you let me get to know you. Youâre a tough nut to crack, you knowâ been tryinâ for years.â
You stare at him, and he doesnât cower in response. Not that he typically would, but you half-expected him to.
âIâm serious,â he says instead. âWe should be friends.â
Your laugh comes out sharp. âAbsolutely not. My parents would be livid. Beyond livid, actuallyâtheyâd probably murder me. And I mean, a true crime podcasterâs wet dream type of murder. No joke.â
âWell, if thatâs the case, I think we should definitely be friends,â he says through his laughter. âIâve always wanted to be in a documentary. Confessionals and all. A face like this is made for the cameras.â
âYouâre such a jerk,â you scoff, nudging his side, barely able to fight off your smile.
âMm-hmm. A big jerk that youâre still talking to,â he replies. âIf I didnât know any better, Iâd think you wanted to be my friend too.â
You donât reply, which might have just been an answer in and of itself.
For the first time throughout this entire conversation, Satoru turns his body to face you properly. His head tilts down enough to accommodate the height difference between you.
âI think this might be the first argument youâve ever let me win,â he grins.
You narrow your eyes. âThis isnât a win. Itâs more like⊠a draw. A tie.â
âSure. A draw, a tie. Potato, potahto. Whatever.â He extends his hand toward you. âSo. Friends?â
You take it and shake it. âYes. Friends.â
He smiles. âSee? Easy peasy lemon squeezy.â
When your hands fall apart, Satoruâs hand stills at his sideâfingers flexingâbefore he grasps the railing. You straighten, stepping back from it yourself. The night air suddenly feels too thin, as if there isnât enough of it for the two of you to breathe anymore. More anxiety than anything else.
âI should probably go,â you murmur. âItâs late.â
And youâve been talking for quite some time now, which only means itâs a matter of time before someone notices and writes a blind item in that stupid newspaper column.
âRight,â he replies. âNeed someone to walk you home?â
You shake your head. âI think Iâll manage.â
Satoru nods, his smile slow as it turns up at the corners. âAlright. Sleep tight, donât let the bed bugs bite.â
âNight,â you reply weakly before reemerging into the party.
You reunite with your friends, who seem even more over the night than you are. The four of you walk back to your dormitory together.
â
You royally fucked up this time.
To no surprise, you won the student council election with flying colors. No one had the ballsâorâŠclit? You donât discriminateâto run against you throughout the election cycle.
With some surprise, however, you decided to celebrate your victory with the other board members, taking way too many shots from a bottle that was emptied far too quickly.
On a fucking Tuesday.
You mentally kicked yourselfâand you wouldâve done the same physically if you werenât on the verge of blacking out.
Vision splotchy, you glanced around the dorm, only to find that everyone was already passed out cold. You couldnât stay hereâyou had a meeting bright and early!
And so, with some difficulty, you finally managed to find your purseâthe one you had hidden while sober, back when your only concern was someone stealing the $60 in cash from your wallet.
Widening your eyes, the bright screen was a blur of letters and colors, but you managed to open your contacts app. Typing in an âS,â you clicked Shokoâs contact, praying she was awake and able to come pick you up from the off-campus housing.
The line rang twice before someone answered.
You sigh in relief. âGirl, red alert! Get your sexy ass up and come pick me up!âŠplease.â
âWoah, Prez. I had no idea you thought about me this way. Tell me more.â
Your heart dropped straight to your ass.
âSatoruâŠ?â you whine, more than ask.
âYeah, itâs me. Iâm startinâ to think you meant to call someone else. Bit of a blow to my ego, but I can handle it.â
Slumping against the couch, you huff. âMeant to call Shoko. Need a ride.â
Silence filled the line for a moment, then an insufferably attractive laugh broke it. âAre you drunk right now?â
You sniffled. âA little. I meanâa lottle. I-I mean, a lot. Very drunk. Drunk and stranded.â
You heard rustling on the other end, the faint jangle of keys. Your eyes fell shut. You were so damn tired.
âOkay, I just left my apartment. Where are you?â
In any other situation, you wouldâve refused Satoru Gojoâs help. You were a strong, independent woman. You didnât need a man to come to your rescue.
But the longer you sat on this couch, the more you wanted to ditch your mandatory meeting in the A.M. and pass out right here.
Even in this state, you were smart enough to know staying wasnât an option.
âIâm at off-campus housing down the street. Please hurry. And bring water. And snacks. And a blanket. Andââ
âYes, boss, Iâve already got all of thatâalong with a partridge in a pear tree. Jeez, youâre needy.â He laughed, and it made you pout. âIâm only a few minutes away. Hang tight.â
â
âWatch your head, watch your head!â
Thunk.
âOww,â you whine, rubbing the top of your head while Satoru busied himself fastening your seatbelt.
Rounding the front of his sports car, he slips into the driverâs seat. The engine roared to life a few seconds later, but the car stayed in park. Instead, he reaches for the ice-cold water bottle in the cup holder, twisting off the cap before handing it to you.
âHow much did you have to drink?â he asks, sounding almost agonized. âDonât know if you know this, but itâs Tuesday night.â
It took you about ten seconds, a long drink of water, and a deep sigh of relief before you answered.Â
âI won the presidency,â you finally say, as if that answered everything.
âAh.â He reaches for a nearby pack of gummy bears. âThis good? Thatâs all I could find on the way.â
âYes,â you barely cared, tearing the package open. âYâknow, GojoâŠyouâre kinda nice.â
He huffs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. âOh, really? What gave you that idea?â
Chewing thoughtfully, you started listing things your sober self wouldâve never admitted.
âYou came to get me even though Iâm such a bitch to you. And you brought me water, and my favorite candy, andâhic!â
âAnd you tease me all the time, but you arenât that mean when it comes down to itâŠâ You sniffle. âI honestly wish you were. Itâd be easier to hate you.â
He laughs, shaking his head as he finally shifts the car into drive. âAw, sorry about that. I can be mean to you if you want?â
The drive was quiet, mostly because it was so shortâthe streets were empty at this ungodly hour. When Satoru parked and killed the engine, he turned to look at you and froze.
You were chewing on gummy bears with tears streaming down your cheeks.
âAre you a sad drunk?â he asks, even though he already knew. âAw, you are, arenât you?â
You sniffle. âWhy are you being so nice to me?â
He shifts toward you, more careful now, lifting the water bottle back to your lips. ââCause weâre friends now. Iâm nice to my friends. Câmere.â
To his surprise, you let him tip the bottle, drinking without protest.
Swallowing, you frowned. âNo, you arenât.â Sniffle. âYouâre mean to Suguru. And Nanami. And TojiâŠâ
Satoruâs smile is lopsided. âYou have a point. Guess Iâm just nice to you then.â
âBut why?â you press, not even realizing it. âYou have no reason to be.â
Satoru was the type of man who had never needed to wish on stars to get what he wanted.
All it took was a swipe of one of his many credit cards or the mention of his family name. It worked without fail.
For everything except one thing, and she was sitting right beside him.
Oblivious to the fact that since freshman year, sheâd made his heart race every time she was near. From the moment he met her in biologyâcut down by her sharp tongueâheâd felt motivated instead of defeated.
Heâd gone home that night thinking about her. Stayed up, even, planning ways to talk to you the next day. Ways to make you look at him. Talk to him. Give him the time of day.
You had no idea what you did to him, and right now, he had no place to tell you.
He leans back with a quiet hum. âFor someone so smart, you can be a little dense sometimes.â
Your sniffle cut him off. His head snaps toward you, and his chest nearly caved in at the sight of fresh tears welling up.
âNo, no, no, noâ hey, I was joking! I didnât mean it, I swear.â
Satoru cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing away your tears. His eyes searched yours, softening despite himself. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
âYouâre kinda cute when youâre drunk,â he says.
What the fuck?
Why would he say that out loud? Right now? Of all times?
âYouâre kinda cute all the time,â you replied easily, fingers fumbling with the pendant on his necklace. âYou smell really nice, too.â
Satoruâs heartbeat doubled, but he forced himself not to read into it. Not now. Not when youâre in this state.
He cleared his throat, pulling his hands away. âLetâs get you inside, okay?â
He stepped out first, then opened your door. Your eyes met his as he reached in to unbuckle you. âEasy,â he murmured.
Getting you out of the car was about ninety-five percent Satoruâs effort; you leaned into him the majority of the way, the two of you making your way toward the side entrance. It felt like it took hours to climb the stairsâbut in reality, Satoru carried most of your weight without breaking a sweat.
By the time you reached your room, he helped you onto your bed, carefully slipping off your heels. His hand lingered at your ankle, thumb brushing over the faint mark the strap had left behind. He leaned over you slightly, hand smoothing over your hair.
âGet some sleep, okay?â
You didnât notice when he set a bottle of aspirin and fresh water on your nightstand. You just curled under your blankets on instinct, heavy with exhaustion. Your eyes cracked open just enough to catch your on-call-Uber-driver-slash-friend retreating toward the door.
âSatoru?â you called.
He paused, one foot already out. âMm?â
âI like it when youâre nice to me.â You shook your head. âNoâI mean⊠I like being your friend.â
Satoru smiled faintly. âMe too.â
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
â
You despise how much you enjoy being friends with Satoru Gojo.
You despise how attentive he is. How he silently hands you a pencil a beat after you realize youâve come without one. How he holds the seat down for you so you can sit more easily in the lecture hall. How he gives you one of his AirPods whenever youâre in the library together, looking for your own books respectively, yet highly aware of how far you are from him when the music begins to chop up.
You despise how much heâs gotten you to let your guard down. How he makes you laugh whenever one of your student council meetings goes awry, because the high of being reelected as council president only lasts until the first meeting. How he assures you that you can get through whatever issue youâre working through with your boardmates, because, according to him, if you were able to snag his vote, then you can just about do anything. How he references Digimon or whatever video game heâs played last into just about every other conversation, to the point where it borders on endearing and annoyingâbut the expression he wears when he talks about it makes you easily decide on the former.
You despise how he makes you feel. How a simple nudge to your side whenever you reply with a smartass comment makes your face feel warm. How the scent of his cologne lingers after he leaves, and how you feel disappointed when it finally dissipates. How youâve now become acutely aware of the length of his eyelashes, the vibrance of his eyes, the smile lines that look more handsome on him than youâd ever like to admit.
But more than anything, you despise that you just canât find anything to hate about himâno matter how hard you try.
It had only been a little over a month, and yet itâs difficult to remember what it was like when the two of you werenât friends, or what faulty reason you had to hate him in the first place.
You doodle a bit rougher in your notebook as you wait for instruction to begin, trying to get your mind off it. Off him.
Like clockwork, he plops down into the seat beside you, lazily extending his legs before placing a small white box on your desk.
âWhatâs this?â you ask, setting your pen down. When you open it, you find your favorite pastry sitting inside, untouched. Your brows knit together. âHowâd you know this was my favorite?â
When you look at him, heâs already chewing a bite of the muffin he bought for himself.
âYeah, no prob,â he replies, setting his muffin down. âYour stomach growls when you donât eat in the morningâI could hear it from three aisles back.â
You shove his shoulder, eyes wide. âShut up. No, you couldnât.â
âYeah, youâre right,â he relents with a grin, glancing your way. âIt was four aisles back.â
You roll your eyes, face warm. You glance down at his muffin, and he clutches it closer to himself.
âNo looksies,â Satoru says firmly. âDaddy doesnât like to share.â
You grimace. âEw. Gross. Donât call yourself that.â
âMommy doesnât like to share?âÂ
âEven worse.â
Satoru sighs in playful defeat, and just in timeâbefore he can try againâyour professor addresses the class and starts the lecture.
And no more than five minutes later, he doesnât even complain when you ask for a bite of his muffin.
â
Youâre nervous about your upcoming Anatomy & Physiology exam.
Your steps are quick, and from afar, you probably look like youâre lightly jogging, which isnât the best look considering youâre wearing a thick, furry winter coat and a pair of fuzzy pajama pants. It isnât ideal, but you planned for this venture outside your dorm room to be quick.
That is, until you trip on a shift in the sidewalk and tumble forward.
You catch yourself on your hands, which only makes you realize that your supplies are now blowing away. You manage to pick up a few things on your own and reach for a folderâonly to realize someone else has already picked it up.
âNearly gone with the wind,â Satoru sighs. âGood thing I was here to save the day. No need for thanksâ itâs all in a dayâs work.â
You straighten once youâve gathered the rest of your things. âYou and your gloating. Donât you ever get tired?â
âNope.â He shakes his head, then glances down. âCute slippers.â
Your eyes follow his gaze to the fuzzy slippers you only ever dare to wear out when your feet are freezing. You shift your feet and nudge his chest. âShut up. Theyâre warm!â
âAnd fashionable,â he lilts, and gestures to the armful in your hands. âWhatâs all this for?â
âStudying,â you answer, because itâs obvious. âIâm gonna make flashcards for the A&P exam and probably take a few practice tests.â You reach for the folder still in his grasp. âSo, if youâll excuse meââ
âHey, hey, hey. Slow down a sec.â Satoru lifts the folder out of reach. âLet me help you out, yeah?â
You narrow your eyes. âWhy? Donât you want to score better than me anyway?â
âOh no,â Satoru says flatly, face blank. âYouâve exposed my master plan once again. Whatever will I do?â Then he grins. âHow could you think so little of me? Iâll score better than you without sabotage, you know that.â
âAs if,â you retort, averting his gaze.
Satoru raises an eyebrow. âIf youâre so confident, prove me wrong.â
You tuck your lips into your mouth, weighing his offer. On one hand, youâre hesitant to let him into your roomâafraid that you might not dislike it. That you might even like being alone with him. On the other, youâve never been one to back down from a challenge like this.
Your pride settles it for you.
âFine,â you say. âI will. Follow me.â
â
Rumor has it that this was where it all truly began.
Your bedroom.
It was all rather easy at first. Youâd spent about an hour making flashcards, a time primarily spent in silenceâsave for his voice making noise pollution every so often. Mostly moans and groans about how bored and hungry he is, which fall on deaf ears.
By the time you finish the deck, Satoruâs jacket is hanging on the back of your desk chair, and heâs lazily sprawled across your bed. Heâd offered to take the chair, but you insisted that sitting made you focus better. Which it does, but youâre also too nervous to sit beside him on the bed right now.
He tosses a stress ball toward the ceiling, catching it with one hand. âDone yet? Iâm dying here. The fun part is supposed to be me quizzing you.â
You straighten the cards before tossing them his way, the deck landing on his stomach. âYes, now hurry up. I donât have all day.â
âYes, maâam,â he chirps, propping himself up against your pillows as he gathers the cards. He clears his throat, glances once at you, then back down. âWhat are the two primary functions of the skeletal system?â
It doesnât take you more than a second. âSupport the body and protect softer body parts.â
He hums and flicks to the next card. âWhat three things does the muscular system allow the body to do?â
You hum, rubbing your chin. âMovement, support, and⊠heat production.â
Another flick. âWhat about the nervous system?â
âIt controls immediate responses to stimuli,â you answer easily.
Satoru huffs, flipping through card after card as you breeze through half the deck. Soon youâre naming the primary functions of individual musclesâtemporalis, masseter, sternocleidomastoid, extensor digitorumâyouâve lost count of how many youâve answered correctly. Youâre zoned in, until he looks up at you with a raised eyebrow.
âThese are too easy for you,â he declares. âYou need something more challenging.â
You squint and lean back in your chair. âWhat? These are plenty challenging.â
He hums, clearly unconvinced. âNope. You need more independent practice. Stuff you canât predict.â
âLike what?â you ask. âSince youâre so smart, Iâm assuming you have an alternative method. Put up or shut up.â
Satoru exhales through his nose, meeting your gaze without missing a beat. Heâs long since learned your tone, your bite. He grins and sits up straighter, lifting an arm and pointing to his own. âWhat does the tricep do?â
You blink. âStraightens the arm at the elbow? Duh. I thought this was supposed to be hard.â
âShh, be patient. A master is at work.â He pauses, then asks, âWhat about the orbicularis oris?â
Your posture straightens against your will, gaze dropping to his mouth. Your eyes trace the curve of his lipsâwhere that muscle would beâand you watch as the corners of his mouth tug upward. Five seconds passâlonger than any question has taken you so far.
âIt allows for movement in the lips,â you finally say.
âMm,â he sighs. âOnly half credit. Thatâs a little vague. Name three specific functions and I might reconsider.â
The room feels warmer. You clear your throat. âSpeech, whistling, and⊠kissing.â Your eyes flick away to your desk as you fuss with loose papers, trying to come off as busy or distracted. You add quickly, âItâs informally known as the kissing muscle. Everyone knows that.â
A low whistle leaves him as he rises from the bed, stretching his arms over his head before stalking toward your desk. He stops behind your chair, flashcards still in hand.
âWhatâre you doing?â you ask, still facing forward.
He sets the cards down in front of you and places one hand on the desk, leaning just slightly over you. He isnât touching you, but heâs close enough that you feel the heat of him at your back, and certainly close enough to make your thoughts scatter.
âTold you,â he murmurs. âIâm helping you study.â
You swallow. âHow, exactly?â
He exhales, breath brushing your neck. âHave you practiced for the muscle identification portion yet?â
Shit. Youâd nearly forgotten about that. From what you remembered your professor saying, there would be anatomy models stationed around the classroom, highlighted with nothing more than a single muscle on each one. It would be your responsibility to name the muscle and its function on the spot.
âNot really,â you admit, shrugging. Your back brushes his chest, and you clear your throat quickly. âHow do you plan on helping with that?â
Satoru brushes your hair off your shoulder, knuckles barely grazing the back of your neck before his thumb presses gently into a muscle along your upper back. âFor starters: what muscle just helped you shrug your shoulders?â
You swallow thickly. Your breath leaves you shaky, and you hope he doesnât notice the goosebumps rising on your skin when his thumb traces again, slow and deliberate. Meant to tease you, youâd imagine.
âUpper trapezius,â you say, breathy despite yourself.
âGood.â You can hear the smile in his voice. His hand moves, thumb sliding to the back of your neck. âYour neckâs tense.â
âWell,â you say, forcing a shaky exhale, âitâs not every day I become a study tool. First day on the job.â
He laughs, and thereâs something charged beneath it. âYou saying you donât like my method?â
âNo, Iâm not saying that at all,â you blurt. You glance up and freeze at how close his face is. â...Iâve liked others less. Thatâs all.â
A lopsided smile. âSo you want to continue?â
Your answer is immediate. âYes.â
His thumb presses more firmly at your neck. âWhat muscle is tensed up here?â
âTrick question,â you mutter, âstill the upper trapezius.â
âGood.â His hand flattens, gliding down your back, following the natural arch of your spine as your breath catches in your throat. âNow tell meââ
Your heart is pounding.
ââwhat muscle is making your back arch like that?â
You scoff, trying to straighten. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âThatâs not an answer,â he tuts. âDonât know it, huh?â
âOf course I do,â you stammer.
âThen tell me, smart girl.â
Your stomach twists with nerves and something far more dangerous. He shouldnât excite you. He should make you pull away, push him out, undo whatever this is. And yet, your mind wanders to what it would be like if you didnât. If you invited him to stay instead.
You shake your head, grounding yourself. âErector spinae.â
He hums. âSee? Not so hard.â
âIt was plenty hard,â you murmur, stealing a glance up at him.
He tilts his head, just enough to meet your eyes. Your lashes flutter as you switch between each of his eyes. His nose is nearly brushing yours, and it terrifies you just as much as it intrigues you. No, actuallyâwhat youâre feeling now goes beyond simple intrigue. Itâs excitement. Bordering on longing.
âWhat are you doing?â you ask, words tumbling out of your mouth.
âJust lookinâ at you,â he replies easily. âYouâre pretty.â
âWhaâ? Sh-Shut up.â
He grins. âYouâre cute when youâre shy, too.âÂ
From the beginning, Satoru was supposed to be nothing more than a thorn in your side. Someone sharp and irritating. Something to endure. But when given the chance to poke where you were weakest, heâd held you instead.Â
His hand slides to your waist, fingertips slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. He still hasnât pulled away, and you pray that he doesnât. You donât want him to.Â
You lick your bottom lip without thinking. His eyes drop instantly, tracking the movementâand he doesnât bother hiding it, even after heâs sure youâve noticed.
And when heâs least expecting it, at least as far as you can tell, you rock up onto your toes, hands fisted into his shirt, and press your lips to his.
Your lips slot into his like two puzzle pieces fitting together. His hands tighten their hold on your waist, and when you force yourself to pull away, to face the music of your decision made on a whim, you find a blushing Satoru staring back at you.
A soft, nervous laugh leaves his lips, breath warm against yours.
âWell, if you thought studying was hardâŠâ
âŠOh?Â
Your gaze dips.
Oh.
Heâs hard.
From a single peck.
His sweatpants hang low on his hips, giving you a slight glimpse of the light trail of hair that leads toward the prominent bulge in the fabric. The sight alone makes your mouth water, enough for you to, within the span of a second, wonder what itâd be like to feel it. From sight alone, it looks big. Heavy.
Every warning system inside your head blares all at once, telling you that this is a bad, bad, bad, horrible, horrible, horrible decision. And yet, you lean into him again.
You kiss him once more, hands clutching onto his shirt as you tug him down to meet your mouth, which he does with no hesitation. His lips are softer than you imagined, gentle on yours.
âAnd which muscle is responsible for that?â you ask against his mouth.
He smiles, you can feel it. âIschiocavernosus.â
Satoruâs large hands smooth over the backs of your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing at all. Youâre lying on your bed before you realize it, and he is hovering atop in between your parted legs.
His lips tear away from yours, kisses mapping out a trail of heat along your jaw. Your hand slips into his hair, tugging when his mouth finds the sweet spot just beneath your ear.
Your back arches off the bed as a signifier.
âFound it,â he rumbles against your skin, smiling against it.
His mouth is searing, kissing down your clothed chest until he pushes your shirt up just enough to expose your belly. Open-mouthed kisses mark his exploration of your skin, hot and wet as he traces the curve of your side.
Your stomach flutters when his mouth kisses down your belly, strong hands holding your waist in place while his tongue darts out to get a taste of your skin.
Satoruâs movements, you realize, seem automatic. Like heâs thought about this before, planned for it, evenâhe was just waiting for you to give him the chance.
Hands suddenly paw at his shoulders, your hips squirming slightly. âStop teasing me, Satoru.â
Satoru laughs, fingers tugging your fuzzy pajama pants down just enough to kiss your hip bone. âFine, fine. Under one condition.â
Your heart pounds. âWhat is it?â
His hands smooth over your thighs as he shifts a bit lower. âLet me taste you.â
You blink a few times, clearly surprised. Youâve never been with a guy whose first move is to go down on you. âOkay⊠I mean, if you want toâah!â
His hands are skilled in the way that they pull the hem of your pants down, leaning back just enough to peel them down your legs and toss them aimlessly onto the floor.Â
Satoruâs eyes are darker than youâve ever seen, focused on the apex of your thighs as he flattens to his stomach. His hands move your legs to rest on his shoulders, his lips already on your inner thigh.
âFuck, thank you,â he whispers against your skin, wet kisses inching closer to your core.Â
And when his mouth finds the wet patch on the gusset of your panties, Satoru knows heâs a goner.
His grip tightens on your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut, he flattens his tongue over the fabric. That only lasts a few seconds before his fingers tug the flimsy material down your legs, and his lips are latching onto the true source.
A groan escapes him the moment his tongue laps at your essence. âTastes so sweet.â
Your fingers slip into his hair, tugging at the root when his lips close around your clit. Your hips wouldâve bucked into his mouth if his iron grip wasnât keeping you in place.
Even with his face buried in your pussy, he manages to speak.Â
âMmhâ tastes like candy, baby. Thought about this sâmany times.â
The confirmation only makes you twitch, which he seems to notice if the firm press of his tongue to your clit is any confirmation.
âAhâ shit, Satoru. Right there.â
Satoru thinks that he could do this forever. Could live and die a happy man, cheeks warmed by your thighs pressing in on them and the taste of you on his tongue.
His nose bumps against your clit, tongue slipping lower to gather more of you on his taste buds. His hips begin to rut into the mattress like a dog in heat, a whimper leaving his throat when you tug particularly hard on his hair.Â
âS-Sorry,â you manage, fingers releasing the strands of his white hair.
Blue eyes meet yours, and he forces himself to pull his tongue off you just long enough to speak. âBaby, I donât care. Tug on it even harder if you wanna. Your pleasure feels good to me.â
âMasochist,â you say through a breathy laugh.
His mouth is back on you. âOnly for you.â
Youâre like sugar on his tongue, the type of ambrosia that men should go to war for. Satoru knows he would in a heartbeat.
The feeling of his tongue kitten licking your clit has your hands shooting down, one sliding back into his hair and the other scratching at the back of his hand on your thigh.
Satoru gives it to you without a second thought, your fingers lacing with his as you press his hand down on your stomach.Â
His eyes crack open to watch your face, twisted in a pleasure that heâs proud to have given you. He sucks your clit into his mouth before releasing it with a slick pop.
Only, your hand in his hair presses his face back into your pussy, and Satoru is nothing if not willing to please you.Â
The groan that leaves him travels up your spine, and your hips begin to twitch, thighs closing in on his head. A mewl leaves your lips, clutching his hand before you cry out, the first wave of your orgasm wracking through you.
Satoru flattens his tongue, licking up every drop of your syrupy release, hellbent on committing the taste of you to memory.Â
His voice is deep and scratchy when he speaks. âYouâre beautiful when you cum.â
Your eyes snap open, a newfound heat finding your cheeks. âShut up.â
Heâs crawling up to meet your lips with a smile, shaking his head. âNuh-uh. Just telling the truth.â He kisses your lips, and you taste yourself on them. âSweetest pussy. Iâd go for seconds if you let me.â
Youâre tempted by the offer.
Only, something else tempts you more than it should.
Satoru hisses the moment your palm presses against the bulge in his sweatpants, forehead knocking into yours. His hips twitch against your hand, and when he closes his eyes, you can tell heâs doing his best not to grind into your hand.
A quiet laugh leaves your mouth. âI think Iâd rather do something else.â
His hands fist into the bedsheets in an act of restraint. âLike what?â he asks, voice strained.
You huff, free hand taking hold of his chin, forcing him to look at you. âI think youâre smart enough to figure it out.â
âI donât wanna assume. Itâs ungentlemanly, yâknow?â His lips press against yours, pulling back before you have the chance to deepen the kiss. âAh-ah-ah, canât do anything more âtil the lady asks.â
Heâs so fucking annoying.Â
The pout on your lips is too cute to handle. Satoru debates kissing it away. Only, your next words stop him in his tracks.
They come out more demanding than you intended, trying to hide how needy you really are. âStop wasting my time. I want you to fuck me, Satoru.â
His cock twitches against your hand. Maybe bossiness works best with him.
âThatâs so hot,â he says, panting.Â
Satoru immediately reaches for the hem of his sweatpants and boxers, pushing them down his legs in a hurried, uncoordinated manner. He nearly topples over once or twice in his haste.
Soon, though, his erection springs free, slapping against his stomach. Itâs somehow even bigger than you initially imaginedâŠlengthy, and flushed a pretty shade of pink at the tip.
This time, Satoru doesnât tease you like you were expecting him to. Doesnât gloat.Â
Instead, he kisses your cheek, then your forehead, until his mouth finally finds yours, a broken sound escaping him the moment he rubs his tip through your folds.
Then, his eyes find yours, and it feels like the world stops on its axis.
Forehead to forehead. Chest to chest. Your hand in his hair, his on your cheek. With Satoru Gojo of all people. The one person in this world whom you should stay away from.Â
And here he is, looking at you like youâre worth more than your family name and the money bags that come with it, like he wants you for you. Nothing else.
âWe donât have to, baby,â he whispers, sweet and gentle, as if sensing the mental games youâre playing with yourself. âIâm happy to just be here with you. I mean it.â
There it is. An out.
You should stop this before it starts. You should do your best to save the peace between you and your parentsâwhatâs left of it, anyway. You should forget about the way your chest warms up when his thumb strokes over your cheek.
But then, wise words ring out in your mind.
Iâd rather disappoint my parents than disappoint myself.
And in this moment, you realize that losing Satoru would far surpass mere disappointment. It isnât something you can bear, nor do you ever want to.
You shake your head, leaning up to kiss him, nice and soft. âI want this. So⊠stop making me wait.â
Satoru laughs, lips on your cheek as he notches himself on your entrance. âYes, maâam.â
Inch by inch, his length stretches you open, making your hands grasp at his shoulders for purchase, nails sinking into his skin. You whine at the intrusion, not used to his size by any means.
âYouâre okay, pretty girl,â he murmurs against your mouth, one hand holding your cheek while the other strokes your hip. âDoing so good for me. Just a liiittle more.â
You huff, risking a glance downward, only to see he was only half inside. You throw your head back on the pillow. âLiar.âÂ
He smiles against your lips, kissing you. âFigured a little white lie never hurt anyone.â
A moment later, Satoru pushes his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. You both release breathy moans at the same time, grips tightening on each other.
He pulls out, just the tip remaining, before sliding back inside your warmth, creating a slow, languid paceâgiving you the chance to adjust to him.
You kiss him then, all teeth and tongue and want, panting hot against his mouth while your hands slip into his hair. âFuckâ faster, Toru. Please.â
The sound of his name on your tongue, so wanton while heâs inside you, spurs him on in a way heâs never felt before. His hands take hold of your hips, angling them up slightly so that he can fuck you deeper, the pace of his hips growing needier with each passing second.
âMmh, wanted you for so long,â he says, words muffled against your skin while he kisses down your neck. âThisâhahâcanât be real, baby. Feels so good.â
You drag his mouth back up to your lips, tongues sliding against each other in a fit of passion that you can hardly comprehend right now with how good he feels.Â
âSo good,â you whimper into his mouth. âWant more, Satoru, pleaseââ
âShh, I got you,â he says.
And then his hands press down on the back of your thighs, folding them up against your chest. He pounds into you without sense, the new angle opening you up to him in a way that makes you see stars.
The sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room, the sounds of your pleasure only adding to the conversation.Â
Satoru pushes your shirt up, a sound between a whimper and a gasp, leaving him the moment his gaze sets on your breasts. His mouth latches onto your nipple before he can think twice about it.
âYou werenâtâmmhâwearing a bra the whole time?âÂ
You whine, trying to drag his mouth back to yours by your grip on his hair, but he doesnât let up. âY-You ask stupid questions.â
He flattens his tongue, laving over the underside of your breast, his hips never faltering. He groans against your skin. âCâmon, sweetheart, donât give me that attitude. Havenât I been good? Yeah?â
A pout forms on your kiss-bruised lips. âMmâ Iâm not giving attitude.â
Satoru laughs, the sound raspy and deep. âYou are, pretty girl, but itâs okay. Toruâll make it all better.â
His lips are back on yours, to your satisfaction, and his hand slips between the two of you, thumbing at your clit. You gasp, stealing the air from his lungs, clinging onto his shoulders and back like a koala bear.
A warmth coils in your stomach, making you squirm against his thrusts. Your nails claw into his back, raking down his skin, surely leaving marks that Satoru will admire for days. A memento of the moment heâs been waiting for.
His cock twitches inside you when you moan again, your pussy clenching around him like a vice, tight and warm.Â
You whine. âSatoruââ
âMm-hmm, I know, baby, donât you worry,â he says, voice slightly smug as he continues to draw circles over your clit, feeling the way it pulses against his thumb. âGive it to me, sweets, know you can do it.â
Your hips buck up against his, your orgasm crashing into you. Your body tenses around him, squeezing him impossibly tighter.
If the way his pace stutters is any clue, you know heâs close. When you pulse against him, he drops his head onto your shoulder.
Satoru whimpers, so lost in his pleasure that he can no longer function. He fucks you shallowly now, and lost in your own mind, you turn your head to whisper in his ear.
âInside,â you request, voice breathy. âPlease, Toru.â
That makes Satoru cum before he can realize it.Â
Hot spurts shoot inside you, his sounds muffled against your skin while his own climax wracks through him. It seems like it goes on forever, but the moment he kisses the underside of your jaw, you realize that heâs finished, finally slipping out of the post-orgasm delirium you put him in.
When your eyes meet his, both of your eyes widen, expressions almost sheepish.
As if it were finally occurring to you that you just had sex with Satoru fucking Gojo, you feel a bit shy, blinking up at him and absolutely unsure what to say.
ââŠHi,â you whisper.
Satoru seems to share your thoughts. He brings his hand to your cheek, knuckles brushing over your flushed skin. âHey, baby.â
Unsure of what to do, you decide to lean back into your old reliable method. The only way you know how to talk to him is without allowing a hint of affection to seep into your voice. Be mean to him.
âGet off me,â you say, pawing at his chest halfheartedly, âyouâre heavy.â
It seems that Satoru has learned you well enough to know exactly what youâre doing. Trying to push him away the moment it all feels like too much to handle, reverting to what you know best.
He lowers his head, brushing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. âMm, no can do, pretty. I like to cuddle after sex, guess youâre just gonna have to deal with it.â
You squirm as he begins to pepper your face with kisses, wet and dry, trying to get a proper reaction from you.Â
âOkay, okay!â you exclaim, laughing without realizing it. âFine. We can cuddleâŠbut we have to clean up first.â
Satoru beams at that. He kisses your forehead before practically leaping off your bed, searching for a towel. You arenât sure why the sight of him prancing around your room in his birthday suit makes you feel soâŠwarm and tingly inside.
God, what has he done to you?
You yawn, rubbing your eyes. âOn the left side of the closet. Third drawer down.â
A second later, heâs back and wiping away the mess between your legs, careful with his movements. Once finished, he pokes around in your clothing drawers, managing to find a pair of fresh underwear and a pretty blue shirt that you should've known heâd pick out.Â
âMatches my eyes,â he preens, doing most of the work as he pulls the panties up your legs and the shirt over your head.
âOf course youâd notice that,â you scoff, trying to ignore how warm this all makes you feel.
With his boxers back on, he climbs back into bed with you, lying on his back. A surprised sound leaves him when you rest your head on his chest, hand draped over his middle.
Satoru wears a smile as he wraps an arm around you, free hand lacing with yours. âThought you didnât wanna cuddle.â
âI never said that,â you grumble.
He laughs to himself, the kind that signifies heâs up to no good. âAww. Just a cute little cuddle muffin you are.â
âIâll get off you right now if you donâtââ
He immediately stops laughing and tightens his hold on you. âSorry, sorry. You run a tight ship.â
â
In your experience, the morning after could go one of two ways.
You could either cringe at yourself and your decisions, make awkward small talk with the person you had shared not only your body but also a bed with, and then tiptoe out of your hookupâs room, or not-so-discreetly kick them out of yours.Â
Or, you could still make equally awkward small talk upon waking up, limbs still entangled and clothes mostly scattered across the floor, but not feel the gnawing feeling to run away and never speak to this person again.
And so far, youâre in no rush to make him go.Â
Satoru shifts in his sleep behind you, one arm draped lazily over your middle while the other pillows your head. You blink blearily as you run your fingertips along his forearm, tracing the veins in his hand until you cover it with your own. His fingers slightly twitch until they fill the spaces between yours.
His nose brushes the back of your neck, inhaling indulgently. His arm beneath your head bends and curls inward, his nails gently scratching your scalp. âMorning.â
You feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest. His voice is deep and groggy from sleep, his lips just barely grazing your skin as he speaks. It only gets worse (or better?) when he presses a kiss to the crook of your shoulder and neck, firmer now yet unhurried.Â
The strap of the camisole youâd thrown on last night after your shower was now pinched between his thumb and forefinger, slowly slipping it down the curve of your shoulder as his lips explored further.
âGood morning,â you manage out, voice slightly weak but not entirely from just waking up. âHowâd you sleep?â
You can feel his lips twitch against your skin, probably turning into a smug grin if you had to guess. His hand stopped on your bicep, his chin now resting on your shoulder as he pulls you closer.Â
âBetter than usual,â he says, voice rumbling in his throat. âEven with you stealing the covers from me all night, itâd be worth it every time to wake up to this.â He picks his head up just enough to look down at you. âYou?â
Your cheeks are warm, and you bury half of your face into the pillow. âBetter than usual. I actually feel rested.â
Reaching an arm out, you turn the clock on your nightstand toward the bed. 2:38 p.m.
âWe slept the whole day away!â
Satoru hums behind you, chest rumbling against your back. âMm, good sex tends to do that to people.â
You smile, looking back at him over your shoulder. âOh? So thatâs why you were snoring into my ear all night?â
âPrecisely why,â he replies easily, before pecking your lips. âPussy put me right to sleep.â
This time, you lean in to kiss him. When you pull away, you freeze.Â
Oh fuck.
Then you shoot up out of bed, eyes wide and panicked. Itâd just dawned on you that, for all the days you could have had sex with your annoying-rival-to-friend, it had to be the day of the Ryomen dinner. And, of course, you had to oversleep with said annoying-rival-to-friend-and-now-hookup still in your bed.Â
The drive alone would take two and a half hours.
âHoly shit, I need to go,â you say, scatterbrained as you rush into your closet.
Satoru props himself up on his elbow, sounding more panicked than he likely intended. âWhat? Why?â
You return to his line of sight, already half-clothed in a pristinely ironed dress, bouncing on one leg as you tug your stockings up. âI have to go to dinner with my family and the Ryomens. My mom is going to kill me.â
And heâs left to watch, helpless, as you check yourself in the mirrorâputting your earrings on, looking beautiful as everâŠto go have dinner with another guy and his family.
Satoru knows he should be relaxed about this. He needs to chill out. You had sex, yes, but itâs not like heâs your boyfriend or anything.
(Even though heâd thought about how great that would be as he admired you while you slept.)
âOh, cool,â he says, forcing a cheery tone into his voice. âWhat for?â
You press your lips together, hastily applying your makeup lest you show up late with none on. âIâm not really sure. Probably to talk about their plans for us post-graduation. Thatâs all they talk about these days.â
He bites the inside of his cheek.
Doesnât matter, he tells himself. Sex between friends can beâŠcasual. Donât read into it so much.
âRight,â he replies, rubbing the back of his neck, doing his best to seem relaxed. âSounds boring.â
You nod at him through the mirror before turning to face him. âYeah, it will be.â
A silence settles the moment your eyes meet.
Slowly, you walk over to himâstill lying in your bed, clad in nothing but his boxers. âIâm sorry Iâm leaving like this.â
He waves a hand through the air, making an exaggerated pshhh sound. âDonât worry about it. I get it.â
You give him a lopsided smile before leaning down to kiss him. He barely has time to close his eyesâto savor itâbefore youâre already pulling away.
âIâll text you, okay?â you say. âYou can use my shower again if you want. Make yourself at home while Iâm gone. Just donât use up my body washâitâs expensive.â
Satoru lets out a laugh that doesnât quite reach his eyes. âOkay, no promises. Have fun.â
And then youâre gone, the door clicking shut behind you.
He falls back against the mattress, dragging his hands over his face.
Itâs casual, he tries to remind himself. Donât be a crybaby.
But you kissed him goodbye.
What was casual about that?
â
The hallways are abnormally crowded today.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, Shokoâs messages flooding in.
shoko đ: hi
shoko đ: how was the dinner?
shoko đ: did your parents finally come to their senses
shoko đ: and drop the stupid engagement idea????
you: i wish
you: they seem even more into the idea now
you: mind you, sukuna fell asleep at the dining table with his fork hanging out of his mouth
you: like oh okay iâm seeing it now, total HUSBAND MATERIAL right here
shoko đ: fuck my chungus life
you: fuck mine too
The sound of hushed voices in the distance distracts you, making you glance in that direction.
Only then do you realize that theyâre looking right at you.
Actually, it feels like everyone is looking at you.
No, worse. It feels like everyone can see through you. Like they know exactly what youâve been up to. What you did when no one was around.
But thatâs ridiculous. How could anyone know?
Suddenly hyper-aware of yourself, you glance back down at your phone.
you: i feel like everyone is staring at me today
shoko đ: maybe because you look sexier than usual?
you: one can only hope
You crash into someone, limbs flailing, only to be steadied by a gentle grip.
âWatch where youâre going, iPad kid,â Satoru teases, a wide smile on his face.
You pocket your phone, huffing out a laugh despite yourself. âI was watching where I was going. You just came out of nowhere.â
âUh-huh, totally,â he says.
Without thinking, you glance over your shoulder toward the group that had been watching you earlier, the itch still unscratched.
Always observant, Satoru tilts his head. âHey. Whatâs up?â
âNothing, Iâm fine,â you answer instinctively.
âTalk to me,â he says, nudging your arm softly, still trying to keep things light.
Then your eyes meet hisâhis blue irises practically begging you to open up.
âItâs justâŠâ Your voice trails off, growing quieter. âYou didnât tell anyone, did you? AboutâŠâ
Satoru leans back slightly, like the question physically hit him.
âUhâ no,â he says. âNo, I didnât. Promise.â
You catch the shift in his expressionâthe way it falters, like something just closed off.
Your eyes squeeze shut. Shit. âNo, itâs not that I regret it or anything, itâs just thatââ
âItâs okay,â he cuts in, rubbing the back of his neck. âReally. Itâs fine. You donât have to explain.â His eyes meet yours again. âI didnât tell anyone. Donât worry.â
You tilt your head slightly. âOkay.â
âOkay,â he echoes quickly. âGood. Iâm glad we got that figured out.â
âMe too,â you say, though you donât sound convinced anymore. âDidâ did I say something?â
Satoru shakes his head, that boyish smile slipping back into place. âNah. Youâre good.â
You glance around again. ââŠOkay.â
âOkay,â he repeats. âAre you going to the party this weekend? Chosoâs frat is throwing.â
You nod. âYeah, Iâll be there. I assume Iâll see you there too?â
âYup,â he says with a nod. âWell, Iâve gotta get to class. Iâll talk to you later?â
âYeah,â you say, turning to watch him walk away down the hallway.
Well⊠that conversation went well.
Right?
â
After a few days of Satoru avoiding you like the plague, youâre starting to think your conversation didnât go so well.
Heâs only sent you one Instagram reel over the last three daysâand it was about tips and tricks for studying anatomy. Was he doing this on purpose? The last time you studied for anatomy, it ended with you in bed with him.
For what feels like the tenth time this hour, you check your messages.
Satoru :D: Good morning
Satoru :D: Sleep well?
you: good morning
you: yes i did, did you?
And thereâs been no response since.
You wonder if you should message him again.
Maybe his phone got swept up in a tornado. (Itâs 75°F and sunny outside.)
Maybe heâs currently being attacked by alligators and desperately needs you as a lifeline. (Though you know he wouldnât even accept your helpâheâd be convinced he could take an alligator in a fight.)
Maybe he just hasnât seen your text. (You saw him repost a TikTok about boba milk tea an hour ago.)
You tap on the text bar, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
âThereâs no way youâre about to double text a man.â
You jump, quickly locking your phone. âUtahime, I was not. I was just checking our messages.â
Utahime hums, clearly unconvinced, scrolling on her own phone. âYou keep telling yourself that, girl.â
Rolling onto your back, you stare at the ceiling, hands folded over your chest.
âAre you seriously sulking right now?â
âIâm not sulking!â
(You were definitely sulking.)
Utahime sighs, nudging your side. âDid you read this weekâs blind items?â
You shake your head. âNo.â
She tilts her head down at you. âWell, Iâm pretty sure one is about you.â
âWHAT?!â
Youâve never sat up this fast in your lifeâlightheaded and dizzy as you reach for Utahimeâs phone.
There is going to be an engagement post-graduation between a male and female from two of the most well-known families on campus.
A male who lives on floor three in the Newbrooke dormitory has still been shitting in the showers. (P.S. Can you please stop already?)
A notorious rich student was spotted talking to a girl who comes from a family that begins with the last letter of the alphabet. Are sparks flying?
A male has been making piss-poor SoundCloud music at 4 AM for the past week. (Please stop. You are better off sticking to your career path in accounting.)
A pit forms in your stomach.
Had Sukuna told someone about your situation? You want to say noâbut once heâs had enough to drink, anything is possible.
But the one that concerns you more is the third item.
Could Satoru have already moved on? To a girl from the Zenin family?
Utahime presses her thumb between your eyebrows, smoothing out the crease. âHey. What happened to taking these with a grain of salt? Theyâre probably not real. Aside from the shower shitterâthat one seems pretty legit.â
You let out a weak laugh. âYeah⊠youâre probably right.â
Even still, the pit in your stomach doesnât go away.
â
Music thrums against the walls, people packed in like sardines, moving with no particular rhyme or rhythm. Smoke fills the air, a thick fog that has no chance of dissipating.Â
Sukunaâs arm is snug around your shoulder, something that you would have never thought twice about before. Now, though, you notice it like a thorn in your side.Â
You try to scan the room, in search of your friends who you knew would be here tonight. Only, a hand on your face draws your attention elsewhere, and Sukuna is kissing your cheek in farewell before you can even realize heâs leaving you to fend for yourself.
âLater, girl,â he says, so casually, as if he had the right.
Fucking typical.
You huff and wave your arm through the air, coughing quietly. Once the smoke cleared just enough, your gaze locked in on something in the distance.
Satoru. Standing beside a girl from the Zenin family.
But even as he stands beside her, his glowing eyes are already on you.
Suddenly, it hurts to breathe. The walls are caving in on you. The music fades into a silence that becomes even more overbearing than the bass.Â
Anger rises in your throat. Anger you have no right to feel.Â
After all, Satoru wasnât yours. You werenât his. He can do what he wants, as can you. How could you forget that? And why did you want to?
If you were a braver person, one who could be honest with herself, you would walk across this room. Youâd tell him how you feel. You would say it now, out loud and to his face. At least then, heâd know how you felt.
The problem, though, was that you werenât any of these things. You were terrified and hesitantâso all you could do was this. Look at him and hope he can put the puzzle pieces together on his own. You can only hope he likes how it looks once it is completed.Â
Your feet are moving before you can realize it. A moment later, you find yourself in the bathroom, pressing your back against the door to slam it shut.Â
You release a sharp breath you hadnât realized youâd been holding. Your hands cover your face as you approach the sink, palms pressing against the countertop.
Then, you catch your reflection in the mirror.Â
You know better than this.
You know better than to wish for something that you have no right to.
You know better than to want Satoru. You know better than to envision a simple life with him. To want him in a way that is uncalculated and real.
Dropping your head, you close your eyes. Squeeze them shut, and hope that you were anywhere else but here, in this dingy bathroom with a flickering lightbulb above your head.
The door opens and shuts behind you.
You pick your head up, and there he is.Â
Satoru.
His chest presses to your back, his hands bracketing yours on the counter as he dips his chin into the crook of your neck. âWere you not going to come say hi?â
You roll your eyes despite yourself, refusing to meet his eyes in the mirror. âNo. Seems like you were a little preoccupied.â
Silence stretched thin between you.Â
Then his hands find your waist, spinning you around to face him.
âDonât do that,â he says, voice soft and almost pleading.
You swallow. âDonât do what?â
âYou know what,â he replies, âact like⊠you donât care. Like you donât feel anything for me, just because youâre upset.â
You avoid his gaze. âIâm not upset. Itâs not like weâre dating. You can do what you want withâŠwhoever you want.â
Satoru huffs, forehead knocking into yours before he pulls back. âHow long are we going to keep doing this, baby?â he asks, hands finally coming to settle on your waist. âI donât want anyone else. Not like how I want you.â
Finally, you tilt your head up, eyes meeting his.
It almost made you want to cry, realizing how easy things with Satoru were. How he opened himself up to you without fear, because he didnât want an ounce of doubt to live in your head.
Maybe it was your turn to return the message.
âMe neither,â you finally admit.Â
His expression softens in relief.
âGood,â he murmurs, brushing your hair away from your face.Â
Your lips press together. âBut whyâd the blog say you were with a girl from the Zenin family?â
âThe same reason that the stupid blog says you and Sukuna are together,â he says with a shrug. âItâs a rumor. People see you standing next to someoneâat a very healthy distance, by the way, a very platonic and normal distanceâand run with it.â The corner of his mouth lifts. âI donât go around letting my rumored girlfriends kiss me on the cheek, though.â
You tilt your head, knowing full well that Satoru was capable of knowing that there were no feelings between you and Sukuna. âCareful, you almost sound upset.â
He shrugs his broad shoulders, tilting his head in the same direction you did. âDepends. Is he a good kisser?âÂ
Your fingers are still gripping the edge of the counter. âHe is.â
Satoru glances over your face, the corner of his mouth twitching once he notices the slight pout on your lips. âBetter than me?â
You donât want to give him the satisfaction, but youâre not a liar. âNo.â
A small smirk. âGood.â
âMaybe you should get back to your friend,â you retort, shaking your head.
âYouâre cute when youâre jealous,â Satoru coos, hand cupping your cheek, thumbing over your bottom lip.
You splutter. âWhat? Iâm not.â
âNo?â
âNo.â
Satoruâs hand starts to pull away. Panic sparks in you, and your hand shoots up, wrapping around his wrist to keep his palm against your face. He smiles softly, thumb brushing over your cheekbone.
â...Only a little,â you finally admit.
Satoruâs fingers thread into your hair, guiding your forehead to his lips. âThatâs okay. I was jealous too.â
âJealous? You?â
âJealous. Me.â
You clear your throat, and for the first time in your life, you decide to prod for further reassurance.Â
âDo you like her?â you ask, voice small.
He seems distracted, his lips on your cheek now in a chaste kiss. âHm?â
âDo you like her?â you repeat, hands prodding at his chest to make him meet your eyes. âThat girl you were talking to.â
Satoru scoffs, like the answer was obvious. âNo. Iâm a one-lady type of guy.âÂ
That answer shouldnât make your face feel warm, but it does. Heâs turned you into mush, putty in his hands.Â
His thumb brushes over your hip bone. âDid you let Sukuna kiss you because you like him?â
You shake your head. âMaybe I just like kissing people. Itâs fun, you know.â
âOh, I know,â he says, nose brushing yours. âBut do me a favor, yeah?â
âYeah,â you murmur, heart rate doubling in your chest.
âThe next time you wanna kiss someone, come to me instead,â he murmurs, hands sliding up your sides. âIâm better at it, anyway. Said it yourself.â
You canât bite back your smile now, nor do you try to. âOkay.â
âOkay, baby.â
You hoped no one noticed how long youâd both been gone from the party, but when you exited the bathroom togetherâlip gloss smeared on Satoruâs mouth and your hair messier than beforeâit likely told the entire story for you.
â
You wake up wrapped in a Digimon throw blanket.
A small, sleepy groan leaves you as you try to moveâto stretch your limbs after a night of sleep.
Only, the heavily weighted blanket on top of you, known as Satoru Gojo, doesnât make it very easy.
His arms are wrapped so tightly around you that youâd think he was afraid you might slip away in the middle of the nightâso he set up precautions beforehand. His cheek is pressed against your bare chest, using your breasts as pillows.
The best pillows on the market, he says.
Blinking blearily, you scan his bedroom. Now, after only two months of dating, it looks like a shrine to you.
A framed photo of you hangs on his wall, another propped up on his bedside table. Thereâs one on his desk tooâtaken on the first day of your internshipâset beside his computer.
Because, as he says, âseeing you smiling in that pretty little dress motivates me to study, âcause I need to pay for your tastes somehow.â
Youâre smiling now, glancing down at him, his cheek squished against your skin. Your fingers glide through his hair before smoothing down his back, soothing the faint sting of the scratches youâd left the night before.
A quiet whine leaves him, and he fumbles blindly for your hand, guiding it back to his hair so youâll keep playing with it.
âGood morning to you, too,â you murmur, scratching lightly at his scalp.
âMorning, baby,â he mumbles, voice rumbling against your skin.
Without opening his eyes, he presses a kiss to the underside of your breast, his mouth already trailing down the column of your stomach.
âWhatâre you doing?â you ask, smiling.
âEating breakfast,â he replies simply, mouthing at your hip bone.
Just as he reaches for the hem of your panties, his phone begins to buzz on the bedside table. Undeterred, he tugs them down an inch.
âIgnore it.â
Then his phone buzzes again. And again.
A moment later, yours buzzes too.
Slightly concerned now, you reach for it, unlocking the screen to a message from Shoko.
shoko đ: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP
shoko đ: [article link]
You tap the link, your eyes widening as you read the headline.
âWhat?â he asks, already pouting slightly at the interruption. âWhat is it?â
Wordlessly, you turn the phone toward him.
Satoru Gojo and Y/N L/N were spotted on the Gojo familyâs personal yacht, indulging in promiscuous activities.
And to make matters worse, front and center is a picture of you sitting in his lapâhis hand squeezing a handful of your ass like heâs afraid it might run away from him.
You press your palm to your forehead. âI told you we shouldnât have taken the yacht out that day.â
Satoru hums, clearly distracted. âHow do I save this picture? You look really sexy in this.â
âSatoru, focus!â you say, lightly swatting his shoulder. âWhat should we do?â
He shrugs, fingers resuming their slow work of tugging your underwear down your legs. âRight now, Iâm thinkinâ Iâll finish my breakfast. Weâll figure the other stuff out later.â
You think you should protestâbut the moment his mouth finds you, every argument dies on your tongue.
Because you know that heâll make good on his promise. This will be figured out, one way or another.
And as long as you have Satoru by your side, you think youâll be just fine.
Rumor has it you brought him home the next weekend to meet your parents.
Rumor also has it that from that moment on, the arranged engagement with Sukuna was off.
a/n: heyyyy yallll!!! how are you?
me?? posting 2 fics in one month?? #imonaroll #unstoppable
no, but seriously, if you read this all the way through thank you so much!! itâs the longest fic iâve ever written so itâs a lil experimental for me. this is also my first time writing for gojo in about two years and itâs my second time writing him ever sooo iâm still figuring out how i want to characterize him lol
anyway i hope you enjoyed, as always please let me know your thoughts <3
summary: a fortune, the student council presidency, and a future already negotiated for youâcomplete with a ryomen engagement ring after you graduate from university. youâve got it all⊠but is that really what you want? an unexpected friendship with gojo satoru makes the answer far less certain.
warnings: (18+) smut, porn with plot, fluff, light angst, college au, academic rivals/annoyances to lovers, oral (fem. receiving), p in v, criminally down bad!gojo, mentions of frat parties, alcohol consumption, marriages of convenience, family troubles, and overall rich people problems âąïž, the university they go to is heavily implied to be aristocratic, brief sukuna x reader but she doesnât fw him, anatomy & physiology facts that are probably incorrect but we shall ignore that for the sake of the plot
word count: 16.9k
art by bimyo_n!
Rumor has it that everything began the moment winter break ended.
You extended the handle of your suitcase and walked toward the foyer, where you were sure your mother was already waiting. By the time you rounded the corner, she was already unlocking the front door and pulling it open.
As if it couldnât be any more obvious that she was eager for you to leave the house and return to university.
If you had to guess, the end of each break between semesters was her favorite time of year.Â
Well, that and her birthdayâbecause your father had made a habit of buying her a new handbag each season, and if there was anything she loved more than a mansion to herself, it was a mansion to herself full of designer purses.
âThe car is waiting for you,â she said simply, her tone lacking the warmth of a mother wishing her daughter farewell.Â
You hardly noticed its absence. You hadnât felt it in years, anyway. Youâd be luckyâor unlucky, you werenât quite sureâif she hugged you goodbye.
Just as you opened your mouth to reply, you noticed the furrow in her brow. Wordlessly, she pressed her hand between your shoulder blades to correct your posture. âHow is it that youâve somehow managed to develop a slouch? Your father and I didnât pay for you to go to charm school for nothing to come of it.â
Your jaw tightened, the familiar urge to shrug her hand away flared, but you didnât let it show in your voice. âAnd where is he? He couldnât take an early lunch to come home and see me off?â
She released a breath that sounded more like a laugh than a scoff. âWhy would he? Youâre going to be back in two months for dinner with the Ryomen family. Heâll see you then.â
This time, your bitterness did reach your voice. âOh. Right. That.â
Your suitcase was plucked from your side by the family driver and you watched as he loaded it into the trunk.
âYes. That.â Your mother tugged at your skirt, as if that would make it any longer.Â
She looked at you sharply. Her message was clear, even though it remained wordless: donât show up wearing something like this the next time we see you.
After all, appearances were important. You had learned that from an early age.
By the time you were ten, your eyebrows were already being plucked biweekly. Sometimes, thrice in one month, should your mother notice a hair out of place. At eleven, you learned what pore strips were, why they were used, and what people would say about you if you didnât. Once you were fourteen, styling your hair came as easily as walking on two feet.
But the Ryomen family didnât care about that as much as your mother did.Â
What they truly cared about was securing a fortune that would create generational wealth. They cared about fostering a bond with your parents that would lead to a prosperous business relationship. They only cared about you because you were the businessâan investment that they expected to mature on schedule. Well, you and Sukuna, their son, whom you have practically been betrothed to since you were six years old.
Graduation was approaching, and you would bet your life that this dinner was a gimmickâone for both sets of parents to nudge you two closer together. Not that they cared whether you truly got along. Aligning the Ryomen fortune with your family name would make your combined estate as good as gold. They likely just wanted to ensure that the eventual marriage (business deal) would be lifelong.
Which is to say, they wanted to drill it into your head that filing for divorce was not an option once everything was said and done. How sweet of them.
You couldnât worry about that now, though. You were already running late, and you needed to get back to campus and unpack. Classes start tomorrow morning, and you would hate to be seen with bags under your eyesâand your mother would certainly hate to hear about it from the monumental amount of staff at Mikage Academy, who seemed intent on notifying her of nearly every step you took over the past few years.
âWell, I should be going,â you mutteredâmore to yourself than to herâbecause you werenât even confident she was listening anymore.
Your suspicions were confirmed when she muttered a final âdonât forget about the dinnerâ before shutting the door behind you. She didnât follow you out. Didnât hug you goodbye either.
Once you were inside the vehicleâheadphones on, with music blaring loud enough to drown out any chance at forming a coherent thoughtâyou relaxed your shoulders and slouched, because there was no one here to pester you about it.
At least that was something you could be thankful for.
â
The student council election was rapidly approaching, and that was just about all you were allowed to think about.
You knelt on the ground with a paintbrush in your hand, carefully mapping out the words Vote Y/N for Student Council President! :) on the posterboard.
The headphones in your ears were turned up a bit too high, because you hadnât even noticed that your best friend, Utahime, had entered the empty workroom until she accidentally kicked over the can of red paint you had been using. You gasped as it splattered all over the poster, leaning back on the heels of your feet to ensure, at the very least, that it didnât get on your clothes.
âUtahime!â
âIâm sorry!â she said quickly, tilting the can upright again.Â
The damage had already been done, though. She knelt beside you and carefully folded up the poster, tossing it into a nearby bin. Wiping her hands against each other, her eyes landed on you.Â
âLet the record show that I didnât mean to do that and am guilty of all crimes regardless,â she paused, then smiled at you. âYou know, you donât really need to campaign. No one has run against you in, whatâ three years?â
You frowned as you wiped your thumb over the dot of paint on your skirt. It was small enough that an untrained eye wouldnât notice. âI know that, but you can never be too sure.â
âActually, you can be,â she retorted, but retrieved a fresh posterboard for you anyway. âThe only way you lose this election is if a meteor penetrates Earthâs orbit and targets Mikage specifically, and in that case, we would all be dead anyway.â
You raised a brow as you dipped a fresh paintbrush into the can. âIn that case, I should campaign to make sure that everyone died with an intent to vote for me.â
Utahime laughed with a shake of her head but didnât push it any further. âI should run a smear campaign against you in the schoolâs newspaper. Maybe then, your effort wonât be for naught.â She paused. âSpeaking ofâ have you read the newspaper lately?â
You were stopped dead in your tracks. If Utahime had managed to read the entirety of the universityâs boring-to-death newspaper and felt it was important enough to bring up to you, you couldnât help but feel uneasy. âYeah? Not this weekâs issue, though. Why?â
âOf course you read it regularly,â she mumbled with a smile before fishing her phone out of her backpack. âThereâs a new column for blind items. About the students. Can you believe that this shit actually made the final cut? Itâs awesome.â
You invaded her personal space to look at her phone screen. âNo way. What are they saying?â
Utahime laughed. âJust read it for yourself. I had to change my outfit because I read them this morning while brushing my teeth and laughed so hard, I toothpaste-bombed my own shirt.â
Reading the blind items to yourself, you canât help but stifle your laugh that comes before the unease settles in. Someone had written these based on what they had observed, and despite how harmless they seemed now, the concept of that person walking among you was something that left a pit in your stomach.
A certain basketball player was seen coming back to his dorm room around 4 a.m. with multiple shades of lipstick on his neck.
A male who lives on floor three in the Newbrooke dormitory has been shitting in the showers for two weeks straight.
A sorority girl tossed the entirety of her roommateâs makeup collection out the window and blamed it on someone else, resulting in their expulsion from the sorority.
A notorious rich boy blew his semesterâs allowance on a new sports car.
You skimmed the rest and ensured that none of them could be about you before you handed Utahime her phone back. âIâm sure we all know who number four is about.â
She shrugged but nodded anyway. âRight? I mean, Gojo revs his engine like itâs nobodyâs business all the time.â She looked down at her phone. âI wonder whoâs shitting in the showers, though.â
âMaybe that oneâs about Gojo, too,â you quipped, too quickly to hide the bite in your voice.
You regretted how much you sounded like your mother then, and how easily it had come out.Â
Your familyâs disdain for the Gojo family stemmed long before you were born. Hell, before your parents were even born. The details of it all were up for interpretation at this pointânobody talked about it, and you never dared to askâbut to your understanding, Gojoâs great-great-great-grandfather had screwed over yoursâsomehow, some wayâand this was what had come of it. You would be reluctant to believe it. After all, there were quite a few tools in your own family, and you liked to believe you were nothing like them.
But the asshat that was Satoru Gojo lived up to his reputation, as far as youâd learned. That was enough for you to write him off.Â
Not to mention, he was the only student here at Mikage who posed a threat to you. He was academically gifted and never let you forget it; most things came easier to him than they did you, and you hated him for it.Â
Well, that and the time he spilled beer all over your shoes at a frat party freshman year. He probably didnât even remember it had happened, but you did, because some other dipshit had been recording the entire ordeal and posted it online.
The earful youâd gotten from your parents that day was enough for you to stay away from him entirely.
All the while, Utahime raised her eyebrow with a grin. âOh, wow. Youâd better hope he didnât hear that, or else you just lost a vote.â
â
All things considered, you were having a good day.
Even though your hair is still slightly damp from the rain and the perfume you put on only two hours ago has nearly worn off, youâre pretty confident that youâve just aced your first Anatomy & Physiology test.Â
Every other person in the lecture hall is already relaxed, scrolling on their phones while they wait for your professor to hand back the graded examsâbecause all things considered, itâs only worth three percent of your total grade after all calculations. And yes, you have done the calculations (twice!), because heaven forbid you be uninformed about anything relating to your academics.
You glance at your watch nervously. You hope this class is released on time, because attending it was only the second thing youâve checked off your mile-long to-do list for the day.Â
You have a student council meeting at 2 p.m., a meeting with Professor Yaga at 3:15 p.m. about an upcoming scholarship opportunity, and a study date with Sukuna at 4 p.m.âwhere he doesnât do much of anything at all aside from scrolling through red pill looksmaxxer Instagram reels for two hours.
A test is lazily tossed back onto your desk, and you pick it up immediately.
Itâs a 98%. An A.
You smile to yourself, but it doesnât last very long. It falters the moment you feel a presence looming over your shoulderâone that carries the scent of expensive cologne. Itâs light and masculine, and reminds you of summer, for whatever reason. You may have complimented it if the presence hadnât beaten you to speaking.
âOnly a ninety-eight? Poor thing. Didnât sleep well or something?â
Suddenly, your compliment dries up, because youâd know that voice anywhere. Satoru fucking Gojo.
You snap your head around so fast it nearly spins off your spine. âStay away from me and get a life,â you say through gritted teeth, but snatch his test from his hands despite yourself.
And there, in the top corner, written in pen, is a 100%. From what you can tell from all the talking heâs doing right nowâwhich you arenât listening to a lickâheâs pretty intent on rubbing it in your face.
He clicks his tongue and places his hand on the back of your seat, using it for leverage as he leans over you a bit more. âSee? You got number thirteen wrong. You said the fluid inside body cells is extracellular fluid. Ouch.â He pats the back of your seat, as if itâs any consolation. âYou know, Iâm free Thursday afternoons. I could tutor you, and once the exam comes around, that frown will be turned right-side upââ
You stand abruptly and hand his test back to him, your wrist so rigid it may as well cut through ice. âOh, Iâm so good off that. Iâd rather gouge my eyes out with an ice pick.â
Satoru tilts his head, his grin so smug it makes you sick. âWell, suit yourself. Speaking ofâpretty sure ice picks are usually on clearance this time of year. Yâknow, with it being spring and all.â
A single glance around the room tells you nearly everyone else has already left, and that itâs painfully obvious you and Satoru are the only ones who stayed behind to talk. Youâd rather not be spotted with him again. You donât bother hiding your eye roll as you zip up your backpack and walk away, crumpled test in tow.
âHey, where are you going? What about our riveting conversation?â he calls after you, and you can practically hear his grin when he speaks. âIt was a funny joke!â
The door slams shut behind you.
â
You canât stand Sukunaâno matter how hard you try.
âCan you at least turn that down?â
Sukuna grumbled under his breath before slumping even lower into the seat he dwarfed in size, but he lowered the volume of his Instagram reels just enough to pacify you. âWhatâs it matter, anyway? Thereâs nobody here.â
You huffed and tried not to take it personally, as the single person currently sitting beside him. âIt matters to me because, unlike some people, I actually care about my grades. Very shocking, I know.â
It might be shocking to mostâwhich youâd understand, because it even shocks you on most daysâbut Sukuna is one of the few people in your life who understands you.
Because at the end of the day, Sukuna doesnât see you. He doesnât want to. He doesnât have to. But after everything, he knows you better than most. He knows about the things you donât say out loud. He knows how much you hate going home, because he hates it just as much. He knows that none of this truly matters, because your parents have had your futures lined up for over a decade, and none of your hard work plays a factor in that.
Where the two of you differ is this: you still seem to be under the assumption that hard work might relieve you of your fate, but Sukuna has long since adopted a different worldview. He thinks that if everything is going to work out in the endâa nice house, a somewhat decent spouse, a few kids in the far futureâthen whatâs the point in trying in the meantime?
âJeez, woman. I was just asking. It that time of the month or somethinâ?â
You scoffed, but didnât dignify him with a reply.
You donât know what this is exactlyâwhatever you and Sukuna are. You arenât dating. You have kissed a few timesâexperimental and primarily drunk kisses shared at parties that never amounted to anything, because, well⊠you just donât like each other. You arenât sure if youâre even friends, or if youâd want to be.
At most, youâre familial acquaintances, which is the polite way of saying that he is supposed to be your husband one day, if your parents have anything to say about it.
âI just need to focus. Yaga said I have a good chance at landing the internship, but that doesnât mean I should start slacking off now.â
âWhat internship?â
You blinked.
âThe internship I applied for three months ago?â
Sukuna blinked.
âThe one I passed three rounds of interviews for?â
You scoffed. âFor fuckâs sake, Sukuna, itâs just about the only thing Iâve been talking about for months!â
He held his hands up in a placating gesture. âOkay, okay, okay. Jeez. The only thing Iâm noticing right now is that Iâm not the only one being loud in the library anymore.â
A swarm of harsh replies flooded your mind, but you tamped them downâbecause you were 99% percent sure Sukuna was far too dim-witted to grasp whatever insult you could chuck his way anyway.
âWhatever. I need to get going.â You packed up your belongings and stood, taking a step in the opposite direction before he caught your arm. You glared back at him. âWhat?â
âAre you mad at me or somethinâ? Whatâd I say?â
Once again, you didnât give him a reply and walked away.
Sukuna leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest with a shake of his head. âWomen.â
Once in the hallway, you approached the vending machine. You could use a pick-me-up, even if it were in the form of junk food. Just as you were within a few feet of it, an infuriating man with white hair slid in front of you. Satoru was quick to slide a dollar into the machine and punch in whatever he wanted.
âOhâsorry, did you want something?â he asked over his shoulder, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips.
You were fed up with men today. No, scratch that. You were more than fed up with men today. You rolled your eyes and began to walk away, and maybe Satoru had a change of heart, or maybe he realized that your fallen expression didnât just have to do with running into him.
âHey, noâ come back, Iâm serious,â he called after you. He reached into his pocket and slid another dollar into the machine. âWhat do you want?â
You turned around, eyeing him closely. âI donât need your dollar, Gojo.â
Unfazed by your tone, he laughed. It was boyish and carefree in a way that surprised you. âI know you donât,â he said simply. âWay to make me feel nice about my good deed, though. I didnât know a single dollar could move you so much.â You narrowed your eyes at him, and he tilted his head toward the machine in response. âCâmon. Pick something.â
And because you just couldnât catch a break today, your stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. You placed a hand over your abdomen immediately, your face nearly losing its color.
ââŠGummy bears,â you finally managed to choke out. âPlease.â
Satoru smiled and punched in the corresponding code for a bag of Haribo Gummy Bears. âDecent choice for a starving woman. Not sweet enough for my taste, but decent.â
You huffed out a breath, watching him retrieve both of your chosen snacks. âSour Patch Kids? Really?â
He handed you the gummy bears before nodding once. âYup. Really.â He paused, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. âI thought youâd like them. I mean, youâd definitely fit in with them.â
âFit in with who?â
Satoru tore the bag open and popped one into his mouth. âThe Sour Patch Kids. Yâknowâwith this whole mean-girl-who-hates-me getup youâve got going on. Really sour of you.â
Your eyebrows pinched together. âThatâs so stupid.â
âYeah, but you almost smiled. Saw it with my own eyes,â he chirped back, chewing on the candy. You smoothed your expression, and he shook his head. âNo, no, noâ donât hide it now. Thatâs just unfair. I paid a dollar for that smile.â
Your face tightened, because now you really were fighting the urge to smile, damn it. âWhatever,â you snapped as you started to walk awayâthen stopped, your expression tightening even more. âI mean⊠thank you. For the gummy bears.â You said one last thing before turning your back on him. âAnd donât think this means I like you now, because I donât.â
Satoru just smiled. âYeah, of course, wouldnât dream of it.â
â
Your phone vibrated late into the night.
If it were any other day, you wouldâve been fast asleep by now. Youâd been strict about your sleep schedule ever since you accidentally discoveredâat twelve years old, six hours into a late-night 3 a.m. deep diveâthat not sleeping enough can result in the brain eating itself.Â
But even the fear of having a peanut-sized brain by the time you were forty hadnât been enough to lull you to sleep tonight, which was how you found yourself watching ASMR cat spa day videos at 1 a.m.
You groaned when you glanced at the top of your screen and saw who dared to interrupt your doomscrolling.
sukuna: hey
sukuna: i can see u reading my texts.
sukuna: stop being mad at me and listen
sukuna: theres a party tomorrow night and i think you should come
sukuna: and before u get all âi need to focus and stay in and be boring all the timeâ on me just listen
sukuna: u should take time away from your hw and relax
You nearly smiled. This mightâve been the nicest thing Sukuna had ever said to you.
sukuna: plus i wanna go and it looks bad if we arent there together. people talk.
Never mind.
you: iâll think about it
sukuna: cool. be ready by 9
you: i never said i was going???
â
Spoiler alert: you wound up coming to the party.
The air is stale and smells of vape smoke and alcohol. The frat house is far too crowded, and from where youâre standing in the kitchen, everyone looks like a pack of sardines wiggling around to a 2010s pop song that no one has quite caught the rhythm for yet. And yet, for all of your complaining, youâre still hereâlooking your best, at that.
You werenât as much of a bore as Sukuna made you out to be, but you could admit that you didnât party nearly as much as you had when you first started at Mikage. The passing of time makes you more responsible, or whatever the poets sayâyou canât remember, and youâre honestly a little tipsy already, truth be told.
Suddenly, Shoko nudges your side with her elbow. âHey, party girl. You gonna stand in here all night, or do you plan on joining us at some point?â
âI didnât even see you there,â you say through a laugh, waving a hand through the air to dissipate some of the vape smoke Toji blows only a few feet away. âYeah, Iâm coming.â
You follow her through the crowd, only managing to bump into a few people along the way while clutching your Solo cup tight to your chest. Itâs warmer now that youâre enveloped in this sea of bodies; your cheeks feel hot, but you pay no mind to it. Youâre not sure how long it takes before you and Shoko reunite with Utahime and Nobara, the four of you forming a little circle for yourselvesâsomething that looks conspiratorial from the outside, but feels like a haven on the inside.
âTook you long enough,â Nobara says by way of greeting. She glances down at your cup. âWhatâd you find in the kitchen?â
âI donât even know what the hell this is. I just grabbed whatever was unopened and poured it into a cup with ice. Iâm hoping itâll water down,â you reply with a shrug.
Nobara scoffs. âToji never stocks shit for these partiesâdeadass, this is the worst frat. I donât even know why we come here.â
Shoko laughs, though you can barely hear it over the music. âWe come here because girls get in free at the door. I mean, if Iâm gonna get shitfaced and regret my decisions tomorrow morning, I sure as hell donât wanna pay for it.â
Utahime taps Shokoâs cup. âYeah, speaking of getting shitfacedâyouâre drinking water once you finish that. I canât carry you back to your dorm. The last time I tried, I basically dragged you there.â
Shoko groans but doesnât fight it. All of a sudden, the three of them lock eyes on something directly behind you, and their expressions fall.
Utahimeâs face goes white as she places her hands on your shoulders. âGirl, donât turn around. Iâm so serious.â
âWhat are you talking about?â Your brows knit together, even as youâre already turning.
And when you see it, your eyes widen.
Sukuna is making out with some girl in the center of the room, and while the sight doesnât make you sick, it does make you nervous. In the span of three seconds, a million thoughts rush through your mind.
Youâre granted a glimpse into your future: a future where you marry a man who invites you to a party just to make out with another girl right in front of you. A future where you never feel secure enough to let your guard down, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. A future where you die even more miserable than you feel right now.
Not because youâre jealous. No, you couldnât care less what the hell he does. Itâs the principle that bothers you.
If you were expected to keep up appearances and make time to âbondâ with him out of your already packed schedule, why was he allowed to do whatever he pleased?
You hope no one else is paying as much attention to him as you are, because the last thing you need is both of your parents finding out and breathing down your neck, trying to put Sukuna on a leash.
âJust classless,â Shoko hums.
You turn back around, laughing. âHeâs a mess. I donât know what the hell my parents are thinking.â
Nobara sighs. âYou should run away and join the circus or something. Theyâll never find you.â
You laugh to yourself, knowing theyâre only trying to make you feel better. But the impending doom of your upcoming graduation feels worse than ever now. You feel suffocatedâlike the air is too warm to breatheâso you mumble out a half-assed excuse before slipping through the crowd and out onto the balcony.
Itâs cold outside. Refreshing against your skin.
The party has spilled out onto the front lawn, and the sight is so ridiculous it brings you an odd sense of comfort. Choso wobbles on two unsteady legs with Nanami perched on his shoulders, currently tryingâand failingâto fish toilet paper out of a tree. Two seconds later, they go tumbling over together, face-planting into the grass.
âThatâs gotta hurt.â
You gasp, wrenching away from the edge of the balcony to look behind you.
And there he stood.
Satoru fucking Gojo.
Only now, he looks different. More casual. Relaxed, right down to the smoothed wrinkle between his eyebrows and the clothes heâs wearing now. Youâve never seen him in anything but collared dress shirts and black slacks, courtesy of Mikage Academyâs suffocating dress code.
He takes a step closer. Then another. Soon heâs beside you, forearms resting on the railing. His shirt stretches across his frame, and your eyes traitorously trace the curve of his bicep. The sharp line of his jaw. The slope of his nose.
You tear your gaze away before it gets embarrassing. Has he always looked like that?
Clearing your throat, you mirror his posture. âHi.â
âHey,â he replies easily. He glances at you, then back out at the lawn. âNice party. Solid DJ choice.â
You huff. âSmall talk? Really?â
Satoru shrugs. âI figured I should ease into it. You donât exactly look like youâre in the mood for my usual charm.â
âYou mean being insufferable?â
âWow,â he says. âI was more so going for memorable.â
Your eyes meet. Youâre the first to look away.
âSorry,â you mutter. âI donât really know how to talk to you when Iâm not irritated with you and your stupid gloating.â You pause, then lift a finger. âAnd before you say anythingâI aced the quiz yesterday. So if you came out here to rub it in, save it.â
âOh no,â Satoru deadpans. âMy entire planâ ruined right before my eyes.â
You glance at him. Heâs smiling, but itâs softer than usual.Â
âNo,â he continues, dropping his head slightly. âThatâs not why I came out here.â
Your brows pinch together. âNo?â
âNope. I needed air. And maybe a tetanus shot after sitting on that couch, âcause that thingâs disgusting.â
You laugh despite yourself.
âAnd,â he adds casually, âI saw you come out here.â
You turn toward him. Somehow, his eyes look brighter at night. âIs that your official reason?â
âMostly,â he says. âWhat can I say? Iâm curious.â
âAbout?â
âAbout why you look like youâd rather be anywhere else than at a party like this.â
You hesitate. âItâs⊠complicated, I guess.â
âAh,â Satoru nods.Â
You scoff, easily reading between the lines. âIt has nothing to do with Sukuna. Wellâ okay, maybe a little. But not like that.â
He tilts his head. âYou sure? Because from where Iâm standing, it kinda looked like your boyfriend might have a lot to do with it.â
âEw. No,â you say quickly. âHeâs not my boyfriend.â
Something shifts in Satoruâs expression. âGood to know.â
You blink. âWhy?â
He shrugs. âJust is.â
You roll your eyes, but continue anyway, words spilling easier now. âIf my parents have their way, heâll probably be more than my boyfriend someday.â You grimace. âWhich is terrifying, because heâs about as smart as a box of rocks, and I canât be around him for more than ten minutes without wanting to bang my head against the wall.â
Satoru lets out a low whistle. âDamn. Here I thought I was harsh.â
Panic flickers through you when he doesnât say anything else right away.
âI know it sounds stupid,â you rush on. âThere are people whoâd kill to have something lined up like that, and here I am complaining. My mom married my dad for business reasons and theyâre⊠fine. I think.â You run a hand over your hair. âBut I donât want that. I donât want to be married right after graduation. I donât even know if I want to get married at all.â
Satoru doesnât interrupt, but when he does speak, his voice is quieter. âThat doesnât sound stupid. In a place like this,â he gestures toward campus, âeverythingâs a transaction. Degrees, connections, last names.â He scoffs lightly. âMy parents wonât shut up about networking. Meanwhile, the best relationship Iâve built here is with the lady who gives me extra french toast in the dining hall.â
You laugh, clearly surprised. Not only because the french toast sucks, but because you wouldnât expect something like that from him. It should make you feel less impressed with him, but for some reason, it doesnât.
âIâm serious,â he adds. âPeace isnât exactly encouraged around here. If anything, youâre expected to trade for it.â
âAnd you?â you ask before you can stop yourself. âYou donât seem all that worried about it, for someone who comes from a family like yours.â
Satoru shrugs again, but this time itâs different. Less flippant. âGuess I just decided a while ago that Iâd rather disappoint my parents than disappoint myself.â
The quiet that follows is heavier than the music inside. You can hear the hollers and shuffling feet just inside, but it fades away just as quickly as it came.
âYou make it sound easy,â you say.
He smiles. âHey, I never said it was. Itâs just easier than the alternative, is all.â
You nod because it feels appropriate, and you arenât sure what else you should do. Talking with him is surprisingly easy, but that doesnât mean youâre supposed to be doing it. That you should be doing it. Even now, you wish you could resonate with Satoruâs ideology, because all you can think about is how much your parents would hate this.
âMy parents would hate this,â you blurt out, accidentally saying your thoughts aloud.
You look at him, embarrassed and doing your best to hide it. It feels strange, knowing just how much youâre supposed to hate talking to him yourself, but donât.
He rubs the back of his neck. âThis conversation?â
You try not to stare at his bicep, flexing right in your face.
âYeah,â you admit. âMy parents hate your family. Always have.â
âMine arenât exactly fans of yours either.â Satoru laughs, tilting his head slightly. The feeling was mutualâhe couldnât take much offense at it. Still, he asks, âDo you feel that way too?â
âWhat do you mean?â
He turns to look at you, his expression almost serious. âDo you hate me?â
You huff. âI donât even understand the reasoning all that much. I just know that the animosity exists, and that Iâm expected to respect itâ and I guess I have, for the most part.â
âThat isnât what I asked,â he replies simply. âDo you hate me? On your own terms?â He pauses then, and if you didnât know any better, youâd think he looked a tad nervous. âIâm sure Iâve given you enough of a reason to. More than one, Iâd bet.â He glances away. âThe first time we ever spoke, I spilled beer all over your shoes. I shouldnât have been holding it anywayâ I hate beer.â
âI knew you remembered!â you yell, pointing a finger at him. âIâve been holding that grudge against you for years now.â
âWhat? Of course I remember. I apologized immediately,â he says quickly. âPretty sure I almost got on my knees and everything.â
You click your tongue and shake your head. âThe damage was already done.â
The conversation stills for a moment, and you choke over your words before managing a more serious reply.Â
âFor as obnoxious as you are, I donât hate you. No. I donât even know you well enough to hate you if I wanted to.â
âAlright, Iâll take it.â Satoru smiles to himself. âI think youâd form a better opinion of me if you let me get to know you. Youâre a tough nut to crack, you knowâ been tryinâ for years.â
You stare at him, and he doesnât cower in response. Not that he typically would, but you half-expected him to.
âIâm serious,â he says instead. âWe should be friends.â
Your laugh comes out sharp. âAbsolutely not. My parents would be livid. Beyond livid, actuallyâtheyâd probably murder me. And I mean, a true crime podcasterâs wet dream type of murder. No joke.â
âWell, if thatâs the case, I think we should definitely be friends,â he says through his laughter. âIâve always wanted to be in a documentary. Confessionals and all. A face like this is made for the cameras.â
âYouâre such a jerk,â you scoff, nudging his side, barely able to fight off your smile.
âMm-hmm. A big jerk that youâre still talking to,â he replies. âIf I didnât know any better, Iâd think you wanted to be my friend too.â
You donât reply, which might have just been an answer in and of itself.
For the first time throughout this entire conversation, Satoru turns his body to face you properly. His head tilts down enough to accommodate the height difference between you.
âI think this might be the first argument youâve ever let me win,â he grins.
You narrow your eyes. âThis isnât a win. Itâs more like⊠a draw. A tie.â
âSure. A draw, a tie. Potato, potahto. Whatever.â He extends his hand toward you. âSo. Friends?â
You take it and shake it. âYes. Friends.â
He smiles. âSee? Easy peasy lemon squeezy.â
When your hands fall apart, Satoruâs hand stills at his sideâfingers flexingâbefore he grasps the railing. You straighten, stepping back from it yourself. The night air suddenly feels too thin, as if there isnât enough of it for the two of you to breathe anymore. More anxiety than anything else.
âI should probably go,â you murmur. âItâs late.â
And youâve been talking for quite some time now, which only means itâs a matter of time before someone notices and writes a blind item in that stupid newspaper column.
âRight,â he replies. âNeed someone to walk you home?â
You shake your head. âI think Iâll manage.â
Satoru nods, his smile slow as it turns up at the corners. âAlright. Sleep tight, donât let the bed bugs bite.â
âNight,â you reply weakly before reemerging into the party.
You reunite with your friends, who seem even more over the night than you are. The four of you walk back to your dormitory together.
â
You royally fucked up this time.
To no surprise, you won the student council election with flying colors. No one had the ballsâorâŠclit? You donât discriminateâto run against you throughout the election cycle.
With some surprise, however, you decided to celebrate your victory with the other board members, taking way too many shots from a bottle that was emptied far too quickly.
On a fucking Tuesday.
You mentally kicked yourselfâand you wouldâve done the same physically if you werenât on the verge of blacking out.
Vision splotchy, you glanced around the dorm, only to find that everyone was already passed out cold. You couldnât stay hereâyou had a meeting bright and early!
And so, with some difficulty, you finally managed to find your purseâthe one you had hidden while sober, back when your only concern was someone stealing the $60 in cash from your wallet.
Widening your eyes, the bright screen was a blur of letters and colors, but you managed to open your contacts app. Typing in an âS,â you clicked Shokoâs contact, praying she was awake and able to come pick you up from the off-campus housing.
The line rang twice before someone answered.
You sigh in relief. âGirl, red alert! Get your sexy ass up and come pick me up!âŠplease.â
âWoah, Prez. I had no idea you thought about me this way. Tell me more.â
Your heart dropped straight to your ass.
âSatoruâŠ?â you whine, more than ask.
âYeah, itâs me. Iâm startinâ to think you meant to call someone else. Bit of a blow to my ego, but I can handle it.â
Slumping against the couch, you huff. âMeant to call Shoko. Need a ride.â
Silence filled the line for a moment, then an insufferably attractive laugh broke it. âAre you drunk right now?â
You sniffled. âA little. I meanâa lottle. I-I mean, a lot. Very drunk. Drunk and stranded.â
You heard rustling on the other end, the faint jangle of keys. Your eyes fell shut. You were so damn tired.
âOkay, I just left my apartment. Where are you?â
In any other situation, you wouldâve refused Satoru Gojoâs help. You were a strong, independent woman. You didnât need a man to come to your rescue.
But the longer you sat on this couch, the more you wanted to ditch your mandatory meeting in the A.M. and pass out right here.
Even in this state, you were smart enough to know staying wasnât an option.
âIâm at off-campus housing down the street. Please hurry. And bring water. And snacks. And a blanket. Andââ
âYes, boss, Iâve already got all of thatâalong with a partridge in a pear tree. Jeez, youâre needy.â He laughed, and it made you pout. âIâm only a few minutes away. Hang tight.â
â
âWatch your head, watch your head!â
Thunk.
âOww,â you whine, rubbing the top of your head while Satoru busied himself fastening your seatbelt.
Rounding the front of his sports car, he slips into the driverâs seat. The engine roared to life a few seconds later, but the car stayed in park. Instead, he reaches for the ice-cold water bottle in the cup holder, twisting off the cap before handing it to you.
âHow much did you have to drink?â he asks, sounding almost agonized. âDonât know if you know this, but itâs Tuesday night.â
It took you about ten seconds, a long drink of water, and a deep sigh of relief before you answered.Â
âI won the presidency,â you finally say, as if that answered everything.
âAh.â He reaches for a nearby pack of gummy bears. âThis good? Thatâs all I could find on the way.â
âYes,â you barely cared, tearing the package open. âYâknow, GojoâŠyouâre kinda nice.â
He huffs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. âOh, really? What gave you that idea?â
Chewing thoughtfully, you started listing things your sober self wouldâve never admitted.
âYou came to get me even though Iâm such a bitch to you. And you brought me water, and my favorite candy, andâhic!â
âAnd you tease me all the time, but you arenât that mean when it comes down to itâŠâ You sniffle. âI honestly wish you were. Itâd be easier to hate you.â
He laughs, shaking his head as he finally shifts the car into drive. âAw, sorry about that. I can be mean to you if you want?â
The drive was quiet, mostly because it was so shortâthe streets were empty at this ungodly hour. When Satoru parked and killed the engine, he turned to look at you and froze.
You were chewing on gummy bears with tears streaming down your cheeks.
âAre you a sad drunk?â he asks, even though he already knew. âAw, you are, arenât you?â
You sniffle. âWhy are you being so nice to me?â
He shifts toward you, more careful now, lifting the water bottle back to your lips. ââCause weâre friends now. Iâm nice to my friends. Câmere.â
To his surprise, you let him tip the bottle, drinking without protest.
Swallowing, you frowned. âNo, you arenât.â Sniffle. âYouâre mean to Suguru. And Nanami. And TojiâŠâ
Satoruâs smile is lopsided. âYou have a point. Guess Iâm just nice to you then.â
âBut why?â you press, not even realizing it. âYou have no reason to be.â
Satoru was the type of man who had never needed to wish on stars to get what he wanted.
All it took was a swipe of one of his many credit cards or the mention of his family name. It worked without fail.
For everything except one thing, and she was sitting right beside him.
Oblivious to the fact that since freshman year, sheâd made his heart race every time she was near. From the moment he met her in biologyâcut down by her sharp tongueâheâd felt motivated instead of defeated.
Heâd gone home that night thinking about her. Stayed up, even, planning ways to talk to you the next day. Ways to make you look at him. Talk to him. Give him the time of day.
You had no idea what you did to him, and right now, he had no place to tell you.
He leans back with a quiet hum. âFor someone so smart, you can be a little dense sometimes.â
Your sniffle cut him off. His head snaps toward you, and his chest nearly caved in at the sight of fresh tears welling up.
âNo, no, no, noâ hey, I was joking! I didnât mean it, I swear.â
Satoru cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing away your tears. His eyes searched yours, softening despite himself. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
âYouâre kinda cute when youâre drunk,â he says.
What the fuck?
Why would he say that out loud? Right now? Of all times?
âYouâre kinda cute all the time,â you replied easily, fingers fumbling with the pendant on his necklace. âYou smell really nice, too.â
Satoruâs heartbeat doubled, but he forced himself not to read into it. Not now. Not when youâre in this state.
He cleared his throat, pulling his hands away. âLetâs get you inside, okay?â
He stepped out first, then opened your door. Your eyes met his as he reached in to unbuckle you. âEasy,â he murmured.
Getting you out of the car was about ninety-five percent Satoruâs effort; you leaned into him the majority of the way, the two of you making your way toward the side entrance. It felt like it took hours to climb the stairsâbut in reality, Satoru carried most of your weight without breaking a sweat.
By the time you reached your room, he helped you onto your bed, carefully slipping off your heels. His hand lingered at your ankle, thumb brushing over the faint mark the strap had left behind. He leaned over you slightly, hand smoothing over your hair.
âGet some sleep, okay?â
You didnât notice when he set a bottle of aspirin and fresh water on your nightstand. You just curled under your blankets on instinct, heavy with exhaustion. Your eyes cracked open just enough to catch your on-call-Uber-driver-slash-friend retreating toward the door.
âSatoru?â you called.
He paused, one foot already out. âMm?â
âI like it when youâre nice to me.â You shook your head. âNoâI mean⊠I like being your friend.â
Satoru smiled faintly. âMe too.â
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
â
You despise how much you enjoy being friends with Satoru Gojo.
You despise how attentive he is. How he silently hands you a pencil a beat after you realize youâve come without one. How he holds the seat down for you so you can sit more easily in the lecture hall. How he gives you one of his AirPods whenever youâre in the library together, looking for your own books respectively, yet highly aware of how far you are from him when the music begins to chop up.
You despise how much heâs gotten you to let your guard down. How he makes you laugh whenever one of your student council meetings goes awry, because the high of being reelected as council president only lasts until the first meeting. How he assures you that you can get through whatever issue youâre working through with your boardmates, because, according to him, if you were able to snag his vote, then you can just about do anything. How he references Digimon or whatever video game heâs played last into just about every other conversation, to the point where it borders on endearing and annoyingâbut the expression he wears when he talks about it makes you easily decide on the former.
You despise how he makes you feel. How a simple nudge to your side whenever you reply with a smartass comment makes your face feel warm. How the scent of his cologne lingers after he leaves, and how you feel disappointed when it finally dissipates. How youâve now become acutely aware of the length of his eyelashes, the vibrance of his eyes, the smile lines that look more handsome on him than youâd ever like to admit.
But more than anything, you despise that you just canât find anything to hate about himâno matter how hard you try.
It had only been a little over a month, and yet itâs difficult to remember what it was like when the two of you werenât friends, or what faulty reason you had to hate him in the first place.
You doodle a bit rougher in your notebook as you wait for instruction to begin, trying to get your mind off it. Off him.
Like clockwork, he plops down into the seat beside you, lazily extending his legs before placing a small white box on your desk.
âWhatâs this?â you ask, setting your pen down. When you open it, you find your favorite pastry sitting inside, untouched. Your brows knit together. âHowâd you know this was my favorite?â
When you look at him, heâs already chewing a bite of the muffin he bought for himself.
âYeah, no prob,â he replies, setting his muffin down. âYour stomach growls when you donât eat in the morningâI could hear it from three aisles back.â
You shove his shoulder, eyes wide. âShut up. No, you couldnât.â
âYeah, youâre right,â he relents with a grin, glancing your way. âIt was four aisles back.â
You roll your eyes, face warm. You glance down at his muffin, and he clutches it closer to himself.
âNo looksies,â Satoru says firmly. âDaddy doesnât like to share.â
You grimace. âEw. Gross. Donât call yourself that.â
âMommy doesnât like to share?âÂ
âEven worse.â
Satoru sighs in playful defeat, and just in timeâbefore he can try againâyour professor addresses the class and starts the lecture.
And no more than five minutes later, he doesnât even complain when you ask for a bite of his muffin.
â
Youâre nervous about your upcoming Anatomy & Physiology exam.
Your steps are quick, and from afar, you probably look like youâre lightly jogging, which isnât the best look considering youâre wearing a thick, furry winter coat and a pair of fuzzy pajama pants. It isnât ideal, but you planned for this venture outside your dorm room to be quick.
That is, until you trip on a shift in the sidewalk and tumble forward.
You catch yourself on your hands, which only makes you realize that your supplies are now blowing away. You manage to pick up a few things on your own and reach for a folderâonly to realize someone else has already picked it up.
âNearly gone with the wind,â Satoru sighs. âGood thing I was here to save the day. No need for thanksâ itâs all in a dayâs work.â
You straighten once youâve gathered the rest of your things. âYou and your gloating. Donât you ever get tired?â
âNope.â He shakes his head, then glances down. âCute slippers.â
Your eyes follow his gaze to the fuzzy slippers you only ever dare to wear out when your feet are freezing. You shift your feet and nudge his chest. âShut up. Theyâre warm!â
âAnd fashionable,â he lilts, and gestures to the armful in your hands. âWhatâs all this for?â
âStudying,â you answer, because itâs obvious. âIâm gonna make flashcards for the A&P exam and probably take a few practice tests.â You reach for the folder still in his grasp. âSo, if youâll excuse meââ
âHey, hey, hey. Slow down a sec.â Satoru lifts the folder out of reach. âLet me help you out, yeah?â
You narrow your eyes. âWhy? Donât you want to score better than me anyway?â
âOh no,â Satoru says flatly, face blank. âYouâve exposed my master plan once again. Whatever will I do?â Then he grins. âHow could you think so little of me? Iâll score better than you without sabotage, you know that.â
âAs if,â you retort, averting his gaze.
Satoru raises an eyebrow. âIf youâre so confident, prove me wrong.â
You tuck your lips into your mouth, weighing his offer. On one hand, youâre hesitant to let him into your roomâafraid that you might not dislike it. That you might even like being alone with him. On the other, youâve never been one to back down from a challenge like this.
Your pride settles it for you.
âFine,â you say. âI will. Follow me.â
â
Rumor has it that this was where it all truly began.
Your bedroom.
It was all rather easy at first. Youâd spent about an hour making flashcards, a time primarily spent in silenceâsave for his voice making noise pollution every so often. Mostly moans and groans about how bored and hungry he is, which fall on deaf ears.
By the time you finish the deck, Satoruâs jacket is hanging on the back of your desk chair, and heâs lazily sprawled across your bed. Heâd offered to take the chair, but you insisted that sitting made you focus better. Which it does, but youâre also too nervous to sit beside him on the bed right now.
He tosses a stress ball toward the ceiling, catching it with one hand. âDone yet? Iâm dying here. The fun part is supposed to be me quizzing you.â
You straighten the cards before tossing them his way, the deck landing on his stomach. âYes, now hurry up. I donât have all day.â
âYes, maâam,â he chirps, propping himself up against your pillows as he gathers the cards. He clears his throat, glances once at you, then back down. âWhat are the two primary functions of the skeletal system?â
It doesnât take you more than a second. âSupport the body and protect softer body parts.â
He hums and flicks to the next card. âWhat three things does the muscular system allow the body to do?â
You hum, rubbing your chin. âMovement, support, and⊠heat production.â
Another flick. âWhat about the nervous system?â
âIt controls immediate responses to stimuli,â you answer easily.
Satoru huffs, flipping through card after card as you breeze through half the deck. Soon youâre naming the primary functions of individual musclesâtemporalis, masseter, sternocleidomastoid, extensor digitorumâyouâve lost count of how many youâve answered correctly. Youâre zoned in, until he looks up at you with a raised eyebrow.
âThese are too easy for you,â he declares. âYou need something more challenging.â
You squint and lean back in your chair. âWhat? These are plenty challenging.â
He hums, clearly unconvinced. âNope. You need more independent practice. Stuff you canât predict.â
âLike what?â you ask. âSince youâre so smart, Iâm assuming you have an alternative method. Put up or shut up.â
Satoru exhales through his nose, meeting your gaze without missing a beat. Heâs long since learned your tone, your bite. He grins and sits up straighter, lifting an arm and pointing to his own. âWhat does the tricep do?â
You blink. âStraightens the arm at the elbow? Duh. I thought this was supposed to be hard.â
âShh, be patient. A master is at work.â He pauses, then asks, âWhat about the orbicularis oris?â
Your posture straightens against your will, gaze dropping to his mouth. Your eyes trace the curve of his lipsâwhere that muscle would beâand you watch as the corners of his mouth tug upward. Five seconds passâlonger than any question has taken you so far.
âIt allows for movement in the lips,â you finally say.
âMm,â he sighs. âOnly half credit. Thatâs a little vague. Name three specific functions and I might reconsider.â
The room feels warmer. You clear your throat. âSpeech, whistling, and⊠kissing.â Your eyes flick away to your desk as you fuss with loose papers, trying to come off as busy or distracted. You add quickly, âItâs informally known as the kissing muscle. Everyone knows that.â
A low whistle leaves him as he rises from the bed, stretching his arms over his head before stalking toward your desk. He stops behind your chair, flashcards still in hand.
âWhatâre you doing?â you ask, still facing forward.
He sets the cards down in front of you and places one hand on the desk, leaning just slightly over you. He isnât touching you, but heâs close enough that you feel the heat of him at your back, and certainly close enough to make your thoughts scatter.
âTold you,â he murmurs. âIâm helping you study.â
You swallow. âHow, exactly?â
He exhales, breath brushing your neck. âHave you practiced for the muscle identification portion yet?â
Shit. Youâd nearly forgotten about that. From what you remembered your professor saying, there would be anatomy models stationed around the classroom, highlighted with nothing more than a single muscle on each one. It would be your responsibility to name the muscle and its function on the spot.
âNot really,â you admit, shrugging. Your back brushes his chest, and you clear your throat quickly. âHow do you plan on helping with that?â
Satoru brushes your hair off your shoulder, knuckles barely grazing the back of your neck before his thumb presses gently into a muscle along your upper back. âFor starters: what muscle just helped you shrug your shoulders?â
You swallow thickly. Your breath leaves you shaky, and you hope he doesnât notice the goosebumps rising on your skin when his thumb traces again, slow and deliberate. Meant to tease you, youâd imagine.
âUpper trapezius,â you say, breathy despite yourself.
âGood.â You can hear the smile in his voice. His hand moves, thumb sliding to the back of your neck. âYour neckâs tense.â
âWell,â you say, forcing a shaky exhale, âitâs not every day I become a study tool. First day on the job.â
He laughs, and thereâs something charged beneath it. âYou saying you donât like my method?â
âNo, Iâm not saying that at all,â you blurt. You glance up and freeze at how close his face is. â...Iâve liked others less. Thatâs all.â
A lopsided smile. âSo you want to continue?â
Your answer is immediate. âYes.â
His thumb presses more firmly at your neck. âWhat muscle is tensed up here?â
âTrick question,â you mutter, âstill the upper trapezius.â
âGood.â His hand flattens, gliding down your back, following the natural arch of your spine as your breath catches in your throat. âNow tell meââ
Your heart is pounding.
ââwhat muscle is making your back arch like that?â
You scoff, trying to straighten. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âThatâs not an answer,â he tuts. âDonât know it, huh?â
âOf course I do,â you stammer.
âThen tell me, smart girl.â
Your stomach twists with nerves and something far more dangerous. He shouldnât excite you. He should make you pull away, push him out, undo whatever this is. And yet, your mind wanders to what it would be like if you didnât. If you invited him to stay instead.
You shake your head, grounding yourself. âErector spinae.â
He hums. âSee? Not so hard.â
âIt was plenty hard,â you murmur, stealing a glance up at him.
He tilts his head, just enough to meet your eyes. Your lashes flutter as you switch between each of his eyes. His nose is nearly brushing yours, and it terrifies you just as much as it intrigues you. No, actuallyâwhat youâre feeling now goes beyond simple intrigue. Itâs excitement. Bordering on longing.
âWhat are you doing?â you ask, words tumbling out of your mouth.
âJust lookinâ at you,â he replies easily. âYouâre pretty.â
âWhaâ? Sh-Shut up.â
He grins. âYouâre cute when youâre shy, too.âÂ
From the beginning, Satoru was supposed to be nothing more than a thorn in your side. Someone sharp and irritating. Something to endure. But when given the chance to poke where you were weakest, heâd held you instead.Â
His hand slides to your waist, fingertips slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. He still hasnât pulled away, and you pray that he doesnât. You donât want him to.Â
You lick your bottom lip without thinking. His eyes drop instantly, tracking the movementâand he doesnât bother hiding it, even after heâs sure youâve noticed.
And when heâs least expecting it, at least as far as you can tell, you rock up onto your toes, hands fisted into his shirt, and press your lips to his.
Your lips slot into his like two puzzle pieces fitting together. His hands tighten their hold on your waist, and when you force yourself to pull away, to face the music of your decision made on a whim, you find a blushing Satoru staring back at you.
A soft, nervous laugh leaves his lips, breath warm against yours.
âWell, if you thought studying was hardâŠâ
âŠOh?Â
Your gaze dips.
Oh.
Heâs hard.
From a single peck.
His sweatpants hang low on his hips, giving you a slight glimpse of the light trail of hair that leads toward the prominent bulge in the fabric. The sight alone makes your mouth water, enough for you to, within the span of a second, wonder what itâd be like to feel it. From sight alone, it looks big. Heavy.
Every warning system inside your head blares all at once, telling you that this is a bad, bad, bad, horrible, horrible, horrible decision. And yet, you lean into him again.
You kiss him once more, hands clutching onto his shirt as you tug him down to meet your mouth, which he does with no hesitation. His lips are softer than you imagined, gentle on yours.
âAnd which muscle is responsible for that?â you ask against his mouth.
He smiles, you can feel it. âIschiocavernosus.â
Satoruâs large hands smooth over the backs of your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing at all. Youâre lying on your bed before you realize it, and he is hovering atop in between your parted legs.
His lips tear away from yours, kisses mapping out a trail of heat along your jaw. Your hand slips into his hair, tugging when his mouth finds the sweet spot just beneath your ear.
Your back arches off the bed as a signifier.
âFound it,â he rumbles against your skin, smiling against it.
His mouth is searing, kissing down your clothed chest until he pushes your shirt up just enough to expose your belly. Open-mouthed kisses mark his exploration of your skin, hot and wet as he traces the curve of your side.
Your stomach flutters when his mouth kisses down your belly, strong hands holding your waist in place while his tongue darts out to get a taste of your skin.
Satoruâs movements, you realize, seem automatic. Like heâs thought about this before, planned for it, evenâhe was just waiting for you to give him the chance.
Hands suddenly paw at his shoulders, your hips squirming slightly. âStop teasing me, Satoru.â
Satoru laughs, fingers tugging your fuzzy pajama pants down just enough to kiss your hip bone. âFine, fine. Under one condition.â
Your heart pounds. âWhat is it?â
His hands smooth over your thighs as he shifts a bit lower. âLet me taste you.â
You blink a few times, clearly surprised. Youâve never been with a guy whose first move is to go down on you. âOkay⊠I mean, if you want toâah!â
His hands are skilled in the way that they pull the hem of your pants down, leaning back just enough to peel them down your legs and toss them aimlessly onto the floor.Â
Satoruâs eyes are darker than youâve ever seen, focused on the apex of your thighs as he flattens to his stomach. His hands move your legs to rest on his shoulders, his lips already on your inner thigh.
âFuck, thank you,â he whispers against your skin, wet kisses inching closer to your core.Â
And when his mouth finds the wet patch on the gusset of your panties, Satoru knows heâs a goner.
His grip tightens on your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut, he flattens his tongue over the fabric. That only lasts a few seconds before his fingers tug the flimsy material down your legs, and his lips are latching onto the true source.
A groan escapes him the moment his tongue laps at your essence. âTastes so sweet.â
Your fingers slip into his hair, tugging at the root when his lips close around your clit. Your hips wouldâve bucked into his mouth if his iron grip wasnât keeping you in place.
Even with his face buried in your pussy, he manages to speak.Â
âMmhâ tastes like candy, baby. Thought about this sâmany times.â
The confirmation only makes you twitch, which he seems to notice if the firm press of his tongue to your clit is any confirmation.
âAhâ shit, Satoru. Right there.â
Satoru thinks that he could do this forever. Could live and die a happy man, cheeks warmed by your thighs pressing in on them and the taste of you on his tongue.
His nose bumps against your clit, tongue slipping lower to gather more of you on his taste buds. His hips begin to rut into the mattress like a dog in heat, a whimper leaving his throat when you tug particularly hard on his hair.Â
âS-Sorry,â you manage, fingers releasing the strands of his white hair.
Blue eyes meet yours, and he forces himself to pull his tongue off you just long enough to speak. âBaby, I donât care. Tug on it even harder if you wanna. Your pleasure feels good to me.â
âMasochist,â you say through a breathy laugh.
His mouth is back on you. âOnly for you.â
Youâre like sugar on his tongue, the type of ambrosia that men should go to war for. Satoru knows he would in a heartbeat.
The feeling of his tongue kitten licking your clit has your hands shooting down, one sliding back into his hair and the other scratching at the back of his hand on your thigh.
Satoru gives it to you without a second thought, your fingers lacing with his as you press his hand down on your stomach.Â
His eyes crack open to watch your face, twisted in a pleasure that heâs proud to have given you. He sucks your clit into his mouth before releasing it with a slick pop.
Only, your hand in his hair presses his face back into your pussy, and Satoru is nothing if not willing to please you.Â
The groan that leaves him travels up your spine, and your hips begin to twitch, thighs closing in on his head. A mewl leaves your lips, clutching his hand before you cry out, the first wave of your orgasm wracking through you.
Satoru flattens his tongue, licking up every drop of your syrupy release, hellbent on committing the taste of you to memory.Â
His voice is deep and scratchy when he speaks. âYouâre beautiful when you cum.â
Your eyes snap open, a newfound heat finding your cheeks. âShut up.â
Heâs crawling up to meet your lips with a smile, shaking his head. âNuh-uh. Just telling the truth.â He kisses your lips, and you taste yourself on them. âSweetest pussy. Iâd go for seconds if you let me.â
Youâre tempted by the offer.
Only, something else tempts you more than it should.
Satoru hisses the moment your palm presses against the bulge in his sweatpants, forehead knocking into yours. His hips twitch against your hand, and when he closes his eyes, you can tell heâs doing his best not to grind into your hand.
A quiet laugh leaves your mouth. âI think Iâd rather do something else.â
His hands fist into the bedsheets in an act of restraint. âLike what?â he asks, voice strained.
You huff, free hand taking hold of his chin, forcing him to look at you. âI think youâre smart enough to figure it out.â
âI donât wanna assume. Itâs ungentlemanly, yâknow?â His lips press against yours, pulling back before you have the chance to deepen the kiss. âAh-ah-ah, canât do anything more âtil the lady asks.â
Heâs so fucking annoying.Â
The pout on your lips is too cute to handle. Satoru debates kissing it away. Only, your next words stop him in his tracks.
They come out more demanding than you intended, trying to hide how needy you really are. âStop wasting my time. I want you to fuck me, Satoru.â
His cock twitches against your hand. Maybe bossiness works best with him.
âThatâs so hot,â he says, panting.Â
Satoru immediately reaches for the hem of his sweatpants and boxers, pushing them down his legs in a hurried, uncoordinated manner. He nearly topples over once or twice in his haste.
Soon, though, his erection springs free, slapping against his stomach. Itâs somehow even bigger than you initially imaginedâŠlengthy, and flushed a pretty shade of pink at the tip.
This time, Satoru doesnât tease you like you were expecting him to. Doesnât gloat.Â
Instead, he kisses your cheek, then your forehead, until his mouth finally finds yours, a broken sound escaping him the moment he rubs his tip through your folds.
Then, his eyes find yours, and it feels like the world stops on its axis.
Forehead to forehead. Chest to chest. Your hand in his hair, his on your cheek. With Satoru Gojo of all people. The one person in this world whom you should stay away from.Â
And here he is, looking at you like youâre worth more than your family name and the money bags that come with it, like he wants you for you. Nothing else.
âWe donât have to, baby,â he whispers, sweet and gentle, as if sensing the mental games youâre playing with yourself. âIâm happy to just be here with you. I mean it.â
There it is. An out.
You should stop this before it starts. You should do your best to save the peace between you and your parentsâwhatâs left of it, anyway. You should forget about the way your chest warms up when his thumb strokes over your cheek.
But then, wise words ring out in your mind.
Iâd rather disappoint my parents than disappoint myself.
And in this moment, you realize that losing Satoru would far surpass mere disappointment. It isnât something you can bear, nor do you ever want to.
You shake your head, leaning up to kiss him, nice and soft. âI want this. So⊠stop making me wait.â
Satoru laughs, lips on your cheek as he notches himself on your entrance. âYes, maâam.â
Inch by inch, his length stretches you open, making your hands grasp at his shoulders for purchase, nails sinking into his skin. You whine at the intrusion, not used to his size by any means.
âYouâre okay, pretty girl,â he murmurs against your mouth, one hand holding your cheek while the other strokes your hip. âDoing so good for me. Just a liiittle more.â
You huff, risking a glance downward, only to see he was only half inside. You throw your head back on the pillow. âLiar.âÂ
He smiles against your lips, kissing you. âFigured a little white lie never hurt anyone.â
A moment later, Satoru pushes his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. You both release breathy moans at the same time, grips tightening on each other.
He pulls out, just the tip remaining, before sliding back inside your warmth, creating a slow, languid paceâgiving you the chance to adjust to him.
You kiss him then, all teeth and tongue and want, panting hot against his mouth while your hands slip into his hair. âFuckâ faster, Toru. Please.â
The sound of his name on your tongue, so wanton while heâs inside you, spurs him on in a way heâs never felt before. His hands take hold of your hips, angling them up slightly so that he can fuck you deeper, the pace of his hips growing needier with each passing second.
âMmh, wanted you for so long,â he says, words muffled against your skin while he kisses down your neck. âThisâhahâcanât be real, baby. Feels so good.â
You drag his mouth back up to your lips, tongues sliding against each other in a fit of passion that you can hardly comprehend right now with how good he feels.Â
âSo good,â you whimper into his mouth. âWant more, Satoru, pleaseââ
âShh, I got you,â he says.
And then his hands press down on the back of your thighs, folding them up against your chest. He pounds into you without sense, the new angle opening you up to him in a way that makes you see stars.
The sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room, the sounds of your pleasure only adding to the conversation.Â
Satoru pushes your shirt up, a sound between a whimper and a gasp, leaving him the moment his gaze sets on your breasts. His mouth latches onto your nipple before he can think twice about it.
âYou werenâtâmmhâwearing a bra the whole time?âÂ
You whine, trying to drag his mouth back to yours by your grip on his hair, but he doesnât let up. âY-You ask stupid questions.â
He flattens his tongue, laving over the underside of your breast, his hips never faltering. He groans against your skin. âCâmon, sweetheart, donât give me that attitude. Havenât I been good? Yeah?â
A pout forms on your kiss-bruised lips. âMmâ Iâm not giving attitude.â
Satoru laughs, the sound raspy and deep. âYou are, pretty girl, but itâs okay. Toruâll make it all better.â
His lips are back on yours, to your satisfaction, and his hand slips between the two of you, thumbing at your clit. You gasp, stealing the air from his lungs, clinging onto his shoulders and back like a koala bear.
A warmth coils in your stomach, making you squirm against his thrusts. Your nails claw into his back, raking down his skin, surely leaving marks that Satoru will admire for days. A memento of the moment heâs been waiting for.
His cock twitches inside you when you moan again, your pussy clenching around him like a vice, tight and warm.Â
You whine. âSatoruââ
âMm-hmm, I know, baby, donât you worry,â he says, voice slightly smug as he continues to draw circles over your clit, feeling the way it pulses against his thumb. âGive it to me, sweets, know you can do it.â
Your hips buck up against his, your orgasm crashing into you. Your body tenses around him, squeezing him impossibly tighter.
If the way his pace stutters is any clue, you know heâs close. When you pulse against him, he drops his head onto your shoulder.
Satoru whimpers, so lost in his pleasure that he can no longer function. He fucks you shallowly now, and lost in your own mind, you turn your head to whisper in his ear.
âInside,â you request, voice breathy. âPlease, Toru.â
That makes Satoru cum before he can realize it.Â
Hot spurts shoot inside you, his sounds muffled against your skin while his own climax wracks through him. It seems like it goes on forever, but the moment he kisses the underside of your jaw, you realize that heâs finished, finally slipping out of the post-orgasm delirium you put him in.
When your eyes meet his, both of your eyes widen, expressions almost sheepish.
As if it were finally occurring to you that you just had sex with Satoru fucking Gojo, you feel a bit shy, blinking up at him and absolutely unsure what to say.
ââŠHi,â you whisper.
Satoru seems to share your thoughts. He brings his hand to your cheek, knuckles brushing over your flushed skin. âHey, baby.â
Unsure of what to do, you decide to lean back into your old reliable method. The only way you know how to talk to him is without allowing a hint of affection to seep into your voice. Be mean to him.
âGet off me,â you say, pawing at his chest halfheartedly, âyouâre heavy.â
It seems that Satoru has learned you well enough to know exactly what youâre doing. Trying to push him away the moment it all feels like too much to handle, reverting to what you know best.
He lowers his head, brushing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. âMm, no can do, pretty. I like to cuddle after sex, guess youâre just gonna have to deal with it.â
You squirm as he begins to pepper your face with kisses, wet and dry, trying to get a proper reaction from you.Â
âOkay, okay!â you exclaim, laughing without realizing it. âFine. We can cuddleâŠbut we have to clean up first.â
Satoru beams at that. He kisses your forehead before practically leaping off your bed, searching for a towel. You arenât sure why the sight of him prancing around your room in his birthday suit makes you feel soâŠwarm and tingly inside.
God, what has he done to you?
You yawn, rubbing your eyes. âOn the left side of the closet. Third drawer down.â
A second later, heâs back and wiping away the mess between your legs, careful with his movements. Once finished, he pokes around in your clothing drawers, managing to find a pair of fresh underwear and a pretty blue shirt that you should've known heâd pick out.Â
âMatches my eyes,â he preens, doing most of the work as he pulls the panties up your legs and the shirt over your head.
âOf course youâd notice that,â you scoff, trying to ignore how warm this all makes you feel.
With his boxers back on, he climbs back into bed with you, lying on his back. A surprised sound leaves him when you rest your head on his chest, hand draped over his middle.
Satoru wears a smile as he wraps an arm around you, free hand lacing with yours. âThought you didnât wanna cuddle.â
âI never said that,â you grumble.
He laughs to himself, the kind that signifies heâs up to no good. âAww. Just a cute little cuddle muffin you are.â
âIâll get off you right now if you donâtââ
He immediately stops laughing and tightens his hold on you. âSorry, sorry. You run a tight ship.â
â
In your experience, the morning after could go one of two ways.
You could either cringe at yourself and your decisions, make awkward small talk with the person you had shared not only your body but also a bed with, and then tiptoe out of your hookupâs room, or not-so-discreetly kick them out of yours.Â
Or, you could still make equally awkward small talk upon waking up, limbs still entangled and clothes mostly scattered across the floor, but not feel the gnawing feeling to run away and never speak to this person again.
And so far, youâre in no rush to make him go.Â
Satoru shifts in his sleep behind you, one arm draped lazily over your middle while the other pillows your head. You blink blearily as you run your fingertips along his forearm, tracing the veins in his hand until you cover it with your own. His fingers slightly twitch until they fill the spaces between yours.
His nose brushes the back of your neck, inhaling indulgently. His arm beneath your head bends and curls inward, his nails gently scratching your scalp. âMorning.â
You feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest. His voice is deep and groggy from sleep, his lips just barely grazing your skin as he speaks. It only gets worse (or better?) when he presses a kiss to the crook of your shoulder and neck, firmer now yet unhurried.Â
The strap of the camisole youâd thrown on last night after your shower was now pinched between his thumb and forefinger, slowly slipping it down the curve of your shoulder as his lips explored further.
âGood morning,â you manage out, voice slightly weak but not entirely from just waking up. âHowâd you sleep?â
You can feel his lips twitch against your skin, probably turning into a smug grin if you had to guess. His hand stopped on your bicep, his chin now resting on your shoulder as he pulls you closer.Â
âBetter than usual,â he says, voice rumbling in his throat. âEven with you stealing the covers from me all night, itâd be worth it every time to wake up to this.â He picks his head up just enough to look down at you. âYou?â
Your cheeks are warm, and you bury half of your face into the pillow. âBetter than usual. I actually feel rested.â
Reaching an arm out, you turn the clock on your nightstand toward the bed. 2:38 p.m.
âWe slept the whole day away!â
Satoru hums behind you, chest rumbling against your back. âMm, good sex tends to do that to people.â
You smile, looking back at him over your shoulder. âOh? So thatâs why you were snoring into my ear all night?â
âPrecisely why,â he replies easily, before pecking your lips. âPussy put me right to sleep.â
This time, you lean in to kiss him. When you pull away, you freeze.Â
Oh fuck.
Then you shoot up out of bed, eyes wide and panicked. Itâd just dawned on you that, for all the days you could have had sex with your annoying-rival-to-friend, it had to be the day of the Ryomen dinner. And, of course, you had to oversleep with said annoying-rival-to-friend-and-now-hookup still in your bed.Â
The drive alone would take two and a half hours.
âHoly shit, I need to go,â you say, scatterbrained as you rush into your closet.
Satoru props himself up on his elbow, sounding more panicked than he likely intended. âWhat? Why?â
You return to his line of sight, already half-clothed in a pristinely ironed dress, bouncing on one leg as you tug your stockings up. âI have to go to dinner with my family and the Ryomens. My mom is going to kill me.â
And heâs left to watch, helpless, as you check yourself in the mirrorâputting your earrings on, looking beautiful as everâŠto go have dinner with another guy and his family.
Satoru knows he should be relaxed about this. He needs to chill out. You had sex, yes, but itâs not like heâs your boyfriend or anything.
(Even though heâd thought about how great that would be as he admired you while you slept.)
âOh, cool,â he says, forcing a cheery tone into his voice. âWhat for?â
You press your lips together, hastily applying your makeup lest you show up late with none on. âIâm not really sure. Probably to talk about their plans for us post-graduation. Thatâs all they talk about these days.â
He bites the inside of his cheek.
Doesnât matter, he tells himself. Sex between friends can beâŠcasual. Donât read into it so much.
âRight,â he replies, rubbing the back of his neck, doing his best to seem relaxed. âSounds boring.â
You nod at him through the mirror before turning to face him. âYeah, it will be.â
A silence settles the moment your eyes meet.
Slowly, you walk over to himâstill lying in your bed, clad in nothing but his boxers. âIâm sorry Iâm leaving like this.â
He waves a hand through the air, making an exaggerated pshhh sound. âDonât worry about it. I get it.â
You give him a lopsided smile before leaning down to kiss him. He barely has time to close his eyesâto savor itâbefore youâre already pulling away.
âIâll text you, okay?â you say. âYou can use my shower again if you want. Make yourself at home while Iâm gone. Just donât use up my body washâitâs expensive.â
Satoru lets out a laugh that doesnât quite reach his eyes. âOkay, no promises. Have fun.â
And then youâre gone, the door clicking shut behind you.
He falls back against the mattress, dragging his hands over his face.
Itâs casual, he tries to remind himself. Donât be a crybaby.
But you kissed him goodbye.
What was casual about that?
â
The hallways are abnormally crowded today.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, Shokoâs messages flooding in.
shoko đ: hi
shoko đ: how was the dinner?
shoko đ: did your parents finally come to their senses
shoko đ: and drop the stupid engagement idea????
you: i wish
you: they seem even more into the idea now
you: mind you, sukuna fell asleep at the dining table with his fork hanging out of his mouth
you: like oh okay iâm seeing it now, total HUSBAND MATERIAL right here
shoko đ: fuck my chungus life
you: fuck mine too
The sound of hushed voices in the distance distracts you, making you glance in that direction.
Only then do you realize that theyâre looking right at you.
Actually, it feels like everyone is looking at you.
No, worse. It feels like everyone can see through you. Like they know exactly what youâve been up to. What you did when no one was around.
But thatâs ridiculous. How could anyone know?
Suddenly hyper-aware of yourself, you glance back down at your phone.
you: i feel like everyone is staring at me today
shoko đ: maybe because you look sexier than usual?
you: one can only hope
You crash into someone, limbs flailing, only to be steadied by a gentle grip.
âWatch where youâre going, iPad kid,â Satoru teases, a wide smile on his face.
You pocket your phone, huffing out a laugh despite yourself. âI was watching where I was going. You just came out of nowhere.â
âUh-huh, totally,â he says.
Without thinking, you glance over your shoulder toward the group that had been watching you earlier, the itch still unscratched.
Always observant, Satoru tilts his head. âHey. Whatâs up?â
âNothing, Iâm fine,â you answer instinctively.
âTalk to me,â he says, nudging your arm softly, still trying to keep things light.
Then your eyes meet hisâhis blue irises practically begging you to open up.
âItâs justâŠâ Your voice trails off, growing quieter. âYou didnât tell anyone, did you? AboutâŠâ
Satoru leans back slightly, like the question physically hit him.
âUhâ no,â he says. âNo, I didnât. Promise.â
You catch the shift in his expressionâthe way it falters, like something just closed off.
Your eyes squeeze shut. Shit. âNo, itâs not that I regret it or anything, itâs just thatââ
âItâs okay,â he cuts in, rubbing the back of his neck. âReally. Itâs fine. You donât have to explain.â His eyes meet yours again. âI didnât tell anyone. Donât worry.â
You tilt your head slightly. âOkay.â
âOkay,â he echoes quickly. âGood. Iâm glad we got that figured out.â
âMe too,â you say, though you donât sound convinced anymore. âDidâ did I say something?â
Satoru shakes his head, that boyish smile slipping back into place. âNah. Youâre good.â
You glance around again. ââŠOkay.â
âOkay,â he repeats. âAre you going to the party this weekend? Chosoâs frat is throwing.â
You nod. âYeah, Iâll be there. I assume Iâll see you there too?â
âYup,â he says with a nod. âWell, Iâve gotta get to class. Iâll talk to you later?â
âYeah,â you say, turning to watch him walk away down the hallway.
Well⊠that conversation went well.
Right?
â
After a few days of Satoru avoiding you like the plague, youâre starting to think your conversation didnât go so well.
Heâs only sent you one Instagram reel over the last three daysâand it was about tips and tricks for studying anatomy. Was he doing this on purpose? The last time you studied for anatomy, it ended with you in bed with him.
For what feels like the tenth time this hour, you check your messages.
Satoru :D: Good morning
Satoru :D: Sleep well?
you: good morning
you: yes i did, did you?
And thereâs been no response since.
You wonder if you should message him again.
Maybe his phone got swept up in a tornado. (Itâs 75°F and sunny outside.)
Maybe heâs currently being attacked by alligators and desperately needs you as a lifeline. (Though you know he wouldnât even accept your helpâheâd be convinced he could take an alligator in a fight.)
Maybe he just hasnât seen your text. (You saw him repost a TikTok about boba milk tea an hour ago.)
You tap on the text bar, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
âThereâs no way youâre about to double text a man.â
You jump, quickly locking your phone. âUtahime, I was not. I was just checking our messages.â
Utahime hums, clearly unconvinced, scrolling on her own phone. âYou keep telling yourself that, girl.â
Rolling onto your back, you stare at the ceiling, hands folded over your chest.
âAre you seriously sulking right now?â
âIâm not sulking!â
(You were definitely sulking.)
Utahime sighs, nudging your side. âDid you read this weekâs blind items?â
You shake your head. âNo.â
She tilts her head down at you. âWell, Iâm pretty sure one is about you.â
âWHAT?!â
Youâve never sat up this fast in your lifeâlightheaded and dizzy as you reach for Utahimeâs phone.
There is going to be an engagement post-graduation between a male and female from two of the most well-known families on campus.
A male who lives on floor three in the Newbrooke dormitory has still been shitting in the showers. (P.S. Can you please stop already?)
A notorious rich student was spotted talking to a girl who comes from a family that begins with the last letter of the alphabet. Are sparks flying?
A male has been making piss-poor SoundCloud music at 4 AM for the past week. (Please stop. You are better off sticking to your career path in accounting.)
A pit forms in your stomach.
Had Sukuna told someone about your situation? You want to say noâbut once heâs had enough to drink, anything is possible.
But the one that concerns you more is the third item.
Could Satoru have already moved on? To a girl from the Zenin family?
Utahime presses her thumb between your eyebrows, smoothing out the crease. âHey. What happened to taking these with a grain of salt? Theyâre probably not real. Aside from the shower shitterâthat one seems pretty legit.â
You let out a weak laugh. âYeah⊠youâre probably right.â
Even still, the pit in your stomach doesnât go away.
â
Music thrums against the walls, people packed in like sardines, moving with no particular rhyme or rhythm. Smoke fills the air, a thick fog that has no chance of dissipating.Â
Sukunaâs arm is snug around your shoulder, something that you would have never thought twice about before. Now, though, you notice it like a thorn in your side.Â
You try to scan the room, in search of your friends who you knew would be here tonight. Only, a hand on your face draws your attention elsewhere, and Sukuna is kissing your cheek in farewell before you can even realize heâs leaving you to fend for yourself.
âLater, girl,â he says, so casually, as if he had the right.
Fucking typical.
You huff and wave your arm through the air, coughing quietly. Once the smoke cleared just enough, your gaze locked in on something in the distance.
Satoru. Standing beside a girl from the Zenin family.
But even as he stands beside her, his glowing eyes are already on you.
Suddenly, it hurts to breathe. The walls are caving in on you. The music fades into a silence that becomes even more overbearing than the bass.Â
Anger rises in your throat. Anger you have no right to feel.Â
After all, Satoru wasnât yours. You werenât his. He can do what he wants, as can you. How could you forget that? And why did you want to?
If you were a braver person, one who could be honest with herself, you would walk across this room. Youâd tell him how you feel. You would say it now, out loud and to his face. At least then, heâd know how you felt.
The problem, though, was that you werenât any of these things. You were terrified and hesitantâso all you could do was this. Look at him and hope he can put the puzzle pieces together on his own. You can only hope he likes how it looks once it is completed.Â
Your feet are moving before you can realize it. A moment later, you find yourself in the bathroom, pressing your back against the door to slam it shut.Â
You release a sharp breath you hadnât realized youâd been holding. Your hands cover your face as you approach the sink, palms pressing against the countertop.
Then, you catch your reflection in the mirror.Â
You know better than this.
You know better than to wish for something that you have no right to.
You know better than to want Satoru. You know better than to envision a simple life with him. To want him in a way that is uncalculated and real.
Dropping your head, you close your eyes. Squeeze them shut, and hope that you were anywhere else but here, in this dingy bathroom with a flickering lightbulb above your head.
The door opens and shuts behind you.
You pick your head up, and there he is.Â
Satoru.
His chest presses to your back, his hands bracketing yours on the counter as he dips his chin into the crook of your neck. âWere you not going to come say hi?â
You roll your eyes despite yourself, refusing to meet his eyes in the mirror. âNo. Seems like you were a little preoccupied.â
Silence stretched thin between you.Â
Then his hands find your waist, spinning you around to face him.
âDonât do that,â he says, voice soft and almost pleading.
You swallow. âDonât do what?â
âYou know what,â he replies, âact like⊠you donât care. Like you donât feel anything for me, just because youâre upset.â
You avoid his gaze. âIâm not upset. Itâs not like weâre dating. You can do what you want withâŠwhoever you want.â
Satoru huffs, forehead knocking into yours before he pulls back. âHow long are we going to keep doing this, baby?â he asks, hands finally coming to settle on your waist. âI donât want anyone else. Not like how I want you.â
Finally, you tilt your head up, eyes meeting his.
It almost made you want to cry, realizing how easy things with Satoru were. How he opened himself up to you without fear, because he didnât want an ounce of doubt to live in your head.
Maybe it was your turn to return the message.
âMe neither,â you finally admit.Â
His expression softens in relief.
âGood,â he murmurs, brushing your hair away from your face.Â
Your lips press together. âBut whyâd the blog say you were with a girl from the Zenin family?â
âThe same reason that the stupid blog says you and Sukuna are together,â he says with a shrug. âItâs a rumor. People see you standing next to someoneâat a very healthy distance, by the way, a very platonic and normal distanceâand run with it.â The corner of his mouth lifts. âI donât go around letting my rumored girlfriends kiss me on the cheek, though.â
You tilt your head, knowing full well that Satoru was capable of knowing that there were no feelings between you and Sukuna. âCareful, you almost sound upset.â
He shrugs his broad shoulders, tilting his head in the same direction you did. âDepends. Is he a good kisser?âÂ
Your fingers are still gripping the edge of the counter. âHe is.â
Satoru glances over your face, the corner of his mouth twitching once he notices the slight pout on your lips. âBetter than me?â
You donât want to give him the satisfaction, but youâre not a liar. âNo.â
A small smirk. âGood.â
âMaybe you should get back to your friend,â you retort, shaking your head.
âYouâre cute when youâre jealous,â Satoru coos, hand cupping your cheek, thumbing over your bottom lip.
You splutter. âWhat? Iâm not.â
âNo?â
âNo.â
Satoruâs hand starts to pull away. Panic sparks in you, and your hand shoots up, wrapping around his wrist to keep his palm against your face. He smiles softly, thumb brushing over your cheekbone.
â...Only a little,â you finally admit.
Satoruâs fingers thread into your hair, guiding your forehead to his lips. âThatâs okay. I was jealous too.â
âJealous? You?â
âJealous. Me.â
You clear your throat, and for the first time in your life, you decide to prod for further reassurance.Â
âDo you like her?â you ask, voice small.
He seems distracted, his lips on your cheek now in a chaste kiss. âHm?â
âDo you like her?â you repeat, hands prodding at his chest to make him meet your eyes. âThat girl you were talking to.â
Satoru scoffs, like the answer was obvious. âNo. Iâm a one-lady type of guy.âÂ
That answer shouldnât make your face feel warm, but it does. Heâs turned you into mush, putty in his hands.Â
His thumb brushes over your hip bone. âDid you let Sukuna kiss you because you like him?â
You shake your head. âMaybe I just like kissing people. Itâs fun, you know.â
âOh, I know,â he says, nose brushing yours. âBut do me a favor, yeah?â
âYeah,â you murmur, heart rate doubling in your chest.
âThe next time you wanna kiss someone, come to me instead,â he murmurs, hands sliding up your sides. âIâm better at it, anyway. Said it yourself.â
You canât bite back your smile now, nor do you try to. âOkay.â
âOkay, baby.â
You hoped no one noticed how long youâd both been gone from the party, but when you exited the bathroom togetherâlip gloss smeared on Satoruâs mouth and your hair messier than beforeâit likely told the entire story for you.
â
You wake up wrapped in a Digimon throw blanket.
A small, sleepy groan leaves you as you try to moveâto stretch your limbs after a night of sleep.
Only, the heavily weighted blanket on top of you, known as Satoru Gojo, doesnât make it very easy.
His arms are wrapped so tightly around you that youâd think he was afraid you might slip away in the middle of the nightâso he set up precautions beforehand. His cheek is pressed against your bare chest, using your breasts as pillows.
The best pillows on the market, he says.
Blinking blearily, you scan his bedroom. Now, after only two months of dating, it looks like a shrine to you.
A framed photo of you hangs on his wall, another propped up on his bedside table. Thereâs one on his desk tooâtaken on the first day of your internshipâset beside his computer.
Because, as he says, âseeing you smiling in that pretty little dress motivates me to study, âcause I need to pay for your tastes somehow.â
Youâre smiling now, glancing down at him, his cheek squished against your skin. Your fingers glide through his hair before smoothing down his back, soothing the faint sting of the scratches youâd left the night before.
A quiet whine leaves him, and he fumbles blindly for your hand, guiding it back to his hair so youâll keep playing with it.
âGood morning to you, too,â you murmur, scratching lightly at his scalp.
âMorning, baby,â he mumbles, voice rumbling against your skin.
Without opening his eyes, he presses a kiss to the underside of your breast, his mouth already trailing down the column of your stomach.
âWhatâre you doing?â you ask, smiling.
âEating breakfast,â he replies simply, mouthing at your hip bone.
Just as he reaches for the hem of your panties, his phone begins to buzz on the bedside table. Undeterred, he tugs them down an inch.
âIgnore it.â
Then his phone buzzes again. And again.
A moment later, yours buzzes too.
Slightly concerned now, you reach for it, unlocking the screen to a message from Shoko.
shoko đ: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP
shoko đ: [article link]
You tap the link, your eyes widening as you read the headline.
âWhat?â he asks, already pouting slightly at the interruption. âWhat is it?â
Wordlessly, you turn the phone toward him.
Satoru Gojo and Y/N L/N were spotted on the Gojo familyâs personal yacht, indulging in promiscuous activities.
And to make matters worse, front and center is a picture of you sitting in his lapâhis hand squeezing a handful of your ass like heâs afraid it might run away from him.
You press your palm to your forehead. âI told you we shouldnât have taken the yacht out that day.â
Satoru hums, clearly distracted. âHow do I save this picture? You look really sexy in this.â
âSatoru, focus!â you say, lightly swatting his shoulder. âWhat should we do?â
He shrugs, fingers resuming their slow work of tugging your underwear down your legs. âRight now, Iâm thinkinâ Iâll finish my breakfast. Weâll figure the other stuff out later.â
You think you should protestâbut the moment his mouth finds you, every argument dies on your tongue.
Because you know that heâll make good on his promise. This will be figured out, one way or another.
And as long as you have Satoru by your side, you think youâll be just fine.
Rumor has it you brought him home the next weekend to meet your parents.
Rumor also has it that from that moment on, the arranged engagement with Sukuna was off.
a/n: heyyyy yallll!!! how are you?
me?? posting 2 fics in one month?? #imonaroll #unstoppable
no, but seriously, if you read this all the way through thank you so much!! itâs the longest fic iâve ever written so itâs a lil experimental for me. this is also my first time writing for gojo in about two years and itâs my second time writing him ever sooo iâm still figuring out how i want to characterize him lol
anyway i hope you enjoyed, as always please let me know your thoughts <3