⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SUMMARY After you finally agree (against your better judgment) to go on a date with Satoru Gojo, he immediately shows you what you’ve signed up for, assuming it goes well, of course.
CREDS. Gojo art made by ﹫mossmaybe1 on 𝕏
CONTENT. FLUFF First date trope, gojo doesn't know boundaries but he likes you and he's cute so it's okay, he's so stupid it's disgusting(ly cute) WC: 1K
A/N. hope u like not proofread btw
Part 2 of So... Seven Thirty?
You didn't know what Gojo had in store when he arrived at your front door at 7:30 pm on the dot that fateful Friday evening, but you knew to expect the unexpected.
"You ready pretty girl?" He smirks at you, a bouquet of baby breath and blue hydrangeas in one hand, the other hand propped up on the frame of your front door.
"Those for me?" You gesture towards the flowers.
"Oh, no these were for your twin sister."
"You're funny," you take the flowers from him before going inside to put them in a vase, leaving Satoru standing at the door.
"People usually don't leave their dates at the door, you know," you hear him call.
You laugh while grabbing your purse, "Guys usually don't get flowers for their dates imaginary twin sisters."
"What can I say? I'm all inclusive," He slings his arm over your shoulder and beams down at you.
You both approach his sports car, you notice the suitcase in the back seat as you get inside. Satoru closes the door before jogging to the drivers side and getting in.
"Planning to murder me or something?" you glance at the suitcase.
"Duh. I just brought snacks for afterward," He says sarcastically before starting the engine and driving off.
"Well my curfew is at 11 so murder me before then."
"Gocha," he winks.
At first you thought he was cracking a joke to maybe release some of the awkwardness of the entire ordeal, or maybe just a way to make you laugh.
That was, until, you saw him approaching the airport, which is precisely when you realized that this was not a normal date.
Then again, Gojo isn't a normal human being, so maybe it is normal. For him.
He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, telling you that he emailed you your itinerary and to make sure to have it ready because apparently your flight was leaving in 10 minutes.
Now you weren't the most educated person on first dates and what not, but you knew that going to the airport was not... ideal.
But, despite your hesitance and dull feeling in your gut that Satoru truly was going to kill you, you found yourself on Satoru's private jet for two and a half hours while he assured you that he was not, in fact, going to kill you.
You both arrived in Okinawa, where Satoru then took you to a park.
You got out of the car he rented, looking up at the endless expanse of stars in awe. Your eyes were glued to the marvelousness in front of you, the small white dots appearing as grains of sand.
You tried to make out constellations you recalled learning about briefly on YouTube before ultimately giving up and taking in the view.
"...Satoru, where are we?"
"A park! To stargaze. And stuff." He gestures behind him to the expanse of stars and sky in front of you both. "I remember you saying a few weeks ago that you liked looking at the stars and stuff so I thought you might like this since Okinawa is a dark sky community and stuff, but if its too much we can totally go back home I know you're probably-"
"It's perfect." You cut off his rambling, giving him a reassuring smile. "You didnt have to book a plane ticket though," you laugh.
"I only wanted you to have the best."
You both ended up finding a spot with no trees or mountains blocking your view, on top of a large boulder.
Satoru dragged his mysterious suitcase along with him, opening it up to reveal snacks and blankets.
"In case we got cold. Or hungry," He passes you a rice ball.
You both lay back, side by side and Satoru spends the whole night identifying constellations that don't exist, while also giving them origin stories.
"That one right there," He points in a completely random direction, "That one's us."
"...Sartoru, that's a satellite."
"..." he pauses for a beat. "Still counts."
He scooches closer to you, inch by inch until his shoulder and legs are pressed to yours, turning his head to the side to look at the side of your face. Your gaze remains on the sky but you can feel his breathing against your face.
"Do you like space?" he suddenly asks.
"Yeah, it's cool. I think is fascinating to wonder what's out th-"
"I like your space."
He's already violating it. And suspiciously closer.
You slowly turn your head.
You look at him.
Then at the two feet of empty rock beside him.
Then back at him.
"I can tell."
"Guess what else?" He whispers, shoving a gummy worm in his mouth.
"What."
"You haven't told me to move." he smirks.
"Move."
"That wasn't genuine."
"I absolutely meant that."
"No because you're still talking to me instead of physically relocating."
"...I shouldn't have to evacuate every time you show up."
"Seems like you've accepted me into your personal space and you're just scared to admit it," he pokes your nose.
You sigh. "That's not what that means."
"Lets agree to disagree."
Somewhere between stargazing and sunrise, you both fall asleep. You wake up at four a.m to the ocean light peeking over the horizon, before deciding to fly back home.
Although, thinking back on it, you both could have teleported home, but you arrived back in Tokyo around seven a.m.
He drops you off back at your front door, his heart feeling like it's going to implode by looking at the sleepy look in your eyes.
"Thank you for tonight."
"My pleasure, princess," He bows dramatically.
You laugh, "I thought I told you my curfew was at 11 pm?"
"Well, you're home, alive, and safe so I don't see the problem?"
"You broke the rules," you gently push at his shoulder.
"Rules were made to be broken," he shrugs before stepping closer and tilting his head down to your ear, lips stopping by your cheek.
"See you on our second date," he whispers, pressing his lips softly to the side of your face before giggling like an idiot and running away.
he has had many experiences since he turned 18 and he’s now in his late twenties. safe to say he knew every kink, tried all types of weird shit and was a masterful makeout partner. (if he said so himself!)
but here you are perched up nicely, straddling his lap, your hands pulling desperately at the little hairs that gained length from his overgrown undercut.
his large hands palming your ass as you grinded down on him slowly, your mouth moving in sync with his, your faces twisting constantly and your tongue fighting for dominance so hard you smeared a bit of drool on the side of his mouth.
well not like he cared.
he was used to this, used to your rough bites, soft whimpers and tough grip as his mouth worked on you.
so when you trailed off from his lips, your light kisses going down his jaw, turning to bites in between on his neck. he didn’t think much of it, baring the long column to you with a huff like feeding a vampire its next meal.
his hands never stopping their flexing on your thighs, your ass anywhere he could reach as you huffed and sucked on him possessively.
his cock strained hard against his shorts, waiting to get ruined as he nudged you over and over again, getting lost on the sauce even didn’t notice that your kisses started trailing back up again.
until he felt it.
the soft tug of your teeth at the bottom of his earlobe before you pressed a chaste kiss on the spot. mouthing up the column of his now reddening ear, pulling his helix before you pulled back just enough to trace the outside of his ear with your tongue.
you followed the shape, your teeth coming out and grazing on his shell just as you licked the slight dip at the inside feeling him clutch at your body and fucking shiver.
he knew he was done for when he felt your hands repeatedly push his face away as it drifted towards your own and he couldn’t slow down his heaving chest or the soft pants that escaped.
now here he was ear wet, hot and pulsing, it didn’t make it much better he could hear your soft pleasurable sighs before your hands came up and you whimpered almost pathetically in between your mouthing as you left one last lick on his ear before you moved back to his jaw, “mm…satoru.”
he couldn’t even tell you what happened next, your mouth finding his own as he let out the most desperate moan he’s ever heard from himself before you pulled away from him with a pop.
“you just came untouched?”
after that fucking kiss of course he did.
yorikae
** check if their ears are clean b4 doing this btw
! ! : college AU , swearing , death threats (in a /joke way) , very blunt and kinda rude nerdjo , a bit of fratjo, slowburn , opposites attract, nerdjo HATESSS fraternities & sororities.
a/n : please take note that I am not sure if this is accurate to how irl fraternities and sororities work, so please do educate me and correct me if I make any mistakes whatsoever while writing this <3
! ! : college AU , swearing , death threats (in a /joke way) , very blunt and kinda rude nerdjo , a bit of fratjo, slowburn , opposites attract, nerdjo HATESSS fraternities & sororities.
a/n : please take note that I am not sure if this is accurate to how irl fraternities and sororities work, so please do educate me and correct me if I make any mistakes whatsoever while writing this <3
a/n: when will this series end? who knows... the slowburn really be slowburning LMAOOOO the drama comes and the plot thickens even more each episode oml
requests are open! feel free to request anything! I'm seriously running out of ideas help TT
! ! : college AU , swearing , death threats (in a /joke way) , very blunt and kinda rude nerdjo , a bit of fratjo, slowburn , opposites attract, nerdjo HATESSS fraternities & sororities.
(note: this part is kinda just a filler cuz I'm writing up a bday post for another character heh)
a/n : please take note that I am not sure if this is accurate to how irl fraternities and sororities work, so please do educate me and correct me if I make any mistakes whatsoever while writing this <3
a/n : the twins are constantly at each others throats LMAOOO sorry for keeping u guys waiting, got really busy at school and couldn't find the time to post this😭😭 I'll try to post more during the weekends tho, u can count on that!!
requests are open! send me requests before I run out of ideas please gulps
! ! : college AU , swearing , death threats (in a /joke way) , very blunt and kinda rude nerdjo , a bit of fratjo, slowburn , opposites attract, nerdjo HATESSS fraternities & sororities.
a/n : please take note that I am not sure if this is accurate to how irl fraternities and sororities work, so please do educate me and correct me if I make any mistakes whatsoever while writing this <3
morning after...⊹ ࣪ ˖
a/n: OUUUU THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGGG ahaha... did u guys think this was the end? 👀 there's still a few more parts to this series LMAO and I'm hoping u guys are still invested in this cause I'm so hyped to continue the rest of this !
also, requests are open! if you have any requests dont be shy to drop em on me heh...
! ! : college AU , swearing , death threats (in a /joke way) , very blunt and kinda rude nerdjo , a bit of fratjo, slowburn , opposites attract, nerdjo HATESSS fraternities & sororities.
a/n : please take note that I am not sure if this is accurate to how irl fraternities and sororities work, so please do educate me and correct me if I make any mistakes whatsoever while writing this <3
a/n: sorry this took like a hot minute BUT WE'RE BACKKKUHHH it's all coming together now heh... prepare yourselves
also cough cough requests are opened if anyone wants to request smaus, oneshots or anything else ahahaha hmu
⊹ ࣪ ˖ texts with your tutor Gojo Satoru (nerdjo). PT2
PT 1 , PT 3 , PT4 , PT5 , PT6 , PT7 & PT8 here!
⊹ ࣪ ˖ before you read... 📖
featuring : female!user , nerdjo (aka toru) , geto suguru , a bit of fratjo (aka sato)
(implied) pairings : sorority!user x nerdjo
! ! : college AU , swearing , death threats (in a /joke way) , very blunt and rude nerdjo , slowburn , opposites attract, nerdjo HATESSS fraternities & sororities.
a/n : please take note that I am not sure if this is accurate to how irl fraternities and sororities work, so please do educate me and correct me if I make any mistakes whatsoever while writing this <3
a/n: ouuuu shiiii does anyone else smell that😳😳 sorry this part is a bit short TT it's about to get so much more interesting I'm so excited to show u guys ehehehe
! ! : college AU , swearing , death threats (in a /joke way) , very blunt and kinda rude nerdjo , slowburn , opposites attract, nerdjo HATESSS fraternities & sororities.
a/n : please take note that I am not sure if this is accurate to how irl fraternities and sororities work, so please do educate me and correct me if I make any mistakes whatsoever while writing this <3
˚｡⋆୨୧˚
a/n : first work on JJK and ofc it HAD to be nerdjo ahaha🤤🤤 this'll most definitely have more parts to it heh (if this does good that is gulps). I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS CAUSE I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING AND BUILDING THIS UP LMAOO
.ᐟ.ᐟ : college AU , swearing , death threats (in a /joke way) , suggestive jokes kinda, very blunt and kinda rude nerdjo , a bit of fratjo, slowburn , opposites attract, nerdjo HATESSS fraternities & sororities.
a/n : please take note that I am not sure if this is accurate to how irl fraternities and sororities work, so please do educate me and correct me if I make any mistakes whatsoever while writing this <3
a/n: so sorry this came late omg I was supposed to post this last night but low key fell asleep LMAOOO anyways, I feel like this is just a small filler honestly
taglist 🔖 : @ex1acy @mrskamikazekaito @0-kry @hannahzg8 @shamelesslawyerdreamerauthor @engeneforever123 @luvgg3 @je-llly @ghost-noodles @undedin @sugurusdevotedlvr @sweetpapriikaa @nightmarenyxx @danlovestay @raicecakes-and-buldak @yversz @sunnyl1ght @ihe4rtme @jiyoonly @averagetheaterlesbian @celestialhvns @timelylovergirl @gem-xox @wqsrs @syerra67 @shroomyyyy @beepbeepimasheep123 @yvres @nightpoolpink @raccoonlover-11 @gojoful @sanniesfavoriteprincess @crescentmoonnn @snowstriper101 @gojojogo06 @1cckedheart @kaldominusrex @starrgirlarchive @kaidostwin @icantbreatheeazie @looha @inumakiiisgf @rune1920 @kekaekeke @hiidratedd @jnnifrsbdy @lawlietleftpinktoe @satorvsslvt @baboon-milk333 @ellybellylovesryomen (I did NOT know there was a limit to mentions, I'm so sorry to the people who were asked to be tagged LMAO)
point of no return chapter one starring phantom!sukuna + childhood best friend!gojo
reverse isekai'd in an office romance? chapter four + five starring awkward!coworker + asshole!neighbor (patreon)
the thief starring thief!sukuna + noble!geto
a/n: reblogs + comments always appreciated angels <3 next month will have a few oneshots + updates for faking it, sunday morning, and mothman!geto all planned! hoping for couplied up and some others, but fingers crossed :3
You and Satoru agree to become friends with benefits with one cliché rule: no falling in love. But you do. And you stupidly confess. What now?
Tags: Smut, angst w comfort if you squint, fwb, p in v, riding, kinks, gojo is a little avoidant shit, model!gojo. Haven’t proofread yettt, I don’t write as much lately. 18+++ I have never written smut please don’t fire me..
Shit.
Shitshitshit.
You have felt Satoru everywhere by now—buried deep in between your legs, lengthy cock stretching you and hitting that one spongy spot that makes your vision go blank, his hands on your face like he's holding something precious.
You have felt his large hands map every inch of skin you wear. No surface untouched especially late at night when he texts you he's coming over with little to no explanation why.
No feelings.
No strings.
That was the deal. No, that is the deal.
Just sex.
And you have had a lot of sex with Satoru. From fucking in the comfort of your bedroom or his, to riding him all sweaty and hot in his jeep, to even getting eaten out in changing rooms during his fittings.
He's tried everything with you. Every curiosity he's had about a new toy, a new kink, a new position—he's tried and fulfilled with you. You've been stretched into positions you never thought you could with him.
Your legs over his shoulder with him greedily thrusting, your back so arched against his chest while receiving mean back shots, reverse cowgirl with a leash around your neck, full nelson—anything, you name it, you've done.
You've had him in between your legs so many times to point out that he particularly dislikes missionary, loves rope play, biting and marking your skin like you don't have a shift next morning—but he's never vanilla.
Never.
Well, he never was.
He always devoured you with a hungry mouth, a desperate and lustful look in his eyes, animalistic thrusts, brutal grip on your hips when he slammed down on you like he wanted you to break.
Sex was casual between the both of you.
The rules were clear. No hickeys, scratches, bites on him while he could mark you as freely as he wished to do so.
Never a mark on him though.
And no, no feelings.
None at all.
Sure, he was attractive. And you didn't have a problem with hooking up with him when he'd bring you over the gates of heaven or soothed you through the most aggressive orgasms ever.
You were fine with the whole arrangement before last week when he'd texted you "I'm coming over, leave the door open." At 2 AM.
Shrugging, you left him on read, unlocked the front door and he was walking through it no more than 15 minutes later—dark gray sweatshirt masking his muscles, hood messily pulled over his white tuff of hair, sunglasses slipping from his nose bridge, usually bright eyes dull like you'd never seen them before.
He had crossed the threshold to the balcony where you were curled up in on the couch, crawled on top of you and...
Kissed you with soft lips, slow movements of his jaw, reverent touches, hesitant hands that mapped your body under him.
He kissed with too much feeling. With too much gentleness. With something so not Satoru.
Slid in between your legs, deliberately softened your walls till you could take him, tasting you on his tongue till you were tattooed in his mind, made you fall apart like he'd never done before.
Then he repositioned himself, chin glistening from your juices, didn't bother with a condom—you were too far gone to even stop him and remind him of protection, mind hazy with his unusual attitude.
He had pushed himself inside, losing himself in your wetness bit by bit, watching how his cock disappeared inside your walls.
Both your legs by his sides.
And he drew his chest down—skin flush against your breasts—locking himself in missionary, a position he avoided at any given chance.
You shook underneath him—eyes glossed over from the feeling of him, unprotected, raw in you. The slow drag of his cock in you, meeting your warmth over and over.
Veins imprinting themselves in you, leaving their shape, moulding your pussy to fit him and only him. The deep, intimate thrusts had your throat go dry, a ball growing there and your orgasm growing painfully slow.
Satoru's breathing was shaky, his lips on your neck, behind your ear. Sucking on your nipples, leaving faint marks you'd see in your reflection morning.
Desperately begging in your ears with pleas that had you clenching around him.
"Please look at me, baby, please."
He was making love to you.
No harsh grinding, no position switching or new experiments.
It was terrifying.
So terrifying.
Because you liked it too much.
You liked this Satoru too much.
Fuck.
Sex is never just sex.
You should have listened to your friends when they warned you.
You knew you were fucked when he came undone with you, whispering sweet nothings you found yourself silently praying to be true.
"You look so—hng- beautiful, angel."
Babbling when he held your face, blue orbs melting with yours when his gaze was zeroed on you and only you. Not on your skin meeting his.
"Just a bit more beautiful, I'm almost there—shit, you're close too, huh? Clenching onto me so sweetly..."
Those stupid nicknames of his—making your heartbeat falter, your pulse travel to pound against your temples, heat settle on your cheeks.
God, he's such an asshole.
Making love to you on your balcony under the moonlight, on the 10th floor where no one else lives.
When morning came, when you found yourself on your bed alone and with a heavy chest, you knew you were screwed.
He kept fucking you after that day like he didn't rearrange the wires in your brain with no effort.
He kept having sex with you like he wasn't kissing every crevice of you just a week ago. Like he hadn't silently loved every part of you, kissed and paid attention to every insecurity and scar on your skin.
Still, he took you to the moon, had you spasming around his cock like always—only this time, leaving you empty even after he filled you up with his cum.
You knew you felt empty because you wanted him to love you again. You wanted him to see you again, not the body he goes to whenever he wants.
Fuck, you really messed everything up.
You were asking for the impossible, for Satoru to care and love.
So you tried to push him away. Avoid meetups and his messages that only arrived after midnight strikes the clock.
It made no difference—in fact, you felt worse without him around.
By the second week of dodging him, you were about to cave and call him when your front door unlocked and there he was.
Dressed in all black, straight from work—black chemise with enough buttons undone to reveal his pale collarbones. Black slacks and perfectly tailored dark pants that only highlighted his height.
Your heart lurched—half fear and half relief that had adrenaline already coursing through your veins. You stumbled over your words.
"Satoru—what are you—how did you get in here?" Voice shaky, a light frown placing itself on your face.
He was wearing a stern expression on his face, all pursed lips and locked jaws is the kind. An unfamiliar sight to you as he was always obnoxiously smiling even when ticked off.
His hand rose to reveal your spare keys, you dont remember even granting him access to them but don't have time to ponder about that before his arm drops, he throws the keys on the counter and closes the distance between the both of you till he's looming directly over you—hands in his pocket.
"You have been avoiding me." He says, an underlying layer of annoyance sending a chill down your spine.
You try to deflect, "No."
A beat passes, the expression on his face remains.
"No, I haven't." You say more clearly.
And finish with, "I've been busy."
Complete and utter bullshit, you get off work on the dot and your shifts have never been so boring.
But he doesn't need to know that.
Not convinced at all, Satoru curves his spine till his glasses slide off on their own from where they were perched on his nose just enough for his eyes to pierce holes through you.
Blue, cerulean, sky blue consumes you.
And you hate it so much.
So much you wish you could swim in them.
In him.
"Try again." He says, not narrowing his eyes.
You swallow, feeling an uneasy sensation in your stomach that makes you want to throw up when revealing yourself to him crosses your mind.
But he won’t believe you if you spew some other bullshit out.
Fuck it.
“Satoru.” You whisper, seeing his eyes run over your whole face.
“I messed up.”
His figure stiffens. A thousand thoughts running through his mind, a billion questions. Shit, are you pregnant? Weren’t you on the pill? Fuck, what is he supposed to do now?
You see the way his adam’s apple bobs at your statement.
“What is it?” He asks, feeling his knuckles turning white in his pockets, a shiver overtaking his body.
Trying to start, you say. “I.. uh.” Still not sure, and still not confident enough.
Satoru silently prays it isn’t what he thinks it is.
A moment of silence passes, he watches you shift around, fiddling with your hands. Biting on and on your lips.
“Y/N?” He calls out to you and you snap out of it.
“I think I’m falling in love with you.”
And it’s not as stupid as it sounds.
You don’t like Satoru because he fucks you like no other man has. But because he messes with your heart without even knowing it.
Holding you after he’s done is not casual, it’s not normal. You’ve had ex boyfriends who don’t know the world aftercare, but Satoru bathes you, he wipes you clean.
Holds you in the bathtub, washes your hair, draws absentmindedly circles on your tired and tense shoulders.
Brings you your favorite dessert before he goes on to have his fav.
Makes you laugh a laugh that comes from the deepest parts of you which yearn to be light and happy with him.
He’s such a prick, completely unaware of his effect beyond his looks.
And you’re such an idiot for believing him.
For liking someone so good.
He stands there, quiet for what feels like an eternity. Your chest is tight with pressure when he straightens up and takes a step back.
Well, this is it.
“We agreed on no feelings, Y/N.” He says like your heart isn’t splitting in half.
You breathe out a shaky breath, slowly nodding because you are aware. “I know, I’m sorry.”
His eyes unlatch from you, taking a look at the window that shows the view of Tokyo from your floor like it pains him to look you in the face after the confession.
“I don’t see you that way.”
He never likes when you bring up another man, but he doesn't see you that way.
He whispers against your skin that he'd die seeing you with somebody else, but he doesn't see you that way.
You pull a tight smile on your face. “Okay.”
Then you tip the glass over, ruin yourself further. “We can keep seeing eachother if you want, my feelings won’t come between us. I know what I got myself into.” You say. A bittersweet feeling on your tongue.
When did it become so complicated?
You just can’t let him go.
He looks shaken by your proposal, head swinging back to you.
“No, you’ll just hurt yourself, Y/N.”
Stop saying my name, stop being so considerate.
You almost choke on your words from the thorns growing in your throat when you speak. “No, I promise I won’t. We can keep seeing each other.”
Push and pull.
He pushes you, you pull.
And you both keep seeing eachother.
But you detach yourself from everything. From him.
It doesn't even happen on purpose. You didn't mean to zone out when he'd start talking, mind drifting to how you both would've been if he hadn't rejected you.
You don't deliberately choose to start refusing his closeness outside of the bedroom on purpose, the growing cold pit in your chest just froze the strings between the both of you.
He notices your fucked out state on a different world the first time he feels you after the confession. A distant look in your eyes and not the usual cloud of pleasure in them.
Is he not making you feel good?
It took a week, a full week for you to let him in after what happened.
And it’s not true, you do feel good. You know you feel good because he’s doing everything right—the angle is perfect, his tip is brushing the deepest parts of you and the coil is threatening to snap in your lower stomach, but you don’t feel it as much as before.
You’re quiet, minimally moaning, hiding the noises. Not saying a single word unless he asks you something.
“Baby?” His hands find the back of your neck, making your eyes flutter open while he pounds into you.
Propping himself with one hand next to your head, his other holds the back of your neck while your sight settles on him and the worried look on his face.
“Hm?” You sleepily hum, exhausted from the orgasms, the rounds, the ache in your legs and the sensitivity of your clit.
He asks, breath heavy, pieces of hair clinging to his forehead as he reaches his escape—quiet groans filling your ears. “You okay, sweets?”
You nod with an inaudible hum, not really sure what he’s even asking.
“Fuck.” He groans, thrusting a few times before burying himself deep in you as you clench around him and feel his ropes paint your insides white.
Collapsing next to you, his hands leave your body and you run cold. An arm protectively swings over your waist as he readjusts on the bed, coming down from his high before he cleans you up.
You still haven’t said a word. Somewhere too far gone, feeling too used. But you agreed to this.
There’s no one to blame.
And though you’ve both been at it for hours, even though Satoru’s cum is oozing out of you and his cock is limp, he doesn’t feel satisfied.
That uncomfortable feeling in his pit stays there for days while he works.
A photoshoot here and there, a text to you which he receives no reply to, a runway, no response from you. A missed call. The absence of your messages or any sign of life from you bothers him more than he'd like.
Last time you replied was three days after your last hook up where you'd texted him a flat "I'm busy."
Not "Hey, I'm busy. We'll talk later." Or "Busy, ttyl." Which is still dry, but with a promise to talk later.
He finds himself wondering what you’re doing when you don’t reply.
Cooking in those skimpy little lace shorts he brought back for you from a high end brand? Brushing your soft hair with your legs crossed and your face stoic? Covering your beauty marks with concealer maybe?
The days drag on and on, hours struggle to bleed into other when his phone is so dry, when the smell of you is no longer clinging onto him.
His sex drive is dead. Libido low for the first time reaching a new low.
He doesn’t even text you multiple times a day for sex, he just wants you to reply.
Or to see you.
So much he considers driving himself back to your house again.
But he doesn’t have the spare keys anymore. The ones he had sneakily picked up one time.
Those would’ve been really useful for a surprise right now—he could’ve painted your apartment in pink roses, gift bags of Victoria’s Secret’s new line he heard just came out.
Gosh he’d do everything to see you in those new panties. To then take them off and kiss every curve of your body, every dip of skin.
Shit, it’s never really just sex.
You suffocate in your feelings, in the emptiness that comes of being a toy. Turns out, you’re not as strong as you thought you were.
Being nonchalant about what you feel is way harder than you thought it would be.
So you ignore him.
For days.
A month passes.
Your girlfriends are sick of it. Sick of hearing about him.
You feel stupid.
Maybe you are.
The whole scenario of him rejecting you runs another lap around your head as the elevator climbs 10 floors.
The familiar automatic ding of the lift snaps you out of your head. Doors opening, you step out.
You step out and boxes and boxes of pink flowers are on your doorstep, swallowing the entry with no way to get in your house.
Of course it’s him.
Sure, you knew he was a sex addict. But… not to this extent.
So when you catch sight of the singular envelope sticking out from the biggest box of roses and pluck it out, you expect something like “U and me tonight?” With a cheeky emoji.
But you rip the envelope open to “Please pick up the phone, princess.”
Fucking asshole.
Yet, you kick the roses sideways to make way, unlock your door, drop your bag and text “Door is unlocked.” With a disappointed sigh leaving you.
You make your bed knowing it’s going to get ruined in a few hours, clean the kitchen like he’s going to care about anything that isn’t ramming into you.
And the door unlocks sometime past 9 in the evening while you swirl a glass of wine in between your fingers on the balcony, sore legs kicked over the small coffee table.
He comes up on your right through the door. The details of his outfit unknown as you don’t pan your eyes over to him.
One month of no sex—no, no you, has shown Satoru that he does feel for you.
It’s shown him that what he felt was not just naturally from sex, it was straight from his heart. It wasn’t his hormones acting when his chest tightened when he had to leave.
Leave your peacefully sleeping figure in the morning all alone when it was practically begging for his arms to wrap around you again.
It’s shown him that he can’t breathe without you there.
He kneels in front of where you’re sat on the couch to reach your line of sight as you refuse to even acknowledge him.
Your eyes narrow to the wine before downing it all and setting it down on the glass table and swinging your feet off it.
The silence is thick with tension, unspoken words clawing at your lips. Both yours and Satoru’s.
You feel his eyes trace your every action.
Your spine meets the leather of the couch before you finally break the silence.
“I’m yours, Satoru. Just get on with it.”
His heart shatters into a billion different pieces. Just get on with it? Like you’re a task he has to finish? Like you’re not someone with feelings?
Feeling his heartbeat skyrocket, his mind starts running with questions. Do you not want him anymore? Does he not satisfy you anymore? Have you found someone else?
The thought of you with someone else has his stomach churning. He hasn’t even come to have sex with you, just to clear the air.
Still, your vague look and lack of expression makes his body go cold.
“I’m not here for that.” He says, feeling his voice waver, vocal chords shaking.
Your head finally turns to him. “Then why are you here?”
Internally, he winces. “Because I can’t go another second without you, Y/N.”
You feel the stars sparkle in amazement, the moon shine in delight. Your heart double over.
Is he..?
“I love you.” He cuts your thoughts off.
“I’m a liar, I love you so much I can’t breathe when you’re not around. When you’re not talking to me or holding me.”
“It was never just sex—I”
You cut him off, smashing your lips against him on his knee. There’s no need for you to reciprocate, he knows you love him.
He sighs against you, shoulders dropping from the tension in them leaving, forearms wrapping around your waist as he gets up and sits in your seat.
You land on him, knees digging onto the leather by his sides—feeling his heartbeat against your chest while he pulls you flush against him.
Your arms hold him tight by the neck. Moving around and repositioning yourself ears you a grunt from him as you feel him grow beneath you.
A sheepish smirk presses against his lips as you fail to suppress it. In revenge, his hands drop from your waist and onto your ass, pushing your clothed pussy over his hardening boner.
One month of celibacy has you sensitive to the slightest touch, the imprint of him being nothing like the shitty toys you hoped would get you off in his absence.
He groans once more as you shift over him—now deliberately grinding in slow movements.
A hand slips under the shirt you’re wearing to find that you aren’t wearing a bra, though he already suspected it from your hard nipples against his chest.
You let out a quiet moan from his cold hands against your back.
The low sound of his muffled chuckle vibrates against your lips as he invades your mouth, tongue tasting every inch of you.
Not letting him be in charge, you tug his hair and his mouth falls open for you to explore.
Your lungs beg for air and only then do you break the kiss, feeling his hand push your shirt upwards till your breasts meet the cold night air.
Without even catching his breath, Satoru’s mouth latches onto your nipple like he’s starved and you’re his favorite food.
His tongue swirls while his other fingers pinch your lonely nipple, coating your chest in saliva, bundles of nerves electrifying under his touch.
You’re a moaning mess till you have enough of the teasing.
“A-ah—Satoru-” He doesn’t stop at your calling.
“Satoru—”
Finally he perks up. “Yes, sweetheart?”
You try to focus on your words as he humps you dry. “Make-make—love to me.”
His eyes widen like it’s Christmas day. A second passes. He crashes. God, his name coming from your lips, the seemingly innocent request when it’s so secretly filthy. The wires reconnect in his brain and suddenly you’re grateful you only wore a really oversize, old shirt of his you stole.
What else would you need to wear with him around?
The damp material of your lacy panties gets pushed aside and he unbuckles his pants, freeing his hard, dusty pink, groomed cock out.
You gasp when his tip pushes at your entrance, having forgotten the sheer size of him and his girth.
“Satoru!”
He groans, head falling back as your juices leak down on him.
“Oh fuuuck,” he drags, eyes falling closed. “Ah- should’ve prepped you—It’s been a while now, hasn’t it, baby? But you’re so wet I’m sure you can take me, right my sweet girl?”
So you do, you bite your lips, stabilise yourself on his shoulders and slowly sink down onto him. He kisses you slow, pressing soft skin against you, bitting your bottom lip delicately.
His hands leave your ass and one of them wraps around your back, bringing you impossibly close to him.
The other presses into your hair, angling your head sideways so he can lose himself in your mouth.
He lets you stay bottomed out for a moment so you can readjust, relearn the shape of him.
A needy whine vibrates against Satoru's lips once he shifts inside of you.
You feel his grin against you before he delivers the first thrust—deep, slow, curved just right to hit your cervix right off the bat. Your lips part for you to let out a moan from your chest.
He takes the opportunity to bite your neck. Leave his mark and kiss down your carotid. Gentle, reverent kisses. Deliberate nips. Purple and pink shades decorating fron your neck to your collarbone and breasts.
You're his vision. His canvas.
With two hands under your thighs, Satoru bounces you on his length. Perfectly inclined pink tip that never really leaves your pussy when he lifts your hips, but meets the familiar muscular ring deep within you whenever he drops you down every.single.time.
The sound of skin meeting skin so intimately getting absorbed by the sky.
You writhe over him, legs starting to ache, lips swelling—throat going dry from the moaning once he starts to circle around your clit, drawing you closer to the edge.
In one sudden movement, he lays you down on the couch. Your back against the soft cushions—his hot figure hovering over you, hand on your hip, elbow dug in the leather to prop himself up.
And he really starts hitting the spot. Your sight starts to blur, tears prickling at the corners from the feeling of sheer fullness. He starts to pick up the speed just a bit, going harder, not fast yet enough for him to feel you reaching your climax.
Your nails claw at his back under his shirt, looking for something that will tether you to earth while you clench and clench till his rhythm is stuttering.
"Oh my pretty girl, I'm so close-ugh—you're doing so well f'me." His teeth sink into your shoulder and you feel your legs going weak.
A hand dips under you, hooking under your back and arching you upwards.
Once.
Twice, he thrusts.
And you come. Hard.
He follows immediately, shaking when he buries himself inside of you. Walls fluttering and pulling him in viciously.
Neither of you dare to move, he collapses over you and flips you both with him still inside your walls till your head lands on his chest.
You don't need to say it out loud.
But you're his.
And he's yours.
Haven’t proofed this yet because im a little lazy buttttt what if its not just a masterlist either…?
Working on pregnant reader x husbandnanami and hockey!gojo x reader..
A bet is classic. What could be more fun than targeting a sweet girl and making her fall in love with the reputable campus fuckboy? Surely he wouldn’t fall in love with you.
fratboy!gojo x f!reader
notes: I have seen sooooo many ideas and tiktoks about the trope of reader being a bet & it always hurts so good! wanted to try it out and ofc it had to be with fratboy gojo >:)))
warnings: angst obvi hehehe, drinking, cursing, reader is super sweet and a bet obvi, no comfort or happy ending (yet? who knows), mentions of vomiting but doesn’t, mentions of blood, reader is never someone’s first choice:(( ummmm, gojo is an asshole ofc
Credit to @uzmacchiato for the divider!!
Satoru knew he should've said no in the beginning, knew it wasn't worth it just to impress his friends- his stupid frat brothers who never took anything seriously. Never thought about the consequences of their actions.
Buuut the idea of the bet was just too good to turn down.
The effort, the build up, the dedication- it would all come together so perfectly, especially with you as the main star. With you being you, you were doomed from the start before the bet could even fully take shape.
Sweet little you. Shouldn't you have known better?
Going around, shamelessly wearing your heart on your sleeve, always spreading kindness on the darkest of days, looking and talking to people as if they genuinely mattered- and maybe to you, they actually did, even when they couldn't have cared less about returning the favor. Not that you ever expected anything in return.
And most importantly of it all? You were so understanding. Far too understanding for your own good. The debilitating type that had rooted itself early on as some sort of lousy defense mechanism and eventually morphed into something self destructive. Had you subconsciously constructing and molding subpar excuses to justify someone's behavior, especially when it was directed towards you.
Always being an overly empathetic thing, so willing to sacrifice and minimize your own feelings when it came to others, always softening their blow.
Were you desperate or something to get people to stay? So desperate that you had unintentionally turned yourself into a doormat that people could stomp all over?
Anybody could've told you that it was idiotic to try and see everyone at face value, to so naively believe the words people told you. But you could've argued the opposite.
It wasn't naivety. It was you, sweet and trusting you, determined to not let your past heartbreak change the way you viewed others, to not let it bias you, scare you, or haunt you. Despite having been constantly hurt, you refused to allow your past experiences make you question and doubt every. single. new. relationship.
Always trying to see the good in people.
It would have turned out great, perfectly actually. You had played your part with flying colors, just as expected, putting on the most spectacular, albeit unknown, performance. And Satoru? Well.
Things would have turned out great.
If he hadn't started falling in love with you.
But the show must go on.
“H-Hey, Satoru! Wait-wait a sec!” The words spilled from your lips in an unintentional desperate plea, the halls fully swarmed and packed with students squeezing past one another. Dozens of conversations mulled around you, voices mindlessly buzzing and bouncing off the walls as you paced towards the white haired man.
Satoru had been anything but clear as of recently, a new push pull dynamic he’d adopted that had you more confused and thrown off than ever. You thought you were going crazy.
One night he was taking you out, looking at you like you were his dream girl who hung the moon in his sky, and the next he was treating you like some clingy puppy that he had never even asked for in the first place. The hot and coldness of it all had given you whiplash trying to keep up with him.
But of course, of couuurrrse, you believed him when he said it was stress. That finals and exams had him so busy, but of course he liked you! He was just new at this whole communication thing and needed time but please Y/N, I like you so much please im trying.
You believed it all.
After all, why would you not? Especially when Satoru was Satoru and you were you.
Sure, you knew you could be a lot, knew you could have more than afforded to shut up every now and then and not chimed in with your over the top unnecessary eager commentary, but regardless, the point still stood. Satrou Gojo, one of the hottest most pined after frat boys on campus that everyone treated like a myth, like an untouchable legend, talked to you, was nice to you, even took you out and seemed happy to do so.
Maybe for once, the rumors could have been just rumors!
Plus, the last few times you remembered being taken out was high school, and they never showed you much interest past the first date once they learned they couldn't get in your pants. Gojo hadn't even tried!
“Sorry-excuse me,’cuse me, sorr- oops, my bad, imsosorry- Satoru!”
He'd been oddly silent the past few days, completely unresponsive to your texts. But with finals coming up, surely he must've been cramming and just far too busy to respond.
He hadn't sat next to you like usual in lecture, but he showed up late, so maybe he didn't want to bother you?
But he didn't wait for you after either, gone before you could even leave your seat. You couldn't deny how it stung, but always chalked it up to him being too busy or in a rush.
You could visibly see his shoulders tense from behind, the slight tilt of his head as it hung forward in what you could only assume was annoyance, a brief mental preparation to deal with you. A pang bloomed in your chest, unease pulsing through you.
He slowed down just enough for you to catch up, but didn't stop. Slightly out of breath, you fell into step next to him, cheeks flushing and heat creeping up your neck from his clear uneagerness to see or talk to you. You nervously swallowed. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be.
He didn't greet you, didn't look at you, just waited for you to speak.
You awkwardly cleared your throat to speak, a small and meek “hi,” being the only word to squeeze out.
“I’ve got class.” Short, quick, dismissive.
His blunt uninterested response sent doubt pummeling through you, the gifts in your pocket weighing heavier and heavier with the possibility of rejection more realistic than you initially thought.
He would draw you in, perfect words to butter you up and make you feel foolish for ever questioning him, and then he'd get like this. Not mean per se, but just so uninterested in you that you wondered if you had made it all up. You weren't dating (yet? So you were hoping) but he had kissed you on the most recent date. Didn't that mean something?
You'd been so ecstatic afterwards, but with no solid friends on campus, you had no one to tell or squeal to. You carried everything alone, both good and bad. Gojo knew that, the whole frat knew that. It's what made you the perfect choice.
“R-right, yeah! Um- can you stop just for a second- i wanted to-” and he loudly sighed, piercing blue eyes rolling into his head as he stopped to turn to you. He didn't say anything, just stared expectantly at you like you were completely wasting his time. His gaze on you was irritated.
The eye contact had you jittery. Not the usual nerves you'd get when you turned your head just to find him already looking at you, so anxious you’d somehow mess things up with the hottest guy ever, so desperate to be good enough for him. No. It was the on edge, antsy type that had you replaying every dumb thing you've ever said to him, the doubt pooling at the very bottom of your stomach that felt like a heavy black tar. It felt like a test you knew you’d fail when you had studied so hard to do good. You just wanted him to like you the way you liked him, and god, did you fucking like him.
Don't fuck this up, y/n, this is the best thing that has ever happened to you.
Nervously swallowing and cheeks blazing, you gave an uneasy awkward smile before rummaging through your tote bag and pocket, muttering a tiny but sincere “sorry,” when his foot started to impatiently tap against the floor.
A small pit formed in your stomach, feeling slightly mortified and very embarrassed. The feeling was similar to a child showing off their very mediocre work to an overly critical parent.
“Sorry,” you huffed a fake laugh, pulling out the small container from your bag and the keychain from your pocket.
“I-um, I made these for you, since you know, you said you loved cookies, uh on the date, they're um your favorite..” and your words trailed off as you held out the tin, slowly beginning to feel smaller and smaller as he kept his hands by his side, no show of trying to take it from you. A small sticky note on the top read, “Hope you like them! :D <3”
“Oh! A-and, hah, I saw this and, and I thought of you, especially since you said you really, um, really liked that show.” nothing. “J-Just as a um, thank you, for the other night. W-Was a lot, o-of fun.”
You held both hands out, praying he didn't see the slight tremble of your clammy hands holding the items as you stood there feeling like an idiot. The thumping of your heart picked up, eyes looking anywhere but at him, bowing your head just slightly so you wouldn't have to see him look so repulsed by you.
Had you somehow misread everything? Like actually? This entire interaction felt like some humiliation ritual.
“Um, if, if you want, o-of course, no.. no pressure,” You pathetically added, already trying to lessen his blow, already trying to minimize and justify his cold reaction towards you.
He let out a small snicker, hands finally coming up to grab the items from your unsteady hands. You hid the sigh of relief that you wanted to let out, so easy to please and already feeling happy again that he accepted your gifts, as if it was a nuisance for him to do so.
“Wow, thanks. You do too much,” he dully noted, a small closed lip smile gracing his pretty features before he turned on his feet to continue his trek to class.
The comment made you freeze, staring at the spot he stood in, a “thank you?” not even having the chance to leave your tongue. You didn't think he said it with mal intent, but the words ‘too much’ always seemed to find its way back to you.
“Oh wait!” Gojo's voice broke you from your thoughts, and you immediately turned to face him, eyes wide and excited like a dog hearing the word ‘walk.’ Maybe he'd talk to you some more, or want you to walk with him! Or maybe-
“Party this Friday night at the house. You should come by, all my friends will be there.” The words made you deflate. A party… at his frat house… the idea made your stomach twist with nerves. You knew no one, had no friends to go with, and you were absolutely horrified of embarrassing yourself around him- even more- than what you felt like you had already done.
“Oh! Um, haha, I don't think your friends like me- um- very much, haha,” you stated, hand coming up to push your fallen hair behind your ear, a small wince on your face as to not make it a big deal.
His friends, and Gojo at first too, had been relatively mean to you starting off, relentless teasing about your looks, your interests, hobbies, lack of knowledge you had despite trying so hard. You had been so caught off guard when he told you he liked you.
“Psh, they're just playing! See you at 10pm,” he yelled back, already walking away, arm coming up to carelessly wave. You sighed to yourself. You knew you would go. You really wanted to see gojo.
Friday night was a mess. A good mess at first, at least. Cars parked up and down the street, people packed in like sardines in and outside the house, music so loud all the neighboring dorms and frats could hear, and god did it reek like sweat and musk.
The two shots - okay maybe three - you took right before for liquid courage seemed to do the exact opposite as you maneuvered around a couple making out, small “excuse me’s” falling from your lips every second in a measly attempt to find gojo.
The small revealing outfit you had on, at least, seemed to match the vibe, relieved when you saw girls wearing far less. The only con was that your favorite knee high boots would most definitely get stepped on, but at least you were taller now as you searched for the stark white tufts of hair.
The house thrummed from the vibration of the speakers, bass so heavy your teeth rattled. It was dark, the only light illuminating the rooms were colorful shades of blues, purples, reds, and greens shining and flashing everywhere. The party felt like everything you weren't, but for a split second you were almost proud of yourself, going so far out of your comfort zone it felt like you were on a whole other planet. You imagined how fun these parties could be if you had any friends, and before you could let the thought get you down, you let your tipsy self imagine what it would be like to experience these with gojo by your side, excited that you were about to.
Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was packed. Unable to find Gojo had you seeking out another drink and the multitude of bottles of liquor that covered the surfaces were calling your name. You felt confident, wanting another drink to keep your courage and vibes up, grabbing a red solo cup and creating a concoction that would be far too strong, but you were here to let loose right? You were at a party!
Further encouraged and emboldened when a girl passing by stopped to compliment you, you smiled to yourself, feeling the tension roll off your back and a new found self-assurance bloom within you.
Bodies flowed and worked around you, not shoving into you or looking at you like you didn't belong, but moved in rhythm near you, like you had every right to be there and fit just fine. You relaxed into the music, earlier shots of vodka giving you a nice buzz that warmed your skin, made your cheeks tingle, and more importantly a soft happiness that weighed in your chest that comforted you like a safety blanket. Pouring the liquor into the cup with a mixer that admittedly was way too little, you knocked over a different cup, relieved there was barely any liquid that spilled over.
Quietly giggling to yourself, you spun to grab a roll of paper towels, quickly drying up the small mess you made, already sipping on your drink that made you wince in disgust. It was perfect. You hummed along to the music, hips swaying while lights blinded you, walking over to the metal garbage can to toss the wet material. Looking inside, you couldn't help but notice the tupperware that looked exactly like yours.
Furrowing your eyebrows, you leaned in a little closer, tiny fractures cutting into your heart as you realized it was yours, still packed to the brim with your cookies, sticky note still stuck to the top. Next to the cookies, the keychain you had bought him.
You froze, just a moment before scooting back, not wanting to get caught staring into the trashcan as you processed everything. There was a dull ache in your chest, energy immediately depleting and inklings of shame and embarrassment circulating through you. Your mind worked through the different possibilities, seeking out any excuse or reason as to why your items now lay forgotten in the trash.
You felt the build up of tears, blinking them back with a shaky breath as you chugged your mixture that was mainly liquor, a hopeless attempt at suppressing the sadness you felt. You shivered, turning your head to gag at the disgusting taste. Surely all the alcohol would calm your nerves.
Maybe one of the guys had done it? And not Gojo? You were positive this was all some sort of misunderstanding, no way he would just do that right? He told you he liked you- it wouldn't make any sense.
You began your trek around the sea of people, legs a little more unsteady now, eyes slightly glassy, contents of your stomach filled with a majority of alcohol and barely any food from your earlier nerves. All you wanted to do was find him, figure out an explanation that you were positive you'd be more than willing to accept, and spend the rest of the night by his side having a good time. The cookies weren't hard to bake and it's not like the keychain cost that much- it was fine, you were fine.
A little more intense this time, you made your way through the frat house, a sigh of relief when a glimpse of that notorious white fluffy hair came into view, a black backwards baseball cap sitting perfectly on his head. When your eyes finally landed on gojo, albeit still a little wobbly and throat tight, you couldn't help the smile that automatically formed on your face, hoping he'd feel the same. Why wouldn't he? He did invite you after all.
He was surrounded by his friends and then some, everyone dialed in on what he was saying. You anxiously stepped forward, waiting for the right time to get close to him and say hello. You wondered if he'd hug you and say ‘hi baby,’ like he sometimes did. The thought made your heart flutter inside its ribs like a bird in a cage.
Maybe he'd even compliment your outfit, or your hair and makeup. You eagerly bit your lip, too excited to be embarrassed at your spiraling thoughts of being somewhat wanted by him.
“Bro and then she gave me a fuck ass keychain, dude!!” he broke up his commentary with a laugh, a little too forced for it to be genuine, but a laugh nonetheless. “Said it reminded her of me, like, she just can't get any weirder bro. God and don't get me started on the cookies. She said it was her thanks for taking her out, but she doesnt know its all a bet to get into her pants- shes a fucking virgin for sureeee, threw that shit out as soon as i got back,” and he snickered and grinned like he had won the best prize. Like he had formed the best, most elaborate plan and you had played your part perfectly. You really, really had.
His friends, who you recognized as toji and maybe sukuna, chuckled, all chiming in with terms of agreement and encouragement, adding on all sorts of lies and theories about you, like maybe you were secretly a whore putting out, your innocent act a devious little facade. Geto, who had always been kind to you, was there too, perched against the side of a couch, not joining in, but silent and accepting.
You flinched, physically recoiling back when you heard them laugh about how you were too much, too pathetic to see right through anything at all, a fucking stupid girl for thinking someone like you could have a chance at him. Everything you had told yourself, every insecurity that had coursed through you, all confirmed. Others really did view you the way you saw yourself.
“Bro and when I kissed her, swear i almost gagged-”
You drowned his voice out, the music. There was a ringing in your ears that wasn't there before. Frozen in your spot, fingers beginning to shake, throat burning so badly you weren't sure if the alcohol you had downed was about to make a surprise appearance or not.
The bodies around you blurred as the pit in your stomach grew, humiliation washing over you as if you’d just been doused with a bucket full of ice water. You didn't run, couldn't, feet glued to the floor as you were forced to listen to the group of the hottest guys on campus who didn't even know you as a person, didn't take the time to learn you, ridicule you and make fun of you. You guessed it didn't matter, because Gojo had.
Each breath was labored and jagged, chest tightening and skin prickling with such an intense heat that you felt constricted in the already sparse clothes you wore. The way the fabric dug into you, a certain stitch that scratched you, the zipper that rubbed against your skin - it felt like you were suddenly aware of every unpleasant feeling in addition to the shattering of your heart.
You wanted to go home, wanted the floor to swallow you whole- felt so unbelievably silly standing there watching the guy you liked- fuck, the guy you had fallen in love with- paint you out to be some weird nasty creature who was undeserving of his attention. Sure, you had felt that way initially, but he had been so kind to you that you had been so blindsided, unknowingly setting yourself up to fall right back into your constant cycle of heartbreak and misery.
Built up tears finally broke the surface, some beginning to stream down your face and others just dropping from the sheer amount that had welled up. It wasn't until gojo turned his head, eyes landing directly on you and smile completely dropping that your legs became unstuck.
Your breath hitched, crackling sob breaking through as your saliva grew sticky. The extra drinks sure to make you vomit after this. You spun so fast you lost balance for a split second on your heels, immediately righting yourself and pushing through the sweaty bodies blocking you in. You didn't say sorry or excuse me, just pummeled through, desperate to get outside so that maybe you could finally breathe. You felt like a pig in makeup, and the thought made you cry harder. So beyond embarrassed, having dressed up and done your hair and makeup, mortified that everyone else thought you looked just as ugly and silly. You had to get out of here, the air was too thick and stuffy as the walls closed in on you.
Your name fell on deaf ears, sprinting out the front door and down the porch steps, surroundings a blur from not only how fast you were moving, but the alcohol that coursed through you. You knew the gifts were stupid, sure, but everything else? The kiss? He wanted to gag? All the times he called you pretty, beautiful, yes, it was more than plausible that it was a lie, but why did he say it all then? That's right, because you were supposedly just a fucking bet.
Who would willingly want to be with you?
Gojo called your name again, louder. You weren't the only one sick to your stomach. He cursed, heart dropping to his ass as the overwhelming suffocating feeling of guilt bloomed inside of his chest, heart quite literally constricting at how shitty, how fucking disgusting, he felt. It spread throughout him and he would've thought it was dramatic if it didn't feel like he could currently drop to his knees and heave. The entire situation was beyond fucked up, everything a misunderstanding and completely not at the same time.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he repeated, hoarse and panicked as he immediately trailed after you, abruptly leaving the conversation mid sentence, not caring how he looked when all the guys stared at him in confusion. He lost sight of you for a moment but knew you'd only try to leave, escape the perfect hell he had just created for you.
Why the fuck did he do this? How the fuck was he gonna make this up to you, and why had he let himself get involved in this shitty idea anyway? He knew he should've called it off, he knew he had fallen for you.
Muttering insults as hands came out to grab at him, others trying to talk and some pulling him in for a dance. He didn't look, didn't care who they were, practically throwing and shoving their hands off him with only you in mind. He would explain everything to you, lay himself bare and expose the ugliness and insecurities that festered inside of him.
He had been projecting this entire time, exhausted from maintaining such an ugly facade of the frat fuckboy, desperately trying to fit in with everyone else that he stupidly agreed to the bet just to feel some type of belonging and companionship. All at the expense of you.
He didn't think, that was his issue. So caught up in this fake lifestyle that he knew the act wasn't just pretend anymore, his morals slipping by the day as he settled into this new once foreign character. They were all fucking assholes. All of them.
Fingers tightly clenching your almost dead phone, you bawled, frustration making you grit your teeth in additional annoyance when the sidewalk wouldn't stay straight. Accidentally stepping off the concrete, your heel caught on the edge, sending you falling onto all fours on the pavement, too drunk to care about the pain that shot up your wrists and knees. You let out a guttural infuriated noise, a mix between a squeal and growl, feeling so much more than just pissed and heartbroken. You furiously smashed your palm against the concrete as if it held the blame.
“Fuck, hey, shit, are you okay??”
Gojo's palm rested on your back and in the blink of an eye you stumbled up, whipping around to face him seething and disgusted as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.
“Don't fucking touch me,” you spat backing away from him as if he had physically struck you, and at this point you thought you would’ve almost preferred that over the gut wrenching feeling in your chest. There was a physical pain that tore throughout you, your heart feeling like sharp talons had ripped it out and stomped on it like an attempt at snuffing out a flame.
If you had it in you, you would’ve laughed at his expression, so devastated and hurt and torn as if he wasn't the one who caused all this, as if he wasn't the one who could've prevented everything. He had the audacity to stare at you like he was scared of losing you.
“Please, please y/n, i can explain, I am so sorry, please,” and it was as equally pathetic as it was infuriating. gojo pathetically begged, arms awkwardly reaching towards you as if you were the solution.
You paused, tongue loose and words slurred, staring at him bewildered as you threw your palms up. He wasn't who you thought he was. Or maybe he was exactly who everybody said he was and it was your fault for thinking otherwise.
“I thought you liked digimon??”
He swore, hands coming up to drag down his face. You saw. Saw your cookies and the keychain you bought him in the garbage.
“That wasn't me, I swear, please believe me, I swear- I-I got back from class, one of the guys saw and- and started laughing, they took it from me before I could even say anything. They tossed it, and I swear, please believe me, I was gonna grab it after, I-I love Digimon, I loved your gifts, please.”
He was breathless now, a fruitless panicked attempt at defending himself.
You scoffed. “Sure it wasn't too much?”
Gojo winced, hands curling. “I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it like that-” You cut him off, angrily sniffing and wiping your bloody gravel pricked hands against your black mini skirt. God you felt ridiculous.
“Yeah?? Which fucking part??” Your voice raised an octave, almost yelling but you didn't care as passerbyers turned their heads. You spewed the words, moving forward just to angrily shove at his chest, blood smearing his white shirt. Good, you wanted to stain his shit, wipe your blood all over it.
He took advantage of the proximity, quickly but lightly wrapping his large hands around your wrists to keep you close. You screeched, thrashing in his hold, weakly trying to hit him, shove him, and with his loose grip, he let you, your small fists pounding against his hard chest
“Im sorry, Im sorry, Im so fucking sorry, I like you- I like you so fucking much-”
A broken sob escaped you, a mix between a snarl and cry getting stuck in your throat.
“I didn't mean anything I said in there, I loved kissing you, you’re beautiful - fuck, you’re perfect, you’re so fucking perfect and- and you know me, the real me, I feel like I can be myself with you, please please please, im begging you, let me explain everything- from the start.” He was frantic, words rushing out so fast they blended into one. His eyes were glossy and rimmed red and you knew it wasn’t from whatever drugs he had done.
You stilled your hits, pausing in his hold. Rapid breaths mingling, chests quickly falling and rising, faded background music from the frat echoing into the night.
“Please.”
Gojo spoke it like a prayer, voiced with despair and a frenzied anguish that he knew deep down would do nothing. He would continue to beg, to plead with you, to reason, but deep down, he knew. Your chin dropped to your chest helplessly, a small hiccup squeezing itself out as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes felt swollen from how much you had cried, but you had plenty left.
You could feel gojo guide your palms to rest against his chest, a new set of bloody hand prints against the stark white, heart thumping like he'd just ran a marathon. You slammed your eyes shut, new sobs threatening to break loose, the feeling of wanting to curl up and die had never been more prominent.
“y/n, I'll do anything, please- please, I don't-” and his voice cracked, fingers tightening around your wrists. “I don't want to lose you- Im so, Im so sorry, baby.”
Your breath hitched, lips curling and fingers twisting into his shirt to bunch the fabric beneath your fingers. The agony and discomfort in your chest was painfully overwhelming, silently wishing you'd wake up from this nightmare, wishing you never heard him, trying to wrap your mind around how and why he would do this to you. You’d never understand, would never gain pleasure from hurting anyone, let alone, him.
“What did I ever do to you?”
The words came out small, so small and fractured and so confused, seeking an explanation or reason that could maybe get the two of you past this- that maybe you must've done something to deserve it and the two of you could come back from this, but you knew it was all for nothing. For no reason at all.
Gojo's eyes flashed with guilt, anger, and shame. He wanted to recoil, wanted to throw his head into his hands and sob, but he didn't want to let you go. He knew it would be the last time. Your gaze didn't meet his.
He swallowed, throat stinging and eyes burning. He regretted everything, internally begging to take it all back like some upper power would hear him and turn back time.
“Nothing, you didn't deserve this- you did- did nothing.” The words caught as his voice wavered and you wondered if he was crying. You refused to look at those eyes. His fucking blue perfect eyes that bore into you like you mattered- it was all lies- he had lied to you for months- almost an entire semester. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, attempting to stifle the wail you wanted to blubber out. It had been months.
Months of getting to know one another, of a build up, of a hope for something more. The silliest stupidest notion that for once someone found you valuable too and it wasn’t one sided.
A shallow gasp, an unintentional whimper, your shoulders shook as you wept.
“I wish I never met you, g-gojo. I would never-” a cry broke your words, tensing up as you angled your head down to hide your uncontrollable tears. He wanted to correct you and tell you to call him satoru or toru, but he stayed silent, let the sting burn. “Never hurt you like this.”
You shakily exhaled, not paying attention to his mindless small whimpers of “I know, I'm so sorry, I know, please.”
You gripped the fabric tighter, lifting your head to finally meet his eyes, hating how he was crying, how he genuinely looked heartbroken at hurting you, how you hated seeing him like this. His chin wobbled, breath coming out in unsteady pants and for once, he didn't look like the notorious frat boy who could conquer anything. He looked small, like a scared little boy.
Unsteady shaky hands lifted to gently cup your cheeks, gojo preparing himself for you to yank away from his touch like it burned. He sniffled when you didn’t, perfect lips shiny and slightly parted as he fully rested them against your soft skin.
“I never want to see you again.”
His composure shattered, immediately shaking his head murmuring “no’s”, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your skin and under your eyes as he repeated the same words over and over again. You pushed him back roughly with all your drunken force, which wasn't much, but enough to send him stumbling backwards to create distance.
He was alarmed, not at what you had done, but at watching you walk away, brain filling with nothing but no no no no no please, please stay, stay with me stay.
“Y/n, no please, baby, baby, y/n, please hear me out- please-” his voice was shredded, raw from drinking and yelling and begging, but he didn’t care. He’d beg and beg until he had no voice left, and when it was gone, he would find another way.
For a moment, you paused, and he thought that maybe, just maybe you would listen. But when you slowly turned to him, looking so fucking beautiful still as street lamps glistened in the reflection of your eyes, cheeks shiny and tinted pink from the tears that painted your cheeks, it all clicked. It was torturous.
“Fuck y/n, please, I-I love you. I’m so,” he swallowed to ease the scratchiness of his throat. It did nothing. “I’m so in love with you,” and he whispered the words, loud enough so you’d hear, but almost as if they weren’t meant for you, as if he was just talking to himself and unintentionally said the realization aloud.
He watched as a lone tear dropped down your cheek and it was cruel. He was cruel, you were cruel. Standing there so perfect and so beautiful while you broke his heart, and it was all his fault since he had done it first. The silence was thick as the two of you stood feet apart, wordlessly staring at each other, letting his words hang in the air. You opened your mouth and shut it, letting the process repeat as you mulled over the words in your head, wishing more than ever he hadn’t said them. Wishing more than ever you didn’t feel the same.
“I’d pick you, over and over again Satoru, every time, in a room full of people. Everyone would,” you huffed a fake laugh, blinking away your tears as you stared into his dumb perfect eyes. “I thought-” your lips quivered, chin wobbling at the humiliating admission. “I thought for once, someone had finally picked me.” The words slowly fell from your lips, laced with what one could only describe as pure heartbreak.
Gojo felt the final blow split his heart, not a clean cut, but a jagged uneven slash that cleaved it in two. He called your name, desperate and all, watching you spin on your heel and angrily walk away, your perfume hitting him as the wind blew.
He stepped forward- yelled your name again. But you didn't turn, didn't peek, didn't flinch as you sobbed, fingers constantly wiping your eyes to see where you were going as you drunkenly walked back to your apartment. Cried for yourself, mourned who you were becoming, who you were becoming with him. You had fallen in love with him too, of course you had. He was so easy to love.
“Don’t laugh, I know you’re a fuck boy - ah!” Satoru closes his mouth as you stop him from interjecting. “Can you look at my pussy and tell me if it’s weird? Without asking why.”
Satoru sets his laptop aside, “Sure, lemme see that pussy.” Rolling your eyes as you stand up. Dropping your shorts with your underwear. Your baggy shirt is the only thing hiding your pussy from Satoru.
“Can I touch you?” Your heart beats a little faster. As you think about Satoru’s large hands with his long fingers touching your pussy is getting wet.
Fighting to keep your voice steady, “Sure - sure, whatever you need to do.” And fail.
Satoru grins as he orders, “Sit on the sofa and spread your legs.” Sitting down on the sofa and tentatively spread apart your legs. The sight of Satoru so close to your pussy is too much. Your face and body burn as you close your eyes.
Settling between your legs Satoru croons, “Good girl. Oh - does your pretty pussy always clench when I call you that?” He gets his fingers wet by gliding them between your lips. Swirling his index fingertip around your small hole before pushing it in.
“You think it’s pretty?” There is a soft wet squelch when he sink his long, thick finger in. Satoru curls his finger and slowly pumps it. It feel so much better when he plays with your pussy.
Covering your mouth muffling your moans. Satoru adds another finger and rubs your clit faster. You clutch the sofa and whimper his name.
Satoru teases, “You’re soaking, princess you should have told me how badly your pussy wants me. ‘S ok to moan if it feels good, look at me.” He has always been the type to prefer receiving rather to giving. But his mouth is watering watching at your wet cunt take his finger.
It’s the color and shape of your lips with your suckable clit on top making the most perfect pussy he’s ever seen. He could spend hours eating you out.
Especially with the way you’re look at him as you beg, “Don’t stop.” He couldn’t dream of it. Not when he finally had the chance to see the look in your eyes when you cum.
Satoru warns, “Answer me, does your pussy always clench when I call you a good girl or I won’t tell you what I think of your pussy.” It’s taking everything in him not to push his tongue between your lips.
He promises your clit is begging for him to kiss her, lick her, suck her until she is a twitching from sensitivity.
Huffing “No..maybe…ok it does but what about it?”
Satoru smirks, “It’s hot, you want to be a good girl for me?” His cock throbbing in his jeans. As he makes a mess with his pre-cum soaking into his underwear.
Confessing, “I can try but I’ve never - nnn - I’ve never been with-” Satoru adds another fingers pumping them faster. Finding your sweet spot and your back arches, hips driving downward into the sofa.
Satoru eyes momentarily widen in shock, “Don’t tell me I’m going to be the first person to help you cum?” He grabs your thigh and forces your legs apart. You can’t answer, your brain is a melting pile of mush as you cum on his fingers. You’re a moaning mess, trembling from the intensity.
Encouraging you, “That’s it, you’re going so good.” Satoru can’t resist anymore. He noisily sucks on your clit, overstimulating you with strokes with each stroke of his tongue.
Groaning into your cunt andmaking out with your clit. Bruising your thighs with his grip. He slides his tongue down your lips and pushes it in. His nose rubbing your clit as he softly bobs his head.
Satoru closes his eyes as he drowns in the sweetness of your pussy on his tongue. The way you’re squirming, moaning and clenching his tongue making him whimper into cunt. He couldn’t sound any needier.
“Satoru what? Nnnn that’s my - your face is innnn! I could cum on your face its!” You tug at his hair as you twist your hips. Satoru glides his fingers out as he pulls away. His eyes dark with hunger and his cock hard in his pants.
“Say what I’m doing.” He kisses your lips before dragging his tongue up to your clit. Sliding three thing fingers into your stretching and filling up your pussy.
Whimpering, “You’re licking my clit while your fingers are,” You’re grasping for the words and struggling to think straight. “Satoru please don’t stop. Please let me cum, I need to cum, your tongue feels so good on my pussy.” He squeezes your hip with one hand to keep you from running away.
“Wanna feel your cock next please! I’ll be a good girl and take it however you want me to.” Satoru is worshiping your pussy with his tongue and fingers. Winding you up tighter with each quick pump as you get used to being so full.
You’re a mewling mess with your slick dripping down his chin. Writhing, back arching, pleading his name as the tension finally snaps.
Satoru tenderly kisses your inner thighs. Gliding his fingers out to spread your lips apart so he can watch your small hole squirt cum. “Sweetheart.” He moans adoringly, the nickname somehow feels more intimate.
“You look worked up…” You refuse to believe that you could have this effect on him.
Satoru tousles his white hair with a swipe of his hand. As he licks his fingers clean and stands up. He never knew someone could taste this addictive.
His voice is low and deep as he fights to maintain the last of his composure. But the way you’re sitting in the sofa with your legs spread showing off your creamy pussy is going to make him snap.
“You just cummed on my face and I’m desperately trying to think of every thing I can do to get you addicted to my cock.” He stands up to free his cock from his jeans. “So yeah I’m about to lose my mind over you.”
He sighs in relief as he massages his cock. “You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”” He is going to ruin you.
You can’t look away from Satoru. His pale pink head is glistening wet with pre-cum. When he lets his cock go he hangs from how heavy he is.
Looking up into Satoru’s eyes, “You’re too big.” The smirk on his face his predatory.
He tugs his shirt off to toss aside. “Don’t worry we can train your pretty little pussy to take every thick inch.” Without any effort he grabs you by your underarms and throws you over his shoulder.
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