Gojo X Reader - Blog Posts

☆ he loves me, he loves me not [part two]

gojo satoru x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: you love gojo as more than a friend, but he loves geto - not you, and its almost as if he rubs it in your face all the time. (meant to be viewed as unrequited love.)

the lowercase is intentional !

- minor jujutsu kaisen spoilers under the cut !

[part one]

a few days later, you saw gojo and geto. they were together, as always. but today was different. something about how they were together was different.

then, gojo spots you and waves at you, gesturing for you to come over. reluctantly, you walk over to him, dragging your feet across the floor of the school. "[name]! it's good to see you." gojo smiled and geto nodded along with him.

"i just wanted to say.. thanks for your advice!" gojo blushed, slightly embarrassed by what he was saying. "me and suguru.. are an item now. we're boyfriends!" gojo looked at geto, an even wider, brighter smile on his face. gojo's smile could light up a whole room, you thought.

your heart shattered into a million pieces, but you had to hide the hurt you were feeling. you had to be happy for gojo, even if that meant he wasn't happy with you, but with geto. "oh.. congrats you two." you hum, nodding at the two of them. you bite your lip back to try and stop the tears from flowing.

for the first time, you felt jealous. that was the other emotion you felt whenever gojo talked about geto. jealousy. you wished you were geto so bad. you wanted to be in his place. you wanted to be gojo's boyfriend. but you wanted gojo to be happy.. even if that meant he wasn't with you.

"i'll be going, i just.. realised one of my friends wanted to hang out with me." you smile awkwardly before rushing off. you had no other friends, it was only gojo for you. you never needed anybody else.

neither gojo or geto could say anything before you rushed off. the two of them walked off too, doing whatever gay, teenage couples would do. the fact that they acted so couple-y, even if they didn't really, made you sick to the stomach. it filled you with jealousy. it filled you with the thought of what could've been. sometimes you feel like both of them knew you liked gojo and they were showing off in spite. in reality, that was your mind altering things.

you weren't angry at geto though, you couldn't be. it was so obvious gojo liked geto from the start. you were just so blinded by your own feelings to realise their secret romance. all the signs were there, but you were so naive. so caught up in your own world thinking gojo will like you back.

and then, a year later, the worst thing could've happened. geto went out of his way and massacred a village of non sorcerers.

gojo was devistated. the one he loved, the one who was his best friend, his one and only, had went ahead and betrayed the jujutsu society. gojo couldn't understand why. he thought everything was okay, he tried to make sure everything was okay with geto. but it seemed like him trying wasn't enough. nobody could change geto's mind now, not even gojo.

gojo was devistated. why hadn't geto talked to him about it? why didn't they figure a way to resolve this? why did geto do such a thing? the questions stuck in gojo's mind, they flooded and swarmed his thoughts, never leaving.

and of course, one thing led to another and the two of them broke up. it was no longer a soppy, teen romance movie. it was the harsh reality of living as a jujutsu sorcerer. gojo couldn't change reality, no matter how strong he was. he was stuck, alone, without his one and only, living in a bleak and empty world.

you wanted to help gojo, but you couldn't. you didn't want to meddle with his affairs when your own feelings would come into play. your feelings would get the better of you, you thought, which was probably the truth too. you'd rather watch gojo heal himself, or not, from the sidelines rather than stick yourself into his business and make your relationship with him worse than it already was.

you always knew gojo wouldn't like you. you weren't geto. you weren't the one who was always by his side whenever he needed someone for comfort. you weren't the one who made him laugh, or smile, or feel loved. you were just [name]. a friend, or even worse, just an acquaintance to gojo. someone who helped him get with the actual boy he loved, only for that boy to shatter his heart into millions of pieces.

you finally accepted that it was never meant to be between you and gojo. it was geto that was his soulmate, not you. and it was never meant to be you. that's what pained you the most.

yes, you could try fighting for gojo, but you knew he wasn't in the right state of mind for it. his heart was broken, torn in two over and over again until there were no pieces left. it would be like taking advantage, so you kept quiet. you let gojo be. you let him be the strongest on his own, facing his own feelings.

you finally accepted yourself that he will never love you. you were not geto, and your love with gojo was never meant to be.

☆ author's note: this took me ages to write because i had no idea what to write as a second part.. i only had 1 part in mind so this is for all of the people that asked for a 2nd part to be fair. i hope you guys like it and it doesn't seem rushed.

☆ request ▪︎ masterlist

☆ our teachers are gay?!

gojo satoru x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: you and gojo are both teachers at tokyo jujutsu high. your students start catching up on little things about the two of you, coming to a conclusion that their teachers are gay, but is that the truth? (meant to be viewed as romantic, hints at an established relationship.)

the lowercase is intentional !

satoru and [name] had been teaching at tokyo jujutsu high for a few years now. the two have made memories, had laughs and even arguments during the time. the students loved their teachers, always finding them amusing.

this years first years were a first, though.

"he's definitely gay!" a student yells. "no, he's not! he definitely has a wife and two kids!" another student yells. the person that they were talking about? [name]. itadori and nobara were arguing about whether or not they thought their teacher was gay for their other teacher or not, whilst megumi just sat there listening to their bickering. nobara thought [name] was gay, whereas itadori thought he wasn't.

megumi just sat there, listening to his friends arguing. it was constant, but he knew it was just banter after all. megumi had a small smirk on his face as he listened.

megumi knew the truth, well, half of the truth. he knew of gojo's feelings towards [name], but he never knew of [name]'s feelings towards gojo. megumi and gojo were practically father and son, not that megumi would admit that, so he could tell how gojo felt. megumi was the only reserved first year, so he learnt to pick up on people's emotions and feelings quickly, which included gojo's.

it was clear, by megumi's perception of the world, that gojo was definitely into [name]. gojo always tried to, and not so subtly in fact, flirt with [name]. yet, it always ended up in [name] saying a bunch of curses with a red face. maybe [name] did like gojo back? but, how was megumi going to know? he's not [name] and maybe the red face megumi always saw was just his teacher embarrassed, not flustered.

megumi also noticed how close the two teachers were. there were always together eating lunch or talking or supervising training sessions where they also talked more. perhaps it was because they could only talk to eachother, they were the only teachers there excluding the principal. or.. maybe it was something else? it did seem like there was more of a rivalry going on between the two men in megumi's eyes, but who knew. only gojo and [name] did.

a certain someone clears their throat after hearing all the bickering down the corridor. "and what are you three talking about?" the voice asks, and it just so happens to be gojo. itadori and nobara are in big trouble now.

itadori looks at gojo in horror, already accepting that he's been caught. nobara just looks at gojo with a small, innocent smile, hoping itadori won't mess up and say something wrong.

"uhm.. we were just talking about [name]'s love life-" itadori starts before nobara jabs him in the stomach to get him to shut up. "we were discussing what places we can visit in tokyo during our days off!" nobara cut in. gojo had a smirk plastered on his face. it was so obvious that he knew the truth about what they were talking about.

megumi sighed and he rolled his eyes at his two friends. "you idiots.. look at his face. he knows what you two were talking about." megumi muttered under his breath, shaking his head at how stupid his friends were. "plus.. his six eyes probably sensed you guys were talking about [name] anyway." megumi decides to add his own snarky comment.

"ah, so my suspicions were true." gojo chuckled. "if you really want to find out more about [name], why don't you ask him yourselves? although, he'd probably want to punch me if you told him i suggested the idea.." gojo spoke his thoughts aloud.

as if on queue, [name] steps into the room with a confused look on his face. "what are you all standing around here for? i thought training was meant to start ten minutes ago.." he sighed, a hand resting on his hip. the three first years all look at eachother before rushing out of the room to go to the field.

[name] just shook his head as he watched his students leave. "what were you doing in here with them, satoru? because it definitely wasn't reminding them that training was about to start." [name] said, looking at gojo as he spoke. gojo just shrugged at [name]'s question, starting to follow the first years out to the field.

the first years quickly got to training. they were practicing their cursed technique skills and hand to hand combat whilst [name] and gojo kept a close eye. the two teachers were standing close together, smiling as they occasionally made small talk.

"so, what about that date i was talking about earlier?" gojo pipes up, smiling at [name]. [name] just scoffed in response, punching gojo in the shoulder. "don't ask me about dates whilst we're infront of our students, satoru." [name] chuckled and gojo joined in.

gojo then snaked an arm around [name]'s waist, pulling him in closer and giving him a small kiss on the forehead. "okay, okay. but we're still going on that date after work, right?" gojo asks. "you're not helping yourself!" [name] replies, pushing gojo away with a huge smile on his face.

of course, the three first years saw this play out. when gojo and [name] thought they were being so subtle, they were caught in the act. the three first years stopped what they were doing and stared at their teachers in shock.

gojo and [name] just watched their students with smiles on their faces. gojo still had his arm wrapped around [name]'s waist as he pulled his lover in for a kiss, not caring about their students. they had already been caught, so what was the harm in sharing a kiss in the end?

"see! i told you he's gay! you owe me big time, itadori!" nobara yells out, starting to chase itadori around the field.

☆ author's note: ill try get requests done soon, sorry if you're waiting on one. do request some more, i have barely any ideas of my own.

☆ request ▪︎ masterlist

“I'ma kill the pussy, I think we need a paramedic.”

⋆˚࿔ Black!F!Reader x Ur Fav!

📢: nsfw!, dom!behavior, pussy referred to as ‘she’; stretch marks, not proofread :3, very short

★ men who bend you on the nearest surface. counter top, table, couch,—whatever’s near and wherever he can fuck you from the back as long as he gets his billion dollar view. If that’s not available he’ll use the nearest wall pressing you against it his body all against yours so you can feel his growing erection in his pants begging for you.

★yes his billion dollar view. with your back arched, ass up, and face down(sweaty, and against the pillow almost smudged, pathetic sounds coming outta you like a pornstar). it was fucking glorious the way your body was beneath him. He liked it when you were sooo feeble under him like this. Your soft warm skin glistening with sweat, the curves on your body, the accentuations, the carvings. Yes carving, like a—uh, Greek statue y’know the one depicted of Aphrodite? She ain’t had shit on you in his opinion he adored it all. Especially your stretch marks! The ones that began on your lower back stretching to your hips, thighs, and ass? Sunlight on water. Perfection supposedly didn’t exist as humans were flawed but too him? You where the standard. Perfect.

★ his hand slide down to the middle of your back before pressing on it “Deeper baby.” His voice muttered into your ear and you obeyed your back deepening further “There we go.” He cooed pulling a stray curl from your face so he could see your eyes his smirk deepening from what he saw in them. “That’s my girl, doin’ so good for me.”

★men who place love bites on your shoulders licking them clean light bruises in there wake right after, kisses on them and in between the shoulder blades(the lil moans you released were so precious—), and his fingers ever so gently trailing down your spine all because of the way your breathing slows, and hitches and maybe even a hiccup.

★men who really, really want to tug, pull and wrap your hair around his fists but decided on not to because it hurt for you and not in a good way. So he decided on using your neck wrapping his big, rough hand ‘round there. It made it all the better feeling your plus beat rapidly against his fingers. But make no mistake! That protective hairstyle? Oh you’re so done. “Nah, nah lemme pull it c’mon I’ll be gentle I swear.” He’s not gentle not even a little bit with your passion twists wrapped around his hand messily tilting your head back all meanly like a bully, a bully who likes to fuck you. Your throat bare and he places open mouthed kisses on the skin sucking a bit, even on the pulse.

★men who fuck you like you insulted his mom in the worst way. men who fuck you like he absolutely hates your existence and the fact that your still alive breathing. men who fuck you like your just some dumb rag doll to put his cock in. Rough. Raw. Passionate. Straight up pounding your shit with no mercy it’s almost like he wants you dead. But there’s a duality—almost whiplash with the way he whispers in your ear “want me to—shit—stop, pretty?” or “m’goin too hard? aw, shh don’t cry on me now.” pressing soft almost feather light kisses on your jaw or on the back of your neck, his voice all hoarse, raw and low and you’re the only person who gets to hear him like this all intimate because this is solely reserved for his girl.

★men who slap your ass and he doesn’t care if it’s big or small he slapping it either way just to see a deep red mark depicting his handprint. (If you look back you’ll see the pure delight in his eyes, a big grin on his face at the recoil) Because your his. Branding he guesses? and he rubs it’s after soothing the pain all caringly like he’s genuinely sorry but his mouth is so dirty when he says “you’re not gonna walk for the next week so, call out for everyday okay? I’ll take care of you yeah?” He tilts his head to the side lazily seemly in thought before saying “I’ll massage your legs, your thighs, back as well for ya..probably your whole body..you want that right?” Mind you he’s saying this while he’s still fucking you his pace slowed down though to give you air time talking like he’s listing a grocery list or something. And when you don’t answer quick enough he gives your ass a quick smack making you cry out “Y-yeah!” He smirks rubbing your ass again all soothingly “Yeah? Glad you agree..don’t like how they’ve been working my girl so hard these days.” He says and his ears pick up on your shaky breathing and he doesn’t know why you’re doing that. He’s still got one more round left in him maybe two..he’s feeling a bit needy today. But he’s not the only one clearly with the way she’s squeezing him dry all tight and warm tryna choke him out acting like she wanted a baby. Poor pussy, all clingy n shit it’s okay tho! He’ll fuck you till she tapped out.

⋆˙⟡ Secret. Satorou Gojo x Fem!Reader ⟡⋆˙

⋆.˚✮ Valentine’s Day story 7/14 ✮˚.⋆

Fair warning, this is the first time I’ve written for Gojo, so sorry if it’s a little off!

Enjoy my darlings ✧˖°.

🌸

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Gojo yawned as he walked down the side walk, the people bustling about around him. Things had been slow that day, surprisingly.

His errands were taken care of, he’d caused Ijichi grief, and handed Yuji off to Nanami. Yup, everything was done and accounted for.

Now it was time for his favorite part of the day. He strolled lazily through the side walks, before making his way to a flower shop.

Gojo hummed as he passed by gorgeous bouquets, really though, all he was looking for, was a pretty pink bouquet of roses.

He’d never even celebrated Valentine’s Day before recently, when a certain someone managed to catch his eye.

He chuckled lightly to himself and shook his head. There he was, a special grade sorcerer, buying pretty pink roses for his little secret.

He eventually found them, taking a modestly sized bouquet and strolling to the counter.

Gojo smiled at the woman at the register, who looked starstruck by his silky white hair and blindfold over his eyes.

“Well hey there, it’s not nice to stare” he teased lightly, the cashier stiffening before quickly accepting his money “right! I’m sorry-“ she scrambled sheepishly for his change and receipt.

She handed him the change and slip of paper. He chuckled and shook his head “it’s alright, just don’t get distracted next time” Gojo said with his cool, laid back tone. He took the flowers and chirped a ‘Thanks’ to the cashier, who embarrassedly returned it.

He took a deep breath, enjoying the cool Febuary air in his lungs and on his skin. He smiled a bit, his usual grin on his lips as he made his way back to his apartment.

✧˖°.

It wasn’t long before he was walking in the front door, excited to greet his little secret. “Y/n! I’m home baby girl” he called out, looking around before hearing soft footsteps.

You peeped out from the hall and smiled “Satorou, hey” you walked over to your secret lover, wrapping your arms around his neck, his arms wrapping around your waist “how was your day?”

Gojo shrugged and let out a sigh, chuckling a bit “boring, no curses or anything.” He shrugged and cupped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding the roses “I’m sure my pretty girl missed me. Hm? Heaven knows she can’t live without me”

You huffed and smirked, rolling your eyes “you wish, bone head” you kissed your boyfriend’s cheek, turning and beginning to walk off.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it.

“Hey, baby girl, where do you think you’re going?” You squeaked as you felt an arm snake around your waist and pull your back to a warm and broad chest. “I bought you flowers you know” he smiled from behind you, you could hear that bastard’s smug and attractive smile in his voice.

You shivered as he whispered in your ear, but blushed even harder as flowers suddenly were held out in front of you. Pink roses. They were gorgeous. “Oh..Satorou..” you murmured softly

He chuckled softly and pressed his face to your neck “I know. I’m the best aren’t I?” He expected some quippy remark, however, he didn’t get that.

“Yeah..” you murmured softly, leaning back against him.

Gojo’s heart paused in his chest, seemingly stopping forever at your soft and genuine expression of affection.

He smiled softly and pressed a kiss to your cheek “you’re too sweet, baby girl, you know that?” He mumbled, his hand releasinf the flowers as you took them in one of yours.

You angled your head to the side, smiling at him softly. You cupped his cheek with your free hand, your thumb running over his cheek bone “only for you, Mr. Special Grade Sorcerer”

Gojo chuckled lightly and sighed, shaking his head “I love you, Y/n” he said with a small grin.

“I love you too, Satorou” you murmured before gently placing your lips on his.

Sure, he kept you a secret, god knows what would happen if a curse found out about your existence, but that didn’t mean he loved you any less.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

AGHGHGTH I hope you liked this, I was a little nervous writing this, because Gojo has a kind of sarcasm that i don’t really know how to write into a romance? So I hope this was good, if not, feel free to leave your criticism in the comments. Enjoy your nights, loves 🩵

THIS WAS SO ADORABLE I LOVED EVERY SINGLE SECOND OH MY GOSHHH!!! im gonna go hunt for more long gojo fics.

THE MAN ACROSS THE STREET — SATORU GOJO

pairing — neighbour!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — when you inherited your grandparents' victorian home, you thought the biggest challenge would be the renovations. what you weren't prepared for was satoru gojo—your insufferably perfect neighbour with his perfect smiles and unexpected talent for home repairs. but maybe, just maybe, he's exactly the kind of renovation partner you need. because four seasons might not be enough to fix a century-old house, but it might be just enough time to fall in love—moment by moment, season by season.

word count — 14 k

genre/tags — home renovation AU, neighbours to lovers, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn, domestic fluff, idiots in love, misunderstandings, found family, tension, happy ending, gentle romance, cozy vibes

warnings — 16+ ONLY. contains suggestive sexual content, small renovation accident, references to past family deaths (grandparents)

author's note — would you believe this fic has been sitting in my drafts since last year haha. but i finally finished it after months of adding scenes and expanding seasons. i wanted to keep it shorter but well, now it is what it is lol. hope you enjoy <3

masterlist + support my writing

When you inherited your grandparents' old Victorian home, you thought the biggest challenge would be the renovations. The sagging porch, the outdated wiring, the kitchen that hadn't been updated since the 1970s — these were all problems you could tackle with enough time, money, and YouTube tutorials.

What you hadn't counted on was Satoru Gojo.

Your new neighbor lived in the equally grand house across the street, though his was perfectly maintained with its pristine white paint and perfectly tended rose bushes. You'd noticed him the day you moved in, impossible not to really, with that white hair and those eyes in the colour of summer skies that seemed to find you no matter where you were. 

It was frustrating, to say the least. 

You'd first noticed him through your kitchen window one morning, still half asleep and clutching your teacup. He was at his mailbox, and for a disorienting moment, you thought you were still dreaming. No shirt. Sweatpants low on his hips. It was really way too early for someone to look that good. It felt almost unfair, frankly. But then he turned, caught you staring and flashed you a smile that could belong in a stupid toothpaste commercial. 

You'd ducked under the counter so quickly you'd spilled tea all over yourself. It was ridiculous, really—hiding in your own kitchen.

Your first actual meeting came three days later, when you were balanced precariously on a ladder, trying to clear the gutters of last autumn's soggy birch leaves. You were reaching for a stubborn clump when a voice drifted up from below.

"You might want to secure that ladder before it slides." 

You looked down. Satoru stood there, one hand casually steadying the ladder, the other holding a steaming mug. His white hair caught the spring sunlight, shimmering like spun moonlight, and his eyes were the kind of blue that made you grateful you were already holding onto something.

“It’s fine, really” you said, even as the ladder wobbled slightly.

“Famous last words.” A corner of his mouth quirked. “But humor me? I’d hate to call an ambulance before I know my new neighbor’s name.” 

That had set the tone for everything that followed. 

He had an uncanny ability to appear whenever you were struggling—or perhaps he was stalking you. Either way, he had a way of offering help in a way that somehow never felt condescending. It was subtle at first—the way he'd bring over coffee when he saw you starting an early morning project, or how he seemed to have an endless supply of useful tools that were "just gathering dust anyway", as he always said.

He never pushed, never overwhelmed, but he was always there, across the street and you found yourself looking over to his house more often than you'd care to admit.

You told yourself it was just practical. He knew the neighborhood, understood old houses, and happened to be surprisingly knowledgeable about house renovation. The fact that he had a smile that made your chest tight, or that he looked unfairly good in everything he wore was entirely irrelevant. He's just a neighbour, you told yourself, even as heat rose in your cheeks. A ridiculously attractive neighbour—unfortunately.

But as spring melted into summer, and summer faded into autumn, you started to realize two very inconvenient truths: One, restoring this house was going to take far longer than you'd planned. And two, Satoru Gojo was becoming a much more relevant aspect of this restoration than you'd wished.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It all began with the pipes in spring. 

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Spring was supposed to be about fresh starts and birdsong or whatever stupid idyllic nonsense romance movies peddled. Your old Victorian home, however, had other ideas. Because on one peaceful Sunday morning, the pipe under your kitchen sink decided it had had enough of gravity and time.

You were making coffee when you heard it—a suspicious gurgle, followed by a crack that could only mean trouble. And suddenly, your cabinet was a fountain. Lovely, really, if it didn’t threaten to turn your kitchen into an indoor pool. You managed to shut off the water and were now flat on your back under the sink, surrounded by tools, muttering curses at the rusted pipe, when a knock sounded.

“Having fun down there?”

You jumped in surprise and, naturally, hit your head on the cabinet. Of course it was him. Of course your ridiculously, unfairly attractive neighbor would appear right when you were sprawled on the kitchen floor, soaked and probably looking like a drowned rat.

“Ha ha,” you called dryly, not bothering to move. “I’ve got this.”

“That’s why there’s water running down your driveway?”

You closed your eyes. Counted to ten. “Don’t you have your own house to maintain?”

“Much less entertaining over there.” A rustle of movement, and then Satoru was crouching beside you. His white hair fell forward as he tilted his head, those stupidly handsome blue eyes assessing the situation. “You’re using the wrong wrench.”

“I am not.”

“You are.” He reached past you, picking up a different wrench. “Pipe wrench, not adjustable. Unless you’re aiming for an indoor pool, in which case, carry on.”

You glared at him, which was significantly less effective from your position on the floor. "Don't you have someone else to annoy?"

"On a Saturday morning? Please." He settled onto the floor beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in to examine the pipe. "Besides, this is a two person job. One to hold the pipe, one to remove the fitting. Unless you've grown extra arms?"

You hadn’t. Hence the problem. You'd spent the last hour trying to manage it alone and had only succeeded in getting thoroughly soaked and increasingly frustrated.

"Fine," you sighed, scooting over to make room. "But if you make one more smart comment—"

"Would I do that?" He gave you an exaggeratedly innocent look that almost made you smile.

Working together, it took only minutes to remove the damaged section of pipe. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing toned forearms, the sleeves bunching just below his elbows. You tried not to notice how he smelled faintly of sandalwood, or how his presence made your kitchen feel suddenly so much smaller.

"You'll need to replace this whole section," he said, examining the corroded pipe. "The hardware store opens in an hour."

"I know that." You definitely hadn't known that.

"Of course you did." His smile made you want to punch him. "Just like you knew about using the pipe wrench?"

"I will set your house on fire."

He laughed, the sound filling the small space. “No, you won’t. You like having someone around who knows a pipe wrench from an adjustable one.”

A strange warmth spread through you, followed by a healthy dose of suspicion. Was he…flirting? 

No. Impossible. Satoru Gojo didn't flirt. Or better said, he flirted with everyone—the barista at the coffee shop, the elderly woman selling tomatoes at the market, even the hardware store clerk he’d charmed into giving you a discount the other day. It was just his way. 

Still it did make the small space feel a little warmer. And the worst part was, he wasn't entirely wrong. You did appreciate his help. But you'd rather deal with a thousand broken pipes on your own than admit that and witness his self-satisfied grin.

“Don’t you have your own projects?” you asked, pushing yourself up, feigning a nonchalance you absolutely did not feel.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’, looking far too comfortable sprawled on your kitchen floor. “My house is perfect. Which leaves me free to watch you struggle with yours. Better than Netflix.” 

You grabbed a dish towel and threw it at his head. He caught it easily, because of course he did.

"Come on." He stood in one fluid motion that had no right to look that graceful. "I'll drive you to the hardware store. Unless you want water running down your driveway all day?”

You looked between him and your ruined cabinet, weighing your options. Pride demanded you handle this alone. Practicality pointed out that he actually seemed to know what he was doing, and you really did need that pipe fixed today.

"Fine." You sighed. "But I'm buying my own supplies." You blurted it out, remembering how he’d somehow paid the entire bill before you’d even reached for your wallet last time you'd run into him in the hardware store.

"Whatever you say." He was already heading for the door, keys jingling in his hand. "Though you might want to change first. Not that the wet look isn't working for you, but—"

You looked down at your soaked clothes, then back at him. Your white shirt clung to you like a second skin and was practically see through. Heat rushed to your face.

Why was he only mentioning this now?

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

After the Saturday sink incident, you'd sworn to handle the rest of the plumbing yourself. You weren’t entirely sure why—maybe it was pride, maybe it was the way he’d teased you endlessly about it, or maybe it was the strange flutter in your chest whenever he was near.

Whatever the reason, you’d plotted your renovation schedule around his presumed absences, binged YouTube tutorials until your eyes blurred, and even took your coffee breaks in the backyard, convinced he couldn’t possibly find you there. 

But somehow, Satoru Gojo kept appearing anyway.

"That pipe threading looks wrong," he'd say, appearing beside you like some stupid house ghost. Or, "Those measurements seem off," right when you were about to make a cut. Or worst of all, saying nothing at all. He’d simply stand there with that look until you finally snapped and asked for help.

On one stupid cursed Monday afternoon, the bathroom pipes were your breaking point. You'd been at it for hours, surrounded by copper fittings and pipe dope, when his shadow fell across your work. You really needed to start locking the door.

“Don’t,” you warned without looking up.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it loud enough.”

“I was just admiring your work.” His voice held that familiar amusement that made your skin prickle. “Though if you’re planning on running water anytime soon—”

Your wrench clattered to the floor. “Fine. What am I doing wrong?”

“Would you believe me if I said everything?”

But the most infuriating part wasn’t just that he was right. It was the way he showed you. His large hands moving gently as he demonstrated the proper technique, his voice low and soft as he explained what you were doing wrong with such patience that made it impossible to stay annoyed with him.

By the time the bathroom was finished, you’d stopped pretending you didn’t need his help. By the time you tackled the upstairs pipes, you’d stopped pretending you didn’t want it.

It became a routine. You’d start a project, he’d appear with some tedious fact about old houses, and together you’d work until the sun dipped below the horizon. He never pushed, never took over, just quietly adjusted your grip on a tool or handed you the right fitting before you even asked.

“You know,” you said one evening, both of you tired and dusted with grime, “for someone with a perfect house, you spend a lot of time in my disaster zone.”

He was quiet for so long you thought he might not answer. Then, his voice, when it came, was different—softer, the usual teasing edge gone. “Maybe I like watching something beautiful come back to life.” 

You looked up, a question forming on your lips, but he was already focused on the pipe in his hands again, his expression shadowed in the fading light. 

The last pipe was replaced on a cool evening in late spring. You both stood in the basement and looked at your work.

“Guess you’ll have to find someone else to annoy now,” you said, trying for a light tone, though a strange heaviness settled in your chest.

“Your electrical panel looks pretty old.”

“Satoru—”

“And those windows definitely need reglazing before summer.”

“You don’t have to—”

“And don’t even get me started on that porch roof.”

You stared at him. “You’re not going to let me do any of this alone, are you?”

He smiled. “Now you’re getting it.” 

And standing there in your basement, covered in dust and sweat, you finally admitted what you'd been fighting all spring—maybe you didn't want to do this alone after all. 

Even if you’d never say it out loud.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Summer arrived like a slow exhale, bringing humid days and the kind of heat that made everything a sweltering ordeal. 

The porch was your next project so that you could reclaim the space before the season completely slipped away. You envisioned lazy afternoons spent sipping iced tea in the shade, reading a book or simply napping. But looking at the porch now, with its peeling paint, crumbling railings, and warped floorboards, that vision felt miles away.

It had become normal to find Satoru on your porch in the mornings, armed with iced coffee and opinions about latest movies. You'd stopped questioning how he always seemed to know your schedule, or why he willingly sacrificed his free time to help you strip old paint from equally old wood.

“This is bad,” he said one stifling morning, poking a section of railing that crumbled at his touch. “How did it get this neglected?”

You swiped at the sweat trickling down your forehead, probably smearing paint stripper across your cheek. “Ask that my grandparents’ bank. Two years of bureaucratic hell before I could even touch the place.”

“I’m more concerned about what you’re doing there. You’re taking off more wood than paint.” His hands hovered for a moment before gently adjusting your grip. “Like this. Gentle but firm. Let the stripper do the work.”

Months ago, the correction would have annoyed you. Now you just moved your hands and noticed how the work immediately became easier. But the warmth of his breath on your neck and the familiar scent of sandalwood still sent a shiver down your spine. You swallowed, ignoring the flutter in your stomach. "Not all of us have a natural talent for restoring historic houses."

"No, some of us just inherited beautiful old houses and decided to learn through trial and error." His voice carried that warm amusement that had become familiar. "Mostly error."

You turned to glare at him, but he was already moving on to the next section, the muscles in his arms flexing as he worked. Not that you were staring. You definitely weren't staring. And if you were, it was purely to study his scraping technique.

So the days fell into a rhythm. Mornings were for demolition—tearing out rotten planks and stripping paint before the heat truly settled in. Afternoons were for repairs, matching new wood to old, rebuilding piece by piece as sweat dripped down your backs.

"My grandmother used to bring us lemonade out here when we were kids," you said one afternoon, both of you sprawled in the shade of the half-finished porch, and as you said it, you could almost smell the lemon, tart and sweet. Hear the clinking of the ice in the heavy glasses. "She had this really pretty set of vintage glasses."

Satoru lay on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes against the sun. “Let me guess—they’re still in the attic somewhere?"

“Along with about a hundred years’ worth of other stuff.” You took a long sip from your water bottle. “I’m almost afraid to look.”

He propped himself up on his elbows, the movement pulling his damp t-shirt tighter across his chest, revealing the faint outline of his abs and the curve of his bicep. A few stray beads of sweat trickled down his temple, catching the sunlight. "We should check it out. After the porch is done."

"We?"

"Unless you're planning to handle whatever horror show is up there alone?" He smiled. “Besides, I’m invested in this house’s resurrection story now.”

"Is that what this is?"

"Isn't it?" He gestured at the porch around you. “Old becoming new. Though hopefully with better plumbing this time.”

You threw a paint chip at him, which he dodged easily. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Never.” He stood and offered you a hand. "It's too good a story.”

You took his hand, and for a moment, you simply looked at him. It struck you then how familiar his presence had become—the easy banter, the shared work, the comfortable silences. It felt like you’d known him forever.

“Alright, let’s get back to it,” he said, his hand still holding yours. “This porch isn’t going to rebuild itself. Unless you’re planning on serving me lemonade on a pile of rotted wood?”

“Who says I’m making you lemonade?”

He tugged you closer, just a little, until you were almost toe to toe. You tilted your head, your gaze locked with his, and something playful flashed in those sky blue eyes of his. “Aren’t I entitled to a little refreshment after all this hard work?”

“You have quite the ideas.”

“Hmh. I have another one.” He released your hand. “You should have a party here when it’s finished. Lemonade and those vintage glasses of your grandmother’s.”

“To celebrate what?”

He glanced over his shoulder, something soft in his expression. “That good things are worth the work.”

You looked away first and focused back on your own section of railing. If your cheeks were warm, it was definitely just the summer heat.

The porch took two more weeks to finish. Every board was carefully replaced or restored, every detail attended to with a gentle care that would have made your grandmother proud. You spent the final evening painting together, working in silence as the sun set.

“It’s beautiful.” You stepped back to admire your work. The fresh white paint glowed in the twilight, making the whole house seem to breathe easier.

“It is.” But when you glanced over, Satoru wasn’t looking at the porch. His gaze was on you.

You cleared your throat, suddenly very interested in cleaning your paintbrush. "So, about that attic..."

His smile, when you dared to look back, was warm and genuine. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," you echoed, trying to ignore the way your heart quickened at the way he said it—like a promise, like there would always be another project, another reason to spend these long summer days together. 

And it felt… good.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The attic turned out to be exactly the treasure trove you'd hoped but also feared it to be—a cavernous space choked with dust motes dancing in the faint light filtering through grimy windows. Air hung thick and still with the scent of dried wood and dust. Piles of furniture shrouded in white sheets were scattered among stacks of old books with brittle pages and dusty hatboxes tied with faded ribbons.

It was chaotic, let's just say that. 

But it was also so familiar it tugged at the edges of your memory, a feeling of coming home to a place you hadn't seen in years. 

The attic had started as a simple weekend project, mostly to fix the insulation before autumn. But each box you opened was like a time capsule of memories. You'd find yourself lost in old photo albums or mesmerised by your grandmother's book collection, renovation plans long forgotten as you sifted through the memories of their lives—and yours. And what you'd initially considered a "weekend project" had clearly been a wildly optimistic estimate.

You were so absorbed in sorting through another box that you didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs until Satoru's head popped through the access panel.

"Your door was unlocked," he said, as that would explain why he always appeared out of nowhere is your house. "I brought lunch."

"Normal people call first," you replied, not looking up from the box in your hands.

"Normal is boring." He pulled himself up without any effort, which was almost offensive considering how you'd stumbled up here earlier. "Besides, you skipped breakfast again. I heard your stomach growling from across the street."

"That's not even possible." But the gnawing in your stomach told a different story. You were hungry, but you hadn't even noticed between the years and years of memories coming back to life.

"And yet." He settled beside you, closer than strictly necessary in the cramped space, and peered into the box. "What's caught your attention this time?"

You held up a bundle of letters, tied together with a red ribbon. "I think they're my grandparents' love letters."

His eyebrows rose. "From the war?"

"Maybe?" You were surprised for a second, not expecting him to remember the little detail you had told him one lazy afternoon in the sun—that your grandfather had served in the army and had been separated from your grandmother for some time. You untied the ribbon, handling the aged paper like it might crumble. The first envelope was postmarked 1943. "Oh. They are."

Satoru leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours as you pulled out the first letter. His body was warm in the cool attic air next to yours, and you caught a subtle hint of sandalwood—a scent that had become inseparable from these shared afternoons.

"My dearest heart," you read aloud, then paused, suddenly feeling like you were intruding on something private. But it’s been over half a century, you reminded yourself. They wouldn’t mind, surely. After all, they left all this to you. You continued, "The cherry trees are blooming here, and all I can think about is how we walked through the park last spring. Do you remember? You were wearing that blue dress, the one that matches the sky, and I knew right then I would marry you—"

"Your grandfather was a romantic," Satoru commented, a soft smile in his voice.

"Shh." You elbowed him lightly. "I carry your picture with me everywhere. The other men tease me about it, but I don't care. When things get dark over here, I just look at your smile and remember what I'm fighting for..." Your voice caught unexpectedly at the written words of your grandfather.

Satoru shifted closer and whispered, "Let me.” His chest brushed against your shoulder and his fingers slid over yours as he took the paper, the touch lingering for a moment longer.

“Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine I'm back home with you," he continued, lips close enough to your temple that you could feel the words as much as hear them. His usual playful tone was gone, replaced by something that made your heart melt. "Sitting on that porch swing, watching the sunset. Nothing grand or fancy, just you and me and the quiet. That's what keeps me going, the thought of coming home to you."

Satoru stood up, brefting you of his warmth and sat down on a dusty stack of boxes near the small window opposite you to get a better view of the letters. The afternoon light caught the silver strands in his white hair, making them glimmer like starlight. He looked younger, almost boyish in the soft light as he continued to read the letter. You watched him, struck by this unfamiliar sight.

"There are dozens more," you said after he finished, gesturing to the box. "Looks like they wrote to each other every week."

"Different time.” His startlingly blue eyes met yours, and for once there was no trace of his usual teasing smile. "People knew how to love back then. They took their time with it."

"You don't think people know how to love now?"

"I think we've forgotten how to do it slowly. How to let it build, letter by letter, moment by moment."

Your heart fluttered strangely, like a trapped bird. It was like glimpsing a part of him he usually kept hidden, a hint of the man beneath the playful nonchalance. Before you could process the feeling, before you could even form a coherent thought, he picked up another letter, breaking the moment with a small, almost apologetic smile. 

“My darling," he read, "Today Mrs. Henderson's cat got stuck in our rosebushes again, and all I could think was how you would have laughed..."

You smiled and settled back against the old boxes as he read, his warm voice washing over you like a soothing dream. The afternoon light caught dust motes dancing in the air, and somewhere in the distance, a church bell chimed.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

August arrived with a heatwave so oppressive, even the cicadas seemed to fall silent. You suggested starting at dawn, hoping to get some work done before the worst of the heat set in, and to your surprise Satoru had no objection, even though you knew he hated early starts and loved sleeping in.

And you were even more surprised when Satoru showed up right on time and you didn't even have to wake him up, armed with paintbrushes and a concerningly large supply of water bottles.

"You really don't have to help with this," you’d told him. "I can do it on my own, really. It’s not complicated or something.”

He arched a brow. "When has that ever stopped me?"

The house was a dull greenish colour. It had originally been a soft sage green, but it had faded over time. It was a colour your grandmother had loved, a shade that reminded her of the rolling hills of her childhood home. So you decided to paint it sage again. But by midday the heat had become almost unbearable, pressing down on you. Air thick and shimmering.

"You need to take a break," Satoru said, watching you sway slightly on the ladder. "You look pale."

"I'm fine," you insisted, even as your head throbbed. "We're almost done with this section."

"The paint will still be here in a few hours." He was already taking the painbrush from your hands. "Go rest before you fall off that ladder and give me a heart attack."

You wanted to argue, but the world was starting to spin in a way that suggested he might have a point. "Just for an hour.”

"Whatever you say." His hand steadied you as you climbed down the ladder, swaying slightly. "Go. Sleep. I've got this."

You wanted to lie down for a moment, just until the throbbing in your head subsided. Instead, you woke to the first gentle breeze of early evening, carrying the distant hum of a lawnmower from a neighboring garden. You stumbled outside, still groggy, and stopped dead.

The house. 

It was finished. 

Every inch of peeling paint had been replaced with perfect sage green and the trim was crisp white. It looked like a completely different house, restored to its former beauty. 

Satoru was putting away the last of the brushes, his white hair darkened with sweat and plastered to his forehead, his clothes splattered with green. He looked exhausted, but a genuine smile touched his lips when he spotted you. 

"You did all that?" you asked, still not quite believing it.

He lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe his face, revealing a fleeting glimpse of his toned stomach with sharply defined abs that you quickly looked away from. He must have seen your reaction, but for once, he didn’t comment. When you looked back, his shirt was down.

“You needed the rest. And I had the time.” 

"Satoru, this would have taken days—"

“A few hours with the right motivation.” He shrugged, as if it were nothing. “Besides, couldn’t leave it half finished. Would have ruined the aesthetic of the street."

You knew that wasn’t the real reason. Just like you knew he didn't spend every free moment helping you with this house because he was concerned about the aesthetic of the street.

It was absurd. He was Satoru, infuriatingly charming, impossibly handsome Satoru. There was no way he could—no, it couldn't be. But the evidence piled up. It was the way his eyes lingered on yours, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way his presence filled every corner of your attention. It was a ridiculous notion, a phantom feeling that had no place in reality. He was a neighbour, a friend, someone who was simply helpful. 

That's all. 

The setting sun painted everything in shades of gold, catching in the wet paint and making your house shimmer like a scene from a fairytale. Satoru was still putting away brushes, his movements slower now, betraying his weariness even as he tried to play it off.

"You didn't have to do this," you said. "Any of it, really. The pipes, the porch, and now this."

He glanced at you, then back at the house. “I wanted to.”

"But why?" The question that had been burning in your throat all summer, since spring, since the first leaky pipe, finally escaped. "You have your own perfect house. Your own life. Why spend every free moment helping me with mine?"

“Would you believe me if I said I just like restoring things?”

"Not really," you said, trying to ignore the way your heart picked up speed when he moved closer. 

He reached out to brush something from your cheek. "You have a little…paint.” His thumb lingered against your skin, sun-warm and gentle. "Right here."

Time seemed to slow, the moment stretching like honey in the golden light. You could see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, the fine lines at the corners, the way his hair curled at his temples from sweat, and the small smudge of sage green along his jaw. He was so close. Too close.

"Satoru," you breathed, not sure if it was a question or a warning.

"Besides, watching you love this house back to life, even without knowing anything about renovations—" He paused, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone. "It's unexpectedly cute."

You could feel his breath against your lips, could see the question in his eyes as he leaned slightly closer. His other hand came up to cradle your face, and you found yourself swaying towards him, drawn in by the gravity of this moment you'd both been circling since spring.

But then a car door slammed somewhere down the street and broke the spell. You both stepped back. 

Had that…had that almost just happened? You blinked, trying to clear the lingering warmth from your face. It must have been the heat. Or the paint smell. There was no way—

"I should—" He gestured vaguely at the remaining equipment.

"Right. Yeah. Sure" You were babbling, your heart racing like you'd been running. You desperately tried to convince yourself that you’d imagined the whole thing, that the almost kiss was just a figment of your overheated imagination. 

He turned to gather his things, nearly dropping his water bottle twice. You watched him, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't sound desperate or awkward, but your mind was stuck on the phantom feeling of his thumb against your cheek.

At the garden gate, he paused, turning back with that smile that never failed to make your stomach flip. "Try not to break anything else before tomorrow?"

You smiled. "No promises."

He lingered for a moment longer, as if wanting to say something else, but then just nodded and stepped out onto the street. Just before he reached his door, you found yourself moving, yanking open your garden gate without thinking. "Satoru!"

He turned.

"Thank you!" you called out, hoping he could hear everything else you couldn't say in those two words. Thank you for helping. For caring. For almost kissing me.

His smile softened into something genuine, something that made your heart stumble in your chest. "Anytime!”

You stood there long after he'd disappeared into his house, your fingers absently touching the spot on your cheek where his hand had been, wondering how you were supposed to go back to normal after almost kissing your irritatingly perfect neighbour.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

You'd never felt more ridiculous than when you found yourself standing on Satoru Gojo's immaculate porch, holding a slightly lopsided stawberry cake in your hand. After three attempts to ring the doorbell without letting the cake fall to the ground, you were seriously considering just leaving it on his doorstep with a note and running back across the street. But before you could execute your escape plan, the door swung open, and suddenly all coherent thought left your brain.

Satoru stood there in low-slung sweatpants and a fitted dark blue shirt that clung slightly to his still damp skin. A towel was draped around his neck, and his white hair was darker with moisture, falling into his eyes in a way that should be illegal. Droplets of water traced down his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. 

Not that you were staring, of course.

His eyes widened and a stupid, handsome smile lit up his face. "Don’t tell me your kitchen is underwater again?”

"No, no…no emergencies today.” You thrust the cake forward like it’s something hot. "I made this. To say thank you. For all the help." The words tumbled out in a rush. "It's stawberry. Though now I'm realizing you might not even like stawberries, which would be really inconvenient, and—"

"I love them," he interrupted your rambling and took the cake out of your hands. "Did you make this just for me?"

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late." He stepped back, gesturing inside. "Come in. It’s too hot to stand out here."

You hesitated at the threshold. In all these months of him appearing at your house, you'd never actually been inside his. It felt like crossing some invisible line you hadn't even realized existed.

"Unless you're scared," he added with that familiar teasing note in his voice.

You groaned and stepped inside. Where your house was still a work in progress, his was... perfect. Somehow both modern and classic, with original hardwood floors that gleamed and a fireplace in the centre of the living room. The furniture was clearly expensive but comfortable, and large windows filled the space with natural light.

"This is—"

"Not what you expected?" He walked past you towards what you assumed was the kitchen, and you caught another whiff of his shower fresh scent.

"I was expecting more mirrors, actually. You know, so you could admire yourself from every angle."

He laughed. "Those are all in the bedroom."

You felt heat creep up your spine at his words and tried very hard not to think about Satoru and bedrooms in the same sentence. You followed him into his kitchen that was equally perfect like the rest of his house. Without thinking, you hopped up onto the wooden island and watched him move around the room.

"Coffee?" he asked, already reaching for mugs.

“Please.” Your legs swung idly as you watched him slice the cake. "Though I should warn you, I don’t bake often.”

“Should I be afraid?" 

"I take it back. No cake for you."

"Too late." He slid a plate across the counter. He leaned against the island opposite you, close enough that your knees almost brushed his. "So, I was thinking about your kitchen.”

"What about it?"

"You need new countertops. And fresh paint." He took a bite of cake, his eyebrows rising. "This is actually good."

"Don't sound so shocked." 

You tried not to focus on how silly domestic this all felt—you on his kitchen island, sharing cake and talking about future projects like you were some kind of … couple.

"I was thinking," he continued, "we could start on that next week? I know a good carpenter who makes really cool wooded countertops that would match the original—"

Your gaze wandered as he spoke, taking in the space. That's when you saw it—a framed photo on the windowsill above the sink. Satoru, looking unfairly handsome in what appeared to be a suit, and a stunning woman with pale hair pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

They looked intimate. 

Happy. 

Like an actual couple.

Your stomach dropped.

"—and the marble could be saved if we—" He paused, noticing your distraction. "What's wrong?"

"Actually." You set down your cake, sliding off the counter, "I just remembered I have this... thing. I need to go."

"Now? But we haven't even finished—"

"It's important." You were already heading for the door, trying to ignore how low his sweatpants hung, revealing a bit of his perfect abs, how at home he looked in this perfect kitchen with its perfect photos of him and his perfect girlfriend. "Thanks for the coffee. And, um, good luck with... everything."

"Wait, what about your kitchen?" He followed you into the hallway. "Shouldn’t we talk about it first, before—"

"I'll figure it out," you said quickly, nearly stumbling in your haste to reach the door. "You probably have other plans anyway. With... people. Important people. I'll just YouTube it or something."

"Other plans? What are you—"

"Bye!" 

You practically fled down his porch steps, not daring to look back at his bewildered expression. You made it across the street with lightning speed, slamming your front door behind you and sliding down against it.

"Stupid," you muttered to yourself, pressing your palms against your burning cheeks. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Of course he had a girlfriend. Someone that hansome, that charming, that annoyingly perfect—how could he not? And here you were, bringing him cake like some lovesick teenager, reading too much into things.

He was just being polite, probably feeling sorry for the disaster of a neighbour who couldn't even fix a leaky pipe without flooding her kitchen and you were making a complete fool of yourself. You wanted to melt into the floor and disappear.

You could never face him again. How were you supposed to look him in the eye knowing you'd been almost kissing him in your backyard while his gorgeous girlfriend smiled at him from picture frames in his perfect kitchen? How could you ever stand on your porch again without remembering how you'd practically fled from his house like a guilty teenager?

Your kitchen tabletops would just have to stay ugly forever. You'd learn to love them. You pressed your forehead against your knees and groaned. 

And now you'd just have to avoid him for... oh, the rest of your life. 

Easy.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Summer melted into autumn with surprising speed, the maple trees lining your street turning from green to orange and crimson. As the days grew shorter, your grandmother's herb garden was dotted with fallen leaves that crunched underfoot. Even the air felt different—crisper, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and the promise of colder days to come.

And you threw yourself into the next project—the kitchen, armed with nothing but YouTube tutorials, sheer stubbornness and the grudging advice of the grumpy guy at the hardware store (who, you were convinced, hid whenever he saw you approaching).

Things weren't exactly going smoothly. You'd managed to miscalculate the measurements for the new cupboards (twice), and you were pretty sure you'd cracked the new sink while trying to install the tap. But it was your mess, your project, and you were determined to see it through, even if it meant several trips to the hardware store and more withering stares from grumpy guy. 

"Back again?" he'd grumble. "What'd you break this time?"

"Nothing's broken," you'd insist, even as you clutched a piece of pipe that was definitely not supposed to bend that way. "I just need... clarification."

Your kitchen was slowly, painfully coming together. Sure, the subway tiles weren't perfectly aligned, and maybe one cupboard door hung a little lower than its neighbours, but it was yours. Every imperfect angle and slightly wobbly shelf represented hours of YouTube research and grumpy guy's reluctant advice.

If sometimes, late at night, you found yourself staring at your uneven grout lines and remembering how easily Satoru had fixed your sink that first day—well, that was between you and your slightly tipsy reflection in the new (only somewhat streaky) backsplash.

You'd gotten good at avoiding him. Early morning hardware store runs, late evening painting sessions with your curtains drawn. You'd even mapped out his routine—when he left for work, when he usually arrived home, which days he typically did yard work. All so you could time your own activities to minimize any chance of running into his blue eyes.

This was all totally normal, of course. Perfectly reasonable behavior for an normal adult obviously.

Some days were harder than others. Like when you could hear him on his porch in the evenings, chatting with Miss Tanaka about the weather and whether he wanted to go out with her granddaughter. She's so pretty and can cook such good beef stew, she'd say. As if Satoru didn't already have a girlfriend. A perfect girlfriend who could for sure cook a fantastic, wonderful, amazing beef stew. While you ate burned toast.

But you were managing. Mostly. The kitchen was... well, "finished" might be a strong word, but it was functional. Sort of. If you didn't mind that one burner that heated unevenly, or the fact that the new faucet made a strange gurgling sound when you ran hot water.

Even grumpy guy had stopped wincing visibly when you showed him your progress photos, which you counted as a win. "Could be worse," he'd said last week, which was basically a compliment coming from him.

You told yourself it was better this way. Better to have a slightly crooked kitchen than to face the mortification of asking for help from your impossibly perfect neighbour with his impossibly perfect girlfriend. Besides, character was important in old houses. That's what all the renovation shows said. And your kitchen certainly had... character.

It happened on one of those perfect late autumn evenings, when the sky turned deep purple and the air smelled like pine and fallen leaves. You were trying to hang a lamp in your dining room—the sort of task that would definitely require two people, but stubbornness had convinced you otherwise.

The ladder seemed stable enough. The wiring looked mostly right. You stretched, straining to connect the final wire, when you heard it. A soft groan from above, followed by the distinct sound of old plaster giving way. Everything happened at once. The ceiling cracked, raining down decades of dust and debris. The lamp slipped from your fingers, and your balance followed.

You hit the hardwood floor hard, the light crashing beside you in a shower of glass and plaster. For a moment, you just lay there, staring up at the hole in your ceiling and questioning every life decision that had led to this moment.

The sound of your front door bursting open echoed through the house, followed by rapid footsteps.

"Hey! Are you—" Satoru’s voice trailed off as he appeared in the doorway, his eyes widening as he took in the scene—you sprawled on the floor, surrounded by debris, the ladder tipped against the wall, and the sad remains of what was supposed to be your new dining room light.

"Don't say it.”

"Say what?" He crossed the room in quick strides and knelt beside you. "That trying to hang a lamp by yourself is stupid? Or that you're lucky you didn't break your neck?"

"Both. Neither." You winced as you tried to sit up. "How did you even get in here?"

"Your door was unlocked. I was on my porch, heard you scream." His hands hovered near your shoulders, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to help. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine.” 

You tried to push yourself up, but your ankle protested.

"Don’t be stupid." He moved closer, dust from your ceiling clinging to his dark sweater. "Let me see."

"It's nothing—"

"Let me take care of you.” His usual teasing smile was gone, replaced with genuine concern that made your chest tight. "Please?"

The 'please' did you in. You nodded weakly, and before you could process what was happening, Satoru slid one arm behind your shoulders and the other under your knees. He lifted you effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing at all.

"What are you—" you started, your hands automatically gripping his sweater.

"Kitchen has better light.”  He carried you through the doorway, nudging it open with his shoulder. He set you down gently on the counter, careful of your ankle. His hands were warm where they rested at your waist, steadying you.

For a moment, he stayed close, closer than he had any right to be, and you found yourself level with those sky blue eyes that always made you weak.

"Stay," he whispered, finally stepping back. "Let me take care of this."

You wanted to protest, to maintain even a little bit of distance. But your ankle really hurt and you were really tired. So you sat there, perched on your counter (which was definitely not as level as you'd claimed to grumpy guy) and watched Satoru move around your kitchen.

He found a clean dish towel in the second drawer he tried and wrapped some ice in it. His movements were precise, practiced, like he'd done this a hundred times before. Probably for his girlfriend, you thought.

"Your cabinet organization is creative,” he said.

"It's a new system I'm trying out."

"Is that what we're calling chaos these days?" He returned, ice pack in hand. The counter put you at perfect height for him to—no. My god. Stop that train of thought immediately. 

He carefully lifted your ankle, his touch impossibly gentle as he pressed the ice against it. The cold made you flinch, and his other hand came to rest just above your knee.

"Too cold?"

“No, it’s…” You swallowed, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand through your jeans. “It’s fine.”

He hummed, his attention focused on your ankle. He slowly rotated it, checking for damage. You studied his face—the slight furrow of concentration between his brows, the way his hair fell across his forehead, begging to be brushed back.

“Doesn’t seem broken,” he finally said, looking up at you. “But you should stay off it for a few days.”

“I have renovations to finish.”

“The renovations can wait.”

“Says the man with the perfect house.”

He frowned. "You know, for someone so smart, you can be surprisingly dense about—"

A phone buzzed loudly, making you both jump. His phone, you realized, as he pulled it from his back pocket with his free hand, the other still holding the ice pack against your ankle. Probably his girlfriend wondering where he was. 

You pulled your leg back, ignoring the pain. "I should let you go," you said, trying to figure out how to get down the counter without falling on your face. "I'm sure you have... plans."

“No wait.” He kept you were you sat with his hand on your leg. He spoke briefly to the caller, then said, “Just work,” and silenced the phone. His hand returned to your ankle, adjusting the ice pack.

"Oh." You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, heart hammering. "I thought... maybe it was your girlfriend." The words came out small, hesitant. "I wouldn't want to keep you. From her, I mean. She probably wouldn't want you touching other women's ankles and all that..." You were rambling now, a nervous habit you'd never quite kicked. "Not that you're really touching my ankle, I mean you are, but medically, like a doctor, not that you're a doctor—"

"What girlfriend?"

“The one in the picture? In your kitchen? Pretty. Blonde. Kissing you?”

To your surprise, Satoru started to laugh.  "That's my sister. From her wedding. Is that why you've been avoiding me the last few weeks? Because you thought I had a girlfriend?"

"Your... sister?"

"She'd kill me if she heard you thought we were dating."

"But you're so..." Your mind scrambled for words that weren't 'anyoingly attractive' or 'unfairly perfect.' Like, for real, how can he still be single?

"I'm so...?" He was definitely teasing now, thumb stroking your skin just above your ankle in a way that made it very hard to think straight.

"Annoying," you finally managed, which only made his smile widen.

"Annoying enough that you made me cake, then ran away?" He moved closer, until he was standing between your legs, still holding the ice pack but now definitely invading your personal space. "Annoying enough that you've been avoiding me for weeks because you thought I was taken?"

"I wasn't avoiding you," you said. "I was very busy. With renovations."

"Mhm." His free hand came up to brush some plaster dust from your cheek. "Is that why you tried to hang a lamp by yourself?" His fingers traced your jaw and you swayed towards him despite yourself, your heart pounding.

"You're insufferable."

"Some of us," he murmured, now close enough that you could feel his breath on your lips, "believe good things are worth waiting for. Worth doing slowly, properly." His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth. "Letter by letter, moment by moment. Remember?"

Before you could respond, he stepped back. "Your ankle should be fine in a few days. Try to stay off it. And maybe..." He paused at your kitchen door. "Maybe next time you need help with something, ask your annoying neighbour instead of risking you life?"

You managed a nod, your mind still reeling.

"Oh, and by the way?" He looked back at you, his smile softening. "I really like stawberry cakes. In case you feel like baking again."

With that, he was gone, leaving you perched on your counter with a rapidly melting ice pack and the strange feeling that renovating this house wasn't the only project that was going to take time to get right.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Autumn fully arrived, bringing crimson leaves, cloudy skies, and more of Satoru's overbearing everything. Your renovation plans resumed, though now with significantly less chance of bodily harm as Satoru was helping you again. He'd show up at your door with brownies and supplies, his teasing somehow both more and less bearable now that you both knew why you'd been avoiding him.

The universe, however, had a sense of humour. It was on a warm Saturday afternoon, while you were both covered in paint from freshening up your living room panelling, that his sister showed up unannounced. She burst into your house, barely containing her glee at finally meeting the neighbour who had mistaken her for her brother's girlfriend.

You wanted to sink into the floor as she told you cheerfully how hard she'd laughed when Satoru called to tell her about the misunderstanding. Her amusement only grew as she took in the sight of the two of you, splattered with paint and clearly at ease in each other's company. She left you with her phone number and the promise of embarrassing childhood photos of her brother, while Satoru tried and failed to get her out before she could do any more damage.

The rest of autumn rushed swiftly into the frozen stillness of winter as the lines between your lives began to blur more and more—his tools mixed with yours in the garage, his coffee mug claimed permanent residence in your cabinet, and his presence became as much a part of your home as the creaky floorboards and old doorknobs. 

It felt…natural in a way.

Natural that he'd show up at your house in the morning with fresh pastries and you'd make coffee for the two of you, and natural that you'd work on your house and do something fun at the weekends. Even the way your heart stuttered whenever he was near felt strangely normal, a natural rhythm in this new, unexpected something—something you never named. And yet, amidst the rush, there were moments when time seemed to slow, stretching out like taffy, each shy glance, each lingering touch, each shared laugh becoming a precious memory.

One of those moments was at the pumpkin patch. You'd been wandering through the rows of pumpkins, Satoru trailing behind you, searching for the perfect ones to decorate your house for Halloween. It was a tradition you loved since childhood, bringing back memories of visiting the local patch with your grandfather. You could almost feel the scratchy wool of his sweater against your cheek as he hoisted you onto his shoulders, hear his happy laughter, and feel the warmth of his hand in yours.

"Wait!" you called out, stopping so suddenly that Satoru almost bumped into you. "Look at that one!"

Off to the side sat perhaps the largest pumpkin you'd ever seen. It was definitely lopsided, one side bulging more than the other, and its stem curved at an odd angle.

"That's...quite a pumpkin." Satoru tilted his head. "Though maybe something a bit more manageable would—"

"It's perfect." You already tried to figure out how to lift it. The thing had to weigh at least twenty kilos.

"Perfect might be a stretch." His lips quirked up at the corners as he watched you circle the massive thing. "It's practically your size. And that's definitely not its best side."

You shot him a look. "Not everything needs to be perfect to be beautiful." Your hands settled on your hips as you studied your chosen pumpkin. "Sometimes the imperfect things are the best things."

"Like your crooked kitchen cabinets?”

You ignored his comment and attempted to lift the pumpkin, managing to get it about two centimeters off the ground before setting it back down. "It’s called character."

“Character?” He watched your continued attempts with clear amusement. "It's a safety hazard."

“Are you going to help me or just stand there looking pretty?”

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?”

“Shut up and help me with this pumpkin.”

“As my lady commands.” 

He stepped forward, effortlessly lifting the massive pumpkin like it weighed nothing. Show-off, you thought. Was there anything he wasn’t good at? Renovations, apparently, and now this.

Back home, he carried the pumpkin to your porch, the orange leaves rustling in the gentle wind. You carved the pumpkins on your newly renovated porch as neighbours raked leaves, the crisp autumn air carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. Later, his pumpkin looked like some stupid sculpture out of a museum. Of course. Because apparently, Satoru Gojo was good at literally everything. Yours? Well, yours was…cute. You’d call it ugly. Satoru insisted it was cute, and you almost, almost, believed him.

“Why are you so good at everything?” you sighed, more to yourself than him, leaning back and gazing upwards. "Any other hidden talents I should know about?"

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, actually.” Your cheeks flushed as you quickly sat up, a nervous stumble sending you straight into his face, as he leaned in too. “Oh, I didn’t mean—” 

Something flickered in his expression, a subtle twitch of his brow as his gaze flickered down to your lips. For a heartbeat, you thought he might—but then a single leaf drifted down and the moment shattered. He cleared his throat and turned back to his pumpkin.

"So, where do you want to place them?" he asked.

You let him return to safer topics, frustration washing over you, trying to ignore the way your skin still tingled where his leg had brushed against yours. This had become your new normal—these almost-moments, these near-misses that were driving you absolutely mad. Were you imagining things? Reading too much into every look, every touch? Or was he intentionally playing some game, dangling the possibility of something more, only to snatch it away at the last moment? It was agonizing, a slow torture that was getting harder and harder to endure.

You placed the pumpkins on your porch. Satoru excused himself, saying he had some work to do. Apparently, he was working on something international, fielding calls from overseas offices at ridiculous hours. 

"I've got that conference call at two," he said, already backing towards his house. "Dinner later? I'm trying out a new recipe."

It wasn't the first time he'd invited you over—these casual dinners had become a natural part of your... whatever this was. But was it just natural? Or was it something more? You'd thought, with every invitation, every lingering look, every almost-kiss—and at this point, with almost-kiss number 3000, you were starting to lose count—that this time would be different. But maybe, just maybe, it was all in your head. Maybe you were reading too much into everything, again.

"What time?" you asked.

"Seven? Bring wine. And maybe that stawberry cake recipe you've been perfecting?"

"You just want me for my baking."

"Among other things." Before you could respond, he was already heading back to his house, calling over his shoulder, "Don't be late!"

You watched him go, your heart stuttering, wondering if he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Dinner at Satoru's had become a natural part of your week, but something felt different that evening. Perhaps it was the early autumn darkness pressing against the windows, or the intimate warmth of the kitchen under the amber pendant lamps. Or maybe it was just how he moved around you in his kitchen, always somehow managing to brush past even though there was plenty of space.

 He'd outdone himself with dinner, though you'd never tell him that—his ego was big enough already. But he was, you had to admit, a surprisingly excellent cook. Watching him plate the food with the same careful attention he gave to everything, you had to admit he had a talent for this too. Of course he did. It was starting to seem like there wasn't anything Satoru Gojo couldn't do perfectly.

The wine you'd brought paired perfectly with his cooking, because of course it did. He'd probably somehow predicted exactly what you'd choose and planned the meal around it. You wouldn't put it past him, not with how he seemed to anticipate your every move these days. Conversations flowed easily between you. He shared work stories, you gave updates on your projects, and somehow, your feet ended up on his lap beneath the table. He massaged them absently, after you complained about standing all day.

When he suggested a movie afterward, it felt natural to say yes. You watched him make popcorn on the stove and then moved to the couch. The movie was something neither of you really paid attention to, both too aware of how close you sat on his ridiculously comfortable couch. Every time you reached for the popcorn bowl between you, your hands would brush, sending little sparks up your arm. You caught him watching you more than the screen, but whenever you turned to catch him at it, his eyes were innocently focused forward.

As the evening wore on, the warmth of the wine and his presence made your eyelids heavy. You tried to stay awake, but when he gently draped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, resistance melted away. You drifted off against his shoulder, the last thing you remember is the soft brush of his lips against your hair as sleep pulled you under.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

November deepened into December, and the air grew cold with the promise of winter. One morning, the first snow fell, lightly covering your porch and making everything look like a Christmas card. The holiday market downtown was in full swing by mid-December, stalls lined with evergreen boughs and twinkling lights that reflected off fresh snow. You'd been surprised when Satoru suggested you both go, casually mentioning it while helping you install new crown molding in your dining room.

"They've set up an ice rink this year," he'd said, measuring tape in hand, not looking at you directly. "Thought it might be fun."

Which is how you found yourself wandering between market stalls on a Saturday afternoon, your breath clouding in the cold air as Satoru walked beside you, unfairly handsome in a charcoal peacoat and blue scarf that matched his eyes.

"Have you tried the hot chocolate?" Satoru asked, nodding towards a stall where steam rose from copper pots. "I've heard they make it with real Belgian chocolate."

"Are you trying to fatten me up for winter?" But you were already moving.

He followed, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Just trying to keep you warm. Can't have you catching a cold before we finish that bathroom tilework."

The hot chocolate was rich and velvety with a hint of cinnamon, the warmth spreading through your chest as you continued to wander the market. Your fingers grew numb despite your gloves, and Satoru must have noticed because he suddenly handed you his cup.

"Hold this a second." Before you could question him, he removed his own gloves—expensive-looking leather ones—and handed them to you. "These are better insulated. Trade me."

"I can't take your gloves."

"You can and you will." His tone left no room for argument. "Besides, my hands run hot."

You reluctantly made the exchange, noticing how his gloves swallowed your hands but feeling instantly warmer. Something about wearing his gloves made your heart do a strange flutter. As it always seemed when you were near him. 

As afternoon stretched into early evening, the market lights came on, making everything look magical. That's when you spotted it—the ice rink, lit up with fairy lights, skaters gliding in circles across the surface.

"Ready to try?" Satoru asked, following your gaze.

"I haven't skated since I was a kid."

"Perfect time to remember then. I'll make sure you don't fall."

Ten minutes later, you stood at the edge of the rink, wobbling precariously on thin blades while Satoru waited patiently beside you. He'd stepped onto the ice with infuriating grace, as if skating were as natural to him as breathing.

"How are you already good at this?" you said, clutching the railing.

"Can’t help it," he replied, like that would explain it. "Come on. I've got you."

Taking a deep breath, you placed your hand in his. His fingers closed around yours, warm and steady, as he pulled you onto the ice. Your legs immediately threatened to slide in opposite directions, but Satoru kept you upright.

"Small steps." His other hand came to rest at your elbow for support. "Don't think about it too much. Let your body remember."

You focused on not falling, even though all you could focus on was his hand in yours, his presence beside you as you slowly made your way around the edge of the rink. Other skaters whizzed past, some holding hands, others chatting to their friends. 

After one cautious lap, you began to find your balance. Your death grip on Satoru's hand loosened slightly, though you weren't about to let go completely.

"See? You're a natural," he said, his voice warm.

"I wouldn't go that far. You're doing most of the work."

He smiled, adjusting his pace to match yours. "We make a good team."

The way he said it—so casually, so confidently—sent your thoughts spiraling. Did you make a good team? The evidence was certainly there—the beautifully restored porch, the new plumbing that never leaked, the kitchen with its even countertops that you'd finally finished together. But was that all this was? A renovation partnership?

Because holding his hand like this, skating side by side under twinkling lights with Christmas music playing softly in the background—it felt like more. It felt like a date. 

Like something couples did.

Your mind raced as you made another lap around the rink. When had Satoru Gojo become more than just your annoying neighbour? When had his smug smile started making your heart race instead of your blood pressure? And why, despite all the lingering touches and loaded glances over the past months, had he never once tried to kiss you?

"You're thinking too hard again," Satoru said, interrupting your thoughts. "I can practically hear the gears turning."

"Just trying not to fall."

"Relax. I've got you." He squeezed your hand reassuringly, and you couldn't help but wonder if he meant it beyond the ice rink.

Was it possible you were imagining the whole thing? Maybe he was just being nice. Maybe this outing was purely neighborly. Maybe he wasn't interested in you that way at all. Or worse—what if he was gay? No, that couldn't be it. You'd met his ex-girlfriend when she stopped by to drop off some mail that had been mistakenly delivered to her place. Besides, no straight man looked at a woman the way he sometimes looked at you when he thought you weren't paying attention.

So what was it then? Was something wrong with you? Were you not his type?

"Ready to try without the railing?" Satoru asked, pulling you from your spiral.

"Um, I don't think—"

"Trust me," he said softly, and despite your better judgment, you did.

He guided you towards the center of the rink, one hand still firmly clasping yours, the other now resting lightly at your waist. The contact, even through layers of winter clothing, sent a jolt through you.

"You're doing great," he said as you wobbled slightly. "Just find your balance."

"Easy for you to say. You're apparently good at everything."

He laughed. "Not everything." 

You didn’t believe him for a second.

Your right skate hit a rough patch of ice, and suddenly you were pitching forward, arms flailing. Time seemed to slow as you prepared for the inevitable crash onto hard ice. But instead of cold pain, you felt strong arms wrap around your waist, catching you. Satoru pulled you against his chest, steadying you both.

You found yourself pressed against him, your hands clutching his coat, faces inches apart. His blue eyes were wide, a few strands of white hair falling across his forehead. You could feel his heart racing—or was that yours?

"Are you okay?" he asked, breath warm against your cheek.

You nodded, unable to speak, certain that this was it—the moment he would finally close the distance between you. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there as one of his hands moved up to brush a strand of hair from your face. Your eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, heart hammering against your ribs.

"You know," Satoru said, amusement colouring his tone, "for someone who managed to restore an entire Victorian house, you're surprisingly bad at staying upright on a little ice."

Your eyes snapped open to find him grinning down at you and the moment shattered. He set you back on your feet, though he kept one arm loosely around your waist for support.

"I think I need a break," you said, trying to hide your frustration. "My ankles are killing me."

"Of course." He led you to the exit, his hand returning to yours like it belonged there. "Hot cider? My treat."

As you made your way off the ice, you couldn't help but think that for someone so skilled at fixing things, Satoru Gojo seemed determined to leave whatever was between you two beautifully, frustratingly unresolved.

Despite your disappointment at the almost kiss, the rest of the evening at the market had been pleasant enough. You'd shared warm cider at a wooden table, watching children chase each other through the snow while Satoru told stories about his own childhood winters. He'd insisted on buying you a knitted scarf when he'd caught you admiring it, and wrapped it around your neck himself with aching tenderness. And it made you want to die that he didn't kiss you while he wrapped the scarf around you.

By the time you'd explored every stall, your earlier frustration had mellowed into a dull ache of confusion. Satoru seemed completely at ease, carrying your purchases and guiding you through the crowd with a gentle hand on your lower back—another gesture that felt so intimate, yet so casually offered.

The drive home was quiet, snowflakes dancing in the headlights as Satoru navigated the slippery roads. You stared out the window, watching the familiar streets of your neighbourhood change under the touch of winter, your mind replaying that moment on the ice over and over again. Why hadn't he kissed you?

He must have felt it—that perfect alignment of circumstances, that electric current running between you. For months now, you'd been dancing around this thing, this unspoken whatever it was.

"You're quiet," Satoru said, his voice breaking through your thoughts as the car came to a stop in front of your house. The snow was falling harder now, collecting on the windshield.

"Just tired." You forced a smile. "Thank you for today. It was fun."

"Are you sure that's all it is?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Before he could answer, you gathered your bags and pushed open the car door. "Goodnight, Satoru."

You hurried up the now perfectly restored steps of your front porch, fumbling with your keys as snowflakes clung to your hair and eyelashes, desperate to bury all those confusing feelings deep down, underneath a lot of chocolate and trashy romance Christmas movies. But then the sound of a car door closing behind you made you stop.

"Hey," Satoru called, his footsteps crunching through fresh snow. "Wait a second."

You took a deep breath and turned to face him. He was standing at the bottom of your porch steps, snowflakes catching in his white hair, his forehead furrowed. "Something's wrong. I can tell."

"It's nothing. Really, I'm just tired."

"After all these months, I'd hope you'd know you can't lie to me." He climbed the steps slowly until he was standing in front of you. "Did I do something? Say something?"

You shook your head. "It's not about what you did."

"Then what?" He took another step closer, and you could see the genuine confusion in his eyes. “What is going on?”

"It's about what you don't do, Satoru." The words escaped before you could stop them, tumbling out in a rush of frustration and longing. "What you never do."

He blinked. "What I don't do?"

You gestured helplessly between the two of you. "This. Whatever this is. You fix my pipes and paint my house and take me ice skating. You look at me sometimes like—" You paused. "But then nothing. You never... you never try to..."

"You think I don't want to kiss you," he said.

"Well, what am I supposed to think? You spend every waking moment at my house, you bring me coffee every stupid day, you watch movies with me and like, you buy me cute little scarves and, I mean—who does that?” 

You were pacing now, your frustration building as months of confusion spilled out. Snowflakes swirled around you as you moved, melting against your flushed cheeks.

"Do you have any idea how confusing that is? One minute you're touching my face like you can't help yourself, the next you're acting like we're just neighbours working on a house together. Am I imagining things? Are you just being nice? Is there something wrong with me—"

Your rant was suddenly cut short as Satoru closed the distance between you in two quick steps. His hands came up to frame your face and before you could process what was happening, his lips were on yours. His mouth was warm despite the cold, his lips soft but insistent against yours, effectively shutting down every coherent thought.

You stood frozen for a split second before your body caught up with reality. Then you kissed him back, your hands fisting in his coat, pulling him closer as his thumbs gently stroked your cheeks. The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing yours as one of his hands slid to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathing hard, little clouds forming in the cold air between you, his hands still cupping your face.

"For the record," he said, his voice deeper and rougher than you'd ever heard it, "I've wanted to do that since the moment I steadied your ladder that first day. Every time I've been in a room with you. Every time you've chewed your lip while concentrating on something. Every damn time you've worn my chequered shirt".

You blinked up at him, still dazed from the kiss. "Then why didn't you?"

"Because I was trying to be a gentleman." His thumb traced your lower lip, still sensitive from his kiss. "Because I didn't want to complicate things when you were already dealing with so much. Because I wanted to be sure you felt the same way." A small, self-ironic smile touched his lips. "And because every time I worked up the courage, I'd get lost in those eyes of yours and forget how words work."

"So instead you taught me about crown molding?"

"I'm better with my hands than with words," he admitted, then immediately looked chagrined at the unintended innuendo. "That's not what I—"

This time, you cut him off, rising on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. He responded immediately, his arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you slightly so you fit perfectly against him as snowflakes continued to fall around you.

"For future reference," you said as you broke the kiss, "I'd much rather you kiss me than explain proper grouting techniques."

"Noted." 

Without another word, he scooped you up in his arms, one hand supporting your back, the other beneath your knees, and carried you towards your front door with the same effortless strength he'd shown lifting drywall and moving furniture.

"The door," you reminded him, fumbling with your keys.

"I've got it." He somehow managed to balance you perfectly while taking the keys and unlocking the door. "I'm very good with my hands, remember?"

Satoru carried you over the threshold and kicked the door shut behind him. Snowflakes melted in his white hair as he set you down in the dim entryway, but he didn't step back, holding you between his body and the wall.

"You have no idea how many times I've imagined this." His hands slid up your sides as his mouth claimed yours once more. "How many nights I've lain awake across the street, thinking about you in this house."

And you nearly fainted as you imagined him in his house across the stress, thinking about you, his hand down his pants and—

"Every room in this house," he said, his voice rough as he pushed your coat from your shoulders. "I've thought about having you in every single one."

"We did renovate them all." Your voice faltered as his lips found your neck, trailing kisses down to the sensitive spot where it met your shoulder. "Seems only fair we should... test our work."

"I think I’d like that." His hands slid beneath your sweater, warm against your chilled skin as they traced up your sides. Your own fingers tangled in his snow dampened hair, pulling him back to your mouth for a kiss that quickly burned away any remaining cold.

"Bedroom?"

"Too far," you breathed, already tugging at his sweater. "Besides, we just redid the living room couch."

He smiled. In one fluid motion, he lifted you again, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you towards the living room. The last snowflakes in his hair melted as he lowered you onto the couch you'd spent three weekends reupholstering together. His body covered yours perfectly, like he belonged there, had always belonged there.

And as the snow continued to fall outside, covering your Victorian home in a pristine blanket of white, Satoru Gojo finally showed you exactly what his hands were capable of—proving once and for all that some things were worth the wait.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Spring arrived with a gentle persistence, coaxing crocuses from the soil and washing away the last traces of winter. Your Victorian house looked lovely in the morning light, its sage green paint gleaming, and its porch ready for the warmer days ahead.

The sound of knocking preceded Satoru's arrival, followed by a short pause and his usual sigh when he'd remembered he had keys, before his familiar footsteps echoed across the parquet floors you'd refinished together. You were in the kitchen, still in your pyjamas, going over the plans for the sunroom you'd decided to add to the back of the house.

"Morning," Satoru called, appearing in the doorway with his usual—two coffee cups balanced in one hand, a small paper bag of pastries in the other. His white hair was slightly dishevelled, as if he'd rushed out without taking the time to comb it properly.

"You know you don't have to knock anymore," you said as he handed you the coffee. "You have a key."

"Force of habit." He pressed a quick kiss to your temple before sliding into the chair next to you. "Besides, what if you were up to something scandalous?"

"At seven in the morning?"

"I distinctly remember yesterday morning getting pretty scandalous. And the day before that—”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as memories flooded back of the way he'd pinned your wrists above your head with one hand while the other explored your body with agonizing slowness. The way he'd whispered in your ear exactly what he was planning to do to you, his voice dropping to that low register that always made you shiver. The way he'd taken his time, so thorough in his attention that you'd been reduced to breathless pleas before he finally gave you what you needed and—okay, stop. Not now.

Three months into your relationship, and he still made you blush like a stupid teenager—among other things.

"Those were special circumstances," you said, trying not to smile.

"Oh yeah? What kind of special circumstances?"

"You brought croissants." You peeked into today's bag, ignoring his teasing. "Are these the chocolate ones from that bakery downtown?"

"Maybe." He smiled, watching you with that soft expression that still made your heart skip. "I had an early video call with our research partners about the new pharmaceutical trial. Thought I'd pick up breakfast on the way back."

You paused, coffee halfway to your lips. "Wait, you already had your meeting? I thought that wasn't until nine."

"Started at five." He shrugged, stealing a piece of your pastry. "The Munich lab had some promising results they wanted to discuss right away. Worked out, though—wanted to catch you before you got too deep into those sunroom plans."

Warmth blossomed in your chest. In the months since that snowy night on your porch, Satoru had slowly woven himself into every aspect of your life. He still brought you coffee every morning, still helped with renovations, still looked at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

The only difference was that he now often spent the night, his clothes gradually migrating into your wardrobe, and his shower gel suddenly appeared one day in your bathroom. Even his microbiology textbooks and research papers had found their way onto your coffee table, his lab notes sometimes mixed in with your renovation plans.

"Speaking of the sunroom," he continued, "I think the windows we recently found in the attic would look great in there. The original glass has that slight waviness that would catch the light beautifully."

"I was thinking the same thing." You slid the blueprints towards him. "I've been playing with the dimensions to make sure they'd fit."

He leaned closer, his shoulder pressing against yours. "This looks perfect. Though we might need to adjust the framing here to account for the original hardware."

You smiled at his use of “we”—so natural now, so right. Every project had become a shared undertaking, every decision made together.

"By the way," he began, "I've been thinking—"

"A dangerous pastime for you."

"I'm serious." He took a breath, suddenly looking uncharacteristically nervous. "The house is looking amazing. We've fixed almost everything that needed fixing."

"Except that creaky step on the back stairs," you reminded him.

"And the slight warp in the pantry door," he added.

"And the—"

"Okay, so there's still a list." He laughed. "But my point is, we've done so much work here. Together."

"We have," you agreed, wondering where he was going with this.

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. "Meanwhile, my house is just sitting there. I'm barely even there anymore except to grab clothes or check if anyone's stolen my mail."

Your heart began to beat faster as you caught his meaning. "Satoru Gojo, are you trying to say something specific?"

“What if we just... you know, focused on one house instead of two?" His eyes met yours, vulnerable in a way you rarely saw. "Maybe focusing on just one house instead of maintaining two?"

"Are you asking to move in together?" You couldn't help the smile spreading across your face.

"Well, technically I'm asking which house we want to live in. Though I'm kind of partial to this one. We've put so much of ourselves into it."

You twisted in your chair to face him fully. "You'd leave your perfect house with its perfect kitchen and perfect view?"

"My perfect house feels empty without you in it." The simple honesty in his voice made your throat tight with emotion. "Besides, this house has better bones."

"Yes," you said, sliding your arms around his neck. "Yes to consolidating our renovation efforts. Yes to deciding which house. Yes to all of it."

"You sure? I know you like your space and I don't want to, like, suffocate you or—"

You cut him off with a kiss, soft and sweet and tasting of chocolate pastries. "Satoru, you've been in my space since the day you showed up to fix my stupid leaky pipe. At this point, it doesn't feel like my space without you in it."

He rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed for a moment. When he looked at you again, there was that softness, that tenderness that still made your heart flip.

"I love you," he said simply. "In case that wasn't clear."

"I figured that out somewhere between you painting my entire house during that insane heatwave."

He laughed, the sound echoing in the kitchen you'd rebuilt together. "And here I thought it was my extensive knowledge of old pipes that won you over."

"That helped," you admitted, fingers playing with his hair. "Though it was really your hands that sealed the deal."

"My hands, huh?"

"Mmhmm." You pressed closer, coffee and blueprints momentarily forgotten. "Very skilled hands."

"Well" he murmured, those hands already finding their way under your pajama top, "some things deserve special attention to detail.”

"Are we seriously still doing renovation metaphors?"

He laughed and pressed a kiss to your neck. "Some traditions are worth keeping."

Later, as sunlight streamed through your kitchen windows—windows he'd helped you restore months ago when you were still pretending to be just neighbours—you lay tangled together on the kitchen floor.

"You know," you said, tracing patterns on his chest, "your house does have that amazing bathtub."

"True." He pressed a kiss to your hair. "But this house has you."

You smiled against his skin. “We could always redo the bathroom here. Get an even better tub."

"I like how you think." His arms tightened around you. "Though we'd need to check the floor supports first, maybe upgrade the plumbing—"

You propped yourself up on one elbow to look at him, at this impossible man who'd somehow become your everything.

"I love you," you said simply. "Even when you're being a total renovation nerd."

His smile was soft, genuine, the smile he saved just for you. "Especially then?"

"Especially then."

Outside, spring painted the neighborhood with fresh green. But inside, in this house you'd brought back to life together, you'd found something even better—a future you were building together, room by room, day by day, one cup of morning coffee at a time.

masterlist + support my writing

author's note — omggg, we made it through all four seasons and a complete house renovation ! kept thinking while writing that the most unrealistic thing about this story is not satoru gojo being a perfect neighbour and fixing leaky pipes for us, but owning a house in this economy lol.

anyway, thank you so much for reading this silly little story and i hope it brought you as much joy as it did me while writing it. until next time ! <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here.

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @snowsilver2000 @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @sugurbo @janbannan

@bloopsstuff @ihearttoru @momoewn @yokosandesu @90s-belladonna

@fairygardenprincesss @juneslove21 @glenkiller338 @gojossugarcandy @wiserion

@moucheslove @nanasukii28 @sugucultfollower @leuriss @raendarkfaerie

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

Boxing Day (SFW)

Thank you to @glassofapplejuicee for beta reading saving this work! Love you so much babes, don't know what I would do without you <3

Happy Merry Boxing Day, everyone! I’ve been a little quiet as of late (oops), but I figured a fluffy little set of headcanons about our favorite boys would get me writing again. Lo and behold, it totally worked - so Happy Holidays everyone, and enjoy!

Summary: You and your partner had a Merry Christmas, but now it’s time for you to move on to the new year! How long does it take for you to take down all of your Christmas decorations, and what challenges do you run into along the way? 

Warnings: light swearing, petnames (Gojo is a menace, Nanami calls you darling, Sukuna calls you brat, Toji calls you doll, Shoko calls you lovely), minor injuries in Toji’s

Features Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Fushiguro (Toji), Ieiri, Higuruma

Let me know if you think I missed anything!!

All characters are over 18 :)

– – –

Gojo Satoru

If anyone is over the top, it’s Gojo. Definitely takes Christmas decorations too far, and is not past putting vulgar things on the tree. Tried to decorate it with Polaroids of you in…compromising positions, much to your chagrin. You shut that one down pretty quickly.

One of those rich assholes who hires people to put up/take down the lights outside. Before you, he definitely had only the boring white lights and maybe one of those sad wire light-up reindeers (like this, for example). Just one of them, all alone - he thinks it’s symbolic and deep because he was all alone at the time but it really just makes his huge yard look extra empty.

With you, however, he wants to do it himself. He thinks there’s something magical about putting up decorations together, with people you love. 

(It’s sweet, really, until he sucks at it and cries because he has no actual idea how to do it - why is it so hard to hang the lights straight?? Or at all, for that matter?? You’ll probably end up having to do all the work)

Once Christmas comes and goes, he does NOT want to take stuff down. You put it up “together” (you put it up), he wants to leave it up forever! A memory of the Christmas you spent together. 

Plus, his big house feels a lot less empty with all the lights and garlands and various other decorations he spent too much money on. Please, let him leave it up?

You probably let him get away with leaving up the tree until the beginning of January. He, of course, bought a huge, very much real, tree. The needles are a mess, and when it reaches the point where there are barely any needles left on the tree, you put your foot down.

He’s whining the whole time you two are taking it down. He tries to sneak out and drag it back inside, but you catch him every time.

Don’t even get him started on taking down the lights…

– – –

“But baaaaaaaabe!!”

“Gojo Satoru.”

“Full government name? You wound me, baby! Just like you’re wounding our beautiful Christmas memories!”

You groan, rolling your eyes at your boyfriend’s whines. “Satoru, you’re the one who wanted a real tree. I told you it was too much responsibility and cleaning, but you-”

“Baby,” he said, eyes watery and lips pulled downward in a pout. “Why’re you so mean to me, huh? Just want to keep all of our Christmas memories safe, is all.”

You soften at this. Satoru didn’t really get a chance to celebrate Christmas often, before you. You know there’s no way in hell his family celebrated with him, and you’re sure that once he lost his best friend (on Christmas Eve, no less), he and Shoko didn’t truly celebrate again. This was the first real Christmas he’s had in a while.

“Toru,” you murmur, pulling him to you. “We have plenty of years in the future to make new Christmas memories, hm? We’ll get to put up Christmas decorations all over again.”

His eyes find yours, and you wonder briefly if the glow in his eyes is the lights he refuses to take down, or the jujutsu endlessly flowing through him.. There’s a hint of something melancholy hidden in them, mixed with something else you can’t quite put your finger on. He doesn’t say anything, just looks, almost studying you - you’d be freaked out if you didn’t know him so well. Know that your words and your kindness were unfamiliar to him. In a world where he’s expected to be the strongest, he doesn’t know what to do when someone expects him to just be himself. You want every piece of him, the good and the bad, the strong and the weak, and you try to convey that as much as you can with your eyes. 

You let him stare until the silence becomes too thick, too heavy with something inexplicably sad that leaves a lump in your throat and a weight on your chest. You pull your hand away from his, running a gentle thumb over his cheek. Your eyes can’t seem to leave his, as much as it hurts.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, with such finality that he can’t help the smile that stretches across his face. It’s still full of grief, but there’s a glimmer of hope in it, too. “You know that Toru. I’m here. I’ll always be here, okay? Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.” he says, devoid of his usual humor. “You promise me?”

“I promise, Toru.” you say. You barely get it out before he’s smashing his lips to yours. It’s messy, it’s frantic, and it’s full of all the words he can’t say. He knows it’s selfish of him. To want you, to love you. His life is full of danger and death around every corner, and he knows that by bringing you into his life he’s brought you into that, too. But he can’t help himself. Gojo Satoru gets what he wants, he always has, and there’s nothing he wants more than you.

So he holds you close, and hopes that you keep wanting him forever, too.

Geto Suguru

He’s been going all out for Christmas since he found Nanako and Mimiko. It was clear that the two had never really had a proper family, and he wanted to give them that as much as he could.

He went all out when they were little - fake reindeer hoofprints in the yard, piles of presents under the tree, half eaten cookies left on the plate labelled “for Santa”. The girls are his whole world, and he’d pluck the moon from the sky if they asked him to.

The girls love you, too, once you become part of their Christmas traditions (even though Suguru made you tell them that Santa’s not real because he couldn’t do it himself). You’ve helped give them a family that they never had, and they welcome you with open arms.

Nanako and Mimiko become menaces when you even mention that it’s about time you all take the Christmas decorations down. They love the way the house feels brighter with all the decorations up. Expect a bit of a fight (and no help from your boyfriend, who seemingly can’t tell his girls “no”).

– – –

“Absolutely not.” “You want to do what?!”

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t your best idea to suggest taking down the tree, after all. You figured it’d be a good thing to do together - a touch of family time that you don’t always get with the girls - but they seemed to be appalled that you had even suggested such a thing.

“Nana, Mimi, it’s not Christmas anymore.” you say, laughing a bit nervously. “We can’t leave the tree up forever, can we?”

“We certainly can,” Nanako starts with a frown, “What’s stopping us? The pressure from society to conform to its trends?”

You barely manage to stop your eyes from rolling. You loved that Suguru was honest and open with the girls about what he does and who he is, but Nanako was definitely picking up some preconceived notions from hanging around Suguru’s literal cult all the time. Perhaps you’d have to talk to your boyfriend about it.

“Nana, sweetie, I love you-”

“Clearly you don’t if you won’t let me keep the tree up!” “What’s going on in here?”

A smooth, deep voice cuts through your conversation (argument?) with Nanako and Mimiko, and you feel a wave of relief crash over you. Surely, your lovely boyfriend would talk some sense into the girls (primarily Nanako).

“Suguru! The girls and I were just discussing taking the Christmas decorations down.”

Oblivious to Nanako’s scowl, he smiles softly at you. “What a good idea! We can do it as a family, hm? I could use a family day after the meetings I just had.”

“We’re not taking it down,” Mimiko mutters, eyes flickering between you and Suguru. “It’s too early.”

“Yeah, it’s way too early! We need to leave them up waaaaay longer. We did so much work to put them up, we can’t just take them down now!” Nanako whines out, doing her best puppy dog eyes at her father.

“You two,” you sigh, massaging your brow. “We can do it all again next year, but we seriously need to start taking these down, it’s getting a little late to still have our decorations up-”

“We can leave them up.”

Your head snaps to look at your boyfriend, mouth agape. “What?”

“I mean…” he says, looking anywhere but your face. “They seem really excited about it, you know? It can’t hurt to keep them up a bit longer…”

You should’ve known he would succumb to their puppy dog eyes, the bastard. “Suguru Geto, it’s the middle of January. We absolutely cannot keep them up much longer, the neighbors are starting to give me weird looks-”

“Who cares what the neighbors think?” he says, pulling you towards the couch. “C’mon, how about family movie night instead? We can take the tree down another day, hm?”

You know you shouldn’t let the girls win this one. You know it, and yet you let yourself get led to the couch anyways. Some 1980’s chick flick is put on, and you all settle in, curled into each other. You think you catch Meg Ryan out of the corner of your eye, but you’re more busy looking at your family, all together at this moment. 

The tree can stay up another day, you decide. You could handle a couple of judgy stares from the neighbors - because you wouldn’t trade moments like these for the world.

Nanami Kento

Nanami didn’t necessarily celebrate Christmas when he was on his own. It felt like a lot of work to put up a tree and decorate it if he was barely going to be home anyways.

After his return to jujutsu, Gojo tries endlessly to try and drag him to the yearly Christmas work party to no avail. Especially after you enter the picture. Gojo wants nothing more than to tell you embarrassing stories about your lover. 

But now he has you, and the little pink-haired menace that is Itadori Yuuji. You two had inserted yourselves into his life when he thought he needed solitude the most, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

Christmas, which had once come and gone, became something tangible. It meant endless hours of baking and decorating cookies, and time spent together, as a family. Yuuji wasn’t technically his son, but he was certainly a part of your little family (the gifts under the tree for him spoke for themselves). 

Like Gojo, he’s oddly hesitant to take down the decorations. The memories of putting them up and celebrating Christmas with the people he treasured around them are very dear to him.

Unlike Gojo, he can picture a future with you and Yuuji. Not quite on boxing day, but before December ends, the three of you are taking down decorations together, as a family, knowing that you’ll get the chance to put them up again next year.

– – –

Despite the date being not-quite-Christmas, you had insisted on playing Christmas music as you all took Christmas decorations down. Something about it being your “last chance to listen to Christmas music!” and you needing “one last dose” of Christmas before it was gone. And any level of time spent together with you and Nanami had Yuuji bouncing off the walls, so of course he was down for Christmas music after Christmas.

Despite his slight distaste for the music, Kento couldn’t help but smile at you and Yuuji. You’re rolling the lights neatly as Yuuji unwinds them, laughing and joking as you do. He remembers when you had asked Yuuji to come over to decorate for Christmas with the two of you. He had seen the boy excited before, but there was something special about the joy he radiated as he happily agreed to come over. You’d offered him the spare room many times, and even though he “can’t” stay, his clothes soon filled the drawers and his toiletries lived in your bathroom. While there’s not necessarily a “break” from the life of being a sorcerer, Fushiguro had gone home to Gojo’s, and Kugisaki had gone home to her family for the holidays. But, with nowhere to go, Yuuji had been planning to stay at the dorms, alone. Normally Nanami would’ve asked you first, but the second he heard he invited the boy to stay - lots of empty excuses about needing more company for Christmas and not wanting to eat all of the Christmas goods yourselves. But when Yuuji came bouncing in, you already knew, giving your husband a knowing smile. 

Now he was certain the house was going to feel empty, once Yuuji was gone. Ever respectful, he insisted he would be out of your hair the second the holidays were over.

“Ken, c’mere!” you call, beckoning him over. “Help Yuuji with the tree, won’t you?”

“I’ve totally got this, I’ll be fine!” Yuuji exclaims, trying to pick up the plastic tree without even taking it apart. “See?? Totally got it-”

Famous last words, of course, as he slips and thuds to the floor, the Christmas tree atop him. You and Kento both fly in, working to roll the tree off of him as quickly as possible. Of course, once he’s free, Yuuji is laughing, already re-telling the story of his “epic fall” (“it landed on me like whoosh! and I slammed against the carpet like kapow! Did you see that??”).

You sigh, glad he’s okay. “Could thank Nanami for helping you out from under it, you know.”

He flushes, stopping mid-story. “Oops, sorry! Thanks for the save, dad!”

He grins toothily before he catches his mistake, but by then, Nanami’s already tearing up. You are, too. Yuuji lost his family a long time ago. To feel safe enough, to call your husband dad? This was the best Christmas you’ve ever had, you’re certain.

And if you all end up crying? That’s nobody’s business but yours.

Sukuna Ryomen

He’s aware of the human tradition of “Christmas”, but if you think even for a second he considered celebrating it before you, you’re sorely mistaken. He’s the King of Curses, he doesn’t have time for nonsense like Christmas.

When you insert your annoying self into his life, he’s unsure on how to approach the holiday. His estate was not a place for “joy” or “being merry” (two very important things to Christmas, you had informed him), but with you here, perhaps it could be.

Very against decorations across the estate. In the privacy of certain spaces, he may allow it, but there will be no outdoor decorations or house-wide decorations. He does not want his servants to think he is getting soft for the human he’s been toting around. He will cede to some decorations, but he does not care about you and your silly human traditions.

(they already know he’s going soft for you. Any servant can see the way he looks at you, and how delicate his hands are with you. They’d be stupid not to know at this point the affection he holds for you)

He, at first, refuses to let you put up anything yourself in the approved rooms. He has servants, and he has made it very clear that they are yours to command. Why do you insist on doing it yourself?

You explain the importance of doing it yourself, even have the gall to ask him to do it with you, and he scoffs at this. He’s the King of Curses, he doesn’t have the time to 

Later, you will find him reading on Christmas traditions and decorations. When you catch him, he will refuse to acknowledge it, but the way he won’t quite make eye contact with you says all you need to know.

Once Christmas is over, decorations are down and boxed immediately. He instructs the servants the night before to take them down, and by the time you wake, the decorations are gone. 

With all of this Christmas decorating and celebrating, Sukuna has barely had a proper moment alone with you. Now that it’s over, expect him to be the closest to “clingy” that you will ever see him.

– – –

It’s early morning, December 26th, and Sukuna could not be more glad that this “Christmas” thing was over. You had become consumed by it, and despite finding some sort of amusement in the way you bounced around all excited and glowy, he was sick of it. You talked on and on about what he had to do with you, and while he indulged you on some of them, he was not fond of being bossed around. You had also mentioned another man, whom you referred to as “Santa” - you had assured Sukuna he wasn’t real, but Sukuna didn’t like the way another man’s name was so easily rolling off your tongue - who brought gifts to children in their homes. You had made an attempt to put up a little “Santa” figurine on the mantle, but found him in pieces (and in the trash) hours later. Sukuna would not allow another man you spoke so highly of to taint his space. 

You shift slightly, and he looks down at your sleeping face where it lay against him. You looked utterly ridiculous - your face was smushed against him, your hair was tousled, and you were lightly snoring - but for some reason Sukuna couldn’t tear his eyes from your form. He could hear the servants shuffling around in the other rooms on the estate, taking down the eyesores that you had put up all over the house. While he had instructed them to take everything Christmas-related down across the estate, they also had very specific instructions to never enter his chambers without explicit permission from him. This meant that his chambers were still a little Christmas bubble, the tree you had put up in the corner still standing tall.

When you first tried to get him to put a tree up in his chambers, he had refused. You could put a tree in the approved rooms, he had reminded you, and his chambers were very explicitly off limits. You had frowned, saying something about needing a “personal” tree that you could decorate yourself and keep presents “safe” under it. He informed you that anything you left under the other trees would also be safe, as this was his estate, and no one would touch anything without his permission, but you had just thrown your hands up.

“It’s about the principle, Ryo!”

“Brat, be grateful I’m letting you put up any trees at all. I could call off this whole ‘Christmas’ nonsense whenever I want, so watch your mouth.”

He sighed. He doesn’t know how you managed, but you had eventually wore him down. A sparkling tree sits in the corner of his chambers now, glowing softly. Once you had risen and started to go about your day he was going to take it down, he resolved. Whatever weird feelings were bubbling in his chest were the fault of this Christmas rampage you had gone on, and nothing else. Once his estate was cleaned of the Christmas blight you had cast upon it, his chest would return to normal, he was certain.

But for now, as the Christmas lights shining from the tree glowed behind your sleeping form, the feelings would remain. He felt himself melt into you, and ran a gentle hand through your hair. His eyes flick to the ceiling before drifting closed again. He sighs, and pulls you a little further into him. Softly, so softly that even the wind barely catches it, he murmurs to you.

“Merry Christmas, brat.”

Fushiguro Toji (ft. Tsumiki and Megumi)

You think this man has ever owned a house? Jokes on you honey, he’s never had that kind of money (or that good of credit).

Subsequently, there’s nowhere to decorate outside, really. Other than the apartment door, but that's too much work for Toji, so any Christmas decorations he might have are inside the walls of his apartment.

He’s boring, but surprisingly your biggest opp in Christmas decoration is little Megumi. Tsumiki is an angel as always and goes along with whatever Christmas shenanigans, but Megumi doesn’t want even a hint of Christmas in the house.

The most you get is a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, which was all Toji was willing to do before you, anyways. As much as he pretends he doesn’t, he’s always loved his kids, and keeps a plastic tree and a small box of ornaments (which is mostly comprised of the ones Tsumiki and Megumi has to make at school) shoved in the corner of his closet for this time of year. He may have been a shitty father, but he cared, in his own way.

When Megumi is little, that tree is down on December 26th, shoved back in the corner of Toji’s closet. Christmas is dumb, and so is anything that reminds him of it.

But now, with warmer memories surrounding it, the tree might take a couple more days to find itself back in the closet. It’s definitely down within the week (Megumi can only handle being sappy for so long), but maybe Christmas isn’t so bad with you around.

And (even though he won’t say it), Toji feels the same way - you see it in the mistletoe that now hangs in the entryway between the kitchen and living room, in the way his eyes find yours as you all decorate gingerbread houses together, in the way he’s just a little sweeter when Christmas comes around. You’re the best present he’s ever gotten, and the only one he needs, this Christmas and every Christmas in the future.

The actual act of taking stuff down, though? With four (mostly) grown bodies shoving around in a tiny apartment, it’s a lot more hectic than you’d like it to be. Someone always ends up minorly hurt every year in the clean-up process. It’s inevitable, and you’re considering making a Christmas scrapbook of all the injuries you all have gotten over the years.

(your personal favorite will always be when Toji yanked on the lights impatiently and the whole tree came down on him. You can still see Tsumiki’s wide eyes and hear little toddler Megumi’s laughter as Toji grumbled about “stupid tree” this and “damn lights” that. He was fine, but his ego was not)

– – –

“Shit-”

You spin around at the gruff swear from your husband, about to scold him for swearing in front of the kids, when you’re met with a facefull of Toji. His chest slams into your face, and you both go down. He barely manages to catch himself over you (if he hadn’t, you’re certain you would’ve been flattened under his weight). Your head smacks into the carpet and you groan, squeezing your eyes shut to battle the throbbing pain in your head.

“Dad, what the hell-”

“Are you two okay??”

Two overlapping voices come from above you, but you don’t think you can open your eyes. You haphazardly throw up a thumbs up, just to blindly whack your husband in the face.

“Ow, doll, Jesus Christ. Watch your hand, won’t you?” Toji gruffs out, but one of his hands is already moving to cradle your head, gently touching around it. He doesn’t feel any blood, and he lets out a sigh of relief. He didn’t really feel like making a trip to the emergency room a couple days after Christmas, especially for something this embarrassing. He’s sure they’ve had enough Christmas-related injuries from the idiots who go out and party, anyways. 

“Get off of them, you oaf.” Megumi says, shoving his father off of you. Toji rolls off of you, letting Megumi shove him aside. That kid always liked you more than him, even if you weren’t related by blood. 

He lets the kids fuss over you and goes into the kitchen to grab you an ice pack for your head. At worst it’s a concussion, but he’s hoping it’ll just be a bump. Not his fault that Tsumiki got distracted midway through taking the lights of the tree and left them hanging haphazardly. And yeah, maybe it was his fault that he wasn’t looking where he was going and got his feet tangled in the lights. But Megumi was complaining about them still having all of the ornaments he made as a kid, and Toji had to make sure that brat wasn’t throwing any of them away. So yeah, maybe his eyes weren’t on the floor. But in his defense, the lights were only supposed to be in two places - the box, or on the tree.

Grumbling, he makes his way back to the living room, where you’re now situated on the couch. Christmas teardown long forgotten, Tsumiki is asking you questions and holding fingers in front of your face. Megumi is standing broodily to the side. His arms crossed, as if he doesn’t care, but his eyes are watching you with rapt attention. 

“For your head, doll.” Toji says, passing you the ice pack. You accept it gratefully, cradling it to where your head smacked into the floor. Your bleary eyes meet his, and you can see the glow of worry hiding behind them. You offer him a weak smile, hoping it’ll ease at least some of his worries.

“I knew I was gorgeous, but you didn’t have to literally fall for me, you know,” you joke, eyes sparkling. There’s a distinct “Ew!” from Megumi as Toji leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, rolling his eyes at your nonsense. 

“Merry Christmas, doll.”

“Merry Christmas, Toji.”

And if the half-taken down tree stays up for a day or so more, Megumi doesn’t say a word.

Ieiri Shoko

Shoko has no intention of owning a house, ever. Her apartment has always been more than enough space for her, and being the only sorcerer with her abilities, she works crazy hours, anyways. She wouldn’t have the time to take care of a whole house.

Even with you in her life, she’s still home at odd hours. She tries harder now, to be home more often, but there’s only so much that’s in her control. You’ve woken up many nights to her crawling out of bed and throwing on her coat to get to Jujutsu Tech.

It sucks and she knows it, but both of you know it’s always going to be her reality unless she leaves jujutsu. And both of you know that, at this point, she isn’t going anywhere.

Your Christmas decorations are very sparing. A wreath on the outside of your door, a small tree in the corner of the living room, and perhaps a wintry candle burning. Your apartment isn’t really well-lived in, but you two try to make it as cozy as possible.

Christmas decorations could stay up year round, honestly. She barely cares to put them up, taking them down is way more work than she wants to go through. The wreath is notoriously on the door until mid-February. It’s a miracle if it’s gone by Valentine’s Day.

Things get taken down, piece by piece, until all of it is gone. Unlike most people, it’s not a day that you two do it, but over the course of the rest of December and January. 

(The door wreath always gets forgotten because by the time post-Christmas rolls around you’re both used to it and forget it’s even there)

By the first of the new year, the lights and ornaments are off the tree, and all of the Christmas cookies (that you stole from Gojo’s stash) are eaten. At some point, the tree goes down. Eventually, the candle’s been burnt to the end of the wick, and it’s replaced with something more flowery. Any sign of Christmas and the holidays slowly fades away.

Until one of you remembers the wreath, of course!

– – –

A gentle buzzing shakes Shoko from her lunch. She’s rarely aware of what time of day it is in the hellscape that is the basement of Jujutsu Tech; but Gojo, in a rare moment of kindness, had visited her with lunch in his hands. He was blabbering on and on about something nonsensical, as always, but she was grateful for the break. As much as he acted like an idiot, Gojo was anything but - he knew the conversation he was holding was one-sided. He’d act all offended later, she was sure (what a headache), but her little noncommittal “yeah”s and “mhm”s would do for now. 

“Ooooh, who’s calling you?” Gojo asks, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes, looking down at the caller ID. Your name lights up the screen, a goofy picture of you flashing behind it. You had thrown the Christmas lights for the tree in the air over your head in excitement, and had ended up all tangled up in them. Despite being somewhat wrapped  up in Christmas lights, you had a big smile on your face, laughing at your own predicament. It’s perhaps one of her favorite pictures of you.

Before she can answer it herself, Gojo snatches her phone from her hand, and answers it himself. “Helloooo, Ms. Shoko Ieiri speaking. How may I be of doctor-ly assistance to you?”

She can hear you snort on the other end of the phone, clearly amused. 

“Hi, Gojo. How’re you?”

He gasps dramatically. “Gojo?? How dare you confuse me with that no good idiot-”

“Gojo,” Shoko starts, extending her hand, “give me my phone back.”

He sticks out his tongue, handing her the phone. “Boo, you two are no fun!”

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Hey, lovely.”

“Hey, Sho!”

“What’s up, hm? Need something?”

“Oh, nothing urgent,” you say with a laugh. “Just found something I thought you might find funny.”

“Yeah?” she says, smiling. “And what’s that?”

“Do you know what the date is?” you ask, and she hears a bit of shuffling on the other end of the phone. You’re clearly on the move as you call her.

“Uhm…” her eyes drift to the childish cat calendar Gojo had hung in her office. He had insisted it would “boost morale”, but mostly it had been an eyesore. “February something-th, I’m sure.”

“Yeah!” you exclaim. “It’s February, Sho.”

“I know that,” she says, though there was no real bite in her tone. “I literally just said that.”

“Oh shut up,” you say, a bit muffled on the other end of the phone. “I’m just saying it’s February. Getting awful close to being March, even.”

“February’s short, lovely, that’s not much of a feat.”

“Shhh, let me talk!! Anyways, you know what I found?”

She racks her brain, but there’s nothing that you would find in the house that would make you react like this that she could think of. “No idea, lovely. Would you like to tell me?”

“The wreath, Sho!”

“The wreath…?” she says, before recognition sweeps across her face. “Oh my god-”

“We left the wreath up!” you’re laughing so hard she’s sure you’re crying. “I- how do we forget every year-”

“We got it down by January last year!”

“Mid-January, Sho, not by January-”

“Maybe we should stop putting it up.”

“Noooo! I love having this conversation every year. Don’t you?”

She’s laughing too, even if she doesn’t want to. “Mhm, of course, lovely.”

“Anyways, you’re probably busy, so I’ll leave you be, but Merry Christmas, Sho!”

She laughs, rolling her eyes at your antics. “Merry Christmas, lovely.”

Higuruma Hiromi

Another busy fellow. Being a lawyer and a sorcerer does that to a man.

But it also means he can afford a nice house in a nice area. You’ve got decent land, and a nice big house to decorate for Christmas.

He’s a total sap, and definitely makes time to decorate the house with you. Your tree will look more like a scrapbook than a Christmas tree - covered in picture frame ornaments of the two of you and dinky little ornaments he saw that he was out that reminded him of you.

Expect Christmas/winter dates with him, too - he may be busy, but he’s bending his schedule as much as possible to take you ice skating or to decorate gingerbread houses with you.

When December 26th rolls around, he’s in the office. He overloads himself in November to clear as much of December as he can, but it’s inevitable that he ends back in the office before the month ends. He’s just glad he got to spend Christmas with you.

The decorations stay up perhaps a little too long, but you’d both rather take things down together. You don’t always get the chance to be domestic with Hiromi, so you wait. The rare moments that you do are always worth the wait.

– – –

You can hear Hiromi across the room faintly humming some Christmas tune as you gently lift the garland from the mantle. After some sort of miracle (and a little bit of string pulling), Hiromi had finally managed to land himself a day off post-Christmas. Things always get busy after Christmas - drunk idiots making post-party mistakes, kids misusing their new toys, marriages that barely manage to scrape through Christmas day at all - and he’s been on back to back cases for a couple weeks now. His eyebags have been cutting deeper into his face by the day, and you’re glad to see something like joy in his step as he weaves the lights off the Christmas tree. Once the sun reaches its peak in the sky, the two of you would bundle up and head outside to get the lights and the wreath, but for now, you could enjoy the warmth of the house for a little longer. 

You drop the bundle of garland into one of the many boxes. You knew in your heart that the you of next year would look at the messy pile of garland and be incredibly pissed, but you didn’t have it in yourself to care right now. Sounded like a problem for next year you, not a problem for the you of the present. You had other decorations to take down, and boyfriends to mess with.

You take a peek at said boyfriend as you move the other Christmas knick knacks off the mantle and into the box. He’s still humming something or other, but it’s definitely a new song. He’s dancing to it, a bit, as he gently places your ornaments back in the box. He pauses, sometimes, to look more intently at the little picture frames. A picture of the two of you, at the beach a couple of summers ago. A snapshot of your trip to Paris. A polaroid of you laughing, covered in flour, that barely fits in the frame he bought for it. That one was from this year - he had insisted that you two make Christmas sugar cookies and decorate them, but when you had pulled the flour from the top shelf, it had exploded right out the bottom. It’s what you get for buying the cheap flour, perhaps, but you remember how you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from your throat in the moment. You don’t even remember Hiromi grabbing the camera - just the snap it made as it framed your mishap forever. You shake yourself out of your stupor and look around. You’ve cleared the mantle and the side table, all that’s left in this room minus the tree was…the mistletoe. It hung neatly between the living room and the kitchen, a little glint of green and red against the horrendous light yellow of the kitchen (the old owners had been so pleased with the color that you couldn’t bring yourself to repaint it). You went to grab it down, but even with a stretch to your tippy toes, you couldn’t quite get a grasp on it. 

“Hiromi,” you call out, and he makes a noncommittal sound. “Romi, honey.”

He flicks his head over to you, huffing softly at your pout. “What is it, honey?”

You point up at the offending party, its green and red staring back at you mockingly. “Can’t get the little bastard down. Any chance you’d be willing to help me out?”

“Of course, honey,” he says, striding over to you. You expect him to pluck it off its hook himself, and squeal when his arms wrap around your waist and he lifts. You know he’s strong - hell, you’d have to be strong to do his job - but he lifted you with an ease you didn’t know was possible.

“Are you going to get that down, or do I have to hold you here forever?” he says, a teasing grin making its way to his face.

You jokingly contemplate, putting your finger to your lips to ‘think’ about it. “Hmm, I don’t know, feeling pretty comfy in your arms. Might just have to stay here forever, I fear.”

He snorts, gently bringing you back down. He reaches up and unhooks the mistletoe himself, though he hesitates to bring his arm back down.

“What is it?” you ask gently.

“One last kiss? For Christmas’ sake?”

You laugh breathlessly, knowing damn well that it’s late enough into January that this kiss isn’t for anything but him. But, as he dangles the mistletoe above your heads, you can’t help but lean in to kiss him. And if you two don’t stop, even when the mistletoe is long forgotten? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours.

✯Masterlist✯

Welcome to daisies and domming, where all your wildest dreams come true...want to see what we have to offer?

✫Jujutsu Kaisen✫

Side Effects (NSFW) - subby!Nanami Kento x reader; Your boyfriend has been on edge recently - most likely due to a rapid increase in curses over the last few weeks - so when you get a call from Shoko, you assume the worst. Lucky for you both, he’s not dead. However, she informs you that he’s experiencing some strange side effects, so you find yourself rushing to Jujutsu Tech to deal with a rather unfortunate… problem.

Boxing Day (SFW) - various JJK characters x reader; You and your partner had a Merry Christmas, but now it’s time for you to move on to the new year! How long does it take for you to take down all of your Christmas decorations, and what challenges do you run into along the way? 

✫Stranger Things✫

Movie Night For Two (Can I Call it a Date?) (SFW) - Robin Buckley x reader; Steve can't make movie night - normally you’d be sad but alone time with the girl of your dreams is just what you're looking for.

Boy Next Door (NSFW) - sub!Billy Hargrove x reader; You’ve lived in the trailer park nearly your entire life, long enough to know that nothing in Hawkins was ever normal. So when the new king of the school starts dropping by your trailer at ungodly hours, you don’t even blink - why would you? Weirder shit’s happened here, and you’re certainly not complaining either, not when the king decides to get on his knees for you.

You Jealous, Mrs. Wheeler? (NSFW) - Part 2 to Boy Next Door; sub!Billy Hargrove x reader; You assumed your fling with Billy was a one time thing - he wasn’t exactly known for his commitment, after all. So imagine your surprise when he flirts with you, in public, no less. 'Maybe he’s messing with me,' you thought, until a knock resonates on your door that very same day, and suddenly you find yourself with a needy Billy Hargrove in your bed.

Billy Teaches You to Drive (NSFW Drabble) - just some thoughts about Billy Hargrove teaching AFAB!reader to drive after they fail the test more than a couple times...and maybe some distractions along the way, too <3

✫Obey Me!✫

Just Want You to Stay (NSFW) - switch!Belphegor x switch!reader; Soft, sleepy sex with the sloth demon himself. MC is gender-neutral!

Control (NSFW) - sub!Barbatos x reader; Barbatos believes in the unwavering, whether it’s his loyalty or his belief that he is in control. GN!MC shows him otherwise.

Just Let Go (NSFW) - Request; AFAB!sub!Lucifer x reader; Lucifer has been holed up in his office for almost a week now - and MC has had enough. Lucifer needs a break, and a joke from Asmo turns into a perfect plan to get Lucifer to stop working. AFAB!Lucifer and AMAB!MC!!

It's Always Sunny With You (NSFW) - Request; sub!Mammon x reader; Mammon always takes his brothers’ harsh words head on - he doesn’t care what they have to say about him! But after overhearing his brothers talking behind his back, Mammon isn’t sure how much more he can take. Sometimes, your little puppy needs to be reminded how much you love him (and just how good he is).

Prefer AO3? Find Me There:

Daisies-and-Domming AO3 Page <3

𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷!

Cw: smut, bondage, overstimulation

A/N: ummmm I've never written smut before so we'll see how this goes! ♡♡♡

Sub!Gojo is not the type to be pegged when he's subbing

Sub!Gojo would rather have you tie him wrists to the bed with pretty blue silk and ride him till he can't take it anymore. Have you sitting on his dick for hours while he comes over and over again.

Sub!Gojo would have the prettiest whimpers and begs. Crying out for you to just let him fuck into you. You just feel too good and sometimes your hand isn't enough. "Please- o-oh fuck baby please! Ne- need you baby. Wanna be inside you- aahh fuck!"

Sub!Gojo wants to be praised so bad. Being called pretty boy makes him so weak for you. He wants to know he's pleasing you. And oh boy he is. His dick reaching every delicate, deep part of you.

Sub!Gojo sounds so pretty when he comes. His little high pitched whimpers and moans drive you crazy. And of course he's going to be a good boy and ask to come. "Oh fuck- s-so close! Go-ahhfuck-gonna cum! Please! Can I cum please? I've b-been so good! Please baby! Fuck-"

Sub!Gojo who's just so cute that you have to let him come. I mean look at him- blue eyes all misty and his cherry lips bitten up. Slight sweat covering his beautiful face.

Sub!Gojo is just as pretty after he comes as before he does. Face of pure bliss, eyes shut, head leaning back, mouth open taking large breaths.

Sub!Gojo who even if he's entirely fucked out and exhausted he still needs attention from you. "Cuddle me baaaby! Wanna hold you right now please." And he knows you can never say no to his pretty little pout, so you agree. Holding his warm body to yourself and lightly kissing his head till his breath evens out and he's fully asleep.

A/N: I feel like I just wrote a bunch of random shit aahh!! Anyways if you want to- like and reblog ♡♡♡

“I think the last thing I expected today was to be made a slut by my best friends.” — gojo x fem!reader x geto

cw: oral sex, smut smut smut, anal, double penetration, pet names, english isn’t my first language.

wa: 3,3k

“Ladies and gentlemen! First of all, I want to thank you all for being here celebrating the debut of the first of many Halloween parties in the ancient catacombs”

I laughed, a little humorlessly. I couldn't take Itadori's booming voice over the loudspeakers seriously, and not just because of his extravagant and exaggerated lines. I drank some of the beer in my red plastic cup, the taste bittering the tip of my tongue.

“Itadori is really taking this seriously, huh?” Maki, who was wearing a pirate costume, combined with Nobara, spoke up, messing up his short black hair a bit in the way that it still looked nice.

“It's amazing that he managed to organize all this!” Nobara said excitedly, waving her arms “Come on, a party in the catacombs is awesome!”

“Was this really allowed? Or are there a bunch of teenagers invading an old cemetery?” Megumi, who apparently wasn't wearing a costume, asked in her usual humor, without taking her eyes off her cell phone.

“Who cares, Gumi? Put down that cell phone and enjoy the party!” Satoru Gojo, who looked like a male playboy model with skull make-up, excitedly intruded on the conversation, accompanied by Geto, pulling a lock of my hair in the process. I let out a groan of pain.

“Ouch, you idiot!”

“Huh? What did you call me?” Gojo looked down, due to our height difference, leaning towards me with a stupid smile on his lips.

"Leave her alone, Satoru," Geto, who was wearing only black with a Ghostface mask around his waist, interjected, slipping his arm around my shoulders in a protective way. Gojo just grinned at him.

“Okayyy, let's go!” Nobara took off, pulling Maki and Megumi along the way, and I followed with Geto and Gojo.

“I like your costume, Freddy Krueger, huh?” Geto murmured softly in my ear as we walked through the cemetery in search of the rest of our group of friends.

I was wearing a long-sleeved black and red striped cropped top, with a few deliberate rips; a short, tight black skirt, fishnet stockings and black boots that reached just below my knees.

“Thank you!” I smiled, snuggling up to him.

Geto and Gojo have been my best friends since I was a pre-teen when we met at school and we've never stopped talking. Despite the ups and downs and our three personalities clashing from time to time, I can't see myself without these two. They're the balance I need. Todō turned over a can of beer at once when we met the guys. Inumaki and Itadori laughed loudly, while Yuta just laughed weakly and nodded, saying something to his girlfriend, Rika. Gojo didn't waste any time and jumped in, wanting to join in the fun too; he grabbed a can of beer and came towards me with a look like a pouty dog.

“Could you make a cut in the can for me? It'll hurt my finger and my skin is sensitive” he said like a little boy begging for candy as he ran his finger along the beer can, showing me where I needed to make the hole.

“If I break my nail, I'll kill you, Satoru” I said in warning, joking with him, and then stuck my nail – which was stiletto-shaped – easily through the can and handed it to him.

“You're the best in the world!” he quickly took the can from my hand and drank all the liquid at once, not leaving my gaze for a second and I felt a strange warmth in my stomach.

“Hey, you three!” I heard Itadori calling us “The guys want to go to the catacombs now, are you coming?”

“Of course!” Geto said, pulling me by the waist to walk with him.

“What's in the catacombs?” I asked.

“It looks like they've made some horror tunnels down there, you know, to scare you and stuff, at least that's what I heard Yuuji saying.” Gojo replied with a shrug.

I heard a giggle from Geto and noticed the mischievous look he was giving me, but I ignored it. He knew about my questionable taste when it came to Halloween and that I loved being scared.

[...]

Nowadays, the catacombs were no longer used as much, but they were still a very well-preserved part of the city. We entered the small chapel that gave access to the catacombs' staircase; it was decorated with typical Halloween stuff: bats, spider webs, candles with fake blood and several balloons scattered around, as well as a lot of smoke. Some people danced, even though the music was muffled, and others grabbed each other on some benches. I don't know if it's a sin – it probably is – but it certainly must be morally wrong. I smiled at some acquaintances on the way to the innermost part of the chapel.

“What does it mean?” I asked Geto, pointing to a sign on the portal leading to the stairs.

“Descensus Averno Facilis Est.” he whispered in my ear “The descent into hell is easy”

“Oh, how macabre," I laughed, a little more inwardly than outwardly because of the alcohol I'd drunk earlier.

“And you don't like it one bit, do you?" He squeezed my waist and I shrugged with a sleepy little smile.

The staircase was narrow and spiral-shaped, made of old and dusty stone, just like the catacombs. Geto released his grip on me as we went down the stairs, since we couldn't fit side by side. Gojo went ahead of me, making me stand between the two of them. The air was freezing down there and it would have been pitch black if it hadn't been for the black light there, highlighting the neon dye on the walls: half-deformed skulls, more spider webs, bloody hands and blood splatters shone through. There were also some wooden signs and arrows pointing the way.

“Ok so, this way you'd better go in groups of three” Itadori began “The hallways are narrow and if this fucking thing collapses on someone” he waved his hands: fuck.

Yuuji continued talking, but I confess I didn't pay much attention, busy trying to get a view of the hallway to my right.

“We'll go this way, then” I felt Gojo's arm wrap around my waist and pull me in where I was looking, with Geto on our heels. I said goodbye to the rest of the guys, blowing them a kiss and waving goodbye with my hand, laughing silly.

That hallway was too narrow, leaving Gojo and me very close, his body all over mine, so I guessed that they were fake walls. Above our heads, neon arrows guided the way and fake spider webs stuck to my arms and legs. The catacombs obviously reeked of death, making me nauseous with all those flashing lights, and the drink I'd had earlier didn't help.

“Now comes the interesting part” Gojo whispered in my ear, his warm breath hitting my throat “Playtime has begun.”

I let out a weak laugh: "What are you talking about, Satoru?”

“Well, I'm going to count to three, and then you're going to start running” he said slowly “Do you understand?”

“Are we playing tag now, Satoru?” I felt him nod and I laughed, with a cold feeling in my stomach.

I felt him slap my ass twice, muttering "Go, go!" and stopping to give me space. I laughed and nodded before starting to run, glancing back once to catch just a glimpse of his silhouette. I had no firmness in my steps as I ran, an uneven, dusty floor didn't go very well with heels. The hallway was long and I was beginning to feel breathless and nauseous. I stopped to breathe, my lungs burning inside my chest; I took a deep breath, calming my breathing to try and hear something. I concentrated on the sound of my surroundings: the muffled melody of Chill Bill - Rob $tone playing above the ground, and the heavy sound of approaching footsteps. I started running again, trying not to slacken my breathing so as not to tire too quickly.

I turned a corner and ran into a wall, my nose hurting a little from the impact and not enough, a zombie doll suddenly came out of the wall to my left, making that typical monster noise. I screamed and my throat burned. After the adrenaline rush wore off, I laughed at myself for having been startled by it, since looking at the doll in a better light, it seemed kind of funny and clumsy. I turned around and headed back down the hallway I'd come from at the start and continued for about two minutes when I found myself at a fork in the hallway. I looked from side to side, not knowing exactly which way to go, but I went left anyway. I almost tripped over a rock there, lost my balance and staggered a little, hitting a wall. A wall that held my waist firmly. I gasped in fright and looked up, only to have a white ghost mask staring straight at me. My God, I think I've wet myself.

“Got you," Geto said, his thick voice muffled by the mask.

“Thank God, then" I said a little sheepishly and he laughed.

I heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind me and turned my head to look.

“You dirty bitch, I thought you were going to go right!” Gojo exclaimed behind me with a hearty laugh and fit in perfectly with me.

“It's because I'm the favorite, Satoru” Geto said snobbishly, making fun of Gojo and I could be sure that he had a stupid little smile on his lips behind his mask.

“Nhenhenhe” Gojo threw a childish tantrum, picking on Suguru “You know what a safe word is, don't you, pretty girl?”he murmured against my throat, making me bite my lower lip, already having an idea of where it was all going and I nodded.

“All right, do you want to choose yours?” Geto asked, his thick hand tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck.

“Hum…” I thought “Halloween.” I replied with a broad smile.

“So let's get started" Gojo said.

[...]

Gojo had pushed me onto my knees for Suguru, while he kept a tight grip on my hair in a makeshift ponytail, Geto unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his thick cock, which slapped against my cheek.

“You know what to do, don't you, love?” Gojo urged, pushing my head towards Suguru's member, if only we could get closer.

I licked the tip, feeling the bitter taste of pre-cum and went down the length, licking his balls in the process and Geto moaned hoarsely above me. It didn't take me long to take him in, my jaw aching at his size. I pulled in a breath through my nose and tried to relax before really getting down to business, but as it was Gojo who had the grip on my head, he pushed me forward and I choked on Suguru's cock, only to pull back completely. I instinctively spat on Geto's cock, making it wetter before sticking it in my mouth again, starting a blowjob. I looked up and, my god, my pussy clenched around nothing watching that scene. I may have somewhat distorted tastes, and that's fine, I can't deny getting horny at the idea of fucking ghostface; everyone has flaws, after all. Gojo forced his grip on me again, this time pulling and pushing my head several times, and I choked on each one, listening to his sadistic laughter as Suguru moaned. The brunette pulled my head back and I felt a little humiliated, kneeling on the floor with my mouth all drooling.

“I told you that little mouth was good for something, didn't I, Suguru?” Gojo said, looking down at me, pulling my lower lip, making me open my mouth, he gathered saliva in his mouth and spat it into mine, closing it and I swallowed. “Good girl” He patted my wet face twice.

Geto replaced Gojo's hand in my hair with his own, turning my face and forcing his cock into my mouth, which was very well accepted. Suguru didn't have the aggressive, euphoric grip like Gojo, letting me revel in his cock and enjoy it however I wanted.

I felt Gojo lift my skirt from behind, the fabric bunched around my waist and the cold wind whipped against my ass. Satoru slipped his finger into one of the little holes in my stocking and pulled, ripping it open. I moaned into Geto's cock in protest.

It was new! :(

“I'll buy you another one, babe” Gojo laughed as he spread my ass, hooking his thumbs in the curve that connected my ass and thighs.

He ran a finger against the fabric of my panties – and I was kind of thankful it was black, since the stain of my own arousal fluid wouldn't be visible there in the dark – and began a delicious massage of my clitoris. That only encouraged me to suck Geto's cock harder, intensifying the back and forth, before moving down to suck his balls, maintaining eye contact; even though it wasn't possible to see his eyes. I rolled over against Gojo when he pushed my panties aside and shoved two digits inside me and I heard him laugh. Fuck, I think the last thing I expected today was to be made a slut of by my best friends. Gojo's fingers were long and slender, reaching places that mine couldn’t.

“Satoru…” I moaned slyly, getting on all fours on the floor.

“Huh? What's wrong, pretty girl?” he asked, pressing down on my clit with his other hand and I moaned a little louder.

“I think she wants to cum, Satoru” Geto said, squatting down in front of me “Don't you, little one?”

I nodded frantically, my face very much against his ghost mask.

“Oh, what a shame!” Gojo pulled his hands away from me in a loud "ploc!" and a sudden urge to cry closed my throat; I looked a little sadly at Geto.

“You're going to make the girl cry, Satoru” Geto laughed and grabbed my cheeks with one hand, forming a peck on my lipstick-smudged lips.

I heard the clink of Gojo's belt falling to the floor and a movement as if he had pulled down his pants.

“She's really going to cry when I put my cock in her tight ass, that's for sure" he said with a sadistic laugh and I looked wide-eyed at Geto, who gave a muffled laugh.

“Satoru!” I spoke with difficulty, due to Suguru's grip on my face, when I felt Gojo brush his cock against my folds, lubricating it.

“I'll be gentle, my love, I promise.”

“Suguru…” I whimpered to Geto, since he was always the most protective.

“Do you want to say your word, princess? You can.” he said, and I felt Gojo's tip in my pussy and the pressure of a finger in my ass.

I pondered for a moment. I knew that if I said, they would stop right away, I was sure of it.

But did I want to stop?

I denied it with my head and Gojo thrust into me all at once, making me moan with his cock in my pussy and a finger making its way into my ass. He thrust slowly but hard, moaning hoarsely. He pulled out his entire member and thrust in again, making me moan. Gojo slipped another finger in, making scissor movements inside my hole to widen it.

It wasn't long before I was a mess between the two of them, moaning and whimpering. The unusual burning slowly starting to turn into pleasure. Satoru pulled out of me, leaving my ass and pussy throbbing with need and my clit aching with horniness.

“Come here, beautiful” Gojo had sat down on the floor and was patting his strong thigh, inviting me “Sugu wants to enjoy that pussy too.”

I crawled onto his lap and Gojo helped me sit down, holding my legs while Geto slid Satoru’s cock into my ass. Gojo's member was much thicker than his fingers, and despite the quick preparation and all the horniness, it still hurt a bit.

I leaned my head on his shoulder, my mouth open and gasping for breath. My legs trembled and I moaned when I felt Geto's tongue circle my swollen clit. He sucked hard on the little bud with a pop. He ran his tongue down my wet length, the tip of his muscle threatening to enter my canal. The pleasure at the front distracted me a little from the delicious pain I was feeling at the back, barely noticing when Gojo's cock was halfway in. It was a new and strange sensation, but it still felt good. Suguru sucked my clit hard three times and that was enough to make me cum. My legs trembled intensely and only didn't close because Geto held them. A hoarse moan came from my lips and Gojo's at the same time as I squeezed his cock inside me.

Geto slapped my thigh and came against my lips. His mask had long since been thrown away. He took my mouth in a wet and messy kiss, his tongue sucking mine greedily and I moaned against his mouth as Gojo sank his cock all the way in. Suguru broke the kiss with a snap, a thick thread of saliva connecting our lips. He lowered his gaze to where Gojo and I connected, taking his own cock and shoving it inside my pussy. Having both of them filling me up there was too much. Too much. I felt as full as if I was going to break, and when Geto started thrusting I thought I was on the verge of madness. Suguru's thrust into my pussy made me feel Gojo's cock getting deeper and deeper.

“You like having two dicks fucking you at the same time, don't you, slut?” Geto moaned and I whimpered, just nodding my head.

Gojo's strong chest vibrated against my back as he moaned. His hands pulled my crop top up and my bra down, my breasts bouncing as they were finally released, and it was only when Satoru grabbed my breasts that I realized how hard my nipples were. Gojo pinched one with his forefinger and thumb and pulled hard, the usual pain spreading across my chest as Suguru licked and nibbled the other. I whimpered louder and more hypersensitive, feeling that delicious pressure in my womb as Geto began to massage my clit with his thumb. I grabbed his wrist weakly with my hand when the urge to pee came over me, but who said I could ask him to stop? I squirted on Suguru's chest as he and Gojo hit very specific spots inside me.

“Oh my… fuck!” Gojo groaned and slapped the curve of my ass and I felt him cum inside me, his viscous liquid warming my insides more and more, as if that were possible. Geto came a few more times before cumming inside me too, prolonging my orgasm. All three of us were gasping for breath.

They both pulled their already soft cocks out of me, the thick white sperm leaking out too, but which they made sure to push back in. I wasn't much more than a crying, wet mess, with drool and tears running down my face and cum leaking from both holes. Gojo and Geto got up and tidied themselves up – Geto's blouse was almost completely soaked by my squirt, that would be difficult and embarrassing to explain. I tidied myself up as well as I could, putting my blouse back on and letting out a sad murmur when I saw my panties bubbling in a pile of dirt, completely impossible to put back on.

“Can you get up, pretty?” Geto asked me and I said no, my legs still too weak.

He lifted me off the ground and held me on his lap, snuggling me into his warmth: “I think we'd better go home.”

“Of course, she's almost asleep there” Gojo said at the same time as my eyelids closed heavily.

"life spring"

— gojo satoru

tags ට lite somno (consensual), praise kink, pussy job, riding, vanilla and full of so much love its gross, morning sex, lowkey sub satoru, established marriage, fix it fic of sorts

a/n ට i listened to hozier the entire time i wrote this. so thats how you guys know im serious about the vanilla sex.

───⠀౨ৎ this is the married life that gojo deserves and it's his and sometimes he can't believe its all real. (1.4k wc)

the room glows like pure gold, spun from the sun's waves.

its warm and it smells like home and satoru's eyes blink open slowly before shutting again. there are other colors too ; pretty cherry blossom pinks, hazy greens and blue the color of the sea. a gift from the first years — from nobara in particular. it's supposed to mimic stained glass.

satoru wants to cling to his dream for a moment longer. a boat, rocking gently at sea. you and your smile as you took turns pushing each other overboard. but the fuzzy feeling is lifting and faster by the second.

a bird cries and sings its morning song. satoru opens his eyes and grins.

the first thing he always sees when he wakes up is you. whether thats when your curled up under his chin like you want to burrow up under your skin. or if its like now—with your face inches away from his, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, grinding down on his cock.

satoru reaches out to pull you down, and breathes your name against your lips. not quite kissing, just breathing the same air. bucks up once and twice, smiling at your cheeky grin. like you aren't more undone than he is.

"'morning, satoru" you giggle, kissing him finally, sounding breathless.

his fingers find your waist, secretly delighting in your bareness. hums appreciatively as your weeping cunt rocks down against his cock—fully hard now. "its a very good morning"

he has no shame at all in admitting he loves this—loves when you take charge. when you go for what you want. you had spent so long being meek, trying to blend into the background. hoping to fade away. but you've come into your own, and satoru likes to think he's apart of that. how he gives you the stability, the comfort, to chase what you're after.

"did you cum yet?" satoru asks, fingers tracing shapes into your skin.

you shake your head, lip caught between your teeth. but you know to keep your eyes open—focused completely on him.

"that's my good girl" satoru says, proud. you let out a shaky whine, pace faltering. "my pretty wife, so wet for me"

your hands come down to frame his chest, nails pretty against his skin as your hips grind in tight little circles that have him groaning out. and then your hand grabs his dick—holding him right where you want him, oh god—grinding more firmly against your clit.

"that's what you needed baby? needed my dick, didn't you?" satoru asks, like you both don't already know the answer. pleasure zips up his spine as your movements grow faster, sloppier. the pressure's enough to keep him on the edge, enough to make him feel like he could cum, maybe—but doesn't. it's the best. his hand rubs your back, moves your hair out of your eyes. "i don't mind sweetheart, its your dick. my hot, perfect wife"

you sob, muscled thighs trembling as you chase your high. your nails dig into his chest and he knows your searching for it now—the perfect stroke that'll finally make you cum.

"my perfect sorcerer wife is so strong" satoru whispers, gently caressing your stomach. "so beautiful. i'm so lucky. you gonna cum soon aren't you, baby? gonna cum messy too?"

you nod, another broken sob falling from your lips, fractured uh-uh-huhhh, satoru. you change your angle, and suddenly the wet sounds of your pussy sliding against his cock fill the room.

"yeah," he says, nodding, a wistful sigh leaving his lips. "can you hear yourself baby, hear how fucking wet and sloppy you are?"

and that's what does it for you—slumping down into his neck with a wail, as you take his hand and lead it down to your cunt. he knows what you want immediately, rubbing you fast and hard as you cum.

"you did so good," he says, sticking his fingers into his mouth to suck off the taste. your hips shake and quiver with the intensity of your orgasm. you don't answer for a long minute, and he can feel the soft puffs of air against his skin.

"hi" you breathe, finally, smiling at him

"hi" he says back, like a dork. you snuggle in closer, fingers brushing up softly against his cheek. satoru smiles and briefly closes his eyes. he can feel the smile breaking out onto his face, impossible to stop. never did he think he could be here, and have this : softness, laughter and smiles. peace.

"mm, and what are you laughing at?" you ask, leaning up on one elbow.

satoru opens his eyes. grins cheekily. "you. i was thinking your head looked like a raisin"

your mouth opens and closes in disbelief. the hand that been so gently caressing his face moments ago pinches his cheek sharply. and then you get that familiar mischievous look in your eye.

"no wait—" he protests, far too late. you descend upon him, jabbing your fingers into his sides, and his stomach and the side of his neck—where he is most ticklish. satoru writhes on the bed, loud peals of laughter bursting from him as he tries every yielding term in the book.

"oh yeah not so funny now is it?" you goad, although the sound of his laughter drowns you out.

"okay, okay, okay—"

a loud thud, and satoru falls of the bed and crashes to the floor in a heap of too-long limbs.

"oh shit" you mutter, and he doesn't need six eyes to tell him that you're covering your mouth with your hand to hide your laughter. you lean over the edge of the bed, eyes crinkling in the corner. age has done well by you. "baby, are you okay?"

"i think i broke my back" satoru groans, and massages his lower back to nail the point in further. "i'm getting so old"

"oh please" you snort, rolling your eyes, "you're only 39"

"that means i already have one foot in the grave!"

you roll your eyes again, pulling him up on the bed. "yes, you old old man. practically dead already"

"its been a good run" satoru says dramatically, tossing his head back onto the pillow. "i'm going to die happy now. 10 long years married to the love of my life"

"mmm" you hum, noncommittally, reaching over to feel up on his cock. his back straightens and he gets hard again embarrassingly fast. "do you think you have enough life left to handle me riding you?"

satoru pretends to think about it, massaging your right tit, slightly smaller than the left—fitting so perfectly into his hand. "try not to squeeze my soul out of my body and we're good"

"good," you say, settling on top of him again "i want you in me"

"fuck—baby, you can't just—" satoru gasps, as you breach yourself with his cock in one hard thrust. all coherent thought tumbles from his mind, gone with the wind, when he feels your warm cunt flutter around him and then squeeze. "you're doing that on purpose"

"am i?" you ask cheekily, smirking, riding him hard and fast. your ass smacks down against his thighs loudly, and when he dares to look at the place where the two of you are connected—he sees the ring of white around the base and has to screw his eyes shut to stop himself from cumming. he groans, tossing his head back, arm shielding his face from view.

ten years, and he still has to fight from busting his load the minute you get your cunt around him. ten years and he still keens, still mumbles shaky gasps and praises into the air. hands squeezing delicately around your hips, occasionally going to cup your ass—to help you along.

not that you need it. you grind down, hand massaging and squeezing at his pecs, as your go in tight circles around his dick. then you rise back up, letting him slip all the way out before slamming back down again.

you lean down next to his ear, taking his lobe between your teeth and biting gently. "baby?"

"y-yeah?" satoru asks, voice high, thrusting up into your tight heat in short aborted pumps of his hips. "you need something from me?"

"mmm" you moan in affirmation and he can feel you smiling against his cheek. "i want you to cum in me now"

satoru's grip on your hips turns bruising. he holds you still and shoves his dick into you over and over again, loud in the silent room. so good he can't think, broken praises and curses spilling from his lips. he brings you down and slams up into you one last time before doing exactly what you ask of him.

NSFW- Minors and Ageless blogs please dni

Nepo-baby!Gojo x f!Reader, Gojo’s a loser/desperate, Modern AU, Masturbation (Gojo), slight public masturbation (tbh it’s just Satoru being down bad)

Word count: 4.5k

Author’s yap: Ok ok ok so- I started this when the lack of AC in my dorm was frying my brain, and it gave me an idea. Now I’m freezing my ass off and fantasizing about the heat. This isn’t too smutty, but if I’m still into this, I might expand… Enjoy pooks <3

Dive In!

It’s hot as shit outside, and you know what that means: the college rec center pool’s gonna be packed.

Every god-forsaken year, the Earth teeters a bit too close to the Sun just around the time that students are moving those obnoxious highlighter-colored carts up and down the streets carrying their belongings. Everyone’s wiping their foreheads, a content sigh when they step into the lobby of the dorm building. This doesn’t last too long, unfortunately. Because as soon as you step onto a resident floor, let alone an actual dorm room, it’s like Satan pulled apart his ass cheeks and sandwiched you right in between ‘em.

Hot as shit and there’s no AC, so for the very unlucky majority who didn’t bring a fan (as instructed by housing, who don’t live under these conditions, mind you), they’re stuck sizzling in their dorms, hopelessly opening their dusty windows for wishing for any semblance of a draft to come in.

It’s miserable. But luckily, there’s a solution! And no, it’s not fighting someone’s mom for the last desk fan in Target.

It’s the university’s recreational pool! Open to all students, it’s like a gift from Heaven (or a college alumni). Everyone, and I mean everyone, is there.

It’s like a big pool party (albeit indoors)- everyone’s got some sort of appendage in the water, trying to cool off. A few girls have their towels set up on the side, lying on their stomach as they scroll on their phone or read a book. A couple of people brought a beach ball- tossing it around. You're sitting on the side chatting with your roommate, Shoko, kicking your feet into the water, as she leans on the rim of the pool, hair up in a clip.

“I don’t get why they haven’t installed any AC units- or even central air.”

“If they even think about renovating, G. Hall will literally fall into smithereens.”

Shoko jokes, resting her chin in her hand as she looks up at you, tiredly.

“As if the Gojo clan wouldn’t be able to donate more money for a renovation. That’s pocket money for them.” You yawn, drained too. The heat is tiring. Especially after the two of you just finished setting up your dorm together for the third year in a row- this time, without your parents to help y’all. Y’all were burning up, and you needed to cool down- real bad.

You do a scan of the pool. Some familiar faces, others not so much. The school’s big as shit, and you keep to yourself and your group- you don’t need to know everybody. Yuki’s in the water with her boyfriend, playing chicken with some other people. She’s got a death grip on his pigtails, almost as if she’s steering him around, smothering his face between her thighs. A guy named Kento- your study partner from last year- is over by the stairs to the pool- wanting to be in it, but not completely submerged. He seems to be enjoying his time by himself. Ino and his boys are the ones hitting around the beach ball, splashing around in the extremely crowded pool.

“Look at all of our sorry asses…” You mutter, sighing as you sip on a drink you brought.

“When I didn’t want summer to end, I wasn’t talkin about the heat. But whatever. 2 more weeks being in the 8th circle of hell, and it’s back to our regularly scheduled progra- oh my-” Shoko stops mid sentence, her eyes glued to something as she hits your thigh profusely.

“What- what? Yaga in a jock strap?” You finally turn and see him (Shoko side eyes you- why would you want to look at Yaga in a jock strap). The man, The myth. The… nuisance.

“I thought he was too good to come here and hang with the common folk.”

“Maybe he wanted to cosplay as a broke college student like the rest of us for a day.”

Satoru Gojo- ultimate legacy, trust fund baby, nepo spawn, and just all-around spoiled brat. And he’s proud of it. Wearing blue Versace swim shorts and his sunglasses indoors, which only works for him with his scary ass eyes, he saunters into the place, expressing unbelievable childlike wonder at the sight of the pool.

“So this is what a public pool is like!”

“You don’t have to sound pretentious.” Suguru quips, walking in front of his best friend to scan the area. It’s crowded as a bitch in this place.

“I’m just- amazed, that's all. And you come here by yourself?”

“No. With other friends. Because I’m likable.”

Satoru frowns at that, shifting his beach chair under his arm uncomfortably.

“And it’s not like you’d come.” This was true. Under normal circumstances, Satoru wouldn’t step foot in this place. The water wouldn’t be good for his skin. But, when his pool’s getting renovated, he figures that he has no choice. He thought that there would be 5, maybe 10 people there. Well, he now knows he was wrong; almost all of JJU: Tokyo is here. And he’s now also made aware of the fact that most students don’t have AC.

He follows behind Suguru as he leads them through the crowd of bodies, the head radiating from them all damn near breaking Satoru out into a sweat.

“Here- and lean that chair up against the wall or something. It’ll take up too much space.” Suguru says, as he hunkers down on the floor, scooting up to the clearing at the rim of the pool. He smooths the back of his hair up, readjusting his ponytail, sighing when his legs hit the water.

Yea… Satoru’s not doin that. He brought this chair, and he’s gonna use it, spatial awareness be damned. Ignoring all of the dirty looks he gets from people, he sets his chair right next to his friend (who is pretending not to know him) and sits, reclining with a dramatic sigh that only Satoru could argue was authentic. He crosses his legs and puts his hands woven behind his head, looking up and basking… in the industrial light.

“You can’t tan under this IKEA lighting.” Suguru says, not even bothering to look in Satoru’s direction.

“Yea- well, what do you propose that I do?” Satoru can feel himself getting slightly irritated with this public pool shit.

“Get in the water. That’s what we came here for, right.”

Satoru clumsily folds up his chair, not even bothering to go lean it against the wall in fear that he’d lose his sliver of access to the water (he doubts that Suguru would save it for him right now to be honest). Slowly but surely, he eases himself down into the water, holding his breath. He can already feel that he’s goin to need several bubble baths (extra bubbles) after this. He even closes his eyes, wading in the water and trying to get comfortable.

And then Satoru jumps into something. With a slight jolt, he looks over his shoulder and he’s gobsmacked seeing you look back at him, glasses threatening to fall off his dripping face.

He quickly gathers himself, pushing his glasses up then running his hand through his hair. And then he subtly recoils, realizing he just let that filthy shit in his scalp.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Shoko’s got a shit-eating grin on her face, as you look at this man, somewhat horrified. Never did you think that you would ever meet this man face to face, but here he is- back to leg. And he’s hot- I mean, not in the physical way (well, you don’t think he’s bad looking but-) he’s quite literally hot to the touch. It’s abnormal- his body temperature’s like magma.

“Sorry.” He gives you a faint smile, the right dimple he has showing slightly.

“No worries.”

There’s a period of silence, and you take this opportunity to try and turn back to your friend, but he pipes up.

“I’m Satoru, by the way. What’s your name?”

You turn to look at him, gears turning in your head as your decide whether or not you want to give him a fake name or-

Yuki calls your name from the center of the pool and you almost curse at the timing.

“Wanna hop in this round?” She calls, Choso’s hands on her thighs to steady her while her hands are cupped around her mouth, calling out to you. Choso brings them closer.

“No, I’m ok. I don’t have a partner-”

“I’ll be your partner.” Satoru practically has stars in his eyes. "If... you want me to be, though. I'm a stranger, so- so stranger danger…”

Oh brother, he’s rich and a fuckin loser.

"So you wanna play, rich boy?" Yuki asks him, completely neglecting the shudder that both you and Satoru do in response to his whack ass comment. Shit, even Choso winces in response, trying to regulate his usually very expressive face just in case Satoru sees, tells his clan, and Choso’s scholarship ends up revoked.

Satoru manages to stammer out a yes, though followed by him saying he understands if he wasn't invited to play.

"This is not kindergarten- you can play with the big kids." She jokes, hopping off her boyfriend's shoulders and into the water.

"I'll be your partner for this round, if that helps. I’m good at it, don’t worry." You're absolutely elated that Yuki offered herself- you're not sure if you would have been able to team up with Satoru. You and Choso are cool, exchanging a grin as you hop off of the ledge of the pool, plowing through the water over to him.

"Ok...."

"..."

"How do you play chicken?"

Good grief.

“I’ll teach you, then.” Yuki wades over to Satoru, and his lips contort into a nervous grin. He just prays that he doesn’t embarrass himself (anymore than he already has) in front of you.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Satoru ain't shit at playing chicken.

“I’m best friends with a bubble boy…” Suguru mutters under his breath, running his hand painstakingly over his face as he watches Satoru look like a cat in water.

Any splash to his face, and he's completely selling, allowing Yuki to fall off (much to her dismay) or giving you and Choso enough time to make y'all's way over to them to attack. It was to the point that your body was completely dry, save for your feet. Slowly but surely though (after like, 5 rounds), he begins to get the hang of it, getting over his disdain for this rancid water touching his face and accepting the fact that he'll have to do several deep cleanings of his pores when he gets home.

He's actually starting to have fun- settling more into the atmosphere and letting his competitiveness show. And you're not minding it. You were dreading having to interact with him at first, let alone play a game with him because you thought that he would be a dick, but you were wrong. Well, not exactly wrong- but he was less dicky than you thought.

“Ok- time to switch for the next round!” Yuki says with a smile (which looks slightly elated, in your opinion) as she hops off of Satoru’s shoulders.

“Hm? We don’t stay with the same partners every round?” Satoru asks- something you were also thinking. For once you too seem to be on the same page about this game.

“No! We switch every round.” What a goddamn liar. She’s just tired of losing because the pretty princess is scared of getting his face wet.

This means that you’re stuck with the pretty princess. Fuck.

You slowly climb down Choso, who is simultaneously welcoming his girlfriend with open arms. Satoru’s mind is moving a mile a minute with every little ripple of water to inadvertently send in his direction.

You make your way over to the ledge of the pool, hoisting yourself up, and by Heaven- Satoru can see your ass jiggle out of his peripheral and he almost seizes. You turn around, and sit on the ledge, just looking at him. And he swears he’s getting closer to going into cardiac arrest with every second of him being the center of your attention.

“Come here-” You beckon, motioning for him with your hand. He nods helplessly, trying not to look too desperate with how fast he’s moving to you.

“Now I’m not as good as Yuki, so if we lose, it’s not entirely on you this time.” You smile, scooting up, placing your legs over his shoulders. Good lord does this man smell… expensive. It’s good. I’m not talking played out Dior Savauge, I’m talking Hermès, Dolce and Gabbana. You’re a sucker for a good smelling man. Even if this one is quite literally the most dramatic man on Earth.

“I’m not good at all, so anything you do I’ll watch with awe.” He places his hands on your thighs- jeez, his hands are big.

You laugh, thinking he’s joking. He’s not.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You shift nervously on Satoru's shoulders, while Satoru is quite literally in Heaven- though, he would prefer it if his face were the other way. He has never been this close to a woman outside of his family, so this entire interaction was rocking his small little world. He's keeping his hands on your thighs while his mind is completely mush, his ears are flushed. It’s like as soon as you got on his shoulders, his ability to comprehend anything said to him was decimated.

“Satoru- Satoru!”

You call to him as Chosou and Yuki splash towards you, Yuki’s face wearing a huge smile now that she’s got the upper hand. You call him again, and all this bumbling buffoon can manage to say to you is “Uh-huh, u-uh-huh.”

(Shoko runs to the bathroom, almost peeing herself from laughing too hard.)

Fuck it- thinking quick, you grab a hold of his hair, trying to Remi-Ratatouille him around. And surprisingly- it works!

Left you go!

Right- to the riiiighhhhhhhhttttt-

Satoru has no fuckin idea what’s going on right now. He’s just happy to be here, a grinning mess while you pull him around the pool, narrowly avoiding Yuki, who’s maniacal laughter trails behind the two of you. 

It’s like riding a horse the way he thoughtlessly follows your pull.

“Satoru- are you ok?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at your opponents. You’re hoping that your teammate will stop being so useless, gain back consciousness, and help you the fuck out.

Getting desperate, you palm the side of his face, shaking it. Suddenly, he stops moving, and it’s like his breath is caught in his throat- a sound was caught in it? You don’t know what happened, because the next thing you knew, Yuki and Choso came crashing into you, causing you and Satoru to fly into the water. 

Gasping for air, you paddle in the water, eyes burning profusely. Satoru comes up soon after this, and you glare at him. 

His cheeks are flushed, as he lets out deep, heavy breaths. “Sorry..” Is all he could seem to muster out, giving you a nervous grin.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Satoru’s starting to get the hang of it. Ok maybe not really- but he’s more active at least. You appreciate that, as well as the banter he’s contributing. His socially inept demeanor is slowly dissolving, and he’s flinching less and less at the water.

You’re actually having a lot of fun with him.

“You guys can’t keep running forever!” Yuki yells, getting kind of frustrated from how the two of you keep slipping out of her grasp.

“Oh really? watch us.” Satoru’s grip tightens on your thighs as he splashes around to put more distance between y’all, causing you to squeal. 

“Satoru if I fall- go slow!” You say in between laughing fits. 

“Just hold on, and you won’t!”

Maybe you too had a fighting chance with this. Actually- you think you might win at least a round or two.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You two lost. Miserably. Yuki’s a fucking beast, and Choso’s the definition of an immovable force. You guys could only get away from them for so long- let’s not forget the pool’s crowded as shit. Y’all didn’t stand a chance. But hey- Satoru’s not too bad. Maybe he was just having a rough time adjusting to talking to people who don’t have a networth of $1 million+. But it was fun, you can not lie.

Satoru’s laugh is airy while he allows you to get off of his shoulders, listening to you teasing him for his performance. You shuffle yourself back onto the ledge of the pool next to Shoko, who seems to be in deep conversation with Suguru.

“I never thought that someone could be that bad at Chicken.”

“Hey- I prefaced this entire thing with the fact that I didn’t know how to play.” He laughs again- he’s so giggly right now, removing himself from between your legs and going to the area next to you, places his head in his hand while he looks up at you.

“Yea, but that bad?”

“Mention it again and I’ll have a meeting with Financial Aid about you.” 

The both of you crack up.

…He’s kind of pretty- somewhere in the game he pushed his sunglasses up onto his hair, wet strands of white sticking to his forehead.The sight of his smile warms you up a bit inside. When he’s down here with the common people, he’s a pretty cool person to be around.

“I can see why you don’t come here often, then.” You say, tiling your head towards him.

“Ah, well, I usually just go to my par-” Satoru’s voice dies off. How about he doesn’t talk about his privilege for a bit. Cosplay a normal college student for a little- at least with you. He wants to relate to you- to get to know you on all levels- as much as humanly possible. 

“I… just didn’t see a purpose for it before. But this was fun.”

“A sign for you to come more often, then.”

“Will you be here?”

You smirk. “Why, so you can get our asses whooped in a game again?”

He grins, right dimple once again making an appearance.

“Just asking- the poop- pool- pool. Fuck. The pool’s nice.” He sighs- covering his face in embarrassment, cheeks swelled up with blood. 

“Sorry. Waterlog.”

You burst out laughing- his slip up and awkward responses are starting to grow on you. It’s cute.

“Well I’m sure that you have AC, so you don’t have to worry too much about being hot and sticky in a room.”

“Mmmwell,” He takes a breath, “I wouldn’t mind being hot and sticky with- hm.”

He pauses, letting his embarrassment settle in. “I’ll stop trying to talk now.”

This gets another giggle from you. “You could just say that it would be nice to see me again.” You adjust your bikini bottoms (haha) up on your hips, and then place your hand to your side to lean closer to him.

“It would be, yes.”

“I guess it wouldn’t be too bad to see you, either.”

“Satoru. We gotta go-” Suguru stands up from the ledge with a stretch. “We needa go grab groceries for the apartment.”

Satoru groans. He swiftly hoists himself up out of the water effortlessly (he hopes that you were watching, thanking the lord that he constantly worked out at the apartment gym) and quickly grabs his chair, holding it in front of himself.

“I’ll see you- and the pool again.” 

“Mhm.” You wave him bye while he trails behind Suguru out of the pool room.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

He came in the pool.

He. Fucking. Came. 

Sperm swimming in the chlorine.

He doesn't even know how it happened. With every tug of his white tufts, his dick throbbed and twitched, rubbing against the fabric of his swim shorts in a way that was driving him mad. He was already fighting for his life with having your pussy pressed up against the back of his neck. And the way that you called his name- Oo, it was dizzying for him.

Next thing he knew, your hand was on his face, and he was biting the shit out of his tongue trying not to moan, knees buckling while he shoots into the water.

And you smiled at him!

He practically talked Suguru’s ear off (nothing new) in the car about it while on the drive back to their apartment. Besides the cumming in his pants part- nah, he’s taking that to the grave. He was just so giddy about the day. His first flirtatious interaction with the opposite sex! How exciting!

“Yea yea I get it she’s so pretty, you get hard thinking about her, and you come in your pants just thinkin about her. Can we get out of fantasyland and go into Trader Joe’s now?”

Suguru rolls his eyes, looking out the passenger seat window, his arm hanging out. Satoru flushes.

“Why would anybody cum in the pool?”

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

But yes, where was he? Oh yea, his hand’s fisting his cock.

He doesn’t know how his hand ended up there.

Oh, he was so pathetic today. He couldn’t even speak normally to you, let alone touch you without short-circuiting. And the way you looked at him. Like he was an absolute idiot- he’s never had anyone look at him like that before… except Suguru but it’s not the same. In a weird way, it turns him on. At least he redeemed himself slightly in the end, while he was subtly rubbing himself against the pool walls, the small dips in the tiling making the friction so much more enjoyable. 

What a fucking loser, getting off to the sound of your voice- and in a public place? Your pretty little laugh did wonders to him. And to be under your gaze with such scrutiny- ohmygod he was so happy he brought that chair, using it to cover his hard-on as he smiled at you like an idiot, following behind his best friend like a preschooler going back inside after recess.

He loved seeing how you adjusted your bathing-suit, nipples becoming erect as soon as you got out of the pool. The way that your pussy was a flimsy cloth away from coming into real contact with him- he is swimming in his thoughts right now.

And you smelt so good- it’s definitely nothing he’s ever smelt before (because he’s been close to any woman that’s had a scent worth below $200). The smell is just so- you (he plans on driving to every single fragrance store to pinpoint said scent so he can spray it on his pillow to smell while he plays with himself).

There’s nothing he wouldn’t give to have you splayed out on his bed with his head between your thighs, eating you out until you’re frantically calling for him, a tight grip on his hair the way that only you can do. Fucking his hand while you moan, for him- he’d go bankrupt to hear it. He would make you feel good- he knows it- he’ll make it his life’s mission. The little stutters and quivers you’d make when you would get close, pleading for him to make you cum. And don’t even get him started on how he would feel when his cock sinks into you. He’s confident that he wouldn’t last any longer within five minutes. As soon as he pushes past the rim, he’d be shooting ropes. So he’d have to eat you out first to save the little slivers of his dignity that he has left.

He wonders- would you think he was big? Would you struggle taking him? Fuck, seeing you whine and moan, begging him with cute little “slow down”s and whimpering about how good he’s stretching your cunt. 

He’s so stuck up in the way that your hands entangled themselves into his hair- fuck- he lets out a helpless whine as he continues his fuck sesh, moving his hand upupup, the ring of precum chasing his hand with each stroke. You used his body with little regard to how he would feel- not like he cared. You could use him however the hell you’d like. Fuck, his dick was aching with each tug. 

And you got in that water. 

He’s filthy- just so- so depraved for the way that that makes him harder, causing him to stroke himself faster. You were practically bathing in his cum, albeit unknowingly. How fucking nasty is that? He pictures you accidentally swallowing it- what would it be like watching you actually take it? Would you replicate your teary, chlorine-stung eyes while you were on your knees for him, throat fucked-out, tongue lolled, and waiting for his cum?

With that, he’s seeing stars, shooting comets onto his satin sheets, utterances of “Oh fuck”s and “I’m cumming”s, and finally, with a sigh, says your name while his lower torso twitches from the sensitivity, accompanied with the cool breeze his fan is blowing onto his handless cock.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

“The amount of emails we’ve been getting about the heat is starting to get a bit concerning, I must admit.” One of the chairs of the university says, mouth full of food. 

All of the important figure heads of the college are sitting at the Gojo family’s long dinner table, conversing like the old buddies they are. It’s a usual thing for them to do, where they chat about stupid, unimportant uppity-rich people things, like school funding or whatever.

“What do you think we should do about this?” The housing chair directs this question to Satoru’s father, who opens his mouth before his son interrupts quickly, voice booming in the confident air that he learned to develop with people in (or slightly below- not too far below) his tax bracket.

“My friend’s in the dorms say that the dorms are pretty cool- It’s cold in there, even.” Satoru says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders while he pushes his wagyu around on his plate. 

What a fuckin liar, but it’s the cross he’s willing to bare in order to see you again. Bikini covering the parts that make his mouth water, fanning yourself from the heat- hot and bothered, just like him. It’ll be worth the possible pimples he’ll get.

With this, the big-wigs frame their decision around this.

“Oh, really? It’s already so cold…”

“it would also mean that we would have to expand the budget.”

“The students should be fine without AC. If anything, the pool is open.”

Satoru looks down, smiling to himself.

If the students of Jujutsu University: Tokyo knew that the only reason they’re not getting AC units is because Satoru Gojo, all-around nepo-baby, spoiled brat, and pussy-whipped loser wants to have a chance to see the girl he fucks himself to at the pool again, they’d barbeque and skewer him alive.

WORK OUT FOR ME! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...the jjk men go feral for you after your workout session

INFO...jjk men (toji, gojo, nanami, geto) x fem!reader, sweaty sex, p in v, your pheromones turn them on, feral men, public sex, oral (f!receiving), riding, slight choking, slight spanking, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

TOJI

“Nngh! Toji—hah!” You’re panting, face pressed against the cold wall when you feel his hands grip your hips, pulling you back on his cock. “W-wait! I just got done—ah—working…out!” You bite down on your lip. Sweat was still dripping from your skin, and Toji was on you before you could even make it to the bathroom to shower. Your pants and panties were down by your ankles and your top was pushed up.

“Think I care—fuck!” He groaned. “Look so good bending over in these fucking pants. Smell so good too.” He leans in closely by your ear, inhaling your scent as he thrusts harder, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix. “Can’t get enough of you.”

You were sure he was bound to leave bruises on your skin with how hard he was holding onto you. Your pussy clenched down on him as he repeatedly hits your g-spot over and over. He was like an animal, rough and feral, licking at your salty skin before biting down on it. You had no clue what’s gotten into him. “Oh my god!” You gasp.

With his hand wrapped around your throat, his thick cock stretching your gummy walls, and his moans in your ear, it was enough to send you spiraling. “Feel like I can’t fucking stop,” he lets out a breathy chuckle. His dick was rock hard, throbbing inside of you, his balls heavy, waiting to dump his load in you. “Just wanna keep fucking you, baby,” he whispers in your ear, pounding into you, skin on skin echoing through the bathroom.

Shivers travel down your spine, your eyes rolling back. “My god! You’re so fucking deep. Fuck!” You clench your eyes shut, jaw going slack. Your knees are ready to give out but Toji is quick to catch on, holding onto you.

“Should work on more often, mama. Seeing you sweat does something to me—mmmph—clearly,” he chuckles in your ear, nibbling on the lobe.

“You’re—ah, fuck! Y-you’re nasty!” You manage to say through your broken moans.

“I’m as nasty as they come, mama.” He squeezes your throat a little tighter, hips colliding with yours. “Better get used to it.”

GOJO

Gojo can’t seem to get enough of you working out, but particularly today, you had him a little flustered. Working out as couple, some would think how cute it was, such goals to have, but for him, it was a bother. He can’t stare at your for more than ten seconds without his dick getting hard in public. Now, he’d never fuck in public, no, no, not him. Right?

“Toru!” You squeal, his aching cock pushing into your wet, hot cunt. You’re sprawled out on the locker room bench, panties pushed to the side and pants around your ankles. His greedily thrusting into you, feverish breaths escaping his lips with each thrust.

“You get me so fucking hard working out, baby. I needed you so bad,” he mewls, pressing his hips against yours like he wants to be deeper inside of you.

“S-someone’s gonna—fuck! Someone’s gonna walk in!” Your grip onto the edge of the bench for stability as you were practically being folded in half.

“Let them watch,” he gruffly replied, eyes fixated on the way your pussy was sucking him in. You let out a small cry, brows furrowing in pleasure as the way he slammed into your sweet spot. “Let them fucking watch,” he repeats.

It not like he’s himself, so focused on taking your cunt and making it his, balls deep inside of you. He can’t get over the way you squeeze around him, moaning out his name over and over. “S-shit, shit!” Your body rocks with each thrust. “Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop!” Now you’re also watching the way your pussy sucks him in, like he was made for you.

The door to the locker room squeaks open and his hand flies over your mouth. He slows down his thrusts, length dragging slowly against your walls and folds. “If anyone is still in here, gym closes in ten!” A worker shouted. Your nails dug into his forearms as you tried your hardest not to make any sound. The door closes shut and Gojo is quick to slam his cock back inside of you, your back arching off the bench.

“Almost got us caught, baby,” he laughs.

“You’re—ah—no fair!” You pout, biting at your plump bottom lip. Gojo reaches down between your legs, his thumb rubbing your neglected clit in circles. “F-fuck!”

“Got ten minutes baby, that’s more than enough for me.”

GETO

Coming home from the gym didn’t quite go how you’d expect. You thought it’d go like normal, come home, greet your boyfriend, take a shower, and make dinner. But nope, it didn’t go like that at all. Instead, your sweet boyfriend had other plans.

“Baby, no, no, I’m all sweaty at least let me shower.” You close your legs while he kisses down your neck. “I’m all sweaty.”

“Yeah,” he places another sloppy kiss closer to your chest, “I know. I wanna taste how your day was.” You can feel him smirk against your skin, tugging at the fabric of your leggings. His reaches into your pants, thick fingers toying with your clit and your wet slit before he removes them, placing his fingers on the flat of his tongue and sucking them. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck me,” he chuckles.

You nervous look at him as he open his eyes again. His eyes are darker, filled with lust, like something primal just awoken in him. He’s quick to remove the fabrics of clothing from your skin, leaning you shocked. “Sugu!” You yelp, as he basically rips your leggings open. Pushing your panties to the side in impatience, his wet tongue diving between your folds. “Oh! Sugu, baby!” You gasp.

He holds your legs open, messily slurping up every last drop of your sweaty, wet cunt, savoring the taste on his tongue. “Taste fucking heavenly,” he mummers, sucking on your swollen clit before spitting back on your cunt.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, one of your hands reaching into his hair, pushing his face in more. His nose nudges your clit, his tongue flicking around your hole. He’s breathing ragged, barely letting himself take a break while he gets lost in your taste and smell. “Yes, yes, just like that!” Your hips move on their own, bucking against his face.

He lifts his head for quick moment, letting out a breathy chuckle. His chin and mouth were coated in your essence, glistening in the light. “God, you got me going fucking crazy.” He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, hazy eyes staring at you. “Love this pussy so much.”

NANAMI

“Fuck! Fuck!” You moan, hands pressed down on the broad chest of your personal trainer as he fucks up into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass.

“Nnngh—there you go baby, take it all for me,” he grunts, your moans echoing through the gym. Nanami has a never fucked a client in his life and would never think about doing so, it was his job and apart of that job was to keep things professional. But you made it so hard for him. Squatting in those tight ass legging, asking him to help you stretch, and seeing the sweat drip down your cleavage. Who could resist fucking you?

“So fucking deep! Oh my god!” You grit your teeth, holding onto him tightly while he repeatedly slams into your sweet spot, the head over his cock nudging your g-spot just to add to it, sending your mind into a spiral.

“You look so pretty baby, all sweaty and worn out. This enough of a workout for you, huh? I bet it is.” He lands a smack against your ass before gripping the flesh, guiding your hips up and down his cock, making you fuck him back.

Your arms grow weak, falling forward onto him. He takes this as an advantage, lolling his tongue out, swirling it around your hard nipple, suckling on it. “Shit, shit! You’re fucking me so good! Ah!” Your chest heaves up and down with each breath. “Think someone’s gonna watch the footage back from tonight?” You giggle. “I’m—nngh—surprised they let you stay after…closing—fuck!”

“Perks of being a personal trainer,” he grunts. The curve of his cock makes your back arch more, a long drown out moan escaping your throat. He grips your ass tighter, fucking you with such vicious behavior.

“You usually fuck your clients?” You teasingly ask through your moans.

“You’re the first, doll.” He spanks your ass again. “You’re dangerous—hah, fuck—to be around, look st what you got me doing,” he moans.

“If our sessions turn out like—mmph…this…ah, oh my god, yes, just like that!” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, body too riddled with pleasure.

“Oh, it won’t be the last,” he growls, thrusts growing sloppier and sloppier, lewd sound echoing through the room, your juices dripping down his length and onto his balls. “Trust me.”

୨⎯𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙰𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ⎯୧

Chapter 3

Authors note: Satoru is actually becoming likeable! Also this isn’t proof read again hehe

Tw: Alcohol consumption

August 20th 2017

After a long summer of rest, fun, and heartbreak, it was finally time for the back-to-school season. And for you, it was time to start your first semester at Kyoto College. You were excited of course, it was a fresh start and a chance to meet new people. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you were still a little hurt about what happened at the festival but you were trying to get over it. That wouldn’t stop the thoughts about how Satoru was supposed to also be going to Kyoto College but had changed his mind a few months beforehand.

Now you think it’s better he doesn’t come. Running into him would most likely go a lot like it did at the festival. There was no universe in which he’d want to see you and potentially be friends. Those were all hopes of the past and you’ve learned to accept it. You would be lying if you didn’t say you weren’t a little mad at Satoru. I mean, after all, he hated you for no reason. He was rude and he made it clear he wanted nothing to do to you. You wish you had gotten the hint earlier in high school so you didn’t look like such a hopeless romantic. Now that you think about it, maybe Alina wasn’t the only one with an obvious crush on Satoru.

More importantly, you were moving out of the only home you’ve ever known for the year. You were dorming on campus with what you hoped would be a good roommate. You packed everything you needed for the time being. You took one last look at your room before heading out. You lived an hour and thirty minutes away from Kyoto University, so you wouldn’t be going home daily. More like once a week or two. It wasn’t too bad a schedule, but for you who aren’t used to being away from home for so long, it would be a little difficult.

Your parents helped you load up the car and you drove to the campus. After finally arriving on campus you had your parents help you load stuff in your dorm. The dorm was average-sized. Your roommate wasn’t coming until tomorrow so it gave you some time to adjust and have things the way you wanted them. You said goodbyes to your family and there you were. Sitting in your empty dorm room with boxes of stuff packed around you. You sighed and laid down on your bed staring straight up at the ceiling. Classes started tomorrow and you were taking the writing class you wanted to take. That was something to look forward to, right?

You explored the campus and got a feel of where you would be dedicating the next four years of your education. You got some ramen at a local ramen shop on campus and went back to your dorm where you would eat in silence. Your roommate decided to come a little earlier and came later that evening. So far you liked her.

Her name was Ayaka. She was 18 and was really interested in majoring in arts. She seemed like someone you could make friends with so that was good. She was super optimistic and she wore bright clothes and had bright room decor. She was the solar opposite of you but it was nice to have the company. You two talked for a while and you realized you weirdly had a lot in common. You botched like reading books, especially manga, you both strive to do good in school, and you both didn’t have any friends. You were just glad to have a good roommate and a nice person to talk to. So far college life was good, even though you hadn’t actually started classes.

So there you were the next day standing in front of your mirror wearing an outfit that wasn’t you at all. You just wanted to make a good impression on your first day, but you figured it would be better if you dressed like yourself. Wearing a mini skirt and a crop top was unlike you, so you changed to the usual hoodie and some sweats. Much better and much more comfortable.

“I like your outfit, Y/N,” Ayaka said from her top bunk as she dangled her legs and played with one of many charm bracelets. You gave her a smile and adjusted your ponytail. “Thanks.” You said putting the last notebook into your bag. Even though you hadn’t even known each other for 24 hours, you were becoming friends. You had a fresh start indeed.

You two went your separate ways as you had classes on opposite sides of the campus. You walked to your first class which was mathematics, a subject you didn’t like but you did decent in it. The class wasn’t too bad. You got to know your professor and some other nearby seatmates. After that, you had social science. You actually made good friends with a friend group consisting of three people. They were all super nice and again you had a bunch of shared interests. This college thing wasn’t so bad after all.

After three classes, you had a break for lunch where you sat with your new-found friends, including Ayaka. You talked about the professors you liked the ones you didn’t and the classes you wanted to take and the ones you didn’t. It was going great until Ayaka mentioned something that piqued your interest immediately.

“Yeah so, in my art class this morning there was this really pretty boy. He seemed popular already too! He had white hair and the prettiest shade of blue eyes you’ve ever seen. He was soo cool. He had these piercings and-” Ayakas voice faded into the background. White hair blue eyes, white hair blue eyes. Surly it couldn’t be him. You heard yourself that he was going to the University of Tokyo with Alina so why would he be here? What could have changed? Then again, maybe it’s not him. His hair could have been a super light blonde instead of white right? But those eyes, you couldn’t mistake those eyes.

Your mind was running wild with thoughts about the mystery man who was possibly Satoru. It was only confirmed when:

“Yeah he was so pretty, I think his name started with an S or something. Sawyer? No that’s stupid. Sa...Ugh, I can’t remember.” She was cut off by you mid-sentence.

“Satoru. His name was Satoru, right?” You asked. You had to be sure it was him. And even if it was, why was he here, why did he change schools last second? You had so many questions, but on top of all of that was the slight bit of hope that maybe things could be different this time.

“Yeah, yeah! That was his name, Satoru. Do you know him or something?” Ayaka said as she took another bite of her Mac and Cheese. Your stomach felt like it was making knots. So it really was him. Satoru Gojo was at your school after all, but why, and did that mean Alina was there?

“Yeah actually, we used to go to the same high school, long story.” You said snapping out of your daydreaming. Ayaka looked surprised at your comment.

“Really? I figured he was a model or something. You must have been lucky to have him at your school.” She said. The rest of your friend's conversation faded into the back as you pondered. Ok so it was confirmed to be him, but now what? There was a likely chance of running into him, but what would you do if you did? Ignore him, smile at him, hell maybe even try to talk to him? But would he even be interested in striking up a conversation with you? Probably not. It’s probably best for you to ignore him like he's done to you right?

After the lunch break ended you headed to class. This one you were pretty excited about because it was the writing class. You got there a bit early so you could get to know the professor. You may have seemed like a teacher's pet to others but you were excited for this professor's class. You took a seat in the middle row of seats and pulled out your supplies. As class officially started students started to flood in, you were looking to see if a certain white head of hair had entered but you hadn’t seen anything yet. Thank god. You weren’t sure if it would be a good or bad thing if he were to come into this class. But if he were to come, you’d try your best to avoid him.

The class filled up rather quickly and there was one seat left which was right by you. As you were waiting for the class to start, you had your head down lost in the fantasy of the book you were reading, you only looked up when you felt the presence of someone sitting next to you. You only looked up when they had dropped their pen and you grabbed it for them. That's when you locked eyes with those eyes. Those beautiful ocean eyes. His eyes. No other than Satoru Gojo sat beside you. You were shocked it really was him. He mumbled a quiet thanks before taking his pen back and looking up at the board. You closed your book and paid attention to the board, not that you were really paying attention though. You kept getting the occasional glance at Satoru and he did the same even going as far as to smile at you. It was like the first day of high school all over again.

Things felt different like he was being maybe even nice to you. Did you change that much over the summer that he couldn’t recognize you or something? The only thing you really changed about your appearance was getting bangs over the summer but unless Satoru’s blind, he would still know it’s you. Unless he was just being genuinely nice for some odd reason. You were so lost in your thoughts that you basically missed half the first lecture, but it didn’t really matter to you now.

After class, you were both packing up when your professor called you up.

“Since you two are the last ones here, can you do me a favor and clean the board and sweep the floors? There’s a board meeting in here next and I haven’t had the time to do it, I have to grab the snacks for everyone.” Your professor asked in a hurry. Normally it would have been an immediate yes, but again it wasn’t just you, it was Satoru too. But you couldn’t turn down your clearly stressed professor just because of a boy so you agreed and so did Satoru.

“Thank you both, I owe ya!” He said walking out of the class and closing the door behind him. An awkward silence fell over the room as you and Satoru stood there for a second before you took the broom and began to sweep. You didn’t care at this point. You just wanted this awkward interaction to be over with. Satoru took an eraser and ran it over the chalk writing on the board. There had been an awkward silence for a few minutes before Satoru finally broke it.

Satoru cleared his throat “So, how did you like his class?” He asked, eyes still preen on removing the chalk writing on the board.

You were silent for a second, still not completely sure he was talking to you. “Uh, I liked it, it was interesting.” You replied focusing on sweeping like it was the most important thing ever.

“Yeah.” He said. He stopped erasing and turned to look at you. You looked up at him and you two made eye contact for what felt like forever. His eyes focused on yours and the same with yours. You cleared your throat before looking back down and sweeping, but Satoru was still looking at you, you could feel it.

“Y/N, I want you to know I’m sorry for being such a douchebag in high school, you didn’t deserve that.” He said rebreaking the silence. Your mouth almost dropped to the floor. Satoru was apologizing to you? Now? Why was he doing it now? Was he dying and he wanted to make right before he passed or something? You stopped your brain from jumping to crazy and stupid conclusions like that and thought of a way to respond to all this.

“It’s.. ok, I guess.” That was all you said as you continued to sweep up the floor. You couldn't stop yourself from asking the next question though. “Why now are you apologizing?” You asked finally looking up from the floor again. He was looking down at you.

“Because we're in college now, there's no need to hold stupid grudges from high school, so let’s have a fresh start, yeah?” He said with a smile. The first ever genuine smile he’s given you since that day in freshman year. You were very surprised, but what he said made sense. Even though it had only been a month since you last saw him, he seemed to grow over such a short period of time. But there was another question eating at you. Where was Alina, and why did he not go to the University of Tokyo with her?

Since Satoru was being honest with you, you did the same.

“So, what happened to your girlfriend?” You asked as you set the broom down, finally being done with your small side quest. A flash of confusion crossed Satoru’s face for a moment as if he was totally unaware of having this so-called ‘girlfriend’.

“Who?” He asked as he finished wiping up the last bit of chalk on the board. Now it was your turn to be the confused one. Just a month ago, Alina had made it very clear that she was with Satoru now. It was confirmed by your own eyes when you saw them kiss in the parking lot too. So why is he now acting like he isn’t dating her? The thought that they may have broken up popped up in your mind as well.

“You know, Alina. She told me you two were together back at the festival, and I saw you guys kissing in the parking lot.” You told him as you sat and spun in the professor's chair right in front of him. Satoru giggled a bit.

“Me and Alina? No, I bet she was just pranking you, we’re not dating. And that kiss was just her trying to make some boy jealous, so I went along.” Satoru said clearing up the misunderstanding.

Maybe the kiss made sense now but you remember very vividly Alina telling you that the two of them were together. It made you a little happy to know that she tried to make you jealous but lied the whole time. And it was clear by Satoru’s tone that he saw her more as a close friend than a girlfriend. But another part of you felt a little bad for Alina. Crazy, right? But the poor girl was so desperate to keep other girls away from him that she would lie and ruin other girl’s reputations one of those being yours. Wait, maybe you don’t feel so bad after all. So they weren’t together, that was kind of a relief. You seemed to note that Satoru probably didn’t want to talk about your little confession, so you didn’t bring it up.

You two were interrupted by the professor coming back in with a tray of snacks and napkins in his hand.

“Thank you, you two. I will pay you back somehow. You can go now, I gotta set up.” He said ushering you out of his classroom. This was the last class of the day so you had nothing but time. You and Satoru awkwardly stood outside the door of the class before he spoke.

“Uh wanna head to the dorms now?” He asked rubbing his undercut. You nodded and you both headed in that direction. The dorms weren’t on the same floor due to the gender-separated dorm system, but they were in the same building. The walk there was silent, it wasn’t as awkward as it would have been before but it was quiet. You finally decide to ask him another question as you enter the building.

“So why’d you not go to the University of Tokyo with Alina?” You said as you both stood at the beginning of the stairwell which would lead to different floors. He took a long pause before speaking.

“It’s gonna seem stupid but, it’s cause my father used to go here and… I don’t know I guess I wanted to carry on his legacy and make him proud.”

Right. You had heard that Satoru’s dad had sadly passed when he was still young and it affected him greatly. He didn’t like talking about it either. So it had to mean something for him to tell you about it.

“Yeah, I thought I wanted to go to the University of Tokyo because a bunch of my friends were going there like Alina and the rest, but, I thought about it and I wanted to come here again. Alina thinks she might transfer here next year, but I don’t think she will.

That made sense now. Satoru always wanted to come here for his dad but was temporarily persuaded by his friends to join them at the University of Tokyo. You were kind of glad that he came to this school. This felt like it could be the beginning of a friendship between the two of you, or something like that.

“Oh, that’s nice I guess.” You said holding on to the straps of your bags. “Well, I’m that way.” You said pointing to your dorm level.

“And I’m that way.” He said pointing to the level of his dorm. “I guess we'll see each other another time, bye Y/N.” He said heading up to his dorm. Maybe Satoru wasn’t so bad after all. He was just misunderstood by you, and Alina didn’t help with that image. He was pretty chill, you see why people wanted to be friends with him so bad.

August 21st 2017

You were woken up bright and early by a text message on your phone. It was six am and you were staring into the bright light of your phone. What stared back at you was a notification saying that Satoru had started following you on Instagram. Your eyes widened for a brief moment as you clicked on his profile skimming through the photos. He had a very active social life, there was no doubt about that.

He had a lot of photos of himself with friends, and family, and traveling to different places. He also had a lot of photos with Alina, who was tagged in each one. You clicked on her user and checked out her page. Half of her pictures were ones with Satoru. You blocked her before hitting the ‘follow’ button on Satoru’s profile. You put your phone down and went right back to sleep.

Later that morning you woke up and started getting ready when your phone dinged again. This time it was a DM from Satoru on Instagram. You opened it and read what he had said. “I was just looking through your profile and I didn’t know you liked manga. I have a big collection myself.” He said. You smiled at that because, under his popular boy image, he was just as much as much as a nerd as you.

“Yeah, I like reading One Piece, what about you?” You texted back as you resumed getting ready.

“Same!” He said. This brought another smile to your face.

After finally getting ready, you started walking onto campus with your friends but their conversations faded to the back as you thought about things with Satoru. Things were going great so far, and it indeed seemed like the beginning of a friendship.

“Yeah, there’s a party there tonight, wanna go? Y/N?” Ayaka tapped your shoulder and you snapped out of it. “What are you pondering about?” Ayaka asked.

“Nothing, what were you asking me?” You said brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“I was asking if you want to go to a party with me tonight! It’s for the freshman and like everyone is going. Ayaka said nudging your shoulder. You had other academic things to focus on that night so you declined.

“Nah that's ok, you guys have fun though.” You said as you pulled out your phone and checked for any DM’s. Nothing new from Satoru. You wonder if he’s going to the party, but then remember it’s Satoru, of course, he would be there with girls swarming all around him.

After classes that day, you went to a coffee shop on campus and did a little reading there. You were at the climax of the book when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You took out your headphones and turned around to see Satoru with some books in his hands.

“Can I sit here?” Here said with a few strands of his snow colored hair in his face. You nodded and he sat down. You took out your headphones and closed your book.

“So are you going to that freshman party thing tonight?” Satoru asked taking a sip of his expresso.

“No, it doesn’t really interest me.” You said playing with the rim of your novel. “Are you going?” You asked as you stared at him. You were tempted to move those strands of hair out of his face as you paid attention to him.

“Yeah, I figured it would be a chance to get, hang out with my friends, and meet new people,” Satoru said. “You should come though, you never came to one of the high school ones so the least you can do is come to college ones.”

You sighed. He was right about that, but did you actually want to go to a party tonight? No, that was the last thing you wanted to do. But he and your new friend group were all going too. Sure you didn’t really like parties but, it was college, it was time to step out of your comfort zone for a bit.

You hesitated. ‘I’ll… think about it.” Satoru smiled at your words.

“Great, so I’ll take that as a yes!” Satoru said taking another sip of his drink. He gave you a lemon muffin which he had bought for you at the front of the coffee shop. Lemon was your favorite flavor, so it was cute how he got you a lemon muffin most likely not even knowing.

After you and Satoru left the cafe you went your separate ways and you dashed up your dorms staircase. You went to your dorm and asked Ayaka for help on what to wear, how to do your makeup, hair all of that. She laughed a bit

“Y/N, It’s not a dinner date, it’s a college party, you don’t have to dress up so much. Just wear a tight short dress, leave your hair down, and a little makeup.” She said laughing at your frantic state of panic.

“Why did you change your mind? I thought you didn’t want to come.” Ayaka said as she put her hair in a bun and ate her instant ramen from the cup. You sighed.

“Well I didn’t but now someone I like is going and he wanted me to come so, I’m coming.” You said looking through your wardrobe for anything somewhat cute. Unfortunately, you didn’t own any tight dresses, so the best outfit you could put together was a short top and a skirt. Ayaka did a light amount of makeup for you and did your hair as well. You looked good, and it didn’t feel like you were being a fake either.

You and Ayaka walked to the party which wasn’t too long a walk. You met up with a few other friends too. Now you were standing in front of the door, the sound of loud music playing in the room.

“Are you guys ready for our first college party?” Ayaka said excitedly as she opened the door and you all entered.

It was loud and smelled of booze, there were a lot of people and you kept bumping into people. It was pretty overwhelming. The whole time you were looking for Satoru as your friends went off to grab some drinks. You had never been drunk before and you didn’t want to start doing stuff like that now. Instead, you took a seat in the kitchen where it was more quiet and people would occasionally come in and out for the alcohol.

You sat at the kitchen table suddenly regretting coming to this god-awful place. You’d much rather be cozy at your dorm reading a book or watching a movie, but here you were trying to step out of your comfort zone and do something new for a change. You decided you should probably just head back to the dorms and let your friends have fun. Right before you were about to leave the kitchen a guy with long black hair, ear piercings, and sweats on entered. He dug around the fridge which indicated he probably lived there with some other roommates. You got up about to leave before he stopped you.

“Hey, why are you leaving so soon?” He asked not batting an eye and pouring beer into a cup. It caught you off guard. Why did he care if you left, he looked like the type of guy to have a bunch of girls waiting for him.

“Uh, it’s not really my scene.” You said with an awkward chuckle. He closed the fridge and turned around to face you. That's when you got a good look at his face and he was hot.

“Want some?” He said holding out the red cup of beer. You politely declined before he took a seat across from you. “So if it’s not your scene, why’d you come in the first place?” He said staring at you as he started sipping some of his beer. You didn’t want to tell him that it was because of a boy, so you told him the partial truth.

“Because my friends are here and I wanted to check out the party.” You said as you sat back down. “What about you? Why are you here?” You said returning his question.

“Just came for the drinks and a few friends as well.” He said gulping down the rest of his beer. A moment of science passed before you got up.

“Well, I’m gonna head out now.” You said before you felt a strong grip on your shoulder. It was his.

“Wait, I just wanted to know your name.” He said putting his red cup on the table. You told him your name and he told you his name was Suguru.

“Have a good night.” He said walking back to the pile of drinks for his next one. You left the kitchen and navigated through the noisy party. Right before you left you heard a familiar voice call your name behind you. It was Satoru’s. You turned around and there he was with a red solo cup in his hand.

“I didn’t know if you’d come.” He said a little out of breath likely from chasing after you. “Here follow me, it’s too loud in here.” He muttered taking your hand and leading you somewhere. It was to the backyard where a few other people were, mostly the stoners. You two Sat down on the sofa and he smiled. “I’m glad you came, it was starting to get boring around here.” He said as he offered you his drink. You declined.

“Oh, I keep forgetting to ask you, can I have your number Y/N? It’s easier to text than DM on Instagram, you know?” He asked you. You were a little surprised but you gave it to him nonetheless.

“Great, now we can keep in contact.” He said as he smiled at you for the thousandth time that day. But that smile made you feel like you had butterflies in your stomach every time. “Uh so I stopped by a manga store after school and I got this one for you. I saw it was one of your favorite series and the latest volume just dropped. I hope you don’t already have it.” He said in a somewhat shy tone of voice as he rubbed the back of his head. You found it sweet that he had found one of your interests and bought it for you.

“No, actually I haven’t gotten the new volume, thanks!” You said giving him a small hug as you took the book. He smelled good was the main thing you noticed when you hugged him. Hugging him felt nice, and comforting. It was awkward when you stopped hugging and sat on opposite sides of the sofa. You tucked your hair behind your ear. It was clear Satoru was a little drunk but nothing too bad.

“Y/N, your confession didn’t mean nothing to me,” Satoru said suddenly breaking the silence. Confession? Right, you had almost forgotten that you had poured your feelings out to him before graduation because you thought he wasn’t coming to Kyoto, but now he’s here and it’s awkward.

Your eyes widened. “Oh.” That was all you managed to say as you locked eyes with him. You quickly looked down feeling the heat rush to your face. “Yeah about that-” He cut you off.

“And I think I like you too.”

Authors note: each chapter keeps getting longer and longer:p

5.0k words

<-previous Next chapter coming soon!

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Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 7 - The Art of Faking it Too Well

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: rizzler lmao. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 6} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee @not-aya @bochichi @emlient @gojoprincesss @havingnonamesucks @n1vi @linny-bloggs @sastreclau

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

You didn’t expect him to actually be on time.

Satoru’s car pulled into your driveway right at 7, headlights off, like he was trying to make a quiet escape from the awkward suburban hell you called home. You opened the door, heart already racing, not from nerves—but from the knowledge that your family was going to witness all of this. Every second of it.

The second you stepped outside, you heard your sister’s voice float out from the living room.

“Oh? Is that Gojo?” Her heels clicked against the hardwood as she all but slithered toward the door. “You sure you didn’t pay him to show up?”

Satoru stood leaning against the car, all long legs and confidence, dressed in black slacks and a soft blue button-up that brought out his eyes way too well for your comfort. He looked up at your sister’s voice, smile tight.

“Hi,” she purred, stepping beside you like she was the one he was here for. “You look—wow.”

Satoru didn’t even blink. “Thanks. So does your sister.”

You blinked, startled, as he offered you his arm and leaned in like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Ready to go, babe?”

You didn’t say anything—just nodded, letting him lead you down the steps, his hand resting lightly on your back.

Your mom and stepdad stood near the window, watching with forced smiles that barely masked their suspicion. You saw your stepfather open his mouth, but before he could say anything, Satoru glanced up and gave them a polite, “Evening. We won’t be late.”

His tone was calm but cool—formal enough to be respectful, but just detached enough to make it clear he wasn’t here to kiss up to anyone.

As soon as you slid into the passenger seat and shut the door, you sighed. “You didn’t have to say all that.”

“I did,” he said, shifting into reverse. “You looked like you were five seconds away from swinging on your sister.”

“She said I paid you to date me.”

“I know.” He smirked as he turned onto the main road. “But then I remembered I’m expensive. She’s not wrong.”

You groaned and elbowed him lightly. “You’re actually the worst.”

“Maybe. But I look really good next to you.”

You tried not to smile. Failed.

The car ride was warm with music low in the background. He talked too much, teased you too often, and made a point to tell you that the highlighter on your cheeks looked “criminally good.”

When you arrived at the restaurant, you realized it wasn’t the flashy kind of upscale—it was intimate. Dim lighting, candlelit tables, soft jazz playing over the speakers. You felt… out of place. But he looked completely at ease, holding the door open for you with a wink.

“You really committed to the fake boyfriend role, huh?”

“I don’t half-ass,” he said simply. “Plus, I like watching you blush.”

You were seated near the window. He pulled out your chair before sitting down himself.

“So,” he said, glancing over the menu. “What do loners usually eat on fake dates with campus heartthrobs?”

You gave him a look. “Anything that shuts you up for at least ten minutes.”

He grinned. “Spicy. I like that.”

You both ordered, and the conversation veered off into something lighter—music, classes, how he once almost electrocuted himself in a lab and had to bribe a TA to cover it up.

But eventually, the laughter softened, and the pauses between words started to stretch a little longer.

You looked down at the table. “It’s weird. I didn’t think I’d enjoy tonight.”

He tilted his head. “Is that your way of saying you’re having fun with me?”

“No,” you said quickly, and then—after a beat—“…Maybe.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You really don’t think very highly of yourself, do you?”

The question caught you off guard. You shrugged. “It’s just… easier when you don’t expect much. From people. From family.”

Satoru went quiet. Not uncomfortable, just… thoughtful.

“My parents are always gone,” he said after a moment. “They throw money at me like it’s supposed to feel like love. It doesn’t. So, I pretend it’s all good. I play the part.”

Your eyes met his. For a second, he looked tired. Like the role of Satoru Gojo—Golden Boy, Campus Royalty—was just that. A role.

“We’re more alike than I thought,” you said quietly.

He smiled, a little softer this time. “Told you I’m not just a pretty face.”

Later, after dinner, he suggested a walk.

“Trust me,” he said, grabbing your hand. “You’ll like this.”

You ended up near the beach—quiet, the kind of spot not many students knew about. The moon was full, the water calm, and he stood beside you with his hands in his pockets, looking at you like you were something he couldn’t figure out.

You looked up at the stars, hair dancing in the breeze.

He watched you. “You look pretty when you’re not yelling at me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips.

You didn’t talk much on the way back. The car was filled with a silence that felt… full.

And then—he parked outside your house. Leaned across the seat. You thought he was going to kiss your cheek, maybe say goodnight.

Instead, his voice dropped low as he whispered in your ear, “Don’t freak out… but we’re being watched.”

Your heart jumped. “What?”

“Someone’s in that car down the street. Been holding their phone up since we got here. Probably sending pics to that gossip page.”

Before you could even process it, he leaned in and pressed you back against the car door. One hand cupped your jaw. The other slid around your waist.

And then—he kissed you.

It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t teasing.

It was full, slow, and hungry.

Your fingers curled into his shirt. You barely had time to react before the kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours like he’d been waiting to do it all night.

When he finally pulled back, breathless, he didn’t move far.

“Sorry,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek. “Had to sell it.”

But his eyes said something else entirely.

He walked you to your door, fingers laced with yours until the last second. Your parents were watching again. So was your sister.

So Satoru kissed your forehead and said, “Sleep well, baby.”

Then, with a little smirk just for you, he walked away.

You closed the door slowly behind you, heart pounding. And in your chest—buried under confusion and nerves—was something warm. Something dangerous.

Something that felt a lot like the beginning of something real.

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 6 - Terms and Conditions (Mostly Ignored)

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: I’m doing horrible mentally so here’s another chapter for you guys! I’m probably gonna post Toji today as well hehe. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 5} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee @not-aya @bochichi @emlient @gojoprincesss @havingnonamesucks @n1vi @linny-bloggs

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 5 - Tricks, Treats and Terrible Ideas

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: hehe… SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 4} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee @mysteriaqueen @not-aya @bochichi @emlient

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

The eyeliner refused to cooperate.

You leaned in closer to the mirror, biting your lip as you dragged the pen across your lid, only for it to smudge—again. Frustration curled in your chest as you reached for a makeup wipe, erasing the mess for what felt like the hundredth time.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, resisting the urge to chuck the whole eyeliner across the room.

You had spent the last hour trying to recreate a Halloween makeup tutorial, and for some reason, it just wasn’t working. Maybe it was your shaky hands, maybe it was the universe conspiring against you—but at this point, you were ready to give up.

And after the day you’d had? This was the last thing you needed to go wrong.

It had started with spilled coffee on your clothes before class, followed by nearly failing a pop quiz. Then, after spending hours at the library, you walked outside to find it pouring rain—without an umbrella. The final insult? Coming home to Brielle gloating about her latest tennis win while your parents showered her with praise.

Now, as you sat in front of your mirror, determined to at least look good for this stupid party, your patience was razor-thin.

You exhaled deeply, steadied your hand, and tried again. This time, miraculously, it turned out perfect. Maybe even great.

Just as you exhaled in relief, your door swung open without warning.

“Wow,” came Brielle’s smug voice. “Didn’t know cops were supposed to look desperate.”

You clenched your jaw and turned in your seat. She was already dressed for the party in—what else—a tennis outfit.

“Can you knock?” you asked flatly.

“Can you not embarrass yourself?” she shot back, arms crossed as she leaned against your doorframe. “Honestly, you’re really going through all this effort? For what? You do know no one’s going to believe that Gojo’s actually into you, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Leave, Brielle.”

“But I’m curious,” she continued, tilting her head with a fake-sweet smile. “How exactly did you get him to date you? Did you beg him? Threaten to expose some deep, dark secret? Oh! Maybe you paid him.”

You turned back to the mirror, adjusting your police cap. “Shut up.”

Brielle smirked. “You didn’t deny it.”

Before you could fire back, the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped.

Brielle noticed, her smirk widening. “Oh my god, is that him?”

Ignoring her, you pushed past and hurried down the stairs, heart pounding a little too fast. When you swung the door open, you were immediately met with Satoru, looking unfairly attractive.

His inmate jumpsuit was slightly unzipped, revealing a white tank top underneath. Silver handcuffs dangled from one wrist, and his white hair was effortlessly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed looking perfect.

He grinned. “Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite officer. Are you here to arrest me? Because I’d gladly surrender.”

Behind you, Brielle and your parents watched the exchange with varying levels of curiosity. Brielle, in particular, was staring like she’d just seen a unicorn.

“Oh my god,” she practically purred, stepping forward. “You look so good. You know, if you wanted a matching costume, you could’ve told me. I would’ve made such a good cop.”

He didn’t even glance her way. Instead, he ignored everyone and stepped forward, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a tight hug.

“You look amazing, sweetheart,” he murmured close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Then, before you could process anything, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Your brain completely short-circuited.

Brielle looked like she might combust.

Before you could even recover, he pulled back and flashed you a grin. “Ready to go?”

You barely managed a nod before he tugged you toward the door, not sparing your family a second glance.

“You ready for our big debut?” he grinned once you were inside his car.

You exhaled sharply, still recovering. “I hate you.”

He laughed, throwing an arm over your shoulders as he pulled out of the driveway.

The house was packed, the music was loud, and Satoru was making sure everyone saw you two together.

It had started with subtle things—his arm lingering around your waist, leaning in closer than necessary whenever someone looked your way, the occasional forehead kiss that left your skin burning.

Then he turned it up a notch.

He pulled you into conversations with people you didn’t know, introduced you as his girlfriend, and sent pointed smirks at the gossip-prone girls who clearly didn’t believe it.

You barely had time to process any of it before he was dragging you toward another group of people, where an enthusiastic voice called out, “Seven Minutes in Heaven, let’s go!”

Satoru’s eyes lit up. “Oh, we have to play.”

You groaned. “Do we?”

“Obviously. What kind of couple doesn’t?” he teased, giving you a look like he was daring you to say no.

You sighed, letting yourself be pulled into the circle forming in the living room. A few people had already gone, disappearing into the closet or a nearby bedroom to the loud whistles and teasing of the crowd.

And then it was Satoru’s turn.

He grabbed the bottle and spun it with an exaggerated flourish, watching it twirl with that signature shit-eating grin.

It slowed, making a few more rotations before finally landing on—

You.

The room erupted into cheers.

Satoru immediately turned to you, his smirk widening. “Looks like we’re up, babe.”

Your eye twitched at the pet name, but before you could react, he was already tugging you to your feet.

As he led you toward the hall, you caught sight of Toji and his girlfriend standing nearby.

Toji regarded Satoru with a displeased stare, as if his mere existence was an offense to him. But it was his girlfriend who caught your attention—she wasn’t smiling, wasn’t laughing, just watching with an unreadable expression.

For some reason, it made your stomach twist.

Without thinking, you hugged Satoru’s arm a little tighter.

He noticed.

And instead of questioning it, he just smirked and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Then, as you passed, he made sure to dramatically pull you into his room, slamming the door shut behind you.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, Satoru spun around, hands in his pockets, smirking like he had already won something.

“So,” he drawled, tilting his head, “what’s the plan, babe?”

You crossed your arms. “Don’t call me that.”

“Babe. Sweetheart. My beloved.” His grin widened at the way your nose scrunched in irritation.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.” He flopped onto the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. “We need to make it look real.”

You groaned, running a hand down your face. “We could just sit here and talk. Let time run out.”

“Lame.”

“Realistic.”

Satoru scoffed. “You think my friends wanna open this door and find us having a casual conversation about our majors?” He gave you a look like he was daring you to be smarter than that.

You bit your lip. He wasn’t wrong.

“Okay… then what do you suggest?”

A slow smirk crept onto his lips.

“I have a couple ideas.”

“Absolutely not.”

Your bickering went on for a few more minutes, the occasional knock interrupting your conversation. As Time went on the voices behind the door grew louder and more animated.

Another knock on the door made you both freeze.

“Times almost up, lovebirds!”

Panic flickered in Satoru’s eyes, but then his face shifted into something more determined.

You barely had a second to react before he grabbed you, threw you onto the bed, and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

Your breath caught. “Satoru—”

“Shh, relax. Just making it convincing.”

Then you felt it—his lips on your skin.

Your whole body stiffened. The first press of his mouth was warm, but then—a sharp pull. Teeth. A slow, deliberate drag of his lips.

Your fingers dug into the sheets, eyes going wide.

“Satoru—”

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine.

“Mm, you’re reacting a lot for someone who hates me,” he mused, voice low, teasing.

You wanted to throw him off of you, but you couldn’t move. His lips were still there, sucking, biting, soothing over the mark with his tongue. It was too much, too good, too embarrassing.

A sound slipped out of you before you could stop it—soft, breathy, needy.

Satoru stilled.

Then he grinned against your skin.

“Oh?” His voice dripped with amusement. He pulled back just slightly, lips brushing over your ear. “Did you just moan?”

Your entire face burned.

“I—shut up!”

His laughter was low and smug. “Nah, don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart.” He pressed another slow, taunting kiss over the mark. “Was that your first time getting a hickey?”

You shoved at his chest, hard.

“Get off, asshole!”

Before he could tease you more, the door swung open.

Satoru didn’t even flinch. He just shifted slightly so that he was still half on top of you, turning just right so that the mark on your neck would be visible.

“Yo, Gojo, time’s up—”

Satoru sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes.

“Guys. Seriously?” He let out an exaggerated groan. “I wanna spend some time with my girlfriend if you get what I mean.”

A chorus of whoops and knowing laughter followed.

“Alright, alright, we see you.”

“We’ll leave you two alone.”

Satoru smirked.

They shut the door.

Silence.

You shoved him off of you immediately.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.” He stretched out on the bed like he hadn’t just completely ruined your life. “No need to be shy, princess. You were totally into it.”

Your face felt like it was on fire.

“I was NOT!”

He just grinned. “Sure you weren’t.”

You turned away, flustered, only for your eyes to catch your reflection in his mirror.

The deep, dark mark on your neck stood out way too much.

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh my god.” You grabbed at your neck like it would somehow disappear. “You gave me an actual hickey, you psycho!”

Satoru propped his chin up with one hand, looking very pleased with himself.

“Oops.”

“Oops?!”

He chuckled. “Hey, it’s good. Now people will really believe it.”

You stared at him in horror. “I’m going to murder you in your sleep.”

He grinned. “Joke’s on you, I’m a very light sleeper.”

“I hate you.”

“You said that already.”

“I’ll say it again!”

Satoru just smiled, looking entirely too entertained. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You hurled a pillow at his head.

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 4 - False Advertising

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: Inspo Pic for their costume on the last slide! SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 3} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 3 - Fake It Till You Make It

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: JEEZ LOUISEEEE! SMOOCHEEEES 💋💋💋

{chapter 2} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

You already knew today was going to be bad, but you hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

It started when you woke up late. Your phone was dead—your stepsister had “accidentally” unplugged your charger overnight, and your alarm never went off. You had exactly ten minutes to get ready, which meant skipping breakfast and throwing on whatever clothes you could grab. In your rush, you stubbed your toe against the corner of your desk so hard that you nearly collapsed.

You tried to shake it off, but things only got worse from there.

By the time you got to campus, the café was out of everything except black coffee, which tasted like burnt disappointment. You tried to force it down anyway, only to spill half of it on your sweater before your first lecture.

Then, your professor—who never acknowledged your existence before—suddenly decided today was the perfect day to call on you. It had to be on the one topic you hadn’t reviewed properly, and when you failed to answer, he sighed and moved on. That one sigh was enough to make the students around you turn and look, some of them exchanging glances, some holding back laughter.

You spent the rest of the class staring at your notebook, trying to disappear.

By the time you reached the library, you were exhausted, but just as you sat down and opened your book, a chair scraped loudly across from you.

Before you even looked up, you already knew who it was.

“Why do you look like someone just ran over your dog?”

Satoru Gojo.

You sighed. “Go away, Satoru.”

“No can do,” he said cheerfully, leaning back in his chair. “Saw you sitting here all alone and thought, ‘Wow, that’s kind of depressing.’ So, here I am. Your knight in shining armor.”

You shot him a flat look. “More like my court jester.”

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “Ouch. Right in my fragile heart.”

Ignoring him, you turned back to your book.

He didn’t do silence.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, tapping his fingers on the table in an annoying rhythm.

“What question?” you muttered, already regretting engaging.

“Why you look like someone just ran over your dog.”

You debated whether answering would make him leave faster. “…Because I had a long day.”

Satoru hummed, tilting his head. “Long day or bad day?”

“Both.”

To your surprise, he didn’t joke. He just nodded, like he actually understood.

For a second, you almost thought you’d get some peace. But then, his smirk returned.

“And here I was thinking you were deep in thought about me.”

Your face deadpanned. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “But you still haven’t denied it.”

You shut your book. “Gojo.”

“Yes, my dear?”

“I will kill you.”

His grin widened. “That would require effort. And let’s be honest, you don’t strike me as the type.”

He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

Gojo sat there for another ten minutes, occasionally tapping his fingers on the table just to annoy you, before finally stretching and standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you to your brooding,” he said, adjusting his sunglasses. “But don’t miss me too much.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response.

A Lie That Shouldn’t Have Happened

When you finally got home, all you wanted was a shower and sleep.

But the second you stepped inside, your mother’s voice cut through the air.

“Come to the living room.”

Your stomach sank.

Your stepsister was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, a smug, knowing smile on her lips. Your stepfather sat beside her, looking like he’d just won the lottery.

“We have something to celebrate,” he announced.

You didn’t react.

Your stepsister, on the other hand, was practically glowing. “I got invited to the National Collegiate Tennis Championship,” she said, tilting her head like she wanted to see your reaction.

Your mother sighed, so proud. “She’s worked so hard. It’s an amazing opportunity.”

You forced yourself to nod. You weren’t bitter about your stepsister’s success. It wasn’t her fault she was their favorite. But the way your parents used her as a golden standard—while treating you like you weren’t even worth noticing—never failed to sting.

Your stepfather leaned back in his chair, his expression turning more mocking. “And you,” he said, looking at you expectantly, “what exactly have you been doing?”

“College,” you said, keeping your voice neutral. “Like everyone else.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “But you don’t do anything else, do you? No sports, no clubs. You don’t go out, you don’t socialize.” He smirked. “Do you even have a boyfriend, or are you just wasting your time being forgettable?”

Your stepsister covered her mouth, laughing under her breath. “Dad, that’s mean,” she said sweetly. “She’s just… not really the type to have a boyfriend.”

Your mother sighed like this was the greatest disappointment of all. “She’s always been a bit… invisible.”

That was it. That was the moment.

The exhaustion, the stress, the endless belittling—it all crashed over you at once. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “I do have a boyfriend, actually.”

The room went silent.

Then, they laughed.

Not a chuckle. Not a scoff. A full-blown, gut-wrenching laugh.

“You?” Your stepfather shook his head, smiling. “Oh, that’s rich.”

Your stepsister raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you’re serious?” Her smile widened. “Who is he?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Shit.

“Someone from school,” you muttered.

“Well, obviously,” she said, laughing. “But what’s his name?”

Your heart pounded. “You don’t know him.”

Your stepfather shook his head, amused. “Sure, kid. Whatever you say.”

Your mother didn’t say anything, but the look she gave you said it all—like she didn’t believe you for a second.

Your face burned.

Before they could ask anything else, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs.

By the time you slammed your bedroom door, reality had settled in.

You had lied.

You had actually lied.

And worse? You had no way of getting out of it without making yourself look even more pathetic.

For the next week, you racked your brain for solutions. You considered telling them you broke up with this mystery boyfriend before they could meet him, but you knew that’d just open the door for more insults, more mockery. You thought about faking a long-distance relationship, but that seemed way too complicated.

Meanwhile, Satoru Gojo was everywhere.

You didn’t know why you kept seeing him—maybe the universe was punishing you—but he popped up in the library, at the campus café, even outside one of your lectures. And every single time, he made sure to annoy you.

“You always look so serious,” he teased one day, leaning against the table you were studying at. “Are you plotting world domination or just thinking about me?”

“Neither,” you muttered, turning the page in your book.

“Sounds fake, but okay.”

He was relentless.

And today, after another long, exhausting day, you just wanted to be alone.

Your safe place was a hidden bench near the lake, tucked away behind the trees where no one ever bothered you. It was quiet, peaceful—exactly what you needed.

But as you sat there, staring at the water, a loud rustling noise came from the bushes.

You tensed.

Then, Satoru Gojo stumbled out.

“Are you serious?” you groaned.

“Oh, hey,” he grinned, “didn’t know you’d be here.”

“This is my spot.”

“I don’t see your name on it.”

You shot him a glare. He sat down anyway.

You considered getting up and leaving, but you were too tired to fight.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the rustling leaves and the soft ripples of the lake.

Then, Gojo broke the silence.

“Alright, spill. What’s wrong?”

You scoffed. “None of your business.”

“Oh, so it’s extra bad.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “C’mon, you’ll feel better if you talk about it.”

You tried to ignore him. But he kept poking, prodding, teasing until finally, you snapped, “Fine! I lied to my family about having a boyfriend, okay?”

He blinked. Then, a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.

“Oh, this is fantastic.”

“What?”

“I’ll be your boyfriend.”

You stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you insane?”

“Probably,” he admitted cheerfully. “But listen—this works out perfectly. You need a fake boyfriend, and I need a serious girlfriend for my family thing. Boom. Problem solved.”

You gaped at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.” He placed his hands on your shoulders, grinning like a lunatic.

Your brain struggled to keep up. Gojo? Pretending to be your boyfriend? This had to be a joke.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered.

“Ridiculously genius,” he corrected.

He must have seen the doubt on your face because his expression softened slightly. “Hey. It’s just a deal. No strings attached, no weird expectations. Just two people faking a relationship to make their lives easier.”

You hesitated.

You wanted to say no. But… he wasn’t wrong.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if you make this weird, I swear—”

“No promises,” he sang.

With an annoyed sigh, you pulled out your phone. “We need proof.”

The first selfie was awkward. You sat stiffly on the bench, trying to keep as much space between you and Satoru as possible. He, of course, leaned in way too close, grinning like an idiot as he snapped the first photo.

Click.

You glanced at it. It was bad. You looked uncomfortable, your lips pressed into a tight line, while Satoru, on the other hand, looked effortlessly photogenic—like he wasn’t taking a fake couple’s picture but rather doing a promotional shoot for some high-end brand.

“This is terrible,” you muttered.

Satoru let out a dramatic sigh. “That’s because you look like I’m holding you hostage.”

“You are holding me hostage.”

“Emotionally,” he agreed, scrolling through the photos. “Alright, let’s try again. This time, look at me like you actually like me. Pretend I just said something funny.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Blatant lies.” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “I’m hilarious. Try to keep up.”

Click.

The second was worse. You tried forcing a small smile, but it came out looking like you were in pain.

Satoru examined it and snorted. “You look like you just swallowed a lemon.”

“I hate this.”

“No, you just suck at it,” he corrected. “Here, let’s make it natural.”

Before you could react, he suddenly threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in.

“Hey—!”

Click.

“Much better,” he said, showing you the photo.

It was… convincing. His arm around you, the effortless smirk, the way your faces were close enough to suggest something more. You still looked hesitant, but at least you weren’t grimacing anymore.

“This could work,” he said, sounding pleased.

You shifted uncomfortably. “You’re way too comfortable with this.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Natural talent.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. We got the pictures. We’re done here.”

“Not quite,” he corrected. “We need a convincing story. How long have we been dating? How did we meet? What’s your favorite thing about me?”

“Nothing,” you deadpanned.

“Ouch. Okay, my favorite thing about you is—” he tapped his chin thoughtfully before grinning— “how easy you are to mess with.”

You groaned. “This was a mistake.”

“Too late now, babe,” he teased, stretching out the last word obnoxiously. “We’re in this together.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Fine. How did we meet?”

“Obviously, you fell madly in love with me the first time you saw me.”

“Try again.”

“We met in class,” he said, thinking. “I was struggling with my engineering assignments, and you offered to help. We bonded over late-night study sessions, and boom, love blossomed.”

You squinted. “You don’t struggle with engineering.”

“They don’t know that,” he pointed out. “Besides, it makes me sound relatable.”

You sighed. “Whatever. And how long have we been together?”

He grinned. “Long enough to make it believable, short enough that you don’t have to explain why I wasn’t around before. Let’s say… a month?”

You shrugged. “Fine.”

“And my favorite thing about you?” he pressed.

“That you shut up when I tell you to.”

He laughed. “We both know that’s not true.”

You shook your head, stuffing your phone into your pocket. “I’m leaving.”

“Not before you post those pictures,” he reminded you.

You hesitated.

Posting them meant committing to this ridiculous lie. It meant opening yourself up to questions, speculation, and attention—all things you had avoided for so long.

Satoru watched you, head tilted. “Cold feet?”

You exhaled slowly. “No.”

With one last look at the photos, you posted them to your Instagram. Satoru did the same, tagging you with a caption that read:

“Finally got her to admit she’s obsessed with me. Took long enough. ❤️”

Your phone immediately started vibrating.

By the time you got home, the notifications were nonstop.

Messages. Comments. Likes.

And by morning, one thing was clear:

You and Satoru Gojo were now the hottest gossip on campus.

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Masterlist!

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

Taglist OPEN!

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee @not-aya @bochichi @emlient @gojoprincesss @havingnonamesucks @n1vi @linny-bloggs

Introduction

Chapter 1 - Invisible in the Spotlight

Chapter 2 - The Art of Taking an L

Chapter 3 - Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter 4 - False Advertising

Chapter 5 - Tricks, Treats and Terrible Ideas

Chapter 6 - Terms and Conditons (Mostly Ignored)

Chapter 7 - The Art of Faking it Too Well

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 2 - The Art of Taking an L

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: This chapter plays before the events of Chapter 14 in Toji’s Story (Toji SMAU - When love was always there). Next Chapter will be Reader’s POV!! Thought I’d switch it up a little. Do we love it? SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 1} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 1 - Invisible in the Spotlight

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: Welcome to chapter one guys! Feedback is appreciated as always hehe. Also, the taglists for all of my stories are still OPEN, so make sure to get tagged so you don’t miss out on any new chapters! SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{introduction} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Campus is chaos, as always. The sidewalks are packed with students rushing to their next class or chatting in tight little groups like they’ve known each other forever. It’s the first month of the semester, but it feels like everyone’s already found their place—everyone but you. You walk with your head down, weaving through the crowd as quietly and invisibly as possible. That’s been your strategy for years now. It works. Mostly.

You didn’t think living at home while attending college would feel so… stifling. At first, it seemed like the logical choice: save money, stay close to the familiar, and avoid the pressure of navigating both a new school and a new city. But now you’re not so sure. Sharing a roof with your parents and your step-sister, Mia, is starting to feel like you’re suffocating.

The comparisons never stop. Mia, the perfect daughter with her flawless tennis career and her endless achievements. She’s a campus celebrity in her own right—everyone knows her name, her face, her victories. And then there’s you. The one people glance at for a second before looking past you. The one who never quite measures up.

You pull your hoodie tighter around you as you pass a group of students standing by the fountain. One of them mentions Mia’s name, and you feel your stomach twist. Something about her latest tournament win, how she’s heading to the finals soon. It’s not surprising, but it still stings. She’s everywhere. Even here.

You shake the thoughts away and head toward the coffee shop near the engineering building. It’s your usual escape—a place to grab a moment of quiet before your next class. The line is long when you step in, but the familiar smell of coffee and the soft hum of indie music make it worth the wait. You tug your phone out of your pocket, scrolling mindlessly through messages you’re too tired to respond to.

That’s when it happens.

The force of someone slamming into you from behind nearly sends you tumbling forward. Your bag slips off your shoulder, and your coffee almost flies out of your hands.

“Whoa, careful there,” a smooth voice says, almost lazily, as though you were the one at fault.

You turn around, already annoyed, and find yourself face-to-face with him.

Satoru Gojo.

Of course, it’s him. Because who else would nearly knock you over and then smile at you like you owe him an apology? His snowy white hair practically glows under the fluorescent lights, and his blue eyes—hidden behind those ridiculous round sunglasses—glint with amusement. He’s tall, too tall, and he carries himself with the kind of confidence that only someone who’s never been told “no” can manage.

You’ve seen him around. Everyone has. Satoru Gojo is one of those people you can’t ignore even if you try. He’s an engineering major with top grades, an influential family name, and a reputation that precedes him. Girls throw themselves at him. Guys want to be him. He’s the king of campus—loud, obnoxious, and completely full of himself.

And now, unfortunately, he’s staring right at you.

“I think you dropped something,” he says, gesturing to your bag on the floor.

“No, really? Thanks for pointing that out,” you deadpan, bending down to pick it up.

When you straighten, his grin is still plastered on his face. It’s infuriatingly smug, like he’s thoroughly enjoying this interaction.

“You’re new,” he states, as if it’s a fact.

You glance around the room, hoping the line will move faster. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I know everyone here, and I definitely don’t know you,” he says, leaning casually against the counter like this is the most fascinating conversation he’s had all day.

“Congratulations. You’ve solved the mystery. I’m new.”

There’s a pause, and you can feel his eyes studying you, probably trying to figure out why you’re not falling all over yourself like the others do. “You don’t seem very impressed by me,” he finally says, and there’s a mock pout in his tone.

You can’t help but snort. “Why would I be?”

His grin widens, and for a split second, you see something flash in his eyes. Amusement? Curiosity? You don’t care enough to figure it out.

You step forward as the line moves, eager to order and leave before he decides to keep talking. But, of course, he follows.

“New girl, huh? So, what’s your name?”

“None of your business,” you reply, still not looking at him.

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically. “Cold and mysterious. I like it.”

You roll your eyes and finally make it to the counter, ordering the cheapest coffee on the menu. As you fumble with your wallet, you hear him behind you, ordering something unnecessarily complicated and way too expensive.

When you turn to leave, you catch his gaze one last time. His grin hasn’t wavered. “See you around, mystery girl,” he calls after you.

You don’t bother responding, walking out the door as quickly as you can.

But as you step back into the crowd, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s right.

Because as much as you want to stay invisible, something tells you Satoru Gojo isn’t about to let that happen.

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Introduction

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

tropes: Fake Dating, Opposites Attract, Hurt Comfort, Reluctant Allies, Found Family, Slow Burn Romance

an: I hereby welcome you to my third SMAU in this Universe! (Yay?). I hinted at this one in Chapter 14 of Toji’s SMAU if any of you noticed hehe. I really hope you enjoy this story because I’ve had so much fun writing it so far LMAOOOO. Let me know what you think! SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{next}

taglist: OPEN!

Main Cast:

Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Masterlist!

Summary: Kento Nanami was perfect—disciplined, untouchable, and entirely focused on his future. Emotions didn’t fit into his plans.

You were everything he avoided—bold, warm, and impossible to ignore. You told yourself he didn’t matter, but you couldn’t stop watching him.

He never looked your way. Not until the day his perfectly controlled world unraveled, and you were at the center of it.

Taglist: OPEN!

taglist: @giasssslife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog @hana-patata @sosole @watasinekoru @linny-bloggs

Introduction

Chapter 1 - Assigned Fate

Chapter 2 - Thirty Minutes

Chapter 3 - Case Study: Nanami

Chapter 4 - Breaking the Ice (Slowly)

Chapter 5 - Glimmers of Connection

Chapter 6 - Breaking the Routine

Chapter 7 - Beyond First Impressions

Chapter 8 - Fashionably Late, Unforgettably Charming

Chapter 9 - Under a Starlit Veil

Chapter 10 - Law, Legacy and a Dinner Deal

Chapter 11 - The Things We Can’t Say

Chapter 12 - Dismissed

Chapter 13 - Objection Overruled

Chapter 14 - Closing Arguments

Chapter 15 - Misdirection

Chapter 16 - Under The Influence

Help Vixen Out - #1

I’m currently working on Chapter 4 of my Toji SMAU and I was thinking of starting my next series just so that it doesn’t get to monotone around here. Who would you like to see next because I honestly have Ideas for every character in my JJK Masterlist.

pt1 pt2

thinking about…

teacher!gojo who hasn’t talked to you since he was a teenager

teacher!gojo who spends all of his time alone on missions, lesson planning, and training his students

teacher!gojo who despite his goofy demeanor is strangely repulsed whenever shoko teases and jokes about setting up a blind date for him; who only ever considered you when it came to romance

teacher!gojo who knows it would be crazy for you to give him a second chance after your high school fall-out

teacher!gojo who’s busy schedule leaves him longing for rest but can hardly get his three hours of sleep when you consume his thoughts

teacher!gojo who gives in after so many restless nights and realizes he needs to get over you

teacher!gojo who coincidentally sees you on the arm of another man on his way to his blind date and goes absolutely berserk

teacher!gojo who knows he has no right to be jealous over what could have been (it was his fault that nothing happened between you two after all!)

teacher!gojo who can no longer stand the ache in his chest when you transfer to Jujustu Tech as a new teacher and you greet him oh-so formally in the dingy break room

teacher!gojo who’s balls his fists but stays silent every time you leave work eying his figure, regret so obviously present in your eyes

teacher!gojo who finally decides to talk to you again, your constant presence overwhelming him with guilt

teacher!gojo who swore he would be collected but spills out apologies resisting voice cracks and tears when he notices your glassy eyes and quivering lips

teacher!gojo who embraces you with a longing saved over a decade of isolation

teacher!gojo who lets down his infinity for you to weep in his arms and punch his chest for being so difficult all those years ago

teacher!gojo who listens while you recall his actions between sobs

teacher!gojo who only holds you tighter, closer to him as if to never let you go again

teacher!gojo who starts visiting your classroom with snacks between breaks and making up for lost time

teacher!gojo who arrives to school early for the first time ever, standing outside Jujustu Tech’s gate waiting in the snow with a bouquet blushing like a schoolboy

teacher!gojo who knows he’s rushing it, but he just can’t wait to be yours anymore than he has!

teacher!gojo who gives his first genuine smile in years when you meet him gasping in delight at his out of the ordinary demeanor and gifts

teacher!gojo who confesses to you, the memories of years prior so bittersweet and he’s trying not to cry when he senses hesitation in your eyes

teacher!gojo who’s the happiest he’s ever been when he realizes that you, the untouchable kind amazing you has given him another chance to be yours

teacher!gojo who lets you wrap your arms around his neck dragging you into a well deserved strawberry-lollipop-flavored-kiss spinning you around in joy

teacher!gojo who’s heart drops when he notices that the bushes and trees behind you start to fade, dreading the truth he had known from the start when he sees your face get more and more blurry

teacher!gojo who only wants to deny what his six-eyes tell him for as long as he can

teacher!gojo who wakes up alone in bed, blindfold soaked in salty tears when he realizes he had dreamt of you again.

teacher!gojo who forces himself out of bed, not bothering to put on a coat as he makes his way out of his apartment

teacher!gojo who’s found the next morning by shoko, puffy eyed and unmoving by your grave

teacher!gojo who knows deep down that if he had acted sooner, confessed sooner, finished off that curse sooner, done anything sooner you might have, no, you would have still been with him happily together

teacher!gojo who knows that no matter how hard he tries, he is always too late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:

I hope you enjoyed! English isn’t my first language and it’s one of my first times trying writing but I really enjoyed these hcs! I wanted to give this a happy ending to satisfy everyone who read pt1, but I just couldn’t find a way to do so while writing. I want to work on a few one-shots soon, so I’ll definitely have a happy ending for gojo on a more fine tuned piece! Please let me know if you have any recommendations on improving writing and any requests for fics in the future!

Satoru Gojo comes home a little happier than most days.

"Hey, babe welcome ho-. Why are you smiling so much?"

He struts past you and sets his bag down before he grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him so he can hold you by your waist. Something that creeped you out was the fact he hadn't said one word in this entire interaction and... Well, you can't see his eyes...

"Are you okay, Toru?" Your face shifted from the curious and loving girlfriend to a concerned and quite frankly, terrified girlfriend.

He kept his smile but this time he chuckled and hugged you. I mean, it wasn't suffocating and it seemed genuine so it's probably nothing...

"Well Toru if you don't want to tell me that's fine, how about he we sit down and eat something, preferably sweet?"

It sounded like he liked that idea so he let go of you and grabbed your hand instead and followed you around like a toddler with that same stupid and menacing smile on his hidden face.

"Did Megumi call you dad or something? Why are you acting like this?"

You were getting tired of this. It wasn't healthy to have your nerves always on edge for this long but when your questions were met with silence again you grabbed some candy and some leftover cheesecake from the fridge and walked Satoru to the couch where you instinctively sat on his lap and propped the plate in your hands and right next to your chest.

"Say ahh"

Wonderful, you're feeding a grown man, cheesecake in pure silence. He giggled again when you wiped some cream off his cheek.

"What's so funny? C'mon Toru, talk to me..."

You pouted and committed a brainless act. You reached for his blindfold and pulled it down and just like you thought. He was staring right at you. No that's cool, just staring directly at me and smiling. He flashed his bright blue eyes at you for a couple of times before chowing down on his cheesecake again.

After a while you accepted your fate and gave you on trying to get him to speak and just ate candy and cheesecake together in silence, just enjoying each other's company. In typical Satoru fashion he broke the silence but this stood out. He quickly shot his gaze towards you and smiled widely before opening his eyes.

"The higher ups are dead, Yuji's execution is revoked, and Megumi gave me a hug today."

His voice was playful but too firm to be like the Satoru you know.

"I had part in two of those things"

He smiled and set down his empty plate and propped you up on his lap again before kissing you.

"Sorry for the silent treatment, Sweetie. I had to relax a bit before I told you"

"Oh!"

This could've been RSTPIMM but I wrote it for you guys😌

So about that smau I was talking about earlier, while I do have some ideas I feel like they're going to be too similar to other creators so I'd like your suggestions.

And just in case you haven't seen the poll it has to be a JJK AU. I guess I'll just check if I find an idea I like.

Bye 🖤💜

mysterious kisses at midnight | ch3: who are YOU

series masterlist

boring chap grr i’m going insnae

i wonder why he looks familiar🤔

taglist: @sahrii @fushiguruuzzzz @miiyas @anotherwriternamedclara @satoryaa @harryzcherry @lizbix @diearama @www-lilpeepismylifesupport-com @q2uq2u @rreveurdoll @xoxoblueyy @tibibibi123 @liliesofdawnnn @beaniesayshi @zayuriluvs @cloudxox @ermbehindyou @kazupop @lorisheaven @dazaisfavgf

ask/comment to be added!!

Ladies and gentlemen I present to you shameless/feral gojo.

Y/N getting fucked on a table

"Do we have to? Here?"

"What's wrong with doing it here, we've done it before."

"Yeah but last time there weren't people watch..."

The head of a member of the Gojo rolled across the floor and his blood splattered the wall. It wasn't really Satoru's fault he was just a bit too curious according to his explanation. The few whose heads weren't turned, them, fast.

"Who did you say was watching, Sweet?"

⏤͟͟͞͞☆𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐱

pervert. nerd bf! gojo satoru x fem! reader (+18)

You're sitting in the study hall with Gojo, your boyfriend, studying for next week's exams. The atmosphere is studious, or at least it was until he asks you to re-explain a concept he didn't quite grasp. You begin to explain, focused, patiently detailing each point, but very quickly, you notice that he's not really listening to you.

You turn your head towards him, intrigued, and see his face red, his breath short. "Gojo? What's—" You stop abruptly, looking down.

You see him. His hand, slowly sliding over his straining cock, barely hidden under the table. Your eyes widen in surprise. "Bro, what the hell? Are you serious?"

He nods slowly, visibly embarrassed but unable to stop himself. You know he gets turned on easily, but this time, you're shocked. He's a pervert, but it makes you laugh.

"What put you in this state?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He looks at you, feverish, his cheeks flushed with desire, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose, and his lips parted, as if he's struggling to breathe.

"Your voice... You. Just you. I need you, baby... please..." His voice is low and raspy, filled with desire for you. He's so needy for you.

How could you say no when he's begging you with a face like that? You slide your hand under the table, down to his crotch, and the heat emanating from it makes you shiver. His cock is hard, swollen, the head reddened and already glistening with precum. You laugh softly, your hand molding to his shape.

"You dirty nerd pervert..." you whisper, moving closer to his ear. You feel his cock throb beneath your palm. Your hand continues its slow strokes along his hot length.

You feel him shudder beneath your touch, his fingers clenched on the edge of the table, as if he's fighting not to moan too loudly. The room is deserted, but the slightest noise could attract attention... and that's perhaps what makes the scene even more exciting. The thought of possibly getting caught excites you.

"You really have no self-control, Gojo... This is a study room, pervert," you breathe with a mocking smile. He doesn't say anything, barely moans, his pleading eyes fixed on yours. His hips lift slightly, seeking more contact.

"Fuck... your hand is so soft..."

You stroke him slowly, savoring his expression, his cheeks reddening and reddening, his breathing quickening with each stroke of your palm.

"Are you turned on just by my voice? I didn't think you were like that, gojo."

"It's... it's stronger than I can help. You're talking and I just want to take you against the table..."

He moans at the same time without holding back, his words making you shiver, and yet you maintain control. He's the one losing it, not you. At least, not yet.

"Shh..." you say, placing a finger on his lips. "You don't want anyone to hear us, do you?"

You pick up the pace a little, and he bites his lip, holding back a deep moan. You feel his thighs tense, his stomach tightening with the effort of containing himself.

"Are you going to come for me right now? Just like that?" you whisper, your eyes shining with desire. "You're such a naughty boy, Gojo..."

"I... I'm going to..." His words get tangled in his throat, feeling his release coming, but you abruptly pull your hand away. He looks at you, stunned, panting, his dick swollen and twitching in the open air.

"Did you think I'd let you come that easily?" you whisper with a small laugh. You stand up slowly, walk around the table, and kneel in front of him, looking up at him.

"Do you want me to make you come? Ask nicely... Be good for me."

You look up at him from the floor, your knees barely touching the cold wooden floor of the study room. Your hands on his thighs, your head slightly tilted, and that look, the one that drives him crazy. Gojo struggles to speak, breathless, his face half hidden by his crooked glasses.

"Please..." he murmurs, his voice almost breaking.

"Please what?" you whisper with a slow smile.

"Keep going... I can't take it anymore. I want to come. Please baby... please."

You let him stew for a second longer before leaning in. Your mouth just brushes the tip of his cock, barely grazing the hot, taut skin. He moans, almost too loudly, and you lift a finger to your lips.

"Shh... we're supposed to be studying, aren't we?"

You don't torture him any longer. You place a kiss on the glistening tip, then another lower down, before slowly sliding your tongue along its length, savoring his reaction. He tilts his head back, his hips shaking slightly. You swallow him slowly, with your usual gentle, sensual way.

He murmurs your name like a prayer, his fingers finding refuge in your hair, never forcing you, but pleading in their own way. You vary the rhythm, sometimes slow, deep, then faster, hungrier. He's on the verge of exploding. You can feel it. His whole body trembles beneath you.

"I'm going to... baby- ngh..." he begins in a broken breath. You don't stop him. You go with him all the way, welcoming him completely, without blinking. His body tenses, his thighs contract, and he spills into you with a stifled moan.

You stay there while he comes back down, before slowly rising again. You swallow hard because he's come so much and wipe the corners of your lips with a playful smile.

"There. A good break between two studies, right?"

He looks at you, still catching his breath, then laughs softly, still flushed with pleasure. He straightens his clothes and looks at your entire body.

"You're lucky there are people around." His voice is low and still hoarse. You shrug as you sit down next to him again, grabbing a sheet of notes.

"I'm always lucky. Can I repeat my explanation?"

"Of course, my love." He smiles at you and adjusts his glasses before focusing. On you. Obviously.

a/n: first smut of the series yummyyy 🤭 tysm for +400 followers ilysmm💗🥹

nerd gojo series - masterlist