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horrorxweasley · 6 days

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hey!! What would you say happened after they said ily to each other, like the process of them going to bed after satoru patched up reader, just lying on bed and talking, little kisses etc etc 🥺

“say it back.”

you laugh. your smile is impenetrable. it’s like somebody came and plastered it to your face. “you’re making a bold assumption here, satoru.”

satoru leans towards you. he’s also smiling. “please?”

“mmm…”

“c’mon,” he kisses the tip of your nose.

“i guess i love you too.”

“you guess?”

“well, you’re not an easy man to love.”

“says the woman who i just stitched up on the kitchen counter. it’s probably stained, you know.”

“you offered!”

“but don’t i deserve a reward?”

you offer a measly hand, just by the side of your face. “fist bump?”

satoru throws his head back, but he’s still smiling when he taps his fist to yours, and then wraps an arm around your back so he can slide you off of the counter. “bed?”

“okay. i need to change though.”

“yeah yeah.”

satoru leans you both to his room, you in front, taking his cue with both of his hands on your shoulders.

“wait here,” he says, pushing you towards the bed.

“satoru, i need my—“

“what do you think i’m doing?”

you raise a brow.

“going to get your pajamas,” he adds, with a push of his hand as you lay down on his sheets.

“okay. but don’t grab the stupid plaid short things that you got me for my birthday. i’m returning those.”

“that was a good gift!”

“it’s basically a swimsuit. no way in hell am i sleeping in that.”

“if you’re sleeping next to me, it’s basically heaven.”

you just roll your eyes. and then close them. you really are pretty tired—your side throbs and even though you kind of want to live in this moment forever, you also want to forget all of this.

satoru taps your leg. you cant see him smiling down at you, but you can practically feel it. “be right back.”

“pick something comfy.”

“sure thing.”

you lay there and wait, replaying his words in your mind like they’re going to disappear.

really, you’ve always known. since you were a teenager, at least. before you knew anything about the world or the sort of fate that would design your family.

and you’ve learned a lot about love since you were sixteen, but you never quite got the hang of letting satoru go. you could never fully convince yourself that it wasn’t there—that you didn’t feel that.

at least now it’s paid off.

the pain, and fighting, and desperately clinging to megumi and tsumiki like without them satoru couldn’t be anything to you—

it’s so strange how simply that was all wiped away. just by the look on satoru’s face, the pure sincerity in his voice.

you almost fall asleep to the record of him saying i love you.

but then there’s a body standing between your legs, hands grabbing onto your arms to pull you up.

“hey,” satoru says. “not yet. you can’t fall asleep in bloody clothes.”

“but i’m so tired,” you whine.

“should’ve thought about that before you got yourself mutilated.”

you open one eye, looking at him. he’s still smiling. “you’re supposed to be nice to the person you’re in love with, you know.”

“you should take your own advice.” he lifts your destroyed shirt off of your body, shaking his head.

“i’m nice to you!”

“you let megumi hide my house keys the other day.”

“maybe i just love megumi more than you.”

“impossible,” satoru grins at you, slipping a loose cotton shirt onto your body—you don’t fail to notice that it’s his. “i’m irresistible.”

“keep telling yourself that, hun.”

“you know you admitted it earlier, right? you’re not going to try to pretend that the blood loss made you do it?”

you roll your eyes, leaning into his chest as he takes your pants off for you. “you’re sure something.”

“handsome?”

“crazy.”

“for you, maybe.”

“hurry up, satoru, i’m sleepy.”

and so he slips on some sweatpants, not even bothering to make a sly comment—at least he’s got some respect for you.

satoru pushes you over to your side of the bed, pulling down the covers for you. “get in. do you want to take some tylenol before you sleep?”

he moves to go grab some after you’re all covered up.

“no,” you try to grab at his hands. “c’mon.”

“i’m just going to get you a glass of water, then. i’ll be right back—“

“no. sleep. you’re tired.”

satoru wipes at a spot on your face. “am i?”

“yes.”

he sighs, looks to the door like he might be able to escape, and then back to you. “okay, fine. but you can’t complain to me in the morning.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever. come cuddle.”

“aww, you want to cuddle with me?”

“not if you’re going to be mean,” you pout at him, and satoru just laughs, slipping off his shirt and flicking the lamp off.

and then he gets in the bed with you, wrapping a leg around yours, carefully. “okay?” he asks.

“yes,” you turn so your head is on his shoulder, and satoru sneaks an arm under your neck.

“does it hurt now?”

“little.”

“okay. tomorrow we can ask shoko if—“

“shhh, sleeping.”

you can feel satoru’s body shake as he laughs again. “alright, i’m sleeping.”

you nod and push your nose into him.

this boy. this boy that you’re in love with.

it’s a blissful kind of pain, being here with him. knowing that none of it has been a lie, that you’re going to stick with him until he manages to push you away.

“satoru?” you ask, body burning, eyes puffy and closed.

“yeah?”

“i love you.”

“you guess?”

“no,” you poke his side with a finger. “i know.”

“yeah, i know too.”

he kisses the top of your head and you fall asleep to the feeling.

#jjk satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo saturo #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader

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horrorxweasley · 9 days

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highlights! ⇢ gojo would (un)ironically buy several kpop-style album if y/n released one, only to get every pc of her ⇢ y/n literally has an overnight dresser drawer at satoru's house for the times she stays over (plAtoNiCallY) ⇢ y/n and gojo spent five minutes talking about the interview before binging hp movies n hanging out

author's note! ⇢ this was mostly filler but also to establish y/n and satoru are on a regular sleepover basis LOL ;; sorry for being away for so long! missed my dorky idiots <333

꒰ 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ꒱ ↳ as a rising star in the tumultuous world of hollywood, you're handed a golden opportunity to boost your career – a fake relationship. what your manager forgot to mention? your leading man is none other than satoru gojo, hollywood's notorious fuckboy. easy? well, not exactly.

PART TWENTY NINE | NEXT

ʚĭɞ rbs and interaction always appreciated! ʚĭɞ

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horrorxweasley · 11 days

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🥹🥹🥹

are you stupid?

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you come home injured and satoru isn't cool with it

warnings: literal hurt/comfort, descriptions of a wound bad enough to warrant stitches, little angst, fluff, slightly ooc satoru

last part | next part

year six.

“are you stupid?”

your hands are frozen to the touch, barely able to grasp the doorknob when his voice comes from nowhere at all.

you almost don't notice it when satoru opens the door. you have to blink to focus on him, but by the time you do, you're already falling against the empty space in front of you.

satoru is quick to catch your arm, righting you before you break your nose on the hardwood.

“that’s my line,” you tell him, slightly coughing--it sends shocks down your spine and you shiver. you shake his hand off of you, trying to walk forward, but there's a wall of a man standing there. you blink at him. "hey, satoru. would you mind moving?”

“i could smell the blood from down the block,” he says, his voice rougher than usual, completely still. “what did you do?”

you roll your eyes, waving a hand (even though it makes you a bit woozy). “there’s no way you could smell that. it’s not even that bad.”

“it’s dripping down your shirt.”

you pout, looking down. "i just washed this, too.”

it is a lot of blood, you realize suddenly. you would definitely get some looks if you were walking down the street in public.

still, you don't feel all that banged up. it's not really your fault that you were slightly distracted when that curse snuck up on you... or at least, you're pretty sure it's not.

satoru, shaking his head--maybe finally realizing that you're fine--moves out of the way, holding the door open for you. "what did you do?"

you step through, using the wall to keep you steady. “how do you know i did anything?”

you finally look at satoru, even though he's fading from your eyeline, in and out of focus. he's not wearing his blindfold or his glasses, and he's got a frown that rivals one of megumi's at the moment.

it makes you laugh, just a little, as you try to shake the shoes from your feet.

he was probably sleeping, you think. usually, you'd probably feel... at least slightly bad. but right now? you don't even care.

you're just happy to see him, right in front of you like your own personal greeting card. you've only been gone a day, but satoru feels much further away than that.

especially with his frown and his furrowed eyebrows. he's in a mood, you remember, frowning.

“why are you bleeding, y/n?”

you cough again, tapping his chest as you move past him. “jeez, lighten up, satoru. i’m good,” you say this as you limp down the hallway, wincing with every step.

you don't get to watch satoru's eye roll, but it takes less than a second for an arm to wrap under your shoulders, satoru forcing your weight onto him, and he practically carries you through the house until you reach the kitchen, where he sets you on the countertop.

he's looking at you like you're a fragile baby bird.

and he doesn't bother to ask--of course he doesn't--before he lifts your shirt from your abdomen, it slightly sticking (due to the blood) before it rolls up.

satoru's eyes widen as he inspects you. "woah," he whispers, paling just a little bit.

you don't look down with him--because that's a terrible idea--but you watch satoru.

you can barely feel it, actually. it's basically just a minor cut, nothing too--

you try not to gasp when satoru presses a finger near your ribs, not directly touching the wound, but far too close to it. it would be embarrassing to double over in pain, wouldn't it?

“is it bad?” you wonder, breathlessly, feeling a bit light-headed.

satoru’s head snaps up, “you didn’t look?”

“i was a bit distracted. the curse wasn't gracious enough to give me the chance to grab a couple of bandaids, the bastard."

“how did you even manage to do this?”

your eyes trail down unconsciously, but all you can see is your bunched-up shirt--drenched in blood. yeah, you'll probably have to burn it.

satoru is looking up and down, his face entirely disgusted, nose scrunched up and eyes avoiding your own.

it makes you laugh a little--because you're very familiar with satoru and his opposition to anything humanly--which then makes you wince with him.

it doesn't hurt that bad, really.

“can you get the first aid kit?” you ask him, pushing his hands away from you and your cut. but as soon as satoru isn't right there to lean on, you begin to tilt forward.

satoru immediately resumes his position as your pillar. “are you kidding? i’m calling shoko.”

“i know how to do stitches, satoru. it’s late.”

“you need, like, a stomach replacement for that.”

you roll your eyes, leaning even further into him. at least when you're pressed up against his chest, you don't have to breathe. “you’re so dramatic.”

satoru is still frowning. “doesn’t that hurt?”

“nope,” you lie, sitting up and pushing his hands away again. “i’m running on adrenaline. it’s not that deep, anyway.”

he gives you a hard look.

you sigh. “what’s wrong with you? you can drop the act.”

“what act?”

“the ‘i’m the caretaker’ act.”

“what if i came home with a hole in my stomach?" satoru's jaw is clenched. "what would you do?”

“i can't think about hypotheticals right now, satoru,” you whine. “please get the first aid kit?”

“should i get megumi too? might as well teach him how to stitch you up, he's getting to that age, you know.”

“funny,” you say, dryly. “do you want me to bleed out on our counter, or…?”

satoru sighs, but he walks out of the kitchen a moment later. hopefully to save you from dying.

you exhale, feeling your chest tighten. you can't feel much, for the most part. but then there's that feeling every couple of seconds, a memory of the whole thing playing out-- except your head is fuzzy, and everything looks sort of… colorful right now.

you can’t even remember how you got here. or the last time a curse managed to actually injure you.

it feels a bit juvenile, really.

especially because you’re in no position to be taking care of yourself—but in no world would you wake up shoko in the middle of the night for this. in no world would you wake up anyone, except for satoru, to deal with you, with your blood and your stubbornness.

god, you hate pain. you hate having to wash blood out of your clothes, and you hate sitting here by yourself.

you slump down. only seconds have gone by, but it feels like so much more than that. the wound burns, you think, in an unnatural way.

you probably got poisoned and you're probably going to die and satoru is going to stomp on your grave, and--

“do we even have enough gauze to cover that up?” satoru is asking you when he walks back in. he's wearing nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, you realize, watching him.

his eyes are stern, focused, and the rest of him is morose. you should be able to gaze at him, to stare--but you can't because your vision has spots in it, and everything about satoru is too hard right now.

he’s been like this for days. casual but stuck—like he can’t find it in him to laugh about anything. his face has been a field of lines, with no breaks in between, and his eyes have been greyer than they should be, a sort of dim color that you hate.

satoru's eyes are wild, usually. they are blue fires and the vast expanse of the universe.

but not right now, when he's looking at you like this. and not this week--because he's barely been looking at you at all.

and it's unfortunate not just because you miss him, but because you're not as good at casting it all away as he is. you can't shove things aside and make light out of the darkest situations.

you can't fill his role, and yet you keep trying to.

it's an inevitable cycle of failing and never being enough.

“i’ll just cut up your shirt if there’s not enough,” you tell him, putting on a smile so he can’t tell how badly you want to start crying.

is this real pain, you wonder, or a dream?

“use your own shirts.”

you pout. “but yours are the best quality.”

satoru rolls his eyes, again, and begins to wipe off all of the well-used tools you have. a needle you've had for years, stolen from jujutsu high, and thread you can't remember taking.

“what are you doing?” you try to grab the instruments from his hands, clumsily, almost cutting yourself again in the process.

satoru is quick to hold them away, keeping them up and out of your reach. not that you were going to try very hard anyway.

“i’m going to stitch you up," he says, like he's scolding you.

“you don’t know how.”

“please,” satoru scoffs, shaking his head. he gets a cloth wet under the facet, and then holds it towards you. “i probably learned how to do this before you were even born."

“when you were nine months old?”

“clean it.”

you listen, holding the cloth to your wound and still not looking down. it feels sort of ticklish, and also like you're being tortured.

“you don’t have to,” you tell satoru after a moment, breathing through the nausea that comes with the pain. “i know you’re squeamish around blood.”

“i am not squeamish.”

you grin at him. “sure.”

satoru looks up, and finally, his face relaxes, just a little bit. you can even see the workings of a smile on his mouth—the first you’ve gotten in days.

he shakes his head. “i’ll be fine. sit up.”

“seriously,” you say, again, catching his hand just as he’s about to touch you. “i can do it.”

“seriously, i’m not letting you. your hands are shaking.”

you look down, releasing his wrist. “oh.”

“yeah, oh.”

satoru kneels so he can see your cut properly, his face narrowed in concentration. you focus on him as he touches the tender skin by the wound, featherlight fingertips trailing across your skin.

you shiver and apologize under your breath.

he hasn't been this close in days.

“does it hurt now?” he asks you, voice so quiet that it almost echoes through the house.

“not really,” but you look up towards the ceiling. somehow you know it’s going to be worse if you watch.

“i can call—“

“no, satoru. i already told you, if you don’t want to do it then i—“

“okay, i’m doing it. i’m doing it.”

you close your eyes when he punctures your skin, waiting for the feeling to subside. it's just a prick, but you still have to think about getting the mail, going to the store, taking a shower after this, or maybe just crawling out from your own skin and becoming a spirit.

but satoru seems to recognize this, maybe from your face, and he asks, “what kind of curse was it?”

“dunno?” you breathe out, mapping a picture on the ceiling in your mind.

“what do you mean?”

“i can't remember.”

satoru looks up. “what?”

“it’s all a blur,” you say, wanting to shove his hands off of you. you've been trained to kick people away, so it's really not your fault. “i think i won though.”

“i don’t think this is winning.”

“keep going,” you tell him, instead of arguing. “i’m fine.”

satoru tsks but does as you say, resuming the smooth movements of suturing. any normal day, you'd probably want to watch his hands work, want to inspect his job and make fun of him for the way he holds his breath while looking at an open wound.

“how were the kids?” you ask him, after a moment.

satoru breathes out, nodding. his hair is messy, his face slightly wrinkled from sleeping still. “they missed you.”

“it was only a day. did megumi get that book report back yet? he was worried about it before i left, but i told him—“

“i missed you.”

you look down, forgetting about pain or blood. “what?”

“i miss you,” he says, this time, like it’s any different. satoru keeps his eyes down, his hands moving. but there's a guilty look on his face--something that tells you he didn't mean to say anything.

“satoru…”

“are you still mad at me?”

you tilt your head. “mad? why would i be mad at you?”

“you haven’t been coming to bed,” satoru answers, obviously.

your eyes widen. “satoru—“ and there’s a sharp pain in your side.

“sorry,” he murmurs, softly, at your flinch.

“i’m not mad at you,” you tell him, trying not to double over. your voice is high-pitched and breathy. you feel like a child—ridiculous and foolish—but it doesn’t stop you from speaking. “i was never mad at you.”

“you weren't?”

“you asked me for space. i was just giving it to you.”

satoru pauses, looking up at you.

“i… i didn’t want to push you into talking to me. i thought—i don’t know, that maybe things had changed. i mean, we don’t have to…” you wince, and it’s not because of the pain this time. “to sleep together. or in the same room. if you don’t want that anymore—“

“no."

"no what?"

he shakes his head. "i want that."

“satoru, you’re not going to hurt my feelings—“

“i was wrong," he cuts in, voice rough. you don't think you've ever heard him say those words before. "i don’t want space, i never did.”

you blink at him, brows furrowing. “then why did you…”

“i—“ he stops. looks around. “does it hurt?”

and you know, just as you know most things about satoru, that he can't continue. that the truth is going to cut just a little bit too deep--deeper than your injury--and he can't bring himself to say it.

so you only take another deep breath, pushing away the feeling of your skin being patched back together, and nod.

“a little,” you say softly.

an unspoken understanding passes between the two of you, and breathing gets a little bit easier all of a sudden.

maybe it wasn't the pain. maybe it was just the tension, the build-up of days apart.

it makes sense, even to your slightly fogged-over mind.

and then the two of you sit there while satoru patches you up, sharing a glance every couple of seconds—a glance with so many words, so tender and feeling that it succeeds in making you even dizzier. blood loss has nothing on the way satoru makes you feel.

you can't see his hands--don't dare to--but you can feel the softness of them, the care he's taking in stitching you up.

if it were any day, you would laugh at him for it. but right now, you just accept it. bask in it.

“how’s that feel?” satoru whispers to you, after he’s tied it off and wiped the blood from your skin.

you don't bother to look down. really, you don't want to see the freshly sutured line on your abdomen, but also, you just want to keep looking at him.

it's much more gratifying, at least.

“good," you say, voice stronger, easier. "is it going to scar?”

satoru scoffs. “if you wanted untouched skin then we should’ve called shoko—“

“shut up,” you interrupt. “i’m not listening to the medical advice of someone who’s never gotten a scratch in his life.”

“i let you scratch me.”

“well, obviously, i’m the exception,” you smile at him, exhausted and sweaty and still a little out of it—but home. with him.

and this time satoru actually smiles back.

it’s a bizarre thing, his smile. the first one you’ve gotten in days and it wakes you up immediately. almost like realizing you’ve been in the dark for weeks, just getting a glimpse of the light.

he's a peek into something more--unearthly. if the closest thing you get to divinity is satoru, then you won't complain.

“you okay?” you ask him, but you’re only teasing.

“that’s my line,” he says.

“you sure?”

satoru leans towards you, forehead against yours. “i’m sure.”

you sit there for a moment. satoru is usually the one clinging to you, but tonight you feel like if he moves away you might never get him back.

so you sit there, make sure to hold him to you, secure with your hands wrapped around his biceps, his arms grazing against yours as he leans against the counter.

you're probably a mess right now--your skin stained with blood that shouldn't be outside your body, your face covered in dirt, your hair and clothes drenched in sweat and rain. but satoru doesn't seem to mind, so you don't think about it too hard.

he deserves it, at least, for making ridiculous assumptions. you have to get him back somehow, after all.

after a minute, or two, or maybe even three, you clear your throat. “great. i’m alive, you’re… less annoying than usual. let’s go to bed.”

“‘less?’” satoru gapes at you, but his laughter is unmistakable.

“yeah, i know," you say, feigning shock, "i was surprised too.”

he flicks your forehead but you’re still smiling at him.

“okay,” satoru whispers, leaning back. “bedtime.”

you rub at the spot around your wound one more time, already feeling the days of sore skin and itchy muscles, and then you push satoru so you can hop off of the counter.

“hey,” he says, suddenly, stopping you. his voice is quick, almost lost. but his hands wrap around your wrists, keeping them between the two of you so you can't escape. and satoru's eyes are on your face, flickering between the different points of your skin, looking like he's just realized that he's lost something.

you raise a brow, but don't push back against his chest or try to pry his hands away. “what?”

satoru swallows, still watching you.

his eyelashes are long enough to touch his skin, and his eyes are blue enough to take up the whole world. you want to grin at the saturation of him--so much brighter than you've seen him in days--but you refrain. you don't want to scare him away.

but you're not so eager to move. it's easy to wait on satoru, really--to wait for his words, to let him collect his thoughts--because you've only spent nine years studying his face. you've only admired the slope of his nose and the tilt of his chin since you were sixteen, and there's much more to be discovered.

so staring at him is simple. especially when there's so much to look at.

you have plenty of unmarked territory you need to take over.

you keep a slight smile on your face while you wait, and eventually, satoru groans, hanging his head back.

“what?” you repeat, laughing just a little.

“can you stop looking at me like that?”

“like what?” you nudge your head against his chin, and satoru glares at you.

“i’m trying to be serious.”

“oh, okay,” you try to push away your smile, but you can't. it's glued where it is. “i’m serious.”

“you’re not.”

“what is it, satoru? i’m listening.”

his eyes meet yours, again, and you almost flinch.

everything about satoru is forceful, except for the way he looks at you. the way his eyes relax, his entire face falling when you're both eye to eye. it's a look you've only observed on one person, in only one particular moment.

and, you think, all of a sudden, it might be your favorite look.

but you're still fed up with waiting. you're tired of his consideration, his contemplative eyes. you want satoru back--with his ridiculous laughter and stupid jokes. you want him irritating the sanity out of you and simultaneously bringing you to life.

you don't tell him that though, because in this moment you'll take what you can get.

any version of satoru is better than none at all. you’ve learned that the hard way.

“hey,” he says, one more time. his smile is unusual, a frightened little thing. “i love you.”

you freeze.

your face falls flat, thinking of the words in a million different ways. you might've misheard him--but you're so locked in on him that it seems impossible.

at once, you consider exactly what he means, so many different variations of the same thing.

does he love you like your parents did, always too much but never enough?

does he love you like you love megumi and tsumiki—like your life depends on it? like you’d be wrecked without them?

or does satoru love you like you love him? does he love you like it’s breathing? like there’s never been a choice in the matter?

but, it's simple. a beat passes, three seconds of contemplation--just enough for the words to ring true throughout your body.

the way he’s looking at you is enough to answer any question you have.

satoru loves you like a promise, and nothing less.

“you idiot,” you say, a sudden, day-breaking smile on your face. “don’t you think i know that?"

"should we wake them up?" tsumiki asks, walking up behind megumi, staring down at you both. she's rubbing her eyes, her hair slightly messy.

megumi considers it for a moment.

neither of them have woken up like this in a while. you and gojo are getting better at falling asleep in bed instead of on the couch.

but, at this point, megumi thinks that it's probably a habit. or just to annoy him.

gojo's face is shoved into your chest and your hands are tangled in his hair. the both of you have silly smiles on your faces, and seriously. how do you both manage to fall asleep in such uncomfortable positions.

"no," megumi whispers, yawning. "i can make breakfast. mom probably got home pretty late."

"okay," tsumiki says, still staring.

megumi rolls his eyes and walks away. honestly, what did he do to deserve getting two idiots for parents?

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#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff

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horrorxweasley · 11 days

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.2 terms and conditions

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 2/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 4.5k

a/n. if you see any typos, no you don't.

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

“And yeah, that’s basically what I’ll ask from him in return,” you say through a mouthful of your cereal in the morning after summarizing the conversation you had with your school’s star soccer player on Instagram last night.

Mina scrolled through the messages as she took another bite of her apple and gave you a questioning look as she set your phone down. “I’m still shocked at the fact that Gojo Satoru, the Gojo Satoru, sent you a message. Also, why does he want to help his horny friend this badly?”

“I don’t know. But will you do it?” You ask her with pleading eyes. “Just one weekend, that’s all it seems like he’s asking for. And then I’ll get what I want from him. You just have to pretend to be interested in his friend for a little bit.”

Mina leans back on the bar stool at the little raised counter in the kitchen. You liked it because it was a little bar space that opened up to the living room, being partially the reason why you convinced her to sign this lease with you. She swallowed before speaking. “I mean, the only reason I didn’t really like his friend that much was because he kept asking me out to a house party instead of an actual date.”

“Yeah, I know, I figured,” you say.

“Also, an 8AM English class is the absolute worst time to hit on someone.” She smiles at you. “But his friend isn’t bad looking. Not exactly my type, maybe a bit too beefy and masculine for me? I don’t know.” She pauses to take another bite of her apple, this time talking through her chewing. “I would say Gojo is more my type.”

He’s probably everyone’s type, you think to yourself.

“Anyways, yeah, I’ll do it,” she easily agrees.

“You will?” You gleam at her, your hands clapping together in happiness.

“Yeah, I will. If you think it’ll help you get what you want from him, then I’ll do it,” she smiles at you.

You run over to her, arms curling around her from behind as you say thank you, thank you, thank you and she pats at your forearm for you to ease up on your excessive gratefulness.

-------

The weekend rolls around surprisingly fast and the hour that the party’s doors open is steadily approaching. Mina just came home from her work shift and was in the bathroom taking a shower while you sifted through your closet to figure out what to wear. You couldn’t believe you were actually going to an SAE house party. You’ve been to other college parties before, mostly in your first year, but never a fraternity’s, let alone the biggest one on your college campus. Was there some sort of waiting list? Some sort of etiquette that you didn’t know of? Your stomach flips at the prospect.

Your hands pull out a simple black dress that was tucked all the way to the right of your closet. It was a tiny bit wrinkled but it would do. Slipping on the dress, you turned to glance at yourself in the mirror. It had long, skin tight sleeves with a sweetheart neckline and the hem fell to the middle of your thighs, the material soft and silky. You suddenly felt a bit self conscious and ended up taking it off in favor of some ripped blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt instead.

Mina opened the door of the bathroom and stepped into your shared room, wrapped in a towel with her hair clipped up on her head. “Cute fit,” she compliments you as she also makes her way to her closet. “Ugh, I just want to go to bed. Why am I doing this again?”

“Because you love me,” you say.

“Yes, that’s why,” she sighs. She puts on a purple body-con dress that had beautiful sparkles on it, probably more fitting for the club than a house party, but who knows, maybe that ends up being the vibe of the place.

You both sit on the floor in front of the mirror to do makeup, you finishing first since you wore a little less than her, and you help her draw the wings of her eyeliner. This sort of ritual was always the best before you went out with friends. The getting ready part was almost more fun than the actual going out part.

A small fight took place between the two of you in terms of who would be designated driver, and Mina finally relents to allowing you to drive. You argued with her that she was doing you a favor, and that if Mina decides she needed some drinks during the night to take the edge off of having to talk to this Gojo Satoru friend, then she should be allowed to do that. Mina grabbed her purse and you grabbed your cross-body fanny pack as well as keys, and you were headed out the door.

As you drove down the street approaching the address, you both noticed a lot of the houses looked very similar with decorative sports flags, gaudy front-lawn decorations, and outside furniture. This was most likely the fraternity house strip of SAE where most of the guys lived and hosted parties. There were living places on campus for the members too, but those were usually for the people that organized the fraternity’s events. Loud approaching bass-boosted music filled the air and it suddenly became challenging navigating through all of the parked cars on the street as the GPS informed you that you were less than 500 feet from your location on the left. You luckily found a spot to park at the cul de sac a little further ahead and then you two were making your way to the house.

“4100, right?” Mina called after you as she shuffled a bit in her heels to catch up, arms crossing over her chest to warm herself up in the cold. You slowed down a bit for her.

“Yeah, this one I guess,” you point up ahead where you spot a group of people approaching the entrance where a guy seemed to be collecting payments. You notice him turn some people away from the door, confirming that there was some sort of screening process for entry, and you’re suddenly a bit anxious.

“Alright, y’all are good to go inside,” the guy at the door chirps to what’s left of the group that lined up before you two. He makes eye contact with you and Mina, straightening himself up a bit. “Ladies! Looking very gorgeous. I like the sort of casual tomboy with the bombshell friend pairing. Can’t say I’ve seen you two around here. Ever been to an SAE party before?”

“Nah, first time,” Mina says as she shivers from the cold.

“Aight, cool, you’ll definitely enjoy it. Ladies enter for free, so go on ahead,” he says, comically gesturing towards the door with both of his arms before he crosses them again and puffs out his chest. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. He has a little name tag that says Itadori Yuuji on it, which you’re almost certain no one even asked him to wear.

As you two make your way inside, you’re instantly reminded of why you hated places like this. Loud music reverberates throughout the entire room as people bustle around everywhere, some people dancing, some people standing, some people walking over to other areas, and a lot of people shamelessly making out. There was a lot more lighting than you were expecting, that sort of warm and dull suburban house lighting that reminds you of your childhood for some reason, but there were flashing lights across the ceiling that gave it more of a party feel. The house was two stories, and the staircase was visible from the entrance, leading up to a hallway at the top with a railing that oversaw the downstairs expanse before stretching out further into unseen territory where you assumed the bedrooms were. Your eyes instantly began scanning the room for any familiar faces, or for one Gojo Satoru.

“Damn, just the smell of the alcohol alone has me about ready to throw up,” Mina says next to you as she takes a few steps further into the house. You follow behind her as she makes her way into what looks like the kitchen where there’s less people other than those refilling their drinks. She’s quick to pour some vodka into a plastic red solo cup before nonchalantly opening the fridge and pouring some orange juice into it as well. She glances up at you. “Don’t judge me.” You stifle a laugh.

“Oh shit, sorry man,” a masculine voice behind you says and when you turn around, you’re face to face with quite possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life.

In all his glory, Gojo Satoru was standing in front of you. Just as the prophecy foretold, he was tall, at least an entire head above you, and irritatingly gorgeous. He was wearing gray sweatpants, untied drawstrings loosely hanging, with a black short-sleeved shirt that was tight around his biceps and lazily tucked into his waistband just at the front. He was holding two drinks in his hands, one clearly with some spillage as droplets fell from the base of it onto the tile of the kitchen, and his piercing blue eyes behind his tacky HO-HO party glasses widened at the sight of you. The guy behind him, who you assumed was the one he was apologizing to just a second ago, gave him a solid slap on the back and muttered a you’re good, dude before turning the corner back into the core of the party, leaving the three of you alone in the kitchen.

You heard Mina cough a little behind you and you watched as Gojo’s eyes quickly darted to her.

“No way,” you hear Gojo mutter under his breath as he walks past you and makes his way around the kitchen island, setting the drinks in his hand down on the counter. “You’re Mina, right? I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says as if not everyone on campus knows who he is, and sticks his hand out for her to shake and she hesitantly shakes it. “Thanks for coming.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Mina said, shooting you a glance.

He then turns around and makes his way to you again, hand outstretched for you to shake, and you hesitantly do so as well. You immediately notice how the tips of his fingers feel calloused. “Hey, I’m Gojo Satoru. You’re y/n, right?”

You nodded, for some reason unable to find your voice, and he peers over the ‘O’s on his glasses to look at you. His eyes were like the sparkling ocean under the sun, a tantalizing shade that sailors probably yearned for during long nights out at sea before they went overboard, chasing after sirens, and eventually drowning. Yikes, that got dark for some reason. But there was something dark about his eyes, too. “Yeah.”

He leans down closer to you, his mouth near your ear, and the fragrance of freshly-washed laundry consumes you. “Thanks, I owe you one. Find me later, ‘kay?” he whispers and you can feel his breath on your neck. The movement has your cheeks embarrassingly burning before he’s pulling away from you. He turns to Mina again. “You’ve met my friend Todo, right? He’s about sixty ounces deep into an insane round of beer pong, you wanna watch?” Gojo asks her with a weirdly wholesome smile on his face.

“How charming…” Mina says as she reluctantly walks over to him, giving you a darting look, and then he’s leading her out into the living room. You stand there in the kitchen, leaning against the island, finally noticing how fast your heart was beating.

I mean, you knew he would be handsome. You saw all his Instagram pictures, and all the school advertising for the soccer team with his face all over it plastered practically around every corner on campus, but this was your first time seeing him in person and you hated how breathtaking he was. Like, how can people just casually be in his presence? You figured the only way was that they eventually get used to the way he just commands a room when he walks in. You wonder if you’ll ever feel relaxed in his vicinity. Part of you wishes you didn’t fight Mina so hard to be designated driver because now you were itching for a drink to calm your nerves.

As a group of girls make their way into the kitchen, giggling about something some guy had said to one of them, you suddenly feel a little alone and make your way out into the living room as well. Your hands play with the strap of the fanny pack slung across your chest and just people-watch for a bit. Spotting the game of beer pong over in the corner, you see Mina watching with a bored expression and you let out a small laugh. The man at the end of the table had a ping pong ball in his hand, and you immediately identified him as this Todo guy. Mina’s description was pretty spot on, definitely beefy and masculine, and he was the only one in that corner that had his shirt off for some reason.

He aimed for the opposing side’s remaining two cups of beer, the ball looking comically tiny in his large hand, and when he threw it the ball landed right in one of the cups. A look of excitement flashed across his face before a bunch of the guys started smacking his chest, yelling something like “has to be a bounce shot, dude” and he suddenly looked agitated all over again. A small smile makes its way on Mina’s face and you’re surprised to see it.

Standing next to her was Gojo, tall and his presence imposing, as he silently watched the rowdy game with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and back leaned against the wall. There was a curious expression on his face and you tilted your head to the side, enjoying the moment to just study him for a little bit.

“I like your fanny pack,” you hear a voice say from behind you that has you twirling around. You look up and find yourself staring at yet another handsome man. This one had dark black hair that was tied up into a man bun with some short tendrils of hair falling onto one side of his forehead.

“Oh, thanks,” you say awkwardly.

“Where are my manners? I’m Geto Suguru, nice to meet you,” he says as he stretches the hand that was not occupied by his drink out to you.

You shook his hand, noticing calluses on his fingers too. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m y/n. What’s with everyone here and shaking hands? I feel like I’m at a job interview.”

The man in front of you chuckles. “You’re funny,” he says. “Haven’t seen you around here. Which sorority are you in?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not in one. I live with my friend Mina about 20 minutes from campus,” you awkwardly say.

A slightly surprised expression flashes across his face as he nods slowly and you can see it in his face that he’s searching his brain for a follow-up question when someone behind him taps his shoulder.

“Hey, Suguru, do you know what time practice is tomorrow? Itadori-kun swears it’s at three, but I have a meeting at that time, so if that’s true then I’m screwed,” the guy behind Geto says. Sigh. Once again handsome. He was tall, had broad shoulders, and cleanly styled blonde hair with a sharp jaw that made him look like he just stepped out of a James Bond movie.

“Pretty sure it’s at six. I’d check with Satoru, though,” he jutted his chin over in the direction of the beer pong table. “Oh, this is y/n by the way. She’s not in a sorority, but she lives 10 minutes away from campus.” Geto steps to the side a little and the blonde stranger steps into his space.

“20 minutes,” you correct him and this time, you’re the one to stretch your hand out. The man in front of you shakes it, and once again you notice calluses. This must have to do with soccer, then. His handshake was firm, short, and intentional, and you could tell he was probably studying a respectable major.

“I’m Nanami Kento, but just call me Kento,” he says in a smooth voice. “Excuse me,” he says and he’s making his way past you over to the beer pong table.

Geto’s glance falls on you again, but suddenly feeling awkward you excuse yourself from him to go use the restroom. You haven’t had this much social interaction in a long time and you needed to get away from the noise for a second. As you make your way past the kitchen into a narrow hallway, you realize you have no idea where the restroom is. One of the door handles has a sock on it, gross, so you ignore it all together. You finally reach a door that could potentially be a restroom, and you’re overjoyed that you don’t hear any voices inside when you knock on it. You allow yourself inside and close the door behind you.

The bathroom was surprisingly well-kept from what you expect of a frat house. There’s about three different toothbrushes in a round plastic tin on the counter of the sink, but you’re sure that there’s more than three guys that live here so there must be another bathroom upstairs too. Glancing at your reflection, you notice that some of your mascara has smudged a little so you use your finger to wipe the excess off and then you reapply a thin layer of lip balm over your lips. You contemplate actually taking a piss, but you realize you don’t really need to. With a few deep breaths, you’re out into the hallway and almost make it back into the kitchen before bumping into a certain white-haired man at the kitchen entrance.

“Oh, hey, fancy seeing you here again,” Gojo says with a grin and your eye twitches slightly. He was still wearing those HO-HO glasses (Christmas was literally over three months ago) and this time there were some sort of black painted lines underneath both of his eyes. He was extremely hot but definitely somewhat unserious about his appearance.

Gojo glances down at your empty hands and tips his head to the side a little. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Uhh, water?” You offer.

He lets out a laugh, his hand flying to his stomach, and you realize he thinks you're joking. When your expression doesn’t budge, his smile drops. “Seriously?”

“I’m DD for Mina,” you say as you walk around him and make it into the kitchen where you find a pitcher of water. Your heart still races a bit at the sight of Gojo, but you enjoy the peace and quiet that the kitchen provides you away from the party around the corner.

“So, y/n,” you hear Gojo say behind you. You’re not quite used to hearing your name casually roll off his tongue. He’s suddenly at your side, leaning back against the edge of the island and crossing his arms as he looks down at you to watch you pour your water. It takes everything in you to not glance over at how nice the muscles of his arms probably look across his chest. “What exactly are those terms and conditions you spoke of?”

Your face flushes slightly. You remind yourself that this is the man that you were Instagram DMing at two in the morning earlier this week. It feels weird, considering at the time he seemed more like a made-up character in your mind but now that you’ve actually met him, you realize that he is indeed a living, breathing, real person. When you take a sip of your water, you realize just how parched you really are.

“Okay, hold on a sec, there’s no way you’re just drinking water all night long. There’s some non-alcoholic punch in the other room. Be right back,” he says and he’s gone from your side. You miss the heat from his body.

He returns shortly after with a cup of punch in his hands and slides it to you across the counter. You grip onto it and stare into the deep red liquid.

“Okay, so,” he says as he leans back against the counter again, this time a bit closer so his arm was brushing against your shoulder. Your skin burns at the contact. “Your terms and conditions?”

You found it a bit odd that he was so adamant to satisfy these conditions of yours, considering he already won. You had successfully brought Mina to the party, and it seemed like she was getting along with his friend Todo. It shouldn’t really matter what you wanted from him anymore. You suppose that maybe he was just a man of his word.

You sigh, remaining facing the counter of the island as you glance at all the types of alcoholic bottles and cans laid out on it. “Well, my request is pretty simple.”

“Hmm,” you hear him hum inquisitively beside you.

You finally turn to face him and you instinctively put a hand over your heart as though to reprimand it to stop beating so fast in his presence. He notices the movement. “I want you to get me onto the soccer field at a few of your practices or games so I can take film photos of the players.”

Gojo takes his HO-HO glasses off and sets them down on the counter, a serious expression on his face. You notice how nice his eyelashes are.

“Your terms and conditions are…that you want me to help you take photos of a bunch of sweaty dudes?” he asks. “You’re kinda freaky.”

You roll your eyes and send him an annoyed look. “They’re not for me, they’re for one of my class assignments. I’m taking this film photography class, and my professor is obsessed with the school’s soccer team. Pretty much all of his lectures start with goal-by-goal breakdowns of your guys’ most recent game. If I submit some stellar-looking film photos of the action on the field, he’d give me a good grade and a good letter of recommendation.” You notice Gojo tense up slightly in front of you. “I’m trying to get into this one graduate program.”

You watch his chest rise and fall with a deep breath as he turns his head to look away from you and instead look straight ahead at the fridge. Long lashes flutter against the top of his cheeks every time he blinks. His arms that were crossed at his chest rise a little as he shrugs. “Yeah, I guess I can do that for you.”

You can’t control the smile that spreads across your face when he acquiesces. This was a really good opportunity for you. You pick up the punch that he gave you and almost bring it to your lips when he speaks again, interrupting the motion.

“Your pictures are pretty good, by the way,” he says, still staring straight forward at the fridge.

Your mouth gapes slightly. “How have you seen my photos?”

He looks down at you, an eyebrow raised. “I follow you on Instagram, dummy. Also, you never followed me back.”

You’re standing there a little stunned at the conversation. He speaks to you so casually as if you haven’t just met him tonight. “Sorry, I only really follow back my friends…”

“Are we not friends?” It’s your turn to let out a laugh, thinking he’s joking, only to realize he’s not.

“I’ve literally just met you…speaking of, I should probably pour my own drink,” you say as you slide the punch back onto the counter top over to him and turn away to head in the direction he had gone to retrieve it for you. You hear him mutter an ouch from behind you at the implied accusation you just made but you remind yourself that this man is essentially a stranger to you, and the only things you know about him are things you’ve heard from other strangers.

You spot Mina still by the beer pong table, this time heavily invested in the game and she even flirtatiously blows on Todo’s ping pong ball for good luck before he chucks it at the opposing teams’ cups, entirely missing, but Mina reaches up to place a kiss on his cheek regardless. Your jaw drops at the sight. She was going to be answering a lot of your questions in the morning.

You find the punch table, pour yourself some, and realize that it was indeed non-alcoholic and pretty damn good. Mina finally makes eye contact with you from across the room and she leaves the table to make her way to you.

“Y/n! OMG, I was lookin’ for you, girl!” She sounded a bit tipsy. “What time is it? I totally forgot I have a stupid discussion post thingy due at midnight.”

You pull your phone out of your fanny pack and read the time that says 11:12PM. It was still a bit early to leave a party, but you supposed it was up to Mina. “It’s 11:12PM. There’s no traffic so it would probably just take us around 10-15 minutes to get home. You wanna leave?”

She sighs and turns around to look at Todo, who was giving her a sleazy look and mouthing what’s wrong, babe? Mina shakes her head at him pitifully and then turns her head back to you with sulking shoulders. “Yeah…stupid professor making those posts 25% of our entire grade…”

You laughed and made sure she grabbed her purse before you two headed towards the exit. You bumped into Geto again on your way out and gave him a polite goodbye and then you two were out of the door, loud party noises getting further and further as you made it to the car. Mina trailed a bit behind you but eventually made it over to the passenger side door. You unlocked the car and she made it inside, but before you do the same, your phone pings with a notification from Instagram.

|| 11:16PM Gojo Satoru: I’ll let you know our practice and game schedule for the next week. Just let me know what times you’re interested in stopping by

A small twinge of excitement fills your chest and you’re suddenly feeling some sort of high as you slide into the driver’s seat of the car. Mina’s mumbling something like turn on the heateeerrr beside you, and you put the car in drive then take the two of you home.

a/n. apologies for any formatting errors since i'm copy/pastin from my ao3! i've tried to manually fix them all but i'm too lazy to read the whole thing to fix it lol. hope you enjoyed!

➸ take me to chapter three!

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horrorxweasley · 11 days

Text

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.1 gojo satoru sent you a message

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 1.3k (short one to start off, but the rest are longer)

a/n. welcome to this pilot chapter! this was originally going to be a one-shot but i got way too carried away and ended up planning out a whole series. i hope you enjoy!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

|| 2:13AM Gojo Satoru has requested to follow you

You blink the sleepiness in your eyes away as the harsh light of your phone hits your face. Somewhere in the middle of the crazy dream you were having, you heard your phone incessantly pinging and eventually woke you up to make you realize you forgot to turn the ringer off before going to sleep. Among all the spam email, iCloud storage warnings, and news headliners, there was one notification in particular that had you wondering if you were still dreaming.

“Ugh…y/n, please, turn your phone off,” you heard your roommate Mina mumble in the twin sized bed at the other end of the room as she shuffled her pillow above her head so that it covered both of her ears. You glance out the window of your shared apartment, peering at the pale moonlight, before your tired and heavy eyes travel back to your phone and press on the Instagram notification.

Suspecting this was maybe some prank account, you clicked on the small icon in your inbox that took you to a profile page. Gojo Satoru, Senior at University of Tokyo, Business Major, D1 Soccer #10, SAE. 12k followers, 172 following, 38 posts.

Still thinking you’re dreaming, you accept the follow request and watch as the number on his following increases by one, now 173. Your thumb swipes up on your phone as you take in the square images of his profile. Pictures of him and his friends recreating memes…food that he’s eaten recently…frequent vacation posts in exotic countries…and a whole lot of what seemed to be professionally taken soccer photos of him striking goals and hitting balls with his head in mid air. You have put a lot of effort into your own Instagram photos (despite your modest 464 followers), mostly posting compilation slideshows of your favorite film photos that you’ve taken recently, yet somehow his feed looks much more inviting than yours.

You turn onto your side and continue to look through his photos. 624 comments, 373 comments, 958 comments. Many were from his friends trying to embarrass him, and many others were from girls that probably wanted him to notice them. You noticed he only really replied to comments from his friends.

You knew who he was, of course. Gojo Satoru was one of the most, if not the most, popular guys on your college campus. When you got to college, you thought the whole “social hierarchy” thing would be over but it still seemed like there were certain groups of people that almost everyone knew about, "elite" individuals who other students could only dream of associating with. At UTokyo, the fraternities and sororities practically owned the place so of course Gojo was well-known since he was a member of the school’s most iconic frat, SAE. Not to mention, the school adored its soccer team–undefeated since 2012–and Gojo Satoru was the most talented center forward the division had seen in years.

But as for why he requested to follow you, a film major that doesn’t play any sports and isn’t even in a sorority, well you’re just not sure.

It’s then when you get yet another notification.

“Oh my god, y/n, turn it off!” Mina mumbles into her mattress. You click the side button to turn off the ringer.

|| 2:24AM Gojo Satoru sent you a message

Your heart starts to beat a bit faster as you quickly slide to your DMs page. You notice three unread conversations from a few of your friends, probably from when they decided to send you their entire explore page, and then you see a little (1) next to your message requests box. When you open it, you see his icon in your inbox. It’s a simple picture of him in his soccer jersey, his smile wide as one of his team members who was mostly cropped out of the photo seemed to be putting him in a headlock. You see the first few words of the message.

|| 2:24AM Gojo Satoru: Hey, sorry if this is weir…

You’re about to click on it when you stop yourself. It was really late at night and you didn’t know if you wanted to entertain a conversation with this man you knew literally nothing about (at least on a personal level) and weren’t even sure why he was messaging you in the first place. Plus, he would see that you’ve read it and so you would feel anxious to respond. But there was no way to see his full message unless you opened it. Even though you considered this to be weirdly intimate since it was a message sent at two in the morning, you figured that was probably normal for the likes of people like Gojo Satoru, who probably were out drinking and partying until five in the morning every night, regardless of any 8AM lectures or not.

But unfortunately, curiosity always kills the cat (that’s the expression, right?) and so you click on his message.

|| 2:24AM Gojo Satoru: Hey, sorry if this is weird…I don’t think we’ve ever met before, but my buddy’s really into your roommate, and he’s tried to invite her out to our frat’s house parties but he’s had no luck. Think you could convince her to come this weekend? You’re welcome to come too, of course

You blink in surprise before rolling your eyes, not entirely sure why you were expecting any different. Maybe Mina wasn’t budging on his friend’s advances because she wants to be asked out on an actual date, and not to some house party. But you figured frat guys wouldn’t really understand that. Besides, how did he know that you were her roommate? You’re just about to type a response when you see three little dots in the left side corner, indicating he was typing, and you hold your breath.

|| 2:27AM Gojo Satoru: Here are the details

And then he sends you a post from what looks like his fraternity’s Instagram page. There’s an address, a time, the name of the DJ and girls get in free bolded at the top. You realize you’ve never even been invited to a fraternity’s house party until this very moment.

You briefly consider not responding to him and just setting your phone back down on your nightstand, rolling over, and falling asleep. But you find your fingers moving on their own to type.

|| 2:31AM You: you’re messaging me to help your friend get with my roommate?

There’s an uncomfortable two minutes where there’s no response from him and for some reason your anxiety is through the roof. You remember the countless times you’ve heard people describe Gojo Satoru in passing: there’s just something about him that demands your attention.

His notification pops up at the top of the Instagram app when you were scrolling through reels to distract yourself and you accidentally clicked on it too fast.

|| 2:33AM Gojo Satoru: Uh, yeah?

You sigh as you ponder the proposition. You don’t even know for sure why Mina wasn’t really responding to his friend’s advances, maybe the guy was a creep or just not her type. And even if she was somewhat interested in him, she’s already refused to go to any of their frat’s house parties, so how would you be able to persuade her?

You finally convince yourself you’ve had enough of Gojo’s messages for the night and you’ll choose whether or not you want to revisit the topic again in the morning, until another message flashes across your screen.

|| 2:38AM Gojo Satoru: What can I do to get you to convince her to come this weekend?

You bite down on your lip at his question, and an idea flashes through your mind.

|| 2:40AM You: i’ll find a way to convince her. my terms and conditions will come later

He responds in a second.

|| 2:40AM Gojo Satoru: Deal

a/n. thank you for reading! i also post this story over on AO3, if you're more into that format, but i just wanted to start posting over here on tumblr too. hope to see you in the next one!

➸ take me to chapter two!

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