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rae-ha-writes · 2 months

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I wanna cry

❝ 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌) ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS YOU TAKE CARE OF NANAMI ALL YOUR LIFE -- AND HE DOES THE SAME FOR YOU ? ❞

✧ pairing: nanami kento x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: throughout your years of jujutsu tech, you take care of kento, whether its a wound from a curse or a simple cut his finger -- and when he returns he finds you still ready to take care of him -- even after shibuya.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, hurt / comfort w/ a happy ending, domesticity, jjk canon compliant au (because nanami is alive) reader is the same age as nanami, set during through the events of star plasma vessel to end of jjk, nanami getting hurt and reader taking care of him, reader gets a cold and nanami takes care of her, jealous! nanami, kitchen counter sex, soft dom! nanami, oral (f), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing

✧ wc: 7,657

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 3 has been sold to two anons!

“Show me,” Nanami furrows his brow in reply, jaw set as he glares, but he knew no amount of staring would get you to let this go. You stood in the doorway of his dorm room — your room was clear across on the other side where the girls resided, so he wondered for a split second how you knew he returned when it had barely been an hour, but answered his own question without having to utter a word (Haibara).

“It’s not bad. It’ll heal by itself—“ and you’re shaking your head, and his lips purse, “it really isn’t worth speaking to Ieiri about — it’s not a wound, just a bruise—“

But still you stood, as immovable as ever — and he finally relented, unbuttoning his jacket, as he shrugged it off, unable to hide his wince as he revealed the large bruise that colored his skin in red, his skin peeling and angry, and surely would turn into a lovely mish-mash of purple and blue.

You brush past him into the dorm room, as you brought a first aid kit in, setting it on the bed, turning your head before tilting it as if to say, “well?”

He repents, as he always did with you — he knew a battle of wills with you was as unwinnable as a battle of jujutsu with Gojo — not to mention needlessly frustrating. He sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed to the floor, as you grabbed a washcloth from the kit, heading for his bathroom. He hears the sounds of water running, and the squeak of the faucet closing.

You return as you lift his arm slightly, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to his shoulder.

Your touch is gentle — Nanami was always surprised at how gentle you always were. With the line of work you all did, it was easy to be rough, to find smooth edges corroded and jagged, but no, you remained as smooth and soft as you always were.

He flinches when you bring the wet washcloth to raw skin, and you’re careful even as you seemingly pick out pieces of gravel and dirt stuck in his flesh. And you frown at the sight of it, doing your best to clean every bit.

“So what happened?” you ask, and he gives a terse chuckle.

“Didn’t Haibara tell you?” And you shrug, “I know he told you we’re back,” and your lips curl ever so slightly as your eyes meet him, a small amount of mirth returning.

“Maybe I’m just a stalker,” and he can’t bite back the small smile on his lips, “Haibara told me you didn’t go to Ieiri, and that you got hurt protecting him on your mission,”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head, “Ieiri was busy dealing with Haibara, he got it worse than I did—“

“Even if your injury is less serious, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look after yourself,” and he sighs, as his eyes slide to you, “you need to learn to care about yourself, Nanami,”

And he knew you were right on some level — he didn’t have a delusion of invincibility and he also didn’t have a strong enough desire to strive to be stronger, but — his fingers grasp at his sheets —that didn’t mean he wanted to see his friends die. “You don’t have to do this,” he says again, and you don’t meet his gaze when he looks over at you, your brow set in concentration, “it’s not important—“

“Nanami, you don’t ever seem to value yourself properly,” you finish cleaning his arm, before grabbing bandages and tape from the kit, “you are important — even if you don’t think you are,”

And he opens and shuts his mouth — before a smile pulls at his lips — you were far too kind, especially for a jujutsu sorcerer.

And then you add, “and if you don’t get your wounds tended to, I’m going to tell Gojo you want to take a sweets tour of Tokyo,”

…maybe he spoke too soon.

~~~~

“How did you manage to hurt yourself so badly during training?” You offer Nanami a makeshift ice pack, a small cloth wrapped up with ice from his freezer, and his lips pursed in disgust as his reply, “ah, Gojo,” the mattress shifted under his weight as he sat,

“That arrogant idiot,” Nanami grumbled, as he pressed the ice pack to the back of his head, “his excuse was that he didn’t know his own strength — he’s lucky that he had infinity or I would have—“

You chuckle, “You know he’s just messing with you, it’s just because you react,” and he scowls at his floor of his room, as if his carpet was the six eyes sorcerer itself, “he’s not so bad—“

He raises an eyebrow, his mouth parted in disbelief, “Are you defending him right now?” And you chuckle, as you lean back against the side of his bed, your head leaning back against the soft comforter that you had bought him and guaranteed would help him sleep better (it only guaranteed that you would be asleep underneath it half the time they spent in his dorm relaxing).

You wave him off, “Lower your blood pressure. I’m not defending him, I’m just saying, it can’t be easy being the strongest — all those eyes on you, the way people treat you, the—”

“The weight of your overinflated ego that you have to carry around—” and you roll your eyes, and the action bites at his last nerve, because he thought if anyone would have his back, it would be you — the next words spit like venom out of his mouth, “I thought you were better than those girls that moon over Gojo,”

And he regrets the words as they leave his lips, as you stare at him wordlessly — not with anger, but frustration — which hurts all the more, “If I was so in love with Gojo, then why am I with you instead of him?” He doesn’t have a reply as you rise to your feet and make your way out the door, the click of the door far too deafening, leaving him with a throbbing in his head — but not just from being hurt.

His fingers curled tighter around the ice pack. Because why—why did the thought of you liking Gojo make his chest ache—the idea of your care and time spent on someone else, not even Gojo, but anyone else, made his stomach churn at the idea.

He had told himself when he decided to become a sorcerer, he would do anything to avoid relationships — even friendships if he could do so. When you work a job like this, it can only end in disaster. but— his eyes slide to the closed door you had just left through.

Why did this feel so much worse?”

~~~

“You can’t stay here all night,” your voice cuts through the silence of the morgue — the only life left in the room. Because he too had died along with Haibara.

Or rather he should have.

He kept the towel over his eyes, unmoving from his chair, head resting back against the cold metal — as if it would protect him — from seeing Haibara sliced half over and over, last words dying on his lips said in pure chaos but somehow Nanami could still hear them ring in his ears— just as the sick crumple of his torso hitting the ground after being ripped from his body. The words leaving his lips as the last vestiges of life left his body, fingers twitching as his lips moved—

You got it from here.

The hopeful optimism from a person seconds before death did little to comfort him. Not when that person should have been the one who lived. He had the one thing that was so rare in his shit world of jujutsu — kindness—

The very thing that left half his body lying against a metal slab.

“I can’t leave until…” he trails off, he didn’t wish to leave until his body was inspected and then taken to be…disposed of. He knew it was for the best that his body is turned to ash, but it made it no easier to consider the person that he knew to be his best friend would be nothing but ash in a few hours time, “I won’t leave him alone,”

You nod, and the silence makes him wonder if you’re leaving, but instead he hears footsteps and the slight scraping of a metal chair against the floor. And he feels the slight brush of you beside him as you sit.

And you don’t say a thing. The only thing is that your fingers brush his tentatively and when he doesn’t pull away you intertwine them. And that’s enough—for now.

Until they take his body away.

A sorcerer glances at the two of you, “Do either of you have contact with next of kin? We need to notify—“

“I’ll handle it,” Nanami says, the towel pulled away from his gaze, hoping his dark bags and red tinged eyes aren’t noticeable to you, but he sees the purse of your lips and knows they are.

The sorcerer shifts, “Have you considered asking his family for—“

“That’s not an option,” Nanami cuts him off with a stare, and the sorcerer parts his mouth before shutting it again with a nod, “okay, please allow us to take his body,”

And they do, pulling the sheet down ever so slightly that Nanami sees a flash of his face — no hint of that smile he always unfailingly had on his lips — it too was gone, just like he was. And they carefully wheel his body away — assumedly to be burned. And the door swings shut behind them — leaving only him and you. Silence hangs over the room, the finality of the moment leaves nothing in its wake but regret.

And regret only felt hollow — just as his heart did.

You choose to break the silence, a shaky sigh leaving your throat, as you quickly scrub tears away from your face, clearing your throat, “Come on, let’s go—”

“You can go ahead, I’m going to stay here for a while,” and your eyes try to find his own, but he still stares at the spot where Haibara’s body had laid for hours. The essence of cursed energy was almost too easy to understand compared to the concept of death — a person can be living, breathing, and talking one day to be nothing but a husk the next. And now, he knew it would be a lifetime of feeling as if something is missing — as if something was wrong — and moments where it felt fine would be overcome by only guilt and anger.

What was the point of all of this? His fingers formed into fists, nails digging into his palms — were they nothing but pawns to be used in an unending game that forced sorcerers to not only to put their lives on the line, but their colleagues as well. A twisted game that only ended in a pile of corpses.

“Nanami, you can’t stay here all night—”

“I’m fine,” he rubs at his temples — and how long would it be until he’s staring at your body on that slab? Or maybe you’d be staring at his own—crying over his body just as he had done for Haibara, “you can go—”

“I’m not leaving you, and you shouldn’t stay here — you need sleep—”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he snaps, his gaze meets yours, “I’m not injured, I didn’t even get hurt— ”

“Yes you did,” you say quietly, as you step closer to him, but his eyes refuse to meet your own.

“No—” and your hand finds his chest.

“This pain is worse than any physical pain you could put in — and I wouldn't leave you to deal with a bruise by yourself, so what makes you think I’d leave you now?” you say softly, and tears burn at his eyes, as your hands gently pull him into your arms, his head buried against your chest, “I’m not leaving you, Nanami,” you murmur quietly, as your fingers slowly run through his hair.

And you didn’t — he was the one who left you.

~~~~

You never get sick. That’s what you loved to brag about — especially yesterday when you got home from spending an entire two days in the rain soaking wet and ice cold without a hint of cold symptoms.

You supposed your bragging was a curse in and of itself because now you were buried under your comforter. You barely manage to text Shoko that you’re sick and you won’t be able to make it to class today. And now you had to wonder if it was worth the effort to get out of bed to take your medication or to simply sleep it off.

But your body made the choice for you as your eyes fluttered shut and you slipped into a fitful sleep, body burning from the inside out.

Consciousness faded in and out, as you felt something brush against your forehead, your eyes heavy as they open ever so slightly, a flash of blue and blond, before you fall back into sleep.

Your head aches, muscles heavy, and the smell of spices wafted through the apartment, “Are you finally awake?” a voice said, as your eyes flutter open, still burning at the corners as your head turns.

“Nanami?” You croak out, throat raw and dry, as if your flesh was raked across coals, “what are you—“

He turns his head from your kitchenette — a ladle in hand, before he sets it down, wiping his hand with a dishcloth. And he steps over to your bed, pulling the washcloth from your forehead, before placing a cold washcloth, “your fever went down a little,” he said, “but I brought cold medicine and I made some soup for you,”

“You didn’t—“

“Have to?” his lips quirked up, “I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to,”

“How did you know I was—“ and his eyes find yours, “Shoko,” and he nods, you relax back into your bed, “how long have you been here?”

He turns back around to finish cooking the soup for you, stirring, the metal of the ladle slightly clinking against the sides of the pot, his eyes flicker to your clock, “About an hour and half, hasn’t been too long,”

“Why are you taking care of me?” you mumble, glancing at his back, as he lifted the ladle to pour into a small bowl to taste the seasoning of the soup, “you don’t owe me anything—“

“I owe you a lot,” he cuts you off, the clatter of the bowl against the counter as he sets it down, the click of the stovetop as he shut it off, “but that’s not the reason I did it,” and your brow is furrowing under the washcloth, as he walks over to you, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Then why?”

And he raises an eyebrow, “Why do you think?” And his fingers brush your cheek, “you’re the only reason I’ve stayed here as long as I have, otherwise I would have left, a long time ago,” and you don’t know how it’s possible for your face to grow warmer but it does from his words and his touch that lingers against your cheek.

And he’s gone as quickly as he came, going over to the stove to take out a bowl of soup for you to drink, “can you stay after I finish eating? Until I fall asleep?” You ask, as he brings the bowl over, as you sit up slowly, head spinning as you do still.

“Of course,” and he does, staying by your side after you eat and take your medicine, hearing your quiet murmur, “thank you, Kento,”

And he realizes, as his lips curl into a smile, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, just how much he liked hearing his name on your lips.

~~~

“How did you manage to hurt yourself on our last mission together as students?” you sigh, the worry in your voice making his lips curl — as the two of you had just found yourselves in his dorm room, as you rifle through his bathroom to pull out the first aid kit you had given him (after you had learned he didn’t own one).

You return to him sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his hand up in such a way that he didn’t drip blood all over his sheets. Your fingers brush his own, and he’s still surprised at how soft your hands are. His hands had grown rough from the years of jujutsu, calloused from the grip of his fingers around his blade handle, but somehow, yours were always as soft as he remembered them.

Your fingers found his, warmth blooming as your brow wrinkled as you scruntized the cut on his hand, “Maybe we should ask Shoko to look at it—”

“There wasn’t any cursed energy that cut me — it was just—”

“Debris, I know,” and this seemingly did little to soothe your worries, had gotten when pushing you out of the way of the curse, “I had it handled — you shouldn’t have dove in—”

“It’s fine, it’s not that bad—” but your glare cuts off his sentence, as you begin to clean the wound.

You shake your head, “What am I going to do with you? Every time you go on a mission, I’m going to be worrying about what trouble you’re going to get yourself into,”

He’s silent, his eyes unable to meet yours — he can’t keep hiding this from you. He had made the decision months ago — and it was only a matter of time before someone else slipped up and told you (most likely Gojo).

“I’m leaving after graduation,” he says the words like ripping off the bandage, but it hurts him all the more when your fingers are still for a moment, your eyes finding his own, as you stare at him.

“You’re—” you cut off, and you don’t protest, you don’t argue — you only ask one question — “Why?”

And that one question was more difficult to answer than any other you could have asked, a sigh stuck in his throat, as he shook his head.

“I can’t do this anymore — I haven’t wanted to since—” he cuts off, mouth impossibly dry — it was easy to tell Yaga he wasn’t going to continue, even easier to take care of half a dozen grade 2 curses at once — but this was— “I can’t stand by and watch my colleagues die one by one beside me — I don’t want to live like this. I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Kento,” his heart squeezes at the sound of your voice wrapped around his name — what you had taken to calling him recently — “as long it’s what you want. I know it’s been difficult—I was surprised you hadn’t left when—” and your voice falters, neither of you could bear to bring up his name, refusing to even utter it around the other — as if it would summon every horrible memory from that time—and your voice is soft, “I just want you to be happy,”

And there’s nothing more than he wanted to be the one to make you happy — nothing more than he wanted to ask you to be by his side, let him be the one to take care of you, and nothing more he wanted than to ask you to leave with him—

But that was the one thing he could never ask you to do.

Just as you would never ask him to stay for you.

“I want you to be happy too,” he murmurs, as you continue to clean his cut, before your fingers are moving to grab the bandages, slowly beginning to wrap them around his palm, “more than even myself,”

“What’s new?” he wrinkled his brow, and you chuckle, “I mean, you never put yourself first, and I’m glad you are now. You deserve to be happy, even if it’s not….here,” and you finish bandaging his hand, but his fingers curl around yours, “Ken—“

He squeezes your hand softly and his words are just as soft, “You would be the only one who could ever make me happy,” and he hears your breath catch, and it only makes him want to steal it from your lips with his own, “because I know that being by your side would be only thing that could satisfy me,”

Your fingers brush against his cheek, “Too bad I’m apparently in love with Gojo—“ you tease, all too pretty smile as you do, and his lips draw even closer, “Kento—“

“And if you’re so in love with Gojo, why are you here with me?” And he waits, waits for you to pull away, to stop him, to show any indication you didn’t want this—

But you close the gap instead, lips barely brushing his, so chaste, and yet it’s a spark to kindling — a fire neither of you should have lit. And yet, his lips find yours, insistent, his fingers cup your cheek, featherlight touch drawing a shiver down your body that he relishes in.

“Kento—“

“Why is it my name on your lips?” And he kisses you again and again, your noses brushing each other’s, he’s murmuring your name like a prayer, and if it was, he would worship at your altar each day, “Why it is that you’re kissing me?”

And your lips curl against his, as they find his again, “You kissed me first,” and he can taste the sweetness of the melon bread you had shared with him that morning, but something even sweeter that only be you, “so why did you do that?”

But you knew why — especially from the smile gracing your features, one that he wished he could have etched in the inside of his mind, “Isn’t it obvious?” and your lips part to answer, but he cuts you off with another brush of your lips, “I love you,”

And your eyes widen only slightly, but you’re kissing him again, arms curling around his neck, fingers sliding behind his neck — “Figured that out when you got jealous of Gojo, but I’m glad you admitted it,” and your forehead finds his, “and that I love you too,”

You loved him — you loved him — he had to tell himself again and again, but he still couldn’t fathom it. Was it a dream? You were always a dream to him — something he could nearly grasp with his fingers, but always remained just out of reach.

And now he held you in his hands and he never wanted to let go. But he had to — he knew he had to.

So he would — even if it would hurt — hurt that no bandage would fix.

He kissed you again, unless you were the one to place it.

“Why is it that I always find you like this?” Nanami’s eyes slowly met yours — he sat in Ieiri’s office, waiting to be seen, only find you there in the doorway instead, “it’s as if you’re asking to be patched up by me, Kento,”

How long had it been? And somehow he knows the answer before even thinking about it — it had been nearly a decade. A decade since the two of you had graduated — you moving to Kyoto to help run the campus there, while he had moved onto a regular college and then a corporate job — one that had nearly sucked his soul dry of any life he had to begin with. And it was only when he had received gratitude for the first time in a long time — that he remembered the reason he had stayed a jujutsu sorcerer after Haibara…

And now, here was the other.

He murmurs your name, nearly sounding foreign on his lips, “How did you—”

“I ran into your student, Nanamin,” and he furrows his brow at the nickname — Itadori’s little name for him after he had refused to be his sensei. Because he wasn’t one — Gojo may have taken up the mantle of teacher for his own personal ego trip — but he wasn’t ready to form relationships like that. And yet…his lips curl, there you were, “didn’t think you wanted to be a teacher,”

“I don’t, but how can I refuse that white haired idiot?” he half grumbled with a sigh, eyes still slowly grazing over you, “but I don’t want to talk about him right now,”

You draw a step closer, shutting the door behind you, a lilt in your voice as lovely as your grin, “Then what do you want to talk about?” and you stop right in front of him, as your fingers reach out, and he’s nearly leaning into your touch, but he’s wincing, as your fingers press against his bruised body, “because I want to talk about how you ended up in such rough shape,”

A sigh stuck in his throat, his next words nearly along with it, “It could have been much, much worse,” he murmurs, “if Itadori wasn’t there, I—” he breaks off, “that special grade — he could touch my soul and it had caught me in its domain—”

And your arms are pulling you into a tight hug, your fingers running through his hair, “But you’re here, you’re okay,” you murmur softly, your palm pressed against his chest, you can feel his heart pump under your fingers, “you made it,”

“But—”

“But nothing, Kento, you’ll make it back every time,” your fingers cup his cheek, pressing your forehead against his, “right?”

Your touch was the only thing that could truly make him feel whole again — as if every crack in his soul had been mended with gold, “how do you know?”

And your lips curl into a soft smile, your head tilting ever so slightly, “Because you love me, right?”

The chuckle on his lips is nearly enough to bite back his nerves as the words leave his lips, “I’ve loved you for years, sweetheart, that’s nothing new,”

You’re shaking your head, “And all these years, we always found our way back to the other, right?” your hand finds purchase on his shoulder now, the other against his cheek, “so we just have to keep doing that,”

“You make it sound so simple,” he murmurs, and your lips find his — and it makes him wonder how he had spent so much time without your touch, because right now it was the only thing keeping him whole — stealing the doubts from his head and the aches from his body — leaving only heat filling the empty gaps left behind.

“It is simple,” your hand interlaces with his, “if we let be.”

~~~

“I’m starting to think you hurt yourself on purpose around me more now that we’ve moved in together,” you examine the small cut on his finger, a nick from the knife that the ratio sorcerer had been using to slice his freshly baked loaf of bread. Scarlet slipped from the small cut, and his soft murmur of ‘ouch’ unfortunately had not gone unheard by you. He swore you must have selective hearing — you wouldn’t listen when he told you to go to bed, but you’d hear him hiss in pain under his breath even when half asleep on

“It’s not too deep, I think just a bandage should be fine,“ Your brow knit together as you purse your lips, and he bit back his smile, knowing it would only serve for him to get scolded for not being more careful.

“It’s nothing, love, I can take care of it—“ and his breath catches when your lips find their way around his finger, sucking slightly to ease the bleeding, your tongue flicking over the cut, “sweetheart—“ he swears under his breath, a distinct flush burning at the crown of his cheeks, “what—“

“They say saliva can help a cut heal faster,” you smile, before pulling a bandage out of the first aid kit you had pulled out, and your lips press a sweet kiss to his cut again, a smirk as you meet his gaze, “Ken—”

And he’s kissing you, your body tenses a moment only to melt into his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck — he can taste his blood on your lips, raking your fingers through his hair. He can only think about getting closer, closer, closer — he needs you. His hands slide down your back, until they find your hips, squeezing, as he presses himself to you.

“Baby,” you murmur breathlessly, as your lips part his, a gasp that turns to a soft moan when his lips press heated kisses down your jaw. His nose brushes against the soft skin of your neck, as he presses you against the counter of his apartment, his hands slide down, large palms grasping your ass, “I need—”

“What do you need?” his fingers sneaking up and down the sides of your body. His teeth graze your pulse, your head falls back, exposing more of your neck to him, as his tongue soothes the mark he left behind, “because you know I’ll give you anything you ask for, sweetheart,”

And his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he lifts you onto the counter, calloused palms pressing your legs apart — but he barely has to, your thighs already spreading for him. And he finds your shorts nearly soaked through — your drenched cunt visible even through the two layers of fabric stuck together from your arousal.

But you don’t need to ask for him to know what you want — it’s second nature, it’s instinct for his fingers to dip inside the waistband of your shorts and underwear alike, tugging them both down, until you were kicking them off.

“Is all this for me?” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to your inner thigh, as two fingers graze down your slit, gathering your pre on his fingertips, before he meets your gaze only to lick his fingers clean, “I was never one for sweets — except when it came to you. Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,”

Your head lolls back, as his thick fingers circle your clit with practiced ease, pulling back only to drag his tongue up the length of your needy cunt. And your eyes find his again, heady gaze heavy with need and his pretty lips and chin already glossy with your juices.

“Kento—fuck,” your fingers thread through his blonde locks. First, one finger sinks in and then another —

his nose bumping against your clit as his tongue stretches your walls in tandem with your fingers, grinding against his face, “s’good, I can’t—“

But he’s relentless, the wet squelch of your messy walls and your choked out moans ring in his ears and are nearly enough to make him cum right in his pants — already far too tight, blood rushing downwards far too quick.

Another

“Such a good girl,” Kento murmurs, and you are, so perfect — “just let me take care of you,”

“Kento, please, more, need—“ and his lips find your clit, tongue flicking against the hardened bud, before sucking long and hard, while a third finger joins the other two. Your back arches, the coil in your stomach grows tighter and hotter — your slick dripping from your messy hole onto the counter.

His fingers squeeze at your flesh, and he could live between your legs forever — it could be his meal morning, noon, and night — he could spend hours lapping at you until you fell apart over and over. His fingers stretch you out far too deliciously, and your walls are giving that telltale flutter.

“Kento—g’nna cum—I—“ and his fingers are fucking you harder and his lips close around your clit, sucking hard, until you’re moaning his name, muscles growing tight as you fall apart. You’re a mess, your fingers trying to press his head impossibly closer as you grind against him, riding out your orgasm, as your juices gush over his face — and he’s lapping up every drop, as you fall limp against the counter, his arm slipping around your back to support you.

Your eyes flutter open to watch him pulling away with a pop, strings spit and cum connecting you to your cunt. His gaze drags over you, watching your juices drip against the counter, as he murmurs quiet praises, licking his lips clean of your release.

And your fingers find his cheeks, pulling him into a deep kiss, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips, the filthiness of it all enough for his cock to grow even harder against your thigh. And it’s a matter of moments, before your fingers are tugging at his sweatpants and boxers, freeing his erection, his pretty cock all but ready for you — lovely ruddy head dripping with pearly white beads of precum.

“Look at what you do to me, love,” he murmurs, as your eyes meet his, gaze blown out in lust.

“Kento, please,” and his lips curl, his fingers raking through your hair, as he pulls you even closer, his erection bumping against your sopping pussy, “I want—“

He drags his cock over your slit, watching his pre mix with your release, the two of you groaning when his tip catches on your clit, “what do you want sweetheart? Tell me, tell me what you need,” his arms are hooked around your knees, pressing them to your chest.

You keen when his tip teases your sopping hole, “I need you to fuck me—“ and you’re whining as his cock pressed into you, splitting you open on his length — and god you could never get used to how big he was — you could feel very pretty vein and delicious curve—

Fuck, he could bust just looking down at you, at the way your lips parted for him as he had sunk into you, the way he could see how your pussy stretched around his dick — like you were made for him. Pleasure ripped up his spine at the sight — his fingernails digging crescents into your hips.

And he knew that he was certainly made for you.

“S’good, s’full — please,” you’re nearly mewling, begging for him to move, “Kento—“ and he obliges, unable to hold back any longer, as he begins to slowly rock his hips against you, each stroke getting longer and deeper. His balls slap against your hips, as he picks up the pace — your walls squeezing around him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, didn’t think you could get any tighter,” he grunts, his cock stuffed inside your walls, and he’s gritting his teeth, your soft moans and the noises of your pretty pussy becoming too much for him. White ring of release formed around his base — his balls growing tight as he inches closer and closer to blow his load, “you always can f’me, can’t you?”

And he gives a particularly hard thrust, right as his lips find yours in a messy, sloppy kiss — all tongue and teeth, your head falls back when his tip finds your g-spot again and again. You squirt all over his length, soaking him and the counter with your release, as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again. Your toes curl when he finally comes, his release painting your walls with his thick, hot release — fucking it deeper and deeper, and he’s notching himself inside.

You’re slumping against him, your eyes shut, as he pulls you closer into his arms, pressing sweet kisses all over your face until he finds your lips again.

“I love you,” you mumble, eyes fluttering open as he cups your chin, a soft smile on his lips.

“I love you more,” and he’s slowly lifting you, carrying you over to your shared bed, and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“But what about your cut?” You mumble, and a chuckle on his lips, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, as he sets you down on the bed, grabbing a damp washcloth to clean you up.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ve done plenty,” he murmurs, as he finishes cleaning you up, only to slip into bed beside you — “let me take care of you.”

~~~

It was over.

That’s what Nanami had thought when Mahito had stopped him in his tracks, his hand pressed against his chest, but more importantly, against his soul.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Nanami said, his eyes unable to tear away from the curse’s.

He could barely feel anything anymore — the stinging had dulled somewhere between his trek down the winding tunnels of Shibuya station. Instead, he could only hear the echo of his footsteps, as he had forced himself to take one step forward over and over and over — and that’s when he had seen them.

The congregation of curses or mutated humans — he didn’t know which they were, but did it really matter at this point? It didn’t. He dispatched them all the same — all while his thoughts were only filled of you — you, you, you and you.

And a beach in Malaysia.

“Yeah, Kuantan would have been nice,” and it would have been — it was only a few months away. The vacation the two of you had meticulously planned out. The days spent out walking the beach, lounging by the water with the books neither of you had never read, and nights falling asleep by each other’s side to the metronome of the waves crashing.

And now, he had found himself, staring death in the face — an echo of his near death from only a few months ago. How had it come to this already? He had always felt he was running out of time — constantly watching the clock, trying to run it out for his retirement, only for it to run out before he could make it to those sandy shores he had dreamed of.

“Yup. The whole time,” Mahito replies, lips in an easy smile, “Wanna chat? We go way back, after all,”

Nanami’s eyes fall to the floor, the dirtied and bloodied tiles underneath his feet — he didn’t feel like spilling his guts to a curse.

Haibara, what the hell was I trying to do? He asks in his mind, not even daring to say the words aloud, I ran. Even though I ran away, I came back with the vague reason of finding the work worthwhile.

And then he sees Haibara, appearing in front of him, patented smile on his lips, as he points south — points right at—

“Itadori,” Mahito says.

“Nanamin!” his eyes wide as he takes in his state — horror painted on his face, already so helpless — what else had he seen and now he had to see this too? He shouldn’t have had to see this. He should have been a normal kid — worrying about normal things — not fighting monsters in some damned subway tunnel.

But what could he do about what now? What could he do but stop?

Could he finally stop?

No, Haibara. That’s not right. I can’t say that to him. It’ll just end up becoming a curse for him.

But it’s a curse every jujutsu sorcerer had to bear — made to bear until there were either no curses or no sorcerers left.

But he couldn’t regret it now.

“Itadori,” his lips curl, smiling for the last time, “you’ve got it from—“

And then there’s a crash — screaming, the sound of blood splattering. It takes him a minute to realize it wasn’t him.

It was you.

You had crashed between the two of them, sending the curse flying with your cursed energy, the impact drawing blood from you and Mahito alike. Your arm was around his body — and Nanami is whispering your name.

“I told you, Kento, we’re always going to come home — even if I have to drag you there,” you say, your eyes still flickering between Itadori and Mahito, “Itadori, tske Nanami—“

“No, this is my fight,” he shakes his head, his fingers clenched into fists, “I almost let Nanamin die — I have to do this—“

“Yuji—“ you say, but he’s already barreling towards Mahito, and you’re whispering fuck, as you take Nanami in the opposite direction.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” and his eyes are barely able to stay open, as you help carry his weight alone the deserted subway, “I’m sorry—“

“Why are you sorry—“ but he’s barely awake along enough to hear your question, until it’s all black.

It takes him several months to recover. Cursed energy healing could only do so much, especially since Ieiri was spread thin enough with everything between Shibuya, the Culling Games, and everything else that came after.

Most of the brunt of his care had fallen on you — you changed his bandages, tended to his wounds, dealt with any signs of infection with help from Ieiri, and handled everything else around the house.

“Why do you do all of this for me?” He asks quietly, one day while he sits, your back turned while you washed the dishes from lunch — the clinking of plates and the sound of water running that squeaks shut when he asks.

You turn, lips in a frown, “what do you mean, Kento?”

His fingernails dig into his knee, biting back a sigh, as you walk over after wiping your hands off, “it’s been months of you just…taking care of me. I don’t get it — I didn’t understand when we were students when you insisted on caring for me, and now…” he swallows, his throat still impossibly dry—even after all treatment, nothing still tasted the same, “I’ve just become a burden—“

You cup his cheeks, “Kento, you are never a burden to me—“

“But—“

“But nothing — wouldn’t you do the same for me if I was in your position?” But he’s shaking his head.

“It’s not—“

“Kento, do you remember our first mission together?” he blinks, his brow furrowing, but you only smooth it with your fingers, “it was my first mission — I had barely gotten the hang of using cursed energy — I hadn’t even exorcised a curse before, but as always, jujutsu society had left children to bear the burden of survival amongst themselves,” and your fingers find his, “but you never left me alone. I froze in front of the curse. I didn’t know what to do with myself — even while you dealt with two others on your own — you still managed to save me, even though you managed to hurt yourself in the process,” your voice was soft, your hand finding his, lacing your fingers with his, squeezing his hand — but he’s not sure whether it’s to remind him you’re here or to remind yourself that he’s still here, “and you don’t remember it do you?” his lips purse, as his eyes can’t find yours, gaze cast downwards, but he hears you give a soft chuckle.

“I look at you and I see all the ways a soul can bruise — because you’ve taken hits that weren’t yours to take — you’ve taken challenges that shouldn’t have been yours to bear,” your fingers skim over his cheeks, “even in what you thought were your last moments,” your voice breaks, swallowing back tears, “your thoughts were of others — of helping your students, of Itadori, of me—” you shake your head, “and you think I’m doing too much for you? I think you deserve so much more than me—“

“All I need is you,” his voice is breaking, swallowing thickly, “that’s all I ever wanted,”

“Then just stay here with me — that would be enough for me,” you lean close and press your lips to his — and even still, the taste of your kiss was never any less sweet, “all I want is to come home to you, you think you can handle that?”

His lips find yours again, as they always would, “I’ll show you.”

~~~

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” and Nanami chuckles, his hands hooked around your knees and thighs, as your arms wrapped around his neck, your head resting on one of his shoulders, “Kentoooo, you don’t have to—“

“I want to, and I’m not going to risk it getting any worse by letting you walk on the sand — the sunset was painting the water in hues of gold, pinks, and purples — and the beauty of this beach was only made better by your presence, “just let me do this for you, love,” and you sigh, relenting, as you bury your face in the side of his neck.

“My husband is so doting, just a small cut on sea glass makes you this crazy?” and he shivers slightly, but it’s not from the slight sea breeze tickling his nose, but from your nose brushing against your neck, “are we headed back already?”

“How else will we treat your foot?” your hands slide over his bare skin — the skin still scarred as it always would be, an eye tucked away under an eyepatch — unable to be saved — but your husband was saved all the same, “unless Ieiri taught you how to used reversed cursed technique before our vacation,”

“It’s really not that bad—”

“Is this your first time being a patient?” and you pout, as he chuckles, vibration of his sweet laugh against your chest as you press yourself impossibly closer, especially when you see the looks of others as the two of you walk by.

“It’s embarrassing to be carried like this,” you murmur, “come on baby, I can walk the rest of the way,” but he only hums, casting a small glance over his shoulder.

“I like carrying you like this,” his lips curled in a smirk, “everyone knows you’re mine this way,” and your cheeks burn, and you kiss his cheek, pouting as you do, “we’ll be back on the beach soon enough — we have all the time in the world sweetheart,”

And you did — you bury your face in the side of his neck again — with him—

Always.

✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming!! i feel like with every one of these fics i'm never happy with them, but then they end up being better than i remember. apparently i just don't like my writing very much haha. i hope you guys enjoy <3 it's been so long since i wrote nanamin, so i hope it came out good <3

✧ taglist: @1angel-digits1, @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone, @freaky-show, @strangehuman101, @nanamis-baker, @hanxyy, @chosobeee, @luneriaa, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @forest-fruits-jam, @unorthodoxfaithxx, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @kenmei, @somrou, @spider-fan72, @missukiyo

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rae-ha-writes · 3 months

Text

Go For It, Gojo! - G.S.

Synopsis. You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid… …is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, banter about physics, cunnilingus, oral sex (male + female), 7 minutes in heaven, college! AU, 69, Satoru is a tease down bad for you (and has a big dick), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.

Word count. 10.2k

A/N. I really don’t like physics. Art by @_3em on X.

Life truly has an awful sense of humor - almost as bad as Gojo’s, which you discovered on the first day of Advanced Quantum Physics.

The air charged with nervous energy and the scent of freshly printed syllabi, you quickly snag a seat right at the front row of Professor Yaga’s class.

Ah, you’ll never forget how peaceful those few seconds to yourself after introductions were - before the devil incarnate dramatically swung open those lecture hall doors and plopped himself down right next to you. Late.

“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.” a voice hums from beside you, shattering your daydreams of passing this class with flying colors and riding a wave of glory into becoming a Nobel prize-winning physicist.

With a slight scowl, you turn your attention to the source of disturbance - only to meet eyes with (self-proclaimed) campus sweetheart, Satoru Gojo, leaning on his chair with an air of nonchalance. At your silence, he repeats, “I said any closer-”

“I heard what you said.” you snap, irritation flaring at the amused twinkle in his blue eyes and the mirthful grin that spreads across his lips at your reaction. “Doesn’t erase the fact that you’re sitting here too.” you raise a brow.

“Oh me? That’s because I’m already fucking his wife, sweetheart.” he deadpans with a blank expression.

What? The tense silence that follows is deafening - for the first time ever in your life, you were shocked into speechlessness.

A beat passes. One. Two. Before Gojo bursts into hysterics, clutching his stomach. “You- you shoulda seen the look on your face- HAHAHA-” he gets out between uncontrollable laughs. Face burning, you train your eyes forward and will yourself to not glance at the 6’3 mess cackling beside you.

Ugh. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Just think happy thoughts - kittens, quantum mechanics, being valedictorian. Desperately attempting to block out the giggling thorn at your side, you recoil at Professor Yaga’s extremely disapproving look in your direction.

Panicking, and dreams of being his ace student slowly flushing down the drain, you quickly flip through your notes, attempting to catch up to where the lecture had now started.

“Looks like we’re in trouble, partner~” Gojo’s dramatic stage-whisper catches the attention of students around you, them chuckling at your expense.

“Hey, you’re the student president, right? Hey~ Heyyy prez~” As Professor Yaga continues his spiel about the syllabus, you continue to very obviously ignore the incessant comments that spill out of Gojo’s lips, to stifled laughs from his fast-forming entourage.

The harder you tried to focus on Professor Yaga’s words, the louder and more absurd Gojo’s comments became - as if he’d made it his personal mission to enrage you. A sense of impending doom looming over you, you glare at him with a look that could’ve melted steel, hissing out, “Do you ever in your life shut the fuck up?”

Eyes widening in mock innocence, he grins “Oh~ I didn't know our student prez could get so feisty. Maybe I should take notes instead of doodling hearts around your name in my notebook.”

Ears ringing in embarrassment and frustration, and mind a whirlwind of how bad it would really be if you killed Gojo right here, you almost miss Professor Yaga’s question, “Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

Teetering on the edge of your seat, you raise your hand, scrambling to salvage whatever is left of your academic reputation. You and- Gojo?

You start at the call of your name from Professor Yaga, “The Copenhagen Interpretation uses Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and emphasizes measurement to state that quantum-level particles can act as both waves and particles. It’s the most widely accepted and pragmatic theory.”

Gojo basically falls out of his seat in eagerness to answer after you.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Gojo.”

You internally groan, ready for whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth.

With a deep breath, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”

Professor Yaga raises an intrigued eyebrow at Gojo’s statement, the class collectively holds a breath - as if awaiting the impending academic battlefield.

Gojo, with a cocky grin, plows on, “Think about it. The Pilot-Wave theory suggests that particles have definite positions and paths, unlike the uncertainty principle of the Copenhagen Interpretation. It's like predicting where a ball will land after you throw it, rather than saying it could be anywhere until you look."

Oh? He wasn’t a complete idiot?

Yet, you roll your eyes, “But the Pilot-Wave theory is too fanciful, it brings in too many hidden variables that have their own set of problems. It goes against the measurements and principles of locality!”

Unbothered by the challenge, Gojo leans back further in his chair, “What’s a couple complications? It’s a lot clearer on a microscopic level, none of that weird uncertainty of the Copenhagen Interpretation.”

Irritation running through your veins, you scoff at his condescending tone, “It might seem intuitive, but experiments and observations support the probabilistic nature of quantum mechanics.” You’re almost out of your chair at this point, an accusing finger pointed at Gojo. “Despite its weirdness, the Copenhagen Interpretation has proven successful in predicting outcomes.”

“Oh yeah? And it’s also only used by hardasses that just want to shut up and calculate, sweetheart.”

“Big talk for a little bi-”

“OKAY STUDENTS, that’s enough for now. Let’s put a pin in this discussion and move on with the topic.” Professor Yaga, who had been watching the debate with amusement, promptly ends it once you two begin to get overly heated.

The rest of the class, on the edge of their seats and probably hoping for some fists swinging between the academic titans, now sit back in disappointment at the fight cut off early.

You sit back in indignation, fuming at how Gojo had gotten you so worked up. And he was wrong too!

The lecture continues as if you two were never two curse words away from each other’s throats.

But, in the midst of it all, your glare meets blue, sparkling with amusement - a jolt of electricity runs through your body at the glint of recognition of the other’s brilliance. An unspoken yet undeniable competition.

You’ve avoided Gojo like the plague for the past few months since then - which isn’t doing much when said plague follows you around everywhere with incessant calls of “Hey, hardass prez~”. The only time you seek him out being to gloatingly show off the large, red “100” on your tests - to which, unfortunately, he does the same.

It’s stupid. It’s childish. Honestly, sometimes you think he just tries to get under your skin for the hell of it.

But you don’t have the time to think too deeply into that.

Just like you don’t have time for this frat party.

Music and alcohol thrumming through your veins, it’s always the same thing. You’d rather be holed up getting ahead of your physics textbook than be here. Yet, you owed a favor to your friend Haibara - and he’d been bugging you to come to this party for weeks now.

You’ll just stay another hour then leave, you sigh.

Zoning out as Haibara plays an overly-intense game of beer pong, you’re startled by an arm around your shoulder. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our lil’ prez looking like she’d rather peel paint than be here.” The expensive cologne hits you before the realization of who this was. “Drooling over the jocks? I recommend the STEM majors, sweetheart, jocks aren’t that great in bed.”

Quickly shrugging off his arm, you scowl, “Not like STEM majors are any better. And unlike some people, I have goals beyond being the life of the party.”

Decked out in slacks and a slightly too-unbuttoned shirt, Gojo chuckles, “Yeah, like what? Banishing fun?” Cerulean eyes gleaming with mischief, “You gotta let loose for once, sweetheart. Not everything in life is about academics and accolades.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes “Well not like I-” but whatever snarky retort gets caught in your throat as Gojo seizes your hand, effortlessly pulling you onto the dance floor.

Caught off guard, you can do nothing more than sputter in surprise as he leans down to murmur in your ear, above the bass reverberating the walls, “C’mon hardass, sometimes in life, you just gotta- dance!”

Gojo spins you into a dramatic dip, his silver chain brushing your face and his hand on your back burning into your skin.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment - yeah, embarrassment - as the people around you cheer in amusement at the science department’s biggest rivals navigating the dance floor with surprising chemistry.

This was ridiculous. And yet, music ringing in your ears, you almost crack a smile. Almost. That is until your eye catches Haibara’s surprised ones from the side of the dance floor. Wait - here you were dancing with Gojo.

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Immediately pushing him off with a hand to his chest, you don’t listen to whatever spills out of his mouth as you make your way to Haibara, disappearing with him into the crowd.

“Hey, hey you okay? Wasn’t that the guy you were manifesting would step on Lego with his bare foot?” Haibara’s concerned voice speaks up from wherever you were dragging him through this sprawling frat house.

“Ugh, yeah. Sorry about that, I don’t even- Anyway, how did the beer pong go?” you snap out of your reverie. What happened there? You were almost…enjoying yourself with Gojo Satoru of all people.

Listening to Haibara brag about his dominating beer pong win thankfully took your mind off of your little endeavor with Gojo.

“And then Yuji totally-”

“AH, THERE YOU ARE! Perfect, come join we’re two people short!” your kinda-friend Shoko’s drunken drawl breaks through the conversation. You can barely get a word out as she forcefully drags you two into a dimly lit room against your protests.

The atmosphere heavy with beer and laughter, she plops you two down onto the floor in a neat circle of people before taking her seat beside you. “GREAT! Now we’ve got everyone, we can finally start.”

With a mischievous grin, Shoko declares, “Alrighty, folks! Time for the ol’ classic - we’re playing 7 minutes in heaven!” pulling out an old-fashioned, tattered hat from behind her back, to a collective mix of groans and cheers from the circle.

“Where did you even find that ratty old thing, Shoko?” a sharply handsome man - Geto, you think - chuckles from his seat opposite you. And beside him- your heart stops. Gojo.

A smirk curling his lips and twinkling blue eyes locked on you.

As if on instinct, you move to get up - only to be brought back down by a hand on your wrist. “Nuh-uh, no one’s escaping, c’mon it’ll be fun.” Shoko smirks, beginning to hand out pieces of paper to write down your names.

Apprehension pooling in your stomach, you share a glance with Haibara, who was honestly just happy to be here. Reluctantly, you scrawl down your name, tension building as it drops into the abyss of the hat.

“As our first attempted escapee, I think the prez should go first.” that agitating voice you knew too well speaks up. If looks could kill, Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing all over his grave with a textbook on the Copenhagen Interaction.

To agreeing laughter - and your impending doom - the hat is promptly placed in front of you. God, you knew you should’ve stayed home. With a shaky hand, you delve in, grasping onto a slightly crumpled piece of paper.

Not Gojo. Please not Gojo. Literally anyone but Gojo-

Turning it over.

Satoru Gojo.

You jolt in surprise, rereading the hasty handwriting over and over - as if willing it to change. This must be some kind of sick joke. Eyes meeting Gojo’s, a flash of surprises passes his face before a self-satisfied grin takes over. He looked way too fucking pleased with himself.

“No fucking way.” Shoko mutters as it dawns on the group just who you were paired up with. Cheers and wolf-whistles erupt, filling the room as Satoru stands up extending a hand theatrically towards you. “If her highness the student prez would do me the utmost pleasure of joining me.”

You scoff, jeez it would be a surprise if you two didn’t kill each other in there. “Unless she’s…intimidated?” he bats his long lashes at you mockingly.

Intimidated? Of who? Swatting away Gojo’s hand, you stand up. “Intimidated? Don’t make me laugh.”

He leans down, retorting, “I’ve tried but you don’t seem to know how.”. The room holds their breath, attention squarely on the two of you.

A beat of silence passes as you glare at him. You really could smack his annoyingly pretty face right now, but you shouldn’t - too many witnesses.

“Now now, you two. Save it for the closet.”

Ever the mediator, Geto ushers you two in the direction of the - very cramped - closet tucked into a corner of the room.

Before you know it, the creak of the heavy wooden door rings in your ears as the door closes behind you. The loud click of a lock resonates, plunging you two into darkness.

The muffled sounds of the party seem miles away as you try to focus on your breathing - trying not to let your mind drift to Gojo. You could feel the heat of his body, the ghost of his presence less than a foot away from you.

“So…” you flinch as Gojo’s voice cuts through the deafening silence. “You still alive and breathing after being trapped in a tiny closet with me?”

You huff, desperately wanting to break out of this closet, “Yes, but you probably won’t be if you don’t stay on your side.”

“This closet is barely a closet, there’s no ‘side’, sweetheart. And that’s my leg you’re resting on.”

You immediately scramble to move away from the warmth of Gojo’s leg that you’d been subconsciously leaning yours on. In the chaos, you probably did a bit more damage than solving. “Ah! Wait- watch the crown jewels, hardass.”

You distance yourself as much as possible in the small space, knee burning where it had brushed up against Gojo’s that.

God, you were making a fool of yourself.

“As much as I like forceful women, you better take me out on a date first, sweetheart.” As your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting filtering in through the slight crack of the door, you could make out that signature playful grin.

Your irritation simmers beneath the surface. Gojo always knew how to get under your skin.

“Don’t you worry your empty lil’ head, I wouldn’t fuck you even if I was paid.” you bite back.

“Oh yeah?” Gojo leans in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “You sure about that, prez? I’ve been told that I’m irresistible.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed. “Yeah, irresistibly hard to not smack.”

“I always did like ‘em feisty. Makes our little debates all the more interesting.”

“Our debates would be a lot more interesting if you learned to keep that big mouth shut.”

“Oh? C’mon, prez, you love this ‘big mouth’. And you love the challenge. I see the way you look for me every time you answer one of Yaga’s questions, y’know.” Gojo murmurs, gaze piercing into yours.

He leans in closer - now definitely not on his side of the closet. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d call it chemistry. Admit it and I might consider not calling you ‘hardass’ for a whole week.”

“What- That’s just because- I’d rather be called ‘hardass’ for a lifetime than admit to having any chemistry with you. I can’t even tolerate you for seven minutes here.” you sputter at both his proximity and his (absurd) accusations.

“As the student prez, isn’t your entire job to tolerate everyone? You’re a walking contradiction, sweetheart.”

“I am not. You have no effect on me.” you protest, standing firm. In the heat of your argument, you and Gojo have drawn closer to each other. His breath now fanning your face as he hums, voice a seductive tease, “I do, admit it. There’s a part of you that likes our chemistry.”

A defiant spark ignites in your eyes, “I’ll admit no such thing.”

“Then…hit me like I know you want to if you don’t want this.” he whispers, voice breathless. He closes the distance.

Gojo’s lips meet yours.

Soft, they were so soft.

Your heartbeat thundering in surprise, a hand raising to - to what? Smack him away? Eyes fluttering closed, your hand fists his shirt, the other subconsciously finding its way to his cloudy locks. Tugging. Kissing him back.

Satoru kisses you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, he knows - he probably won’t.

Lips searing against yours, his eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste. Sweet - so sweet - just like candy, with a hint of Baileys and everything that he’ll never be able to have.

A strangled groan leaves his throat when you bite down on his lips. Tugging with your teeth. Shit, fuck him and his bigass ego, he wanted to be the one showing off his irresistibility but really it’s the other way around.

Mouth opening to let you in, he drinks in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Large hands on your face pulling you impossibly closer to him in this godforsaken closet. It was dizzying - almost as if it hurt to part, drawn by that familiar magnetism that always seems to hang around you.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body. Groping and squeezing every curve and dip - he doesn’t have enough time. He probably never will.

A hand rests firmly on your hips. Awaiting. Breaking away - just a fraction - he breathes out urgently into your lips, “I need to taste you. Let me taste you. Please.”

“Desperate, huh?”

Your gaze pierces through him, it always does. Immediately after your disoriented nod, he presses a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. God, he could do this forever.

You shudder as he hastily bunches your tight dress at your hips, sending blood rushing straight to his cock. Shit, this was not how he expected these 7 minutes to go.

Hurriedly falling to his knees, the pain doesn’t even register when he comes face-to-face with your clothed cunt. Panties already so wet - just for him. Cock twitching carnally, he needed to taste you now.

Tongue flattening across your swollen folds through your underwear, just a slight taste of your wet pussy and Satoru already thinks he might pass out. Ah, so good - of course you taste heavenly.

“Ah! Gojo- more.”

Pulling away, he feels drunk off the whimper of disappointment that escapes your mouth. “Call me Satoru.” he hums, fingers deftly sliding your soaked panties down your legs. His hot breath fanning your entrance has you clenching your thighs together, desperate for any friction.

Mouth watering at this, Satoru curses the darkness inside the closet - can’t even admire your pretty pussy right. You flinch as his face meets your cunt. Shit, this was better than he’d ever imagined on those lonely nights pathetically fucking his fist.

He breathes you in so sinfully, tongue sliding teasingly between your folds in a leisurely rhythm that almost has him forgetting however many minutes you two have left. Frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either. Sinful squelches fill the confined space, along with your quiet moans of his name.

“Hngh- S-Satoru. Feel s’good. Faster.”

Ah, it’s really music to his ears. Your voice plays on repeat in his mind. He doesn’t even realize the call from outside until you look down at him, eyes dazed and kiss-bitten lips moving to panickedly mutter, “Satoru, we only have three more minutes.”

Ah, guess he’ll have to take his time in his dreams.

“I only need two.” Satoru purrs, lips ghosting your wet core, voice sending goosebumps down your spine - all the way down to your dripping cunt.

“W-well, stop hngh- running your mouth then.” you retort.

Satoru’s smirk against your plush folds is the last thing you see before he dives nose-deep in your pussy. He doesn’t waste time, tongue dipping in and out of your hole at an unforgiving pace. In and out in and out in and-

“Hah- yes! Satoru jus’ like that!” you hiss out, desperately trying to keep the moans ripping from your throat to a minimum, in fear of the others outside hearing.

Noticing, Satoru snakes a hand up to your mouth - bullying his ringed-fingers in through your swollen lips. His index caresses your tongue, speeding up his movements on your pretty pussy as you gag around him. Moans catch in your throat as you struggle to accommodate him, the pleasure of being stretched from two ends too much.

Satoru only has to take one look - tears clinging to your lashes and drool trickling down the corner of your mouth as you suck on his fingers - before he thinks he might just cum in his pants. Fuck, it was so lewd.

You tighten your grasp on his hair, sure that your knees would give out if it wasn’t for the bruising grip he had on your hips, keeping you firmly on his mouth. Unable to run away.

Shit, for someone so tight-laced, you were so messy on his mouth. He moans as your slick pools in his mouth, dripping down the corners of his lips. The tap! tap! tap! of it hitting the hardwood floor rings deafeningly in his ears.

Ah, so this is why they call it 7 minutes in heaven. Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind dying if it was in between your legs being suffocated by your cunt.

Your entrance clamps down desperately on his tongue, forcing him to bully it into your snug pussy, fucking you unrelentingly. His nose rubbing against your swollen clit over and over.

At this point, Satoru doesn’t know whether the pulse he feels is that of his heartbeat or your cunt, throbbing and achingly needy for his mouth. His nose stimulates your clit just right, sending shockwaves through your body that have you bucking into him for more.

Voice slightly muffled by his fingers, “Fuck- Satoru, keep going. Hngh- I’m gonna cum!”

The way your walls desperately try to fuck his tongue has his cock straining so painfully against his trousers. Satoru increases his abuse on your cunt mercilessly, the harsh pace making you squeal and buck into his face. Your juices are now all over his mouth, gushing around his tongue. In and out in and out in and out-

“Satoru!”

You cum hard - all over Satoru’s pretty face.

Now, Satoru loves when you run your mouth and infuriate him, but he might just love it even more when you’re falling apart and speechless under his touch.

Riding out your high on his features, you can feel yourself quivering around his tongue as he laps up your juices as if it were a delicacy. Deep moans leaving his mouth and vibrating across your soaked cunt, making you jolt at the overstimulation.

Pulling back, Satoru admires your unfocused eyes and bruised lips. “For someone that so fucking despises me, your slutty pussy sure is sucking me in so desperately.” he murmurs, slightly out of breath after what just transpired.

“Sh-shut up.”

Ah, if only he got to see this view more often.

You can’t help but feel the same way. Seeing Satoru fucked out, vibrant eyes half-lidded and blown out, your slick prettily glossing all over his mouth and nose. A small voice in the back of your mind wishes he was more like this and not whatever he is when he’s getting on your nerves.

“ONE MORE MINUTE! Finish up whatever devil’s tango or death match y’all are having in there!”

Those troublesome thoughts are pushed out of your mind as soon as you hear Shoko call from outside.

The bubble is broken. Jumping apart as far as possible in the cramped closet, you press yourself into the closet wall as you two wordlessly rush to make yourselves slightly more presentable. The air, once charged with overflowing tension and sex, now so strained.

Bending down to feel for the panties that Satoru- no, Gojo had thrown god-knows-where, your hands graze his - still slightly wet with your spit. Snatching your hands back as if it burned, you make out Gojo’s figure pocketing something.

…

Your panties??

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you hiss, face burning at both his actions and the idea of going outside without panties.

“Just think of it as repayment for the fun.” he hums, mirth spilling into his tone. And before you could snap at his antics, Shoko is ripping the door open and looking around the closet for what you can only assume to be missing body parts and blood.

“Aw, man. And here I was thinking Satoru would be six feet under by now.” she groans, walking off disappointedly - for which you were eternally grateful otherwise she’d have seen the few suspicious stains on the floor.

“Remember, you owe me twenty, Shoko.” Geto speaks up from the circle. Were they…betting on whether you and Gojo would kill each other in there?

Finally stepping out of that godforsaken closet, you catch the smirks and raised eyebrows from some of the people from the group.

Meeting Gojo’s eye, a smirk curls around his swollen lip as he swipes a thumb across it. Agonizingly slow. Teasing.

Your cheeks flare, something pooling in your stomach. Ugh, this is why you hate frat parties.

“You alright, man? You look…flushed?” you hear Geto question, pointedly staring at Satoru’s slightly disheveled look.

It was all getting too much - the alcohol in the air, the thumping of the overplayed pop music, and him. You felt so lightheaded. Ripping your gaze from Gojo’s you leave without so much as a goodbye to him, only stopping for a reassuring nod at Haibara. You make a beeline for the exit, dashing out of there and down the winding staircase as fast as you could.

Focused on navigating the packed party, you almost don’t register Gojo rushing after you. Ignoring whatever words were tumbling out of Gojo’s mouth, you silently thank the sorority that had just pulled up - clinging onto him in greeting, making it impossible to follow after you.

The cool night air washes over you as you finally step outside. You sigh in relief as you leave the chaotic sounds of the party - and him - behind.

Impatiently waiting for your friend on the way to pick you up, only two thoughts echo in your mind.

He actually only needed two minutes.

What the fuck?

Meanwhile, back in that heady room, Shoko nudges Suguru, the latter still watching in amusement where Satoru had run after you in the door. “Hm?” he asks, absent-mindedly.

“Why do most of these papers have Satoru’s name?”

---

You pass through the next morning in a daze. The hardest part was probably trying to get dressed without making eye contact with the purple finger marks on your hips that Sato- Gojo had left to remember him by.

You still can’t believe that happened.

It’s alright, it was just a mistake in the heat of the moment - you just have to forget it ever happened, right? But that’s easier said than done when your last class of the day is Advanced Quantum Physics.

Cursing your timetable, you step through the crowded campus. You pull your sweater tighter around yourself, the fabric doing nothing to stop your skin searing where Gojo’s lips had been just last night.

Alright, you just had to get through this one class today. There’s a lot of people in Professor Yaga’s class - it’s not like you’ll necessarily see that bane of your existence-

“Yooo prez, fate just seems to bring us together hmm?”

Gojo almost topples out of his chair, waving in your direction. As your eyes sweep across the room, you can feel your heart sinking. Shit, you really feel like you’re being Punk’d right now.

Cursing whoever was up there for this cruel joke, you make your way to the desk beside Satoru’s - the only empty one.

Slumping down onto the chair with a frustrated huff, you sink into yourself - eyes trained firmly forward and ignoring the playful grin in your peripheral vision.

To your surprise, Gojo doesn’t say a word throughout the lecture. Not a single comment about fucking any professor’s wife - or your cunt. Huh, did last night cause some type of qi deviation or something?

As Professor Yaga drones on about quantum entanglement, you find the words going in one ear and out the other, too focused on wondering what Gojo’s game was.

It’s only towards the end of the lecture, at the introduction of some new assignment that you find yourself finally letting your guard down. Okay, see, it wasn’t too bad. Now time to go back to your apartment and study whatever quantum entanglement was for the next five hours.

“Ah- And remember, the midterm assignment pairings are posted on Canvas.”

What was that?

God, you hated working with other people. It was much more efficient for you to stay in and finish this paper in one sitting.

“So, partner~ My place or yours?”

What?

The bell rings, its metallic chime resonating in your mind almost as loud as Gojo’s words. Signaling the end of class - and probably the end of your sanity.

You wish the ground would swallow you up at this very moment. These days have really not been your days.

---

“Literally what do you bring to the table?”

“Comedic relief and my undeniably good looks.”

“...”

“...and also the case study and background information.”

The air at the stuffy café just off-campus was a mixture of freshly ground coffee and hushed conversations - of course, occasionally disrupted by the chaotic debates that erupted from your little booth.

Not too long ago, as everyone moved to file out of the classroom, you were frozen, glaring at your open laptop so intensely you half-expected it to combust - scrutinizing the neat arrangement of Gojo’s name next to your own over a million times.

Finally sighing in defeat, you nodded in surrender at Gojo - who was whooping in victory. But, you were still adamant on meeting somewhere in public. The last time you two were left alone ended up…interesting.

“Then you do that and I’ll take care of the rest of the theoretical analysis and evaluation. Okay, sounds good, Gojo.” you deadpan, rubbing the sides of your forehead in frustration.

“Ouch, no Satoru?”

Ignoring his comment, you promptly slam your laptop closed, gathering your things with a determined sigh. Ready to escape the stifling atmosphere of the cafe. “So you do that and put it on the doc, and I’ll do the same with my parts. See ya.”

That’s when you feel a large hand covering yours - the same one from- “Hey there now, hardass, stay a little longer - gotta make sure you don’t slander quantum entanglement in our essay the same way you do with the Pilot-Wave theory.” Gojo interrupts your intrusive train of thought.

“What? Unlike you, I don’t slander any scientific theories. Although, I do think the idea of entangled particles jumping around like you do is hardly the hallmark of a stable scientific theory.” you retort, face burning but setting down your bag nonetheless.

Resting his face on his hands, he grins at you. “Oh yeah? I think stability is overrated, prez. Quantum entanglement challenges you because it’s a realm where your precious stability crumbles in the face of non-local correlations.”

God, was he glad he begged on his knees to Yaga to pair you two together. He was having way too much fun with this.

“Just because particles can communicate faster than you can comprehend doesn't mean we should abandon reason.” you raise a brow.

“Well, I think you should just embrace the uncertainty, sweetheart. Life is a game of chance, just like quantum entanglement.”

“Oh, really?” you drone out, sarcastically.

“Yeah, think about it. For instance, I never thought I’d still be alive and breathing after last night. But here I am.” at your stunned silence, he continues. “I for sure thought you’d have the coffin ready as soon as I kissed y-”

You panickedly place your hands over his mouth to shut him up, those blue eyes twinkle in amusement. “When I said you had a big mouth I really wasn’t lying, huh.”

Slowly removing your hands once it seemed like Gojo wouldn’t spill your endeavors in this family-friendly cafe, you sigh, “Okay- We’ll get some shit done today, alright. But this is the last time I’m meeting with you for this.”

“Mhm~ You got it, prez.”

It was not the last time you met with Gojo for this.

Nor was it the second-last.

Or the third-last.

Each and every time you two worked together on the assignment, you’d spend more time bickering about anything ranging from what you’d learned in Professor Yaga’s class that day to whether the old lady who frequented the café was a part of the mafia.

“I’m telling you, she handles those knitting needles like they’re a weapon.”

“Mhm and she sips her Earl Grey like she’s plotting espionage. Now, get to work before I use my teaspoon as a weapon.”

“I’d rather investigate her than this damn Qiskit simulation.”

“Sure, Gojo. I’ll add her to our list of groundbreaking research projects.”

“Don’t come crying to me when I rub it in your face once we see her on the news as a mafia queenpin, prez.”

You’re pretty sure the café employees have a love-hate relationship with you and Gojo - too lively to be one of their favorite regulars, but arguments too amusing to kick you two out.

And as for your relationship with Gojo…well. It’s not as if you can’t go 7 minutes without being somewhat civil, and yet that’s exactly the issue, isn’t it?

After what had happened that night, it feels as if there’s something charging the air whenever you two are together.

You chalk it up to just lingering tension, but that still doesn’t explain the way Gojo’s eyes hold a warm twinkle whenever he looks at you - gaze a little too warm than you’d expect a rival to have. But it’s fine, you just have to ace this assignment and then this strange dynamic can go back to normal.

It’s only towards the end of your assignment that you realize how wrong you really were.

---

Out of breath and darting across campus towards where you knew Gojo was waiting, you half-wish you joined the track team instead of the student government. Damn student reps, can’t keep proper archives.

As much as you got a kick out of getting on Gojo’s nerves, you hated to keep anyone waiting.

“Ah! Prez! Was heartbroken thinking you’d stood me up, y’know?” Satoru calls once he spots you bolting towards him on that dimly-lit pathway. Wow, maybe you should’ve joined the track team.

You trip. Ah, maybe not.

Feet automatically hastening your way, he catches you. Well, more like you fall into his arms.

“Just in time, huh?” he chuckles, thankful for the sun dipping below the horizon - otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flush tinting his cheeks. Arms wrapped around your waist and supporting your waist, Satoru almost coos at the surprised look gracing your face. You always did something to his heart.

Hastily distancing himself from you once you stand on your own, he rambles - anything to drown out the banging of his heart against his chest. “So, I’m assuming you were out there doing all your president-ly duties?”

“Ah! Yes, I’m so sorry, the meeting ran overtime and-”

Listening to you rant, Satoru thinks that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. He’s only snapped out his reverie at your disappointed groan. Oh, what was this? He didn’t even realize his feet had carried him to the little café already.

Ripping his eyes from you, he turns to what moping at. A sign with red writing is plastered over the very locked café entrance - Sorry! Staff training today, hope to see you tomorrow!

“Seems like everyone’s got meetings today.” he hears you grumble. Satoru knows it isn’t right, but his heart leaps slightly at the chance to get to know you outside of that familiar cafe.

You, meanwhile, felt tension - and something else - pooling in your stomach. Shit, if the sanctuary of your café is no longer available…

“Well, we could just go home and finish off the paper by ourselves. It’s only the last bit anyway.” you suggest, voice slightly shaky at the idea and anticipation of actually being alone with Gojo after so long.

“But Suguru’s such a loud snorer, I’d never get any work done.” Gojo whines. Well, there goes that plan.

“The library?”

“I hear it’s haunted this time of year.” he answers right away.

“Ghosts are seasonal?” you ask absent-mindedly, too focused on weighing between the need to finish this assignment today and the uncertainty of what would happen between you and Gojo.

A tense silence fills the slowly darkening street as you go through all your options. Finally, watching the long shadows casted now, you sigh. “Fine. We’ll go to my place.” you mutter out.

“Would you get angry if I celebrated right now?”

“Maybe.”

The walk to your apartment is bathed in the soft orange glow of the setting sun. It was almost peaceful - if it weren’t for Gojo’s excited chattering about god-knows-what.

Your mind was running a million miles a minute. Was something like last time going to happen? Were you a lecher for expecting it? Why didn’t you mind the thought as much as you think you should?

You risk a glance at Satoru, who was in the middle of a passionate speech about how ketchup was a valid condiment on pasta. Soft sunlight paints his hair an amber hue, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features, eyes sparkling with passion and mischief. He was beautiful.

Wait. Beautiful?

“Hey isn’t this your apartment building or is walking past it a pre-entrance ritual?”

Ah. Whoops.

You snap out of those ridiculous notions, gathering whatever dignity you have left to walk back to the apartment complex you’d left in the dust while wrapped up in your thoughts.

“Oooo, didn’t take you for much of a decorator, hardass.” Gojo comments, flitting about your cozy apartment to look at all the little knick-knacks and pictures

“Did you really think I lived in some sterile lab?” you retort. Gojo’s almost-endearing curiosity amuses you enough to let go of the electricity thrumming through your body at having him so close. In your home.

“Well, I expected more beakers and fewer fairy lights, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, pretending to be offended. “Believe it or not, Gojo, hardasses can have a sense of style, too.”

He continues his exploration, stopping in front of a photo on the wall. “Who’s this model?” he grins, pointing at a picture of you in stuffy formal attire at some conference.

You sigh, knowing exactly which photo he's referring to. “That, Gojo, is me at a conference presenting a groundbreaking research paper.”

“Groundbreaking, huh? Is that what they call it these days?” he hums, arching an eyebrow playfully.

“Yes, and six feet under is what they’ll be calling you if you don’t get your ass here and finish this paper.”

“...yes, prez.”

Writing the conclusion and inserting citations is always the fun part. If you could write an essay on whatever you want, it would be only conclusions and citations, you think.

After a few hours of working on your paper, apparently Gojo does not feel the same way.

“Fuck Noodletools. All my homies hate Noodletools.”

“This is why you only have two friends, Gojo.”

“Hey! I’m a very likable person, y’know.”

“...”

He sets his laptop down leaning closer to you over where he was seated opposite you on the coffee table, clearly bored of citations for the time being. “Also, aren’t we friends, sweetheart? Technically I have three.”

You raise a brow, this was the first time Satoru had ever addressed the strange dynamic you two had. “Are we?” you ask, genuinely.

A deafening silence envelopes your living room. This was the first time you’d seen such a serious expression take over Gojo’s face as he answers, voice even, “I’m not sure.”

The atmosphere thickens with a charged tension, the weight of Gojo’s words lingering in the room. A spark flickers in his eyes. You feel like you could almost get whiplash from the contrast between the heated banter to where you two were now. Was it always so hot in this room?

You let out a strained laugh, attempting to diffuse the seriousness and go back to a trivial territory you were more familiar with. “I never thought the great Gojo Satoru would be uncertain about something.” Your eyes flicker unwillingly from his intense gaze to his worry-bitten lips.

The mischief returning to his gleaming eyes, he smirks “Uncertainty can be thrilling, don't you think, sweetheart?”

You don’t even know what to say to that - and you don’t have to. Because before you can respond, Gojo swiftly leans over the coffee table - catching your lips in a sudden, electrifying kiss.

Time stands still. A shiver runs down your spine as you realize that you didn’t want to push him away. At all. In fact, you grab a fistful of his soft locks, pulling him impossibly deeper into the kiss.

Pulling away mere millimeters, Gojo’s hot breath fanning your mouth as he whispers, “Told you the uncertainty is thrilling, sweetheart.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” you grumble, irritated because his lips ghosting yours was not enough.

Before you know it, Gojo has you pinned against the plush couch. His lips finding your, the kiss deepening as he yearns for that desperate connection - as if each breath depends on smothering you with dizzying kisses.

The room seems to shrink, right now only filled with the heated exchange of breaths and the feeling of Satoru’s lips searing into yours.

You think he tastes like caramel and uncertainty - yet, this time, you fall into the unknown with open arms. Wrapping your legs around his toned waist, your arms around his broad shoulders - bringing him to you so close you’d think the laws of physics were taking a coffee break.

It almost hurt.

The intensity of the moment only growing, the atmosphere in your homey apartment crackles with a tension that you knew in the back of your mind had been building for so long - ever since that party.

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears. You knew this would happen.

And a part of you needed it to.

His fingers trace a path along your jawline, leaving a trail of heat - you shudder, craving for more.

“Gojo, I want you.” you breathe out, words muffled by Satoru sucking sinfully on your lips.

He pulls away slightly, delicate strings of saliva still connecting him to you. Every fiber of his being resisting to part.

“Don’t call me that.” he purrs out, the intensity of his half-lidded stare sending a jolt straight down to your heated core. “It’s Satoru when we’re fucking, remember?”

Looking into his sultry eyes, for the first time ever you decide to heed what Satoru says. “S-Satoru, please.” you whimper, hips bucking up to meet his own. You can feel the large outline of his achingly hard cock straining against those stupidly overpriced trousers, pussy quivering in anticipation.

Now, there have been three times in his life that Satoru thinks he has died and gone to heaven. The first being when he discovered that the ramen joint by his dorm also had free Wi-Fi. Second, that first day in Advanced Quantum Physics when you snapped at him told him to shut the fuck up.

And finally, right now, as he’s got you needy and squirming underneath him - such pretty gasps of his name leaving your kiss-bitten lips.

God, navigating quantum physics is a walk in the park in comparison to what you put his heart through.

“Hmm, never in my life thought I’d see his view, sweetheart.” he whispers lowly into your ear, delighting in the goosebumps that erupt along your alluring body. How did he get so lucky?

Hastily pulling down your shorts, his mouth waters at your wet panties. Another prize for him, hm? Throwing them along with your panties to god-knows-where, Satoru drinks in the sight of your bare pussy - a privilege that he didn’t get in that godforsaken closet.

Ah, so ready and dripping for him already. Your slick glistens out of your heated entrance as you clench around nothing. “Aww, they’ve faded.” he whines, heart lurching at the lack of his marks from last time.

It’s alright, he can just make more.

Not one to waste time, with a bruising grip holding your hips steady, Satoru grinds his painfully hard cock into your needy cunt, savoring the pretty mewls that leave your mouth. The way your swollen pussy quivers against him makes him throw his head back, seeing stars already.

Nipping along your neck, leaving marks he knows you’ll have to cover up tomorrow. “Sit on m’face,” he murmurs into your skin.

“W-what?”

Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the valley of your breasts, Satoru breathes you in. Fuck, he prefers the smell of your skin to any scent in the world. “Sit- on- my- face.” he repeats, words punctuated with erotic kisses to your hardened nipples, tongue flicking them through the fabric of your clothes.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know?” you gasp. Yet, still shifting on that cramped couch. Why do you two always fuck in the most inconvenient places?

Satoru’s legs hang off the end of your couch as he lays on his back, you’d almost find the position funny - if it weren’t for you straddling his head.

His hot breath on your wet cunt sends waves of electricity though your entire body as you hover over his mouth. Your needy pussy right above where his mouth is, hesitating. Your slick oozes slowly through your swollen folds - drip! drip! drip! onto his awaiting tongue, brows furrowing and eyes rolling to the back of his head at your sweet juices.

“Mhm, and I hope that you’ll be the death of me.” he hums, tongue savoring your taste.

It’s the last thing said before Satoru surges forward, plunging mouth-first into your heated cunt.

Despite not being on a time crunch this time, Satoru doesn’t waste a moment teasing - he already has you splayed out and aching for him, what more could he want?

He bullies his tongue into your snug cunt, pushing past the first ring of muscle. You twitch around him, sweet moans spilling incessantly from your mouth. “Ah! Hngh- Satoru! Fuck s’good.”

Your sounds of pleasure going straight to his dick, he bucks into your hands. Ah, more. He needs your touch more.

The feeling of your plush walls clamping down on him only spurs him on further, fucking you at a ruthless pace. One hand gropes across your body, resting a thumb on your clit that rubs tight circles, making you grind down further into his mouth.

“Your pussy is so honest, sweetheart. She wants me so badly.” he murmurs, voice sending vibrations that make you let out a loud moan which he suspects your neighbors would be complaining about.

You were so perfect for him, Satoru thinks he might go insane.

You were definitely going insane.

Satoru shows no mercy, his abuse on your dripping cunt only speeding up at every buck of your hips into his tongue. It felt so fucking good.

Closing your eyes, his pressure on your core has you seeing spots behind your vision. You could feel the curl of his signature smirk against your folds as your pussy tries sucking him back in at every thrust. Too good to let him go. “Knew you loved this ‘big mouth’, hardass.” he murmurs.

Shit, you can’t be the only one acting so needy like this.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” Satoru drawls, voice muffled by your cunt as he feels the breeze of his lower abdomen hitting the heady air of your living room.

“Payback.” is all you mutter out as you fumble his trousers down his long legs. Curse these gyms. Curse squats. Why did he have to be so perfectly sculpted? An Adonis in his true form.

You can feel the saliva pooling in your mouth as his boxers come into view - rock-hard cock straining painfully against it A patch of pre-cum pools at his head - he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. Hands shaky from the way Satoru’s incessant tongue was fucking into you, you shuffle his boxers down.

Satoru’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. Fuck- how the hell were you supposed to take him? Life was really unfortunate - water was wet, and Gojo Satoru has a huge dick.

“S-sweetheart, you don’t have to-” he murmurs against your swollen pussy.

From all your times shutting up Gojo Satoru, this one might just be your favorite.

His words catch desperately in his throat as you spit out a pool of saliva onto Satoru’s furiously flushed head. A low hiss leaving him as you teasingly lick his sensitive slit.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Satoru attaches his lips with yours once more. He groans lowly into you, the stimulation making you yelp in surprise.

“So, it’s like that, huh?”

Satoru doesn’t have the time to ponder your words before you take in as much of his length as you can in one go. “Ah! Hah- Oh fuck, prez. Always knew you were a forceful woman.”

You moan at the slightly salty taste of his precum. Gagging around him, drool drips down the corner of your mouth as you try to take him in inch by fucking inch. It was so fucking messy.

Diving nose-deep in your cunt once again, Satoru continues the merciless pace of his tongue once more. Both your muffled moans fill the heated room, lost in the pleasure and the heat of the moment.

Shit, you knew by the way your walls clenched down on his tongue that you weren’t gonna last long. And judging by the urgent twitching of Satoru’s cock - he wasn’t going to either.

He fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth, your eyes watering as his tip hits the back of your throat. Ropes of spit and precum decorate your lips. Even the staunch part of you that never backs down for anyone cheers at being so used. It’s so fucking debauched.

Your hand moves down to massage his heavy balls, tugging and pulling at a rhythm that matches the rapid ministrations of his thumb on your swollen clit.

Mind spinning and pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming as you both lean closer and closer to your highs. With a final mewl around his thick cock, your juices are gushing all around Satoru’s mouth.

Your mind blanks as you cum, the only things registering being the tingles of your oversensitive pussy as Satoru rides you through your high on his tongue and the taste of Satoru as he cums in hot spurts in your mouth. Salty, with a hint of sweet - the flavor making your pussy twitch.

Fucking his seed into you, your mouth milks his cock. His cum dribbling down the corner of your mouth, all thoughts of dirtying your couch go out your brain when you hear the fucked out whines at the back of Satoru’s throat.

Fuck a refractory period, you wanted to hear that more.

You remove yourself from him with a lewd pop! Cum flowing smoothly down your throat, you lock eyes with Satoru over your shoulder. His jaw drops, pupils blown lustfully as your tongue sticks out - showing the way you’ve swallowed every single drop of his seed.

“Now, Satoru. I need you to fuck me with yours cock just as you did with your tongue.” your words still strained from your orgasm.

Wordlessly, Satoru nods, eyes shining - still reeling from the sinful sight of your bruised lips glossy with his cum - his cum that you swallowed as if it was a delicacy.

Meanwhile you were thinking that you should fuck Satoru more if it meant you got him to shut up and be pretty more often.

Slightly more clear-headed now, just as lustful.

Your couch creaks in protest as you shift positions to face Satoru once more. He seizes your lips in a passionate kiss, mouth attacking yours with a desperation for your essence.

Your head spins as you taste yourselves on each other, words tumbling out of your mouth in the haze, “Satoru, bed- now.”

But when has he not challenged you?

“Mhm, anything you say, prez.” he whispers raspily against your lips, still-hard cock teasingly dragging along your swollen folds.

“Satoru.”

“Fuck yes. Say m’name, sweetheart.” he groans out, throwing his head back against the armrest. Your slick pools all over Satoru’s thick head, dripping sensually down his length to where he gripped tightly at the base.

Swollen lips dropping into a small “oh”, he slides a ringed hand up his member, spreading your juices. Cock twitching carnally at the way your pussy was leaking all over him, he grits out, “Need to feel you around my cock now, sweetheart.”

So he does.

Thick head pressing into your tight entrance, a low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully tight you were. Fuck, he could just about pass out right now.

“S’tight, sweetheart. So good.” he fucks up into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips - impatience quickly waning. You yelp at each thrust, walls burning with the stretch of Satoru’s thick head.

You try to steady yourself as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper and deeper, nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. In the midst of it all you still manage to impatiently slur out, “I-if you’re gonna fuck me then hah- fuck me like you mean it, Satoru.”

Oh, that did it.

Your words make the last bit of sanity Satoru had left snap.

In a swift movement, he sheaths his throbbing erection in your wet cunt completely. A gasp gets caught in his throat at the way your walls were clamping down on him in surprise.

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and a dangerously predatory glint in them that sends shivers down your spine. “Fuck me like I mean it, huh? You’re quite bossy, y’know that, prez?”

Before you can retort - and probably dig your grave deeper - he stands up in one fluid motion, your legs around his waist and cock still buried deep in your snug pussy. You moan at the change in angle, his tip now kissing your cervix so deliciously painfully. Shit, you feel so full.

Hands moving down to grope your ass firmly and support your weight, he grins lowly in your ear, “You’re lucky I love that part of you.”

The wall is cold as Satoru shoves your back against it. his body making the air leave your lungs as he presses into yours, ramming into you at a merciless pace. Your tight cunt clenches so tightly around him, as if to prevent him from leaving.

Each thrust into your warm core has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, brows furrowing in ecstasy. His lips capture yours once again in a rough dance that matches the cadence of his hips.

You mewl against his mouth at the feeling of his heavy balls stinging your skin as they smack your ass. The power behind each harsh thrust has you bouncing against the wall, legs pulling tighter around his toned waist to bully his cock impossibly deeper in you.

“Where- fuck! Where’s the bed?” he moans breathlessly against your lips, voice sounding as if each thrust of his pulsing cock into your plush walls sends him spiraling deeper into insanity.

“Down- down the hallway. Hngh- fuck, Satoru!” you not far behind.

Your mind is foggy, barely even registering as Satoru moves blindly towards your bedroom with powerful strides - not yet pulling out of you.

He doesn’t get very far before he’s got you sprawled over your bedroom floor, your carpet digging into you as his cock slams into your abused cunt with that feral pace he loves so much. Not even making it to the bed.

“Ah! Hah- Satoru, what happened to the bed?” you sputter out in-between uncontrollable moans.

“Too far. Hngh- need you now.” he answers around your breasts, teasing and tweaking your sensitive nipples.

“Wh-who’s irresistible now?” you manage to smirk, relishing in the huff of laughter that escapes him. Even now, you always did manage to one-up him.

“Mhm, you’ve always been irresistible, sweetheart.” he mutters, moving to press a chaste kiss against your forehead, not sure whether the words were even meant for you to hear.

And you know it’s just pussy-drunk talk, but right now you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up, heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Not sure how to respond to that, you pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his burning face in the crook of your neck. Maybe right now neither of you needed to speak, your bodies doing enough talking as Satoru continues his relentless cadence.

Your hips bucking up to meet his, you whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room as Satoru moves down a hand to draw rough, little circles over and over your throbbing clit. It was all too much. “S-Satoru.”

“Me too, my sweetheart. Me too.” is all he gasps out, teeth digging into your neck at the pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Satoru’s tight balls twitch as they smack your ass, cock glistening with cum and slick. He sees stars behind his eyes - or maybe those were tears at the overstimulation. He really doesn’t know anymore.

Head spinning and thoughts racing with only Satoru Satoru Satoru, you’re very much in the same state.

“Satoru?” you whine out, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You pull him into an intense kiss, pussy clamping down on him desperately as his lips brand yours - it sends you both over the edge.

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums, and you were probably an angel.

Hot ropes of his thick cum paint your walls white, cunt quivering around him as you both ride out your climaxes together. A creamy ring forms around his base as he fucks his seed into you desperately, marking you so obviously as his. All thoughts of Plan B run out of your mind at the overstimulated whimpers leaving Satoru’s ruby lips.

His dick twitches inside you as his unforgiving thrusts slow down to shallow grinds of his hips, nothing more than to keep his cum inside of you as your highs bate.

Body collapsing onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight, Satoru pulls you closer to him. And despite everything that happened this evening, he thinks that this might be what makes his ears burn red the most. Your body so vulnerably connected with his own. Just the two of you in this quiet world.

The silence feels intimate and fragile. Brain still hazy from your orgasms, you don’t think you’ve ever quite looked at your bedroom ceiling from his angle.

Strangely enough, Satoru’s warm weight on you feels comforting. Neither of you speak now. Nor do you speak when Satoru carries you to bed, searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe you clean with.

It’s only when he lingers at the foot of your bed - uncertain - that the silence is broken. “Get in, stupid.” you scoff, opening the covers invitingly.

Of course, an elated smile overtaking his face, Satoru jumps in your bed with enough force to send you both bouncing. It was childish. It was so ridiculous. It had you barking out a surprised laugh at his antics.

In your joy, you don’t even realize that Satoru has stopped moving - frozen, smile slipping off his face and staring at you with an unknown spark in his eyes.

“What?” you question, feeling strangely self-conscious.

White locks tousling as he shakes his head, he breathes, “It’s the first time I’ve made you laugh.” The words hang in the delicate atmosphere, tension so thick you think it could snap any moment.

You hide your face in your hands, palms clammy. “You- you make me sound like some sort of evil witch.” you stammer out, embarrassment pooling in your gut. The tension in the air dissipates, yet the intensity in Satoru’s gaze remains.

Satoru understands, smiling blindingly. He pulls your naked body to his, wrapping his arms tenderly around your waist as you both bury into the covers. “Well, more of a hardass than an evil witch.”

“Satoru?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You still have to finish your citations.”

A/N. Can be read as a standalone BUT part 2 planned for next longfic Sunday!

Plagiarism not authorized.

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rae-ha-writes · 4 months

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THE ETHICS OF RELATIONSHIPS - 'THE PROFESSOR GETO SERIES'

INSTRUCTOR INFORMATION Professor Suguru Geto Level: Advanced (18+)

COURSE DESCRIPTION Professor Suguru Geto is a renown ethics professor, and you're a 4.0, straight A student whose GPA he's trying to ruin (or that's what you think). Instead of dropping the class, you're more intent on making him see your brilliance -- but you get more than you bargained for, when the two of you learn more about the other -- and what you owe to each other.

COURSE REQUIREMENTS

I. I NEED SOMEONE OLDER.........10,376 POINTS

II. ILLICIT AFFAIRS...........................16,821 POINTS

III. TBC

EXTRA CREDIT

COMING SOON

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rae-ha-writes · 7 months

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warning: light angst, hurt 2 comfort

“oh. oh no baby— don’t cry, please.”

you push hongjoong away as he gets closer to you. it hurt. the words that just stumbled out of his mouth, an allusion to how clingy you are apparently and how suffocating he feels around you slicing through you like knife on soft butter.

you had been fighting for the smallest thing for some days straight, the slightest actions setting both of you off, throwing icy comments at the other. but this time hongjoong pushed it too far, you had only asked him where he came from after he entered your house at 1am. was he at the studio? it wasn't the first time he arrived this late to your shared apartment but he always texted you about his whereabouts and cute messages, but this time nothing. you had been worrying yourself sick.

so when he snaps at you, the worry and tiredness tugging at your body, making it feel heavy only help the tears come out. you sniffle, rubbing your eyes with your knuckles as he comes closer. you take a step backwards and you miss the horrified hurt that flashes through his eyes.

"baby, please look at me, let me touch you," his voice cracks as you fail to meet his eyes, settling to look at the soft rug seonghwa had bought you when you and hongjoong both moved in together. he takes another step towards but your hug yourself.

"it's okay, i get it, you need your space, i'll let you breathe," you say to him, turning to walk up the stairs but he grabs your wrist and you don't even push him away when he tugs at you, making you fall directly into his arm as he hugs your head, hiding it deeper in the material of his shirt.

"no baby, i didn't mean it, you know how i get when i'm tired, baby please," he mumbles against your hair and your sobs grow in volume. he can feel your fists tighten against the material and he knows it's been so long since he held you like this. guilt hits him as he notices your broken form, small hiccups in between cries and he's not sure you can even hear him. he tightens his hold, both of you now on the floor, you in between his thighs as he rocks you back and forth.

you both stay in this position for minutes, his back against the couch as he rubs circles on your back, your head muffled in his neck, which is wet from the tears that just evacuated your body. when he feels that your body had calmed down, not shaking from the tears he forced out of you he pulls you back softly.

he grabs your face in the warm palm of his hands, looking at the aftermath, the bloodshot red eyes that peek behind puffy eyelids. the sticky eyelashes that form wet spikes. the streaks of water on your cheeks, like beautifully carved rivers from erosion. the puffiness of your lips, always so big after you cry. his own eyes reflect the hurt he had caused you. so unbelievable that you stand there in front of him on your knees looking so frail and so tired. he passes a shaky finger on one of your prominant eyebag. he knows he's been the cause of the aggravated darkness under your eyes, knowing fully that you have trouble sleeping without him. his heart tugs at him once again, guilt making hard for him to find the right words.

"i," he starts, clearing his throat when you look at him with tired eyes, not knowing what to expect coming from him after days of bickering, "i need you to understand that what i said just now," he grabs at your cheeks with one hand when you unvonluntary turn away, not wanting to meet his eyes as you reminince the comments, "i did not mean one word, not one, baby i need you to believe me, you know how i get when i'm stressed, and i'm not making excuses, i shouldn't act like that, i know it. i never want to hurt you baby, you're so important to me—"

he's cut off when you bring him closer to you, your lips meeting his in a heartwrenching kiss. you kiss him like your life depends on it, like he's your lifeline. and hongjoong feels every tiny bit of emotion you try to convey through the kiss as he tastes the saltiness of your tears. or his he doesn't know, all he knows is that your lips are on his and he's the happiest man alive, so relieved.

he picks you up, walking up the stairs, and you don't even notice he's brought you in your bedroom until he softly puts you down on your mattress, still not separating yourself from his lips. you continue kissing, finally feeling whole after this tiring week.

he pulls pack and he takes another moment to stare at you. holding himself on his right forearm next to your head, his uses his left hand to brush the hair away from your face. the light is low in you room, only coming from the full moon outside of your window, but he swears you've never been this beautiful, eyes shining.

"you're so pretty when you cry."

you both let out small laughs at the absurdity of the comment he just out, breaking the soft atmosphere and he bends to peck you, kissing your front teeth instead.

"no but seriously," he passes a thumb over your eyebrow, "i'm sorry baby, are you still mad at me," when you shake your head sideways he lets out a soft sigh.

"lemme hear your voice pretty, missed it so much," he groans as he drops his head on your neck. instead of crying in the soothing spot he drops small pecks. you clear your throat, dry and tight from all the crying as you try to croak out an answer.

"i love you," you simply whisper, wincing when you hear how gruff you sound and he stills on top of you. he stops his pecks to open his mouth, taking a small part of the skin in his mouth, sucking slightly. he nibbles on red skin, perfect teeth rolling the flesh between them and he finally lets go, dropping one last chaste skin on the skin.

"i love you too. so much."

masterlist

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rae-ha-writes · 7 months

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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader summary: you make out with gojo genre: suggestive, short and sweet fluff notes: this was originally an akaashi fic but i rewrote it, petnames, gojo calls reader sweetheart and pretty, wc: ~1.8k

the day that gojo satoru asked you out was the day that you were sure your heart would give out. if you were to ask anyone else, it had been a long time coming, and everyone had sighed in relief when he had finally approached you with a confident smile and his pretty, blue eyes.

of course, you were wrong. sitting on the couch, tucked into gojo's side with his arm slung around your shoulders, you realize that this might actually be the moment where your heart gives out. you glance up at him sneakily, your eyes tracing every feature of his face as he remains engrossed in whatever movie the two of you had put on.

you don't even notice the small sigh that escapes your lips as you gaze at him, the soft sound drawing his attention to you. your cheeks flood with heat as he turns his head to face you, his lips raising at the corners as he smiles at you.

"see something you like?" he asks, his smile growing when you nod. he tightens his arm around your shoulders, effectively pulling you closer to him as he presses a kiss to your forehead. you breathe in deeply at the contact, and you can't help the way your eyes wander towards his lips. a breathy laughs leaves him as he notices, and he ducks his head down slightly, his lips mere centimeters from yours when he pauses.

"can i kiss you?" he whispers, watching you closely as he waits for your response. you nod softly, your eyes never straying from his lips as you lean forwards the slightest bit. he pulls back when he feels your lips brush his, shaking his head lightly when you give him a frustrated look. "i need to hear you say it, sweetheart."

"just kiss me already, satoru," you whisper, your eyes fluttering shut when he finally leans down all the way to press his lips against yours. his lips are soft against yours, and you lean up slightly in an attempt to deepen the kiss. your hands find purchase in his jacket, balling up the fabric in your grip as his lips begin to move against yours slowly, parting them with every move. you respond enthusiastically, your neck craning upwards as you melt into his touch.

seconds pass as the two of you remain exchange lazy kisses, a muffled squeak leaving your lips when you feel gojo's large hands travel to your waist. it doesn't take much effort for him to pull you onto his lap, hands slipping down to the curve of your ass in an attempt to steady you as you straddle him.

you break the kiss first, pulling back slightly and chuckling when he chases your lips with his. you indulge him with a quick peck before pushing him back, releasing his jacket to let your hands trail up towards his face. gojo tenses underneath your touch as your fingers reach around his head, softly tugging at his blindfold before slipping it off.

his eyelashes flutter as he tilts his head to meet your eyes, his gaze burning into you as he smiles. you toss the blindfold to the side, placing your hands on his shoulders as he squeezes your butt.

"getting bold now, aren't we?" you tease, a pretty smile on your face as he stares at you with bright eyes.

"maybe just a little," he says, giving you a crooked grin. you laugh breathlessly before leaning forward and capturing his lips with yours once again. a soft gasp escapes your mouth when you feel one of his hands slide up your back, resting in between your shoulder blades as he presses you closer against him.

he takes the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth, the hand on your ass sliding up to grab your hip when you let out a soft whimper. one of your hands remains on his shoulder, the other sliding up to tangle in his soft hair as you arch into him. your skin feels hot underneath his touch, and you feel yourself jolt when the hand that had been resting on your hip slips underneath your shirt, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin.

"is this okay?" gojo asks, his voice nothing but a husky whisper against you. his eyes remain closed as he waits for you to speak, peppering feathery kisses along your chin and cheeks but choosing to avoid your lips.

"yes," you murmur quickly, tilting your head to capture his lips. gojo chuckles at your eagerness, and you find yourself pulling back when your fingers brush against the collar of his jacket. you waste no time before bringing your hands back to his chest, your fingers working swiftly as you make quick work of the buttons. gojo makes no complaint as he watches, letting go of you when you begin to slide the fabric off of his shoulders.

he quickly slips his arms out of the sleeves, tossing his jacket to the side before quickly wrapping his arms around you once more. your position somehow feels more intimate now that there's less layers between the two of you, and you feel your head spin as he pulls you into another dizzying kiss. you throw your arms around his neck, tangling both hands in his hair and tugging lightly as he moans into your mouth.

gojo's eyes fly open when you move away from his mouth, pressing fleeting kisses to the corner of his mouth, cheek, and jawline before peppering kisses all along the column of his throat. his lets his eyes flutter shut as your lips ghost over his skin, his breath stuttering when they brush over the sensitive spot below his ear.

"fuck!" he hisses, tilting his head further back as chuckle breathily against his skin. you can feel him shiver underneath your touch, his fingers slipping underneath your shirt and digging into your skin. "that feels good."

you suck on his skin lightly, drawing a low moan from gojo's lips before you soothe the spot with your tongue. you repeat the process a few more times, basking in the soft sounds coming from gojo's mouth as you make sure his neck is littered with small, pretty, red marks.

you only stop when gojo tucks two fingers under your chin, turning your face towards him to kiss you. his tongue slips easily into your mouth, and you whimper lightly when you feel it slide against yours. the hand underneath your chin come down to wrap around your waist, the other sliding down to grip your thigh tightly as he shifts in his spot.

you feel the world around you tilt, and your eyes widen when you feel your back hit the couch. you're pliant underneath gojo as he presses himself down against you, moving your legs so that they're wrapped tightly around his waist. he holds himself up on his elbows, pulling away to admire the shocked expression on your face.

"look at you," gojo murmurs, sharp eyes taking in your disheveled appearance. "looking so pretty underneath me."

you can feel yourself squirm at his words, and you tilt your head back when he leans in to press a kiss to the side of your jaw. he laughs lowly at how easily you give in to him, and the thought of you trusting him so wholeheartedly makes him feel like he has butterflies fluttering about in his stomach.

"all mine, aren't you?" he whispers against your neck, desperate to hear your answer. he freezes momentarily when you giggle, his heart dropping the moment you push him away and brush his hair back from his forehead. it doesn't last long, and gojo feels his heart swell when you look up at him with a goofy smile, your nose scrunched and eyes crinkled half-shut as you hold his hair back in a haphazard ponytail.

"of course i am," you finally say, your voice low but sure as you mutter the words gojo never knew he wanted to hear. he can't help the pout that forms on his lips, and he gives you a hurt look before looking away.

"then why'd you laugh?"

another giggle slips out from your lips, and you lightly tug at his hair in order to draw his attention back to you. "because your hair was tickling my neck, dummy."

gojo's face flushes in embarrassment, and he quickly schools his expression into a smug smile as he lifts a hand to trace your jawline. "i knew that."

"sure you did," you snort. gojo chooses to shut you up with a kiss, this one hungrier than the previous ones as he rolls his hips against yours. your soft moans are music to his ears, and he can't help but bite down on your bottom lip, causing you to gasp before you pull him in even more to kiss him harder.

a whine escapes from his lips as you pull back, your hands cradling his face as you study him from below. his cheeks are flushed a brilliant pink, lips swollen and shiny with spit as he looks at you in confusion. you admire the way he looks at you, eyes half-lidded and darkened with want as his eyelashes cast light shadows against his cheeks.

"you're so beautiful, satoru" you murmur, causing the pink on his cheeks to darken. your thumbs run along his cheekbones absentmindedly, and gojo almost feels tempted to hide from your piercing gaze. "i can't believe i get to be with you and kiss you whenever i want."

you punctuate your sentence with a kiss, pausing briefly when gojo hums in delight.

"you're so fucking pretty," he mumbles, pulling back slightly. "i've been thinking about kissing you all night and i just love having you in my arms and fuck—,"

he trails off as your fingers get caught in his hair, tugging at the silky strands as he buries his face into your neck. your fingers skim along the back of his neck, making him shiver as he breathes softly against you.

"you're all i need," he murmurs. "i'm sure of it."

he rolls over onto his back, pulling you onto his chest before intertwining his legs with yours. you cuddle into him eagerly, resting your hands on his chest before he grabs one and pulls it up to his lips. you melt when he presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles, keeping your hand in his as he smiles down at you.

"that was cheesy," you say teasingly, ignoring the half-hearted glare he shoots you. "but i hope you know you're all i need too, satoru. i love you."

he lights up at your words, feeling lighter than he has in years as you stare up at him.

"I love you too."

the two of you stay in that position for the rest of the night, the movie long forgotten as you lay in each other's arms.

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

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rae-ha-writes · 8 months

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crybaby.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

setting: modern au

genre: smut and fluff

contains: brother’s best friend gojo, protective older brother geto, use of pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart), unprotected sex, slightly mean gojo (but he ends up soft and sweet, I promise), dirty talk, overstimulation, mutual pining, dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), cheesy and happy ending <3

summary: satoru had promised suguru that there'd be no funny business while he takes care of his heartbroken baby sister... but he's never been the greatest at keeping promises.

“Stop being so mean to her, Satoru.” Satoru looks over at his best friend, who's clicking his tongue in disapproval, with a nonchalant grin.

“Not my fault she’s such a crybaby, Suguru.”

“Come on.” Suguru shoots him a warning look. “That’s my little sister you're talking about.”

“Hey, hey,” Satoru laughs, raising his hands in mock defense. “You gotta teach her how to grow thicker skin. Not my problem.”

“Every time you come over, she ends up crying.” The black-haired man sighs. “Don’t be a jerk just for one moment, won’t you?”

“Mmh, no promises.” Satoru grins. Sue him, he’s simply too addicted to the way your face scrunches up indignantly whenever he teases you, the futile yet endearing clenching of your small fists at your side, and most of all, the uncontrollable blubbers that leave your lips as tears roll down your cheeks.

Years later, you’re still the same. Just a little crybaby coming apart at the seams, completely at Gojo Satoru’s mercy.

“S-Satoru…” The high-pitched whine of his name only elicits a laugh from the man between your legs, sending shock waves of pleasure shooting through your body.

“Baby, you gotta stop movin’ so much.” Satoru’s large hands grip your thighs, holding them firmly in place as he continues to feast on your dripping pussy. “Gotta let me eat you properly.” He punctuates his point with a loud suck on your clit that has you mewling and twitching under his hold.

“T-Too much!” You sob, hands curling into the silky white stands on his head, tugging uselessly. “S’too much, S-Satoru…”

“You wanna take my cock later, princess?” He hums against your cunt, licking a hot stripe up your slit, chuckling as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. His gaze lazily travels upwards, greeted with the sight of you nodding furiously as tears stream down your cheeks.

“Yes,” you plead with wide, teary eyes. “N-need you.” Satoru smirks.

“Then be a good girl and let me prep you,” he coos, before diving right back between your folds, enjoying the broken sob that leaves your lips as he draws zigzags across your swollen clit.

“I really don’t understand you,” Suguru bristles, frustration evident by the way his eyebrows furrow as he eyes Satoru.

“Hmm?” Satoru looks at him with feigned innocence. “Whatever could you be talking about, dear Suguru?”

“You’re unbelievable.” He sighs. “Those gifts you bought her… they’re worth almost a million yen. What the hell is wrong with you, really.”

“Well, you told me I made her cry.” The white-haired man shrugged. “I had to make up for it, didn’t I?” Suguru squints suspiciously, at a brief loss for words.

“...You are not normal,” he finally scoffs.

“Of course not,” Satoru agrees, unfazed.

“You can’t keep doing this. You’re gonna end up spoiling her.”

“And what’s so bad about that?”

“Gimme another one, baby.” He’s faintly aware that if he makes you cum again, you really might pass out. However, he can’t really bring himself to be too concerned about that, not when he’s quickly becoming addicted to the taste of your dripping cunt and cries of pleasure.

“C-Can’t, I can’t — “ You sob, entire body shaking around his mouth; you’re so sensitive.

“You can,” he insists between hungry slurps, not letting any of your arousal go to waste. “Fuck…” You’re so sweet. Just how did he survive this long without having a taste of you?

“Please…” You’re still shy, trying your best to stifle your cries even as they fall in a steady stream from your trembling lips. Each loud squelch of your sopping pussy still has you cringing a little, not to mention the embarrassment that washes over you every time you catch a glimpse of your juices all over Satoru’s face.

“Don’t hold back anymore, sweetheart.” He reaches up to grab your wrists, pulling them away from your mouth even as you blubber out a weak protest. “Wanna hear you this time, say it loud. Say my name when you cum.” One more combined thrust of his fingers, deep into your hole with a flick of his tongue across your clit has you creaming on his lips for the fourth time.

“S-Satoru!” You’re unable to control the beautifully loud whine of his name as Satoru greets your orgasm eagerly, savoring every last drop of your release on his tongue.

“You made her cry again.” Suguru says, rolling his eyes as he approaches his best friend at their meeting spot.

“Huh?” Satoru raises a brow. “Haven’t even seen her since two weeks ago. What’d I do?”

“She’s sad you’re moving away.” Suguru tuts. “Can’t imagine why. Probably because she won’t be able to use you for your wallet anymore.”

“You implyin’ I’m just a wallet to her?” Satoru exclaims, a little offended. The black-haired man shoots him a deadpan glare.

“You know you’re not. But even you’re not enough of an asshole to use that against her.”

“It’s just college,” Satoru muses. “Kid thinks I won’t be back for her?”

“In two years she’ll be going off to college too.” Suguru shrugs. “She’ll get over you.”

“What a cruel thing to say.” Satoru laughs it off, ignoring the small flicker of jealousy that flares to life deep in his chest.

Satoru watches as your chest heaves up and down, in your effort to try to recover from the multiple orgasms he had just given you. You’re lying limp on your bed, unable to move save for the periodic twitching of your thighs.

“Sorry, princess, was that too much?” He’s teasing, but there’s a genuine edge of concern to his voice as he cups your cheek in his hand. You nod, a few tears falling down your face. “Aww, forgive me. You’ll forgive me, right?” In response, you tug weakly on his shirt collar, asking him to come closer. He relents, allowing you to drag him down towards you. Satoru’s about to ask what you need, before you suddenly tilt your head upwards to kiss him.

Satoru lets out a small noise of surprise as your soft lips press against his, hesitant at first, but deepening once your fingers find further purchase in his shirt, gripping tightly. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you up into his lap.

You kiss him a little clumsily, still boneless from your release but Satoru doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind at all, of course, when your lips are so soft against his, and he can swallow every quiet whimper that escapes you.

“Satoru…” Your voice is raspy and small, but your eyes are wild as you cling helplessly to him. “A-Am… Am I ready yet?” His jaw goes slack in awe at the adorable, troubled expression on your face. Your lips are swollen into a permanent pout now as you look up at him with those wide doe eyes that always had him weak.

“...Think you are,” he heaves, realizing that he’s just as fucked out as you are. It takes everything in him to hold back the urge to just take you.

“She’s grown up.” Satoru raises his eyebrows in pleasant surprise at the pictures that Suguru shows him. Your family had recently gone on vacation, so Suguru had been gone for an entire week, leaving his best friend and roommate all alone.

“That’s what you’re looking at?” Suguru shoots him an annoyed look.

“Oh,” says Satoru, glancing back at the picture. “Uh, nice waterfall.”

“One of the seven natural wonders of the world and all you can see is my baby sister.” Suguru exhales deeply.

“What? You can’t blame me too much. Kid’s changed,” the white-haired man shoots defensively.

“She’s twenty, not sixteen anymore. Of course, she’s changed.” Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I know that, I just…” Satoru pauses, glancing back at the picture. You’re still tiny, only reaching up to your brother’s, and by extension his, chest. Your face has matured, though, baby fat gone from your cheeks. That didn’t stop you from being any less adorable, though — your smile is as radiant as ever. He can’t help but let a small smile of his own slip onto his face.

“Hopeless,” Suguru mutters in disbelief. “Hopeless, the both of you.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Satoru lets you unbutton his shirt, watching in amusement as your eyes narrow with focus as each button pops open, slowly revealing more and more of his skin.

“Um…” You’re nervous. It’s plain as day from the way your lip wobbles as your eyes sweep down the view of his chiseled chest and torso, only to end at the prominent bulge in his slacks.

“You sure you’re okay with this, princess?” He cups your chin in his hand, gently tilting your face to look straight at him. “Need to rest?”

“N-No!” You protest immediately, shaking your head. “I…” You glance back down at his erection, a flicker of desire in your eyes. “I need…” You trail off, unable to say it.

“Okay.” If he was feeling meaner, he would make you tell him exactly what you want. But he wants to be nice today, especially since you’ve already cried so much for him. “Okay, baby. Don’t worry, you’ll have it. Can you unzip me? Can you do that for me?” You hesitate for a moment. Satoru briefly wonders if he’s perhaps pushed you a bit too hard.

But then you’re reaching for him, small hands finding the top of his pants and slowly undoing the button. Your fingers close around his zipper, slowly tugging it down.

“Good girl.” He pecks your forehead. “Take me out of my boxers, alright?” As his angry, swollen cock springs free from his underwear, you can’t contain your gasp.

“Oh…” The soft sound leaves you almost involuntarily as you stare and wonder at how the hell that’s gonna fit in you. He’s thick and long, rock hard and dripping with pre-cum. You slowly wrap your own hand around his cock, lips parting as your fingers fail to meet in the middle. Your own pussy clenches in a combination of fear and excitement.

“See why I needed to prepare you, now?”

“Sorry to spring this onto you all of a sudden, especially since you just got into town.” Suguru sighs over the phone.

“Don’t worry about it. If you’re not around to take care of her, duty falls on me,” says Satoru as he reverses his car out of the parking lot, heading to the location Suguru had sent him.

“Let me know when she’s home safe. Tell her I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Yeah, will do.”

A pause.

“And… no funny business, got it?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“I’m serious, Satoru. She just confronted her asshole cheater ex. She doesn’t need you drooling all over her right now.”

“Relax, dude. I’m not that desperate.” Satoru rolls his eyes.

“Good. Keep it that way.”

His conversation with Suguru lies in the back of his mind, forgotten, as Satoru places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Lay back and relax for me, sweetheart.” You immediately obey, laying yourself down on your bed, heart beating fast in anticipation.

“S’gonna hurt, right?” you ask softly.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ve gotten you ready, see?” Satoru comforts you, brushing his fingers against the wetness still soaking your entrance.

“Oh.” Tears suddenly well in your eyes. “Um, s-sorry, it just always hurt with him…”

“What?” Satoru’s eyes darken, unsure if you mean what he thinks you do.

“He just…” You bite your lip, trying not to let your tears fall. “H-He just p-put it in, y’know?” His heart drops in his stomach. Two years, two whole fucking years with that asshole, and he had never given you proper foreplay? No wonder you were so sensitive and responsive to his touch, your body had never received the attention it’s always deserved.

“Baby.” Satoru squeezes your hand, fighting down the urge to find that asshole and beat him up. That could come later. Right now, he has to focus on you. “It’s not gonna be that way this time. Not with me. Okay?” You nod, squeezing his hand in return.

“O-Okay.”

It’s the first time he’s seen you in person in four years, and here you are in the passenger seat of his car, crying your eyes out.

You feel absolutely humiliated. You had called Suguru to ask him to pick you up from your ex-boyfriend’s house after you dumped him, but he had told you he couldn’t.

“I’ll send someone to get you. Hang tight,” he’d said.

You just didn’t know it was going to be Gojo Satoru, who hadn’t returned to your hometown since he graduated high school.

“I’m gonna bring you home,” Satoru had told you, getting out of the driver’s seat to open the car door for you. “Relax, okay? You’re safe now.” He had buckled your seatbelt for you before settling in himself, starting the engine without another word.

The car ride back to your house is silent, save for the continuous sniffles that wrack your body as you try your best to stop your tears. Satoru silently puts a box of tissues in your lap at some point, and your heart stutters at the action.

You’ve known for many years now, that you never got over your first love.

Clothes fully discarded, Satoru lowers himself on top of you, enamored with the way you shyly glance down at`his cock, gaze wavering for a moment before slowly looking back up at him, eyes begging for him to do something.

“Tell me if you want to stop.” He brushes his fingers, tender and gentle, across your cheek. You nod, hand curling around his bicep.

“Kiss me,” you request, and he gladly obliges, leaning down to peck your lips.

“M’gonna go slow,” he tells you. “You want me to stop, hit me real hard — “ He smacks his own chest. “ — Right here. Got it?”

“I won’t,” you say bravely, eyes glimmering with determination. “I… I can take it.” Satoru laughs quietly.

“Alright, princess. Don’t act all cute, you’re just rilin’ me up now.” You smile, a little mischievously.

“Oh, you caught me.”

“Fuck…” Satoru groans, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re gonna kill me.” His fat tip taps against your clit once, twice. You gasp, eyes going glossy as you feel your swollen pussy clench desperately around nothing.

“Satoru,” you plead. “P-Please…”

“I’ll give you what you need. Relax for me…” He aligns his tip with your entrance, prodding between your folds. Inch by inch, he sinks his cock into your warm, throbbing cunt, almost blacking out himself at the sensation of your tight, velvety walls clamping around his cock.

“A-Ah…!” You whine, gripping his bicep and squeezing your eyes shut. The stretch is almost too much, but the delicious sensation of being filled to the brim has you seeing stars.

“You okay?” Satoru pants, willing himself to stop from splitting you open on his cock to check on you.

“Yes,” you whimper. “Yes, a-ah, please k-keep going…” Satoru rests his head in the crook of your neck as he continues to push himself in, enjoying the soft, labored whimpers as you take more and more of him, deep into your sopping hole.

“Almost there,” he coos. “Almost there, princess…” After what feels like an eternity, he finally sheaths the last of him in you, biting at your shoulder as he finally, finally feels exactly the sensation of being one with you.

“Drink. You’ll feel better.” Satoru places a glass of water in your hand as he leads you to your living room couch. You stubbornly refuse to look at him, letting the glass sit uselessly in your hand as you stare down at your lap.

He sighs, not sure what he should do. He’s never been good at comforting others, let alone his friends’ kid sisters. He knows you’re not a kid anymore, you’re a full grown adult, but the way you’re sulking and ignoring him says otherwise. Still, his fondness for you wins above all else as he takes the water back and puts it on the coffee table, letting you sit in silence.

”You gonna be okay by yourself?” he asks instead. Satoru doesn’t want to leave you alone, but he’s not sure if his presence will even help. He hasn’t been an active part of your life in years, and he has a feeling that this incredibly vulnerable moment isn’t the best time to barge back in. You don’t reply, twiddling your thumbs.

“Call me if you need anything,” Satoru says hesitantly. “You have my number, right?” No response. “I’m gonna write it down for you.” He finds a spare stack of Post-Its and does just that. You don’t react even when he sticks the note right on top of your forehead, in a shitty attempt to lighten your mood. Your deadpan glare, so much like your brother’s tells him it did not work.

“Suguru’s gonna be back tomorrow,” he tells you, taking the note off and soothing the annoyed crease between your eyebrows. “Go get some rest now, yeah?” You look away. Satoru sighs. Seeing you upset like this hurts him way more than he would like to admit. “M’gonna leave. Get to bed soon.” He pats the top of your head, just like he always used to do, which always made you whine when he messed up your hair. You’re quiet now, not a peep of complaint leaving you.

He really misses hearing your voice.

“Bye, then.” Satoru’s about to turn around and leave, but you do something that seems to shock both of you. Your fingers curl and grab onto the hem of his collared shirt, stopping him in his tracks. He stares down at you in surprise, trying to process the sight of your small, thin fingers holding onto him for dear life.

“Stay.” The one word was enough to crumble his self-control.

You’re struggling to adjust to his size; he can tell from the way you’re digging your nails into his arm and the trembling of your thighs around his waist. Satoru stays still, waiting for your permission to go any further, right hand rubbing soothing circles on your hip.

“Don’t stress yourself, baby, just tell me what you want, when you want it,” he murmurs against your neck, waiting patiently, torturously, for permission to move.

You’re so overwhelmed by the sensation of being stuffed full; Satoru is much bigger than your ex-boyfriend and yet, the feeling isn’t painful. It’s so good, a throbbing ache that extends outwards from your core all the way to the top of your head and the tip of your toes. You can hardly form thoughts, let alone words, as your pussy stretches around him, trying to accommodate the sheer size of his cock.

A few more moments pass, and you feel like you’re going crazy. The feeling of being so, so full is one that you’ve never felt before, but you think you’re already addicted. Your thighs flex instinctively, closing tighter around Satoru’s waist and pushing his cock even deeper, pressing right against your sweet spot. You mewl, wrapping your arms around his neck, silently begging to be closer to him.

Satoru leans into the kiss you give him, groaning as your walls suddenly clench once around him, brain filling with nothing but white noise. “Fuck,” he grits out against your lips. “Fuck, baby, I don’t know how much longer — “

“Move.” Your command is quiet. Satoru almost wonders if he’s misheard you. But one look into your pleading, begging eyes confirms what you want. Unable to hold back any longer, he pulls his hips upwards, snapping right back into you with one long, hard thrust. You cry out, nails sinking into his shoulder blades.“M-More,” you whisper. “Need more.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Satoru’s at a loss for words and actions as you stood on your tiptoes, reaching up and bringing his head down to kiss him. His arms instinctively wrap around your waist to steady you, craning his neck to allow you better access — oh shit, what the hell is he doing?

He lets go of you like he’s touched something on fire, pulling back from the kiss. As your heels land back on the ground with a soft thud, he’s greeted by the sight of you looking like you’re about to cry again. “Wait — “ He reaches for you, but retracts his hand; he’s not sure if he can trust himself to stay in line. His heart is beating so fast, you had just kissed him, completely out of the blue.

Satoru knew about your crush on him when the two of you were younger. You started having feelings for him when you were thirteen and he was fifteen, making it painfully obvious. You followed him and Suguru around like a lost puppy whenever he came over, despite Satoru’s constant teasing.

He thought your actions were funny at first, becoming the root of his continued teasing. Despite still making you cry all the time, you always came right back to greet him with a smile upon his very next visit. After a while, Satoru looked at you with fondness, in the way that one would gaze at a small animal. You were harmless, sweet, and so very adorable.

Satoru didn’t return your feelings at the time. You were just Suguru’s kid sister that he liked to toy with sometimes. You were awfully cute when you were mad.

But now, as you look up at him with desperation and longing, his heart clenches faintly in his chest. You’re so, so beautiful — the pictures Suguru had showed him hadn’t done you justice in the slightest. You somehow look so enchantingly gorgeous at this moment, even with tears glistening in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

Would you hit him if he tried to wipe away your tears?

He never gets to find out, because you speak his name softly, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Satoru leans down to carefully listen to what you have to say. “W-Want you.”

“So good, so fuckin’ good for me, princess,” Satoru groans, reveling in the dizzying heat of your pussy as he drags his cock in and out of your walls, fucking you at a steady pace. “You feel me in there? You feel me in your little cunt?”

“Y-Yes,” you manage to sob out between moans, each rough snap of his hips into you melting your brain into jelly just a little more.

“What a perfect lil pussy,” He chuckles as you squeal after a rather rough thrust, the loud squelch of your hole sucking him in echoing through the room. “No sane person in this world would ever give this up this tight wet cunt.” You whine at his filthy words, drool dripping out of the side of your mouth as Satoru continues to ram into you, faster, harder.

“Satoru!” You’re crying out his name over and over, legs wrapped firmly around his waist, pushing him deeper and deeper. “S-Satoru, I-I — “

“You likin’ this, baby? Tell me how much you like this,” he coos into your ear, hand reaching down to rub at your swollen clit.

“I l-like it s-so much, i-it’s so ahh…! I-it’s so good,” you sob out. You never thought sex could feel like this — you never understood why the people around you were so obsessed with it, especially with the treatment you received from your ex.

Now, though, as each rut of Satoru’s dick into your cunt kisses your sweet spot, you get it. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forget this feeling of being filled by cock so brutally sweet.

“Hold on.” Satoru had tried to protest, he really had. You’d just broken up with your boyfriend. Like Suguru said, the last thing you needed was any funny business. “Listen — “ He sighs out your name, making your bottom lip wobble. “You have to go rest, don’t be reckless.”

“Please.” You tug at his sleeve, staring at him with that puppy-eyed look that always gets you what you want. He really had spoiled you, hadn’t he?

“Not now,” he tried to reason with you. “You’re still hurting, you’re not in the right mind.” You glare at him.

“Who’re you to say m’not in the right mind?” you whine. “I…” You suddenly seem to lose your confidence, staring down at the floor. “...I only ever wanted you.”

“What?” Satoru stares, wide-eyed, at your confession.

“Know you don’t want me that way,” you continue, voice small. “But I… don’t care.” You sniffle. “Don’t care, Satoru. Just want you.”

And when you tug desperately at his shirt again, this time, Satoru is too far gone.

“Fuck, I’m close.” He growls into your neck, his pace picking up as he chases after his release, He coaxes you to join him, thumbing at your clit and cooing for you to “Let go, cum for me, c’mon. Cream all over my cock, princess.”

The only sounds in the room are a symphony of your moans and the slick sounds of his cock pushing in and out of your hole as a coil forms deep in your gut, threatening to snap at any moment. You feel tears stain your cheeks as Satoru’s pace increases, pounding into you so deep you can practically feel him in your throat.

“S-Satoru, I’m g-gonna — !” You cut yourself off with a loud, lewd moan, cunt clenching down hard around him as you come undone for the fifth time just this night. You swear you lose consciousness for a second, lost in the euphoric feeling of your release as your swollen pussy throbs in satisfaction.

“Shit..“ A few quick, shallow thrusts later, Satoru finishes as well, thick ropes of cum splurting into your womb, filling you with a warm sensation.

“A-Ah…” you whimper out, pussy fluttering weakly around his softening cock, which is still fully sheathed inside you. A white ring remains on his dick as he gently pulls himself off of you, cum dripping from your spent pussy onto the sheets. Satoru tuts, placing a pillow under your hips so you won’t leak.

You’re only faintly aware of what he’s doing as he leaves briefly and returns with a warm, wet towel, gently asking you to open your legs for him. You obey, but you’re so exhausted you can’t help it as your eyes droop shut. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Satoru leaning forward to peck your forehead, praising you for taking him so well.

You wake up a few hours later to sunlight streaming through your bedroom window, making you squint a little as you sit up in bed. You immediately gasp at the ache between your legs, and the soreness racing up and down your body.

Memories of the previous night come flooding back as a sleepy groan sounds from next to you. Satoru stirs, awakened by your panicked sound, asking softly, “You okay, baby?”

Oh god. Shit. Fuck. You actually had sex with Gojo Satoru.

“Hmm?” He looks a little concerned at your lack of response, pulling you against him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You in pain? Sorry, did my best to clean you up and everything.” Only then do you realize that the place between your thighs is no longer sticky, and that you’re wearing a fresh set of underwear with Satoru’s unbuttoned shirt wrapped around you.

“...What did we do?” You whisper in a muddled mixture of shock and amazement.

“You regret it?” he asks carefully, pulling back a little to gauge your reaction. You shake your head vehemently, snuggling back close to him. You breathe in his scent, eyes fluttering closed. You feel so right at home in his arms.

“No.” You ponder for a bit. “But it’s never gonna happen again, right?” Satoru’s breath catches in his throat.

“What?”

“I know last night might’ve given you the wrong impression.” You swallow hard, trying to contain the feelings bubbling up within you. Satoru just looks so beautiful under the morning sun, his crystal blue eyes glittering in the light. You know you’re not mistaken, you’ve never been so sure about it — you love him. “I don’t… do this. Thank you for being with me for this one night, but…” you trail off.

“Hey, hey.” You’re crying again, and this time, Satoru wipes the tears off your cheek, cupping your face between his hands. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t want just this from you,” you continue vaguely, looking away shamefully. “But I don’t… I don’t expect you to want the same.” He stills at your words, trying to decipher them properly.

“You still in love with me?” He deciphered them spot on, but that doesn’t stop a humiliated squeak from leaving you. You’re huffing, face on fire with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment.

“F-Fine, whatever! You know already, so…” You look away, gnawing at your lower lip. “That’s w-why — “

“Don’t really know why you’re so upset, princess,” he cuts you off, pulling you out of the downward spiral he sees you’re about to fall into. “Think…” Satoru pauses to swipe at a tear at the corner of your eyes. “Still such a crybaby,” he can’t help but say, watching with amusement as you scowl at him with all the ferocity of an angry kitten.

“Ugh, jerk! Four years later and you still can’t take me seriously, God, why do I even bo — “ He cuts you off again, this time with a kiss. When he pulls away, he’s smiling gently, chuckling at your dumbfounded expression.

“Think I love you too,” he finishes. “So you’ve got nothing to worry about.” A few moments pass.

“...Are you fucking with me?” You look him dead in the eye.

“Technically, I already did,” he replies cheerfully. You look at him in disbelief. “Okay, sorry, sorry, sweetheart. Let me spell it out for you.” Satoru holds you close to him, tracing slow, comforting circles along your back. “Be my girlfriend?”

You answer him with a kiss of your own.

Suguru sighs, fishing in his pocket for his house keys as he approaches the front door. He’s worried about you; although the bastard had cheated on you and deserved to have you dump him, he knows you’re still probably heartbroken.

Or at least a little heartbroken. Suguru’s aware you never really that into your ex, if your drunk phone calls about how much you miss Satoru were enough evidence. Hiding those from his best friend was tough work; he would have to sit in the bathroom or the closet with his headphones and speak as quietly and carefully as possible to not rouse any suspicion.

Either way, he knows you definitely need some cheering up right now. He’s brought you a box of cupcakes from your favorite bakery, hoping it would be enough to at least get you in a talking mood.

Imagine his surprise when he opens the door and the first thing he sees is Gojo Satoru. Not only is Gojo Satoru standing in his kitchen, but he’s wearing Suguru’s apron, a gift from you many Christmases ago. To make things worse, he’s nearly butt naked under it, only wearing a pair of boxers that are — wait a second, are those Suguru’s as well?

“Oh hey, Suguru!” If Satoru is nervous or embarrassed, he plays it off well as he turns around and waves, flashing the stupid, faded picture of Remy from Ratatouille on his apron right in Suguru’s face. “You hungry? Was just makin’ some eggs.”

“What the actual fuck,” Suguru grits out, putting two and two together as you choose that moment to wander out into the kitchen, wearing nothing but an unfamiliar collared button down that reaches down nearly to your knees. Satoru’s.

“S-Sugu.” Your eyes go round, stopping in your tracks. No one speaks for a moment. Satoru’s still happily cooking eggs. Suguru’s expression is stone cold. You’re staring at your brother with embarrassment written all over your face.

“Baby, you ready for food?” Satoru steps away from the stove to wrap an arm around your waist, smooching you on top of your head. You make a stuttered noise under your breath, glancing back at your brother.

Suguru’s smiling now, but not in the traditional sense. He looks almost maniacal as he slowly places the box of cupcakes on the table before locking eyes with Satoru. Finally, the white-haired man has enough shame for his casual grin to falter.

“What happened to no funny business?”

Satoru is forced to abandon the stove, running away from a fuming Suguru chasing after him with the first thing he could find on the dining table — a carrot.

“Sugu, stop, it’s okay — “ Your pleas fall on deaf ears as your brother is hell-bent on finding a way to murder his best friend with a vegetable. You sigh deeply, moving to go after them when you suddenly smell something burning. Your head snaps to where the eggs Satoru was cooking are now sitting blackened over the flame.

Needless to say, the first morning with Gojo Satoru as your official boyfriend was far from perfect.

Thankfully, you would have many, many more mornings with him, each more wonderful than the last, that this one quickly faded from importance.

But not from Suguru’s.

“I still remember,” Suguru says, clearing his throat for dramatic effect. “When I opened the door on that one morning, and you were not only in my house, but you were half-naked wearing my apron and my underwear — “

Satoru groans as the audience bursts into laughter at his best man’s speech, burying his face in your shoulder. You’re giggling right along with them, sparing your new husband a peck on the cheek as his best friend continues to tear him apart.

“Then you had the audacity to pretend nothing was wrong — “

Satoru knew he would never live this down, but he had zero regrets. Not when you’re sitting right next to him in a pretty white dress holding his hand under the table.

“Well.” Suguru looks over at him, raising a brow. “Got anything to say?” Satoru takes the mic from him, face splitting into a shit-eating grin as he says two words:

“Worth it.”

9K notes · View notes

rae-ha-writes · 8 months

Text

fear

- gojo satoru x reader

his best friend’s defection is still a hard topic for him to swallow, and it leads into an unexpected argument that spurs you to leave. but it’s a new fear unlocked for him when you get into an unfortunate accident afterwards.

genre/warnings: angst, gojo being mean, one scene with a worried nanami *wink*, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end

notes: *sigh* my coping mechanism is still gojo’s past arc, which is why this piece takes place on that timeline. just a little context: reader is in the same class with nanami & haibara and was in the same mission that took haibara's life. this is probably the longest oneshot i've written so far sooo… enjoy! :)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

A year and a half had passed since Suguru embarked on his path as a curse user. In that one year and a half, Satoru had finished his last year at Jujutsu High, and now was in the halls of his alma mater, speaking to the newly appointed headmaster who was none other than his teacher.

"You're applying to become a teacher?" Yaga asked again with a frown. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. Granted, he was his most troublesome pupil. "Why, Satoru?"

"If I said it's because I want to train young sorcerers to be strong, would you believe me?"

That was not a lie. It was actually 50% of his main reasons anyway. The other 50% was to repent what he missed with Suguru when he chose his dark path—his contempt with the current system of this jujutsu world.

"I would," Yaga responded gruffly. To him, Satoru was irritating, but he also knew that he was also extremely capable, and thus everything he did wasn't just out of nowhere. "But you still have to submit your applications. We can't make an exception even if you come from a prestigious clan."

"That's fine with me," he grinned. "Thanks, sensei."

On summer days, he'd get reminded of Suguru and silly things they had done together. Eating shaved ice, cycling together, driving either you, Shoko or Nanami mad. Satoru missed those days, it hadn't been the same ever since. Not knowing if his best friend was alright—if he was still alive at all—was exhausting.

Sometimes, he felt like he was the only one who was affected by his departure, the only one who stayed right where Suguru left him. Shoko didn't seem ruffled, if anything she just went to more bars and pachinko parlors as of late. Nanami was always a recluse, he never disclosed his feelings. You mourned him, but it was clear that most part of you would always be more focused on Haibara's death.

Satoru understood that he couldn't force anyone to feel what he felt, and he had no right to. But sometimes, he just wanted someone to connect with at his level. Someone to get him just like Suguru did.

And so when he got back to his condo that night—just right next to the one he rented for Megumi and Tsumiki, since he had moved out of his dorm—to find his girlfriend there with a big smile and a tray of cupcakes, unaware of everything and anything, he merely scoffed to himself.

"Satoru, you're back," you acknowledged, beaming like the sunshine you were. "I just baked these for the kids. Do you want some?"

Usually he'd smother you, throw some pickup lines here and there and say yes, but today, he just felt drained. "No." And with that, he stalked away to the bathroom, not glancing back at you.

It was wrong. But tonight he just wanted some peace and quiet, and so keeping his silence seemed to be the best choice as he didn't want to start a pointless argument with you. But you weren’t anything but observant, and definitely noticed that something was amiss with him.

"Are you... alright?" You approached him warily after he came out of the bathroom with wet hair. "Where were you today?"

"Just somewhere," he replied curtly. Afterwards he turned on the hairdryer, drowning the whole place with the noise even as you stood behind him with a visible question mark.

But you were still there after he dried his hair. "Is something bothering you?" you asked with a tilt of your head, concerned. By all means, you mean well. You just wanted to know if he could use your help at all.

When you pulled that expression, he couldn't help but feel annoyed, like he wanted you to take a hint, but you just didn't. "If you know, then just shut it."

It was probably the first time since the two of you got together that Satoru actually said something harsh. But you still tried to be reasonable though, bless you.

"Satoru, I don't know what got into your nerves like this, but I think sleeping through it might help. Have a rest."

"Why are you talking as if you know it?" he snapped, finally turning to you with his cold gaze. "You might not know anything, so don't be a know-it-all. Just mind your own business."

Now you were frustrated with his reply. "Once again, I don't know what happened to you. But if you're taking it out on me because I'm the closest you have—"

"Who said that?" Satoru didn't know where he got all this venom from. It was just at the forefront of his mind and he just got the urge to spew it. "You're considering yourself closest to me? Where did you get that big head from?"

You were aghast, and you blinked a few times to get your bearings. "Let me guess, it's about Geto-san, isn't it? Or the higher ups. Either of that must be what causing you to blindly place your anger on me."

"So what if it was? It isn't like you'll understand anyway."

"Satoru," you started, trying to even your breathing. "What happened to Geto-san isn't your fault. I've been telling you this. It can't be helped—"

"Can't be helped?" he jeered. "Do you know why it's come to this?" his tone took a dangerous edge as he stepped closer. He reached for you, grasping your wrist.

"Maybe because I was too blind back then. If it weren't for you—if only I didn't spend that much time on you, maybe he would still be here."

Did he just say that? Did he just imply that he had regretted the two of you getting together?

You felt your lower lip start to tremble and something seemed to obscure and blur your vision, making it hard to see him clearly. "You... don't mean that."

"Really?" the corner of his lips curled into a disparaging smile. "You never know. Before you know it, this can be over already. After all, I could have anyone out there that I want. Maybe someone less nosey than—”

That did it. You wrenched your arm out of his grip violently, as your first tear fell. His smirk vanished too, replaced with a total stillness to cover his sudden panic that was followed by a sudden sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.

"You selfish, self-obsessed jerk," you hissed through watery eyes. He was taken aback, even amidst your anger and possible fear of him, your still managed to throw daggers at him. "Fine. You have it. I'll see myself out."

Satoru never wanted you to leave. Honestly, he would've made you stay. But he wasn't in the right state of mind and it was too late to take back what he said. He didn't want to mess this up even further.

You left the cupcakes, even throwing it away just to spite him. Driven by pain and humiliation, you choked back your sob and didn't spare a glance at him as you shut the door.

Peace and quiet. There he had it, he thought as he clenched his fists, at the cost of everything else.

Leaving that condo, every step you took felt like needles piercing your shattered heart. You wiped your tears roughly. No, you refused to cry over such asshole. He made it clear, didn't he? Whatever it was that you two shared, it was at the cost of his best friend leaving him. So now the blame was on you.

If you were thinking clearly, you would've understood that his words were likely a result of his own pent-up pain and frustration that he had kept to himself for some while. But you had no patience for that or even pinpoint what you felt right now—anger, disappointment or dread, or perhaps all three. You just felt wrongly accused.

Your feet brought you back to your dorm in the school. Now it wasn't as bustling as it once were, after Satoru and Shoko's graduation, you didn't really get close to anyone. There was Ichiji, but he treated you more like a mentor rather than a classmate.

As you sank into the comforts of your bed, You replayed the events, trying to find where it went wrong—and found nothing. After all, you already said all that could be said. It wasn't just him who lost Geto, but you, Shoko and Nanami did too, but it was more convenient for Satoru to blame everyone else rather than trying to understand that they too shared this pain.

Nevertheless, you were disappointed. You didn't expect half of what he spouted, and it got you doubting everything you had.

"You've royally fucked up."

Satoru exhaled, glaring at Shoko through the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."

The reverse cursed technique user stared at him with a blank stare, taking in everything from his disheveled hair to his wrinkled trousers. "Gojo, as much as I can’t care less about your sorry ass, I'm saying this not out of concern for you, but rather for Y/N. You are an asshole."

The puff of smoke she blew expanded to create a cloud-like shape. "Yaga-sensei was our teacher. His student is now a mass murderer and wanted dead. Can you even imagine how he feels? And I can't believe I'm saying this—but weren't there three of us?"

A week had gone by and instead of doing the right thing like trying to get into your good graces, Satoru was in Shoko's infirmary in the headquarters instead. He didn't exactly know what he was looking for by going here. Maybe some lingering taste of his happier student days, and Shoko was the only one remaining.

Three of us, huh... she was right. That was precisely why he came here after all.

"You're just sulking because it seems no one cares about your best friend being the best there is. But have you thought about how our juniors also lost Haibara? Right in front of their eyes? Haibara was our friend too."

He was wrong, of course he was. Satoru realized that now. But it felt wrong to ask for your forgiveness now, not to mention the disrupting thought he had—should he let you go for good altogether?

The phone suddenly rang with such fervor that made Shoko utter a swear word. She was on call duty for the rescue team today, and it was supposedly a peaceful day until Satoru decided to barge in to become her company. "Hello? Ichiji? What—speak clearly, I can't hear you."

She switched it to loudspeaker. "...iri-san! Ieiri-san—h-help—please—"

It was noisy, and blaring at the same time, and Ichiji was... Sobbing? Choking? His voice was terribly muffled and—

"L/N-san!" he cried, and Satoru remembered at that moment that you should be in a mission with Ichiji, he remembered you telling him before.

"Hic—s-she fell... hic—she fell! B-blood! She i-is bleeding so much! I-Ieiri-san—hic—s-send help! Please!"

"Hey, stay awake. Breathe. Just breathe."

Everything hurt. Most notably, your head. You could hardly think straight when all you felt was blinding pain and how your breaths came in short wheezes.

Your vision was blurry. The numbness had started to set in and chills ran up and down your spine. You couldn't make out who in front of you was. Was it Ichiji, who went with you in this mission? The only thing that glared was blue.

"You can't sleep, you hear me?" the voice was commanding, willing you to do his bidding. It was familiar, but usually his tone of voice was much lighter, happier.

Satoru.

But why was he here? He wasn't in this mission. It was supposed to be a mission for you and Ichiji.

You remembered getting the cursed spirit after manifesting your domain expansion, until in its last ditch attempt, it went after Ichiji. You had no choice even as your cursed energy burned out, you still shoved him away at the cost of being flung from the top of a building.

Not again. Not after Haibara. You’d gladly pay the price if it meant you didn't have to see anyone die in front of you again.

"I..." You managed to croak out—breathing hurt, and you felt your hands being grasped tightly.

"Hey, just breathe. Y/N. Look at me.” Through your blurry haze, you focused on that cold blue. Satoru's sharp eyes, pursed lips and frown. He's really here.

Satoru always said that if there was a cursed spirit apocalypse, then Ichiji would be the first to die. You used to scold him for that, but now as you a laid here possibly dying in your own pool of blood, you found it to be true.

With him here, you must be safe already. "I... can't..."

"Yes, you can. Just look at me," he firmly rebuked, his voice came out as a hiss. For all the time you had been with him, you had never heard him so forceful. "If you close your eyes now, I won't forgive you. So please, just hang in there."

It was a struggle to take in any air and darkness encroached on your vision as consciousness began slipping away.

And everything faded to nothingness.

Satoru honestly thought he had no fears. His worst fear had fully realized after all—Suguru going away into the darkness. What more could he possibly fear?

But when he heard Ichiji's distress call for rescue team, about how you fell from a rooftop of a building and unconscious, he realized that it was a fear he didn't know existed. His mind got disoriented and he teleported to the scene on impulse. He just had to see it for himself. With their petty argument still lacking closure, he felt even worse.

And the sight before him gave him so much fright he never thought was possible.

It was a mistake, he should have brought Shoko along.

You had laid there like a broken doll, eyes dim, and not been able to breathe. He desperately tried to keep you awake, his presence beside you, yet it didn't seem to matter. He watched helplessly as you passed out in his arms.

Satoru felt nothing. The panic that had set in was suddenly gone as your limp body slumped against him, replaced by incessant ringing in his ears and tremor wracking his nervous system. It wasn't long until the rescue team came to retrieve you and even then he still felt numb. He rejected the idea that you might possibly die on him.

That went on until Shoko, who assisted in the emergency treatment, came out of the surgery, sweat on her forehead.

"It's even worse than the aftermath of the guardian deity mission last year," Shoko explained with a grim expression. "Her brain has sustained damage and it affects everything. It may take her quite a while before she can go back to the field."

When she said that, Satoru felt the terror washed over him again. You almost died—was all he perceived.

The two of you had no contact for a week just because of his ego. He could still recall that day with vivid clarity, feeling a burning ache in his chest. If someone were to ask him what heartbreak was like, now he certainly would he able the to tell them the two instances in which he experienced them. What he felt now mirrored the same stinging sensation he had felt when Suguru had left him.

He visited you when he was allowed to, and you were still unconscious, with many machines connected to your body. It was a sight he still couldn’t bring himself to get used to. He had seen you injured before, but never seen you in your own pool of blood, so this made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Stupid," he whispered, gently rubbing your forehead. His eyes remained fixated on you as you rested, his insides still churning with emotions. "You're not weak, and you're not hopeless." Once upon a time, Satoru might have thought of you as weak, but now he knew better.

"So why you always pick the worst decision?" The more he thought this could've been avoided, the more irked he was. The thought that he could have done something to prevent it intensified the sting of guilt, and he continued to punish himself with it.

And the more he dwelled on the idea that he had hurt you prior to this, the tighter his breath became.

But that was who you were. Self-sacrificing to a fault. And he loved you for that. There was no way of him letting you go now.

It astonished even himself—that he was capable of this love thing. At first it was an attraction, but now that you had been going on for more than a year, it felt like it was no longer a silly infatuation after all.

"Hurry and wake up, will you?" Satoru gently brushed your hair aside, his eyes fixed on you. He didn't know it even as his gut twisted, his frown deepened and his touch quivered, that he was worried sick. "I have a lot to make up for."

And he left you with a tender brush of his lips against your forehead.

Nanami Kento was the first person you saw when you awoke from coma.

You struggled to regain your senses, still feeling absolutely broken. The dull throb on the back of your head was still there, as if you had found yourself trapped in a fog, only able to move sluggishly.

"You're awake?" his gruff voice greeted, laced with concern. In his hand were a bucket of fresh flowers and fruits basket, which he soon placed at the table next to your bed.

It was unexpected, because ever since the tragedy that costed Haibara's life, the two of you had been drifting apart.

You nodded, and let out a hum in response—all you could manage at the moment.

"Thank God." Nanami sounded relieved as he pinched the bridges between his eyes, and you were moved that he had shown this degree of concern. Your remaining classmate, who suffered the burden of Haibara's life just like you. He was always quiet or brooding somewhere, hiding his own feelings.

You felt tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. The fact that he visited you meant that he hadn't decided to cut you out of his life yet.

"Gojo-san is out today, but he'll be back by afternoon," he said, mistranslating your tears as some sort of a want to have your annoying—ex?—boyfriend at your side.

The two of you were still not on talking terms, weren’t you?

You so badly wanted to say thank you to him—and tell him that no, you weren't looking for Satoru—but it came out hoarse and barely above a whisper.

"Huh?" Nanami then realized what you were trying to say, and a faint smile graced his lips. "Just... get well soon, L/N. Have a good rest."

Just before you drifted back to sleep, you could hear him sigh and mutter, "Hello, Gojo-san? L/N has awakened. Just letting you know is all.”

You weren't sure how much time had passed when you woke up the second time, but the curtains were already drawn and only darkness came from the window. Your body felt lighter, but you still felt like a mess and and couldn't help but groan in discomfort.

Satoru was there, he perked up at the noise you made. And you realized that it was the first time in about a week that he faced you after that disasterous almost-breakup.

He walked up to you, his expression was more hopeful than you had ever seen him before, like a kid whose wish had been granted. He slowly shifted to sit beside you.

"Hey, welcome back." His voice was soft. It was a change of pace for him, as you were used to seeing him all loud and silly.

Now your voice no longer sounds like a lead. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?" he asked and you took a moment to look at him. He was smiling, but exhaustion reached his bright eyes, dimming them. "You know, with the whole you passing out and almost dying thing?"

His words were almost humorous as he spoke, like he didn't know what else to say except try to lighten the mood, but there was also a strain on his tone, like he was holding back.

"I'm quite fine now, I suppose..." You still felt the lingering pain and dizziness as you slowly sat up. Satoru reached out to steady you—and you realized how his fingers trembled when they made contact with your body—as his brows furrowed with worry when you winced.

"You don't look like it though." His voice dropped and the humor was gone, replaced by this haunted look. You blinked. It was probably the first time you had seem him this ruffled.

He immediately pulled you into a hug, cradling your head to his neck gently, as if to protect and shield you from the world altogether. Exhaling heavily, he leaned on you. "You scared me, you know that?"

You wondered out loud if you really had that hold over him. "Did I?"

"You can't do that to me, you hear?" Satoru stroked your hair, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. His voice quivered. “Don't ever do that again.”

He pulled you tighter against him, but still careful not to crush you.

You let out a snicker, letting go of everything you felt during this horrible week. "Heh, afraid to lose me, huh?"

"Shut up. What were you thinking anyway? How did you calculate that freefalling is better than letting that cursed spirit attack Ichiji?"

"He was defenseless. He could die, you know that."

"And you also can," he quipped, upset, pulling away enough to look you squarely in the eyes, his eyes devoid of any expression, yet filled with a raging wave that you could only interpret as undiluted concern.

The emphasis in his tone made you recoil and feel guilty. If you were in his shoes, you probably would've said the same thing and so you had nothing to say to that.

But the more pressing agenda in the list was the unspoken silent treatment the two of you saw fit to use against each other for the last few days. Satoru was the one who decided to address it first.

"About that night..." he faltered, looking away. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry."

Satoru always had trouble processing emotions. This time too. He must've a hard time dealing with the anxiety caused by the possibility of him losing you for good, no matter how much he tried not to be unaware of it.

"..." You wanted to respond, to make him understand your point, but somehow right now you were just too weary. And he sensed your reluctance. So you blurted the first thing that gnawed at your mind.

“You said you could have any other women out there—”

"No, really—" he started to panic, and it was blatantly too, which surprised you. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry. I don't regret anything. Us. I’m not breaking up with you. Being with you is the happiest I've been ever since Suguru left."

“That's... okay, fine. Let's just put it behind us for now.”

“I—” he almost wheezed, his bright blue eyes were overtaken with sheer urgency to explain how wrong everything had been that night. “You must know that I don’t mean any of it. Y/N, I won’t—”

"Satoru, I understand," you finally let out a sigh, fidgeting with your fingers. "Sometimes when I’m reminded of Haibara, I also get sad. I don't want to presume but I think I know how you feel. Just next time, maybe," you shifted your gaze on him, seeing how you had his attention fully. Gojo Satoru, the strongest now, was looking at you as if you had his fate in your hands. "Just tell me if you need space and I'd have understood."

"Yeah, okay, sure," he responded immediately, relieved, before a lopsided grin appeared on his face, turning him back into your dork slash boyfriend. "So, am I forgiven now?"

"A thank you would be nice."

In the end, he chuckled, seemingly resigned. "You should sleep more."

He positioned himself into bed next to you, and you let him pull you into his chest again. You could feel how his taut back started to relax upon the contact. He pressed his lips on your forehead in a fleeting kiss.

"Promise me you won't pull that stunt again. I can’t watch you like that.”

You smirked. "I can't. What if Ichiji—"

"Then just let him die."

You swat his arm playfully, pressing your head to his chest as he continued to run his fingers on your hair. He cushioned you carefully, and you felt the tension in him slowly melt away with each breath you took. In your mind, you figured he needed this closeness more than you did, if anything, for the sake of his sanity.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered by your ear, kissing it lightly.

“Mmhm.”

As you felt Satoru's calming presence, it helped ease you into slumber. You soon found yourself in a deep sleep, comfortably held in his embrace.

Epilogue

Ichiji gulped as Satoru stared him down, sizing him up as if he was the most despicable creature on this planet.

Okay, he might be. He was a coward, all he could do was trembling in the face of evil. But he had come with peace, even bringing fruits as an offering! He felt bad too that he was the partial cause for you to be this injured.

He was used to Satoru terrorizing him—calling him names, slapping him, and whatnot—and he could take it. Just this time, he really looked like he could murder him on the spot if he wanted to. A small part of Ichiji mourned that you were his girlfriend, because that pretty much sealed his fate that Gojo Satoru could indeed murder him on the spot because he had a valid enough reason to.

"You are—"

"No! I'm sorry, Gojo-san! I'm sorry for my incompetence!"

"Hah?"

If he was mildly irked before, now Satoru was visibly irritated.

"You're not cut out to be a jujutsu sorcerer," he started. "You're useless. You just get in the way most of the time."

Ichiji kept his head down. No, no. He can't cry!

"Get your driving license or I'll slap the shit out of you."

"Oh?" and before he knew it, Satoru had stalked away, leaving him in the dust. How rude! But...

Get a driver license? Quit the jujutsu work?

Hey, that sounds like something I can do!

8K notes · View notes

rae-ha-writes · 11 months

Text

blame it on me

pairing; yoon jeonghan x f reader

genre; smut, fluff, humor

warnings; brothers bestfriend!jeonghan, joshua's sister!reader, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, banter, pet names, hair pulling, eating food, alcohol

w/c; 5.4k and some change

requested; no

a/n; i am honestly in love with the brother's best friend trope and it had been a while since i had written it myself.

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“Listen sis, I swear that I won’t miss a single month of rent and I’ll even follow your rules. No naked chicks in your apartment.”

You were hearing Joshua’s words in your head as you stood in your kitchen at 6 o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday staring at a half naked man sitting at your kitchen table. Granted it wasn’t a naked girl, but a naked human nonetheless.

Furrowing your brows you let out a whine that causes the man to look up from his cereal. His eyes brazenly move along your bare legs to the end of your nightshirt before he smirks against the spoon resting on his pretty lips.

“Hi, Y/N. Long time, no see.”

The naked man—well, half-naked man—knew your name. How did he know your name? Before you are able to question him, you feel Joshua push past you in a hurry, a scoff falling from his lips as he sees the man for himself.

“For fuck’s sake, Jeonghan. Put on a shirt, this isn’t your house. Have some respect for my sister. Speaking of, uh I told Jeonghan he could stay with me…or well, us, until he got back on his feet. His lease fell through, but he’s going to get something in a couple weeks. He swears.”

Blinking at the rush of information, you lift your hand to argue but Joshua just whines at you seeing the look in your eye. You knew he was already late to work. He was trying hard to get back on his own feet, hence the living situation you already found yourself in.

“Jesus…fine. Just for a couple weeks, and he lives in your room. He uses your bathroom, he eats your food. Speaking of which, that is my cereal. Teach him what he can and can not eat, Joshua or else.”

Grinning, Jeonghan lifts the spoon to his mouth savoring your cereal knowing this was going to be fun. He had always liked you. You were like some restricted treasure that he could only admire from afar before, and now? Now, you were a stunning grown woman standing in front of him in nothing but a sleep shirt.

“I can be a good boy, Y/N. Don’t you worry about me. I’ll even buy you some cereal for my bad behavior.”

Rolling your eyes, you watch the man smirk before he tips the bowl back drinking the milk. Joshua groans in disgust, a full body shiver taking over him as he turns to his friend throwing up his hands in question. Jeonghan can only raise his brow as if he had done nothing wrong, leaving his best friend wondering if this was the worst decision he had ever made.

“It will only be a couple of weeks and then the moron will have his own space. I love you very much for tolerating me and him, sis. Thank you. Now, I have to go to work before I lose this job for being late, fucking again.”

You and Jeonghan watch Joshua rush out the front door only for you to feel eyes on you once again. Taking a deep breath, determined not to let the boy that you had known for years have any sort of affect on you, you moved past the kitchen table towards the coffee maker going up on your toes to reach for your favorite mug.

Jeonghan grins, his head tilting to watch how your shirt lifts to show the end of your short sleep shorts. So you weren’t just in a sleep shirt, that was somehow disappointing to him, but he was still pleased with his view.

“So, Shua says you have some fancy job now?”

Hearing the sound of the spoon hitting the bowl causes you to jump slightly as you drop back down your heels on the tile floor. Jeonghan had been so quiet for a few seconds that you hadn’t expected him to start up a conversation so quickly. Glancing over your shoulder, you find the man smiling at you, his brow raised.

“I don’t know about fancy, and I haven’t talked to you in what, like…two years? A lot has changed in my life, Jeonghan.”

Shifting his eyes over your body once again, Jeonghan mutters, “clearly” under his breath before sliding out of his chair to bring his bowl towards the sink only to slide behind you closer than necessary. You furrow your brows to the feeling of his warm body so close to yours and the smell of his cologne that overshadows the coffee in front of you.

“I–look, Jeonghan. I’m going to give you the same rules that I have given Joshua, okay?”

Turning to lean against the counter, Jeonghan raises his brow again in amusement waiting for you to continue. You only pause for a moment as your eyes move over his lean frame stopping at his defined abs before you look down and away to keep speaking.

“Clean up your own shit, eat your food or in this case Joshua’s. Respect my space and don’t have naked girls walking around my house. Got it?”

Lifting his bowl, Jeonghan shows you as he washes it and puts it into the drainer as if he just completed some impossible task.

“Got it. I told you, I can be good.”

Taking a deep breath you let it out slowly, tipping the coffee pot towards your mug to fill it up. This was going to be the longest “couple of weeks” of your life.

“Jeonghan! Close my door!”

Your hands over your breasts, you stare at Jeonghan in disbelief as he stands in your bedroom doorway with an amused look on his face. It was the third time he had opened your door “on accident” in a week.

“I’m sorry! I swear to God, I thought I was going into Shua’s room!”

“Close it!”

Hearing him chuckle, you wait until Jeonghan has closed your door before you walk over to it, clicking the lock into place swearing that the next time you will remember to actually do that. You hadn’t had to worry about it with Joshua. He would have freaked out seeing you naked but for some reason his best friend seemed keen on it.

Smirking to himself, Jeonghan pushes Joshua’s door open to find his best friend with his brow raised as he pushes his headphones off his head.

“What the hell are you doing? There are four doors in this house. How can you possibly forget which one is mine?”

Jeonghan shrugs flopping down on the bed behind Joshua causing the other man to grunt in frustration.

“I just did. It’s fine, she’s fine. It’s not like I saw anything.”

Making a face of disgust, Joshua pushes his elbow back against Jeonghan’s ribs causing him to groan out a laugh before he turns over to rest his head on his arm watching whatever video was playing on the man’s laptop without sound.

“So…is she seeing anybody?”

Joshua stares at the screen of his computer as if Jeonghan had just asked him a question about quantum physics. Clearly the man wasn’t speaking to him or he had fallen on his head on his way back to his room.

“Are you drunk? Did you get into an accident today? There has to be something wrong with you, if you are asking me that question.”

Jeonghan laughs at Joshua’s dramatics. It wasn’t like they were teenagers anymore. Hell, they were in their late 20’s. It was a perfectly reasonable question to ask.

“I’m just curious! Is she? She never has anyone over. She is never really on her phone except with some girls from work.”

Sliding his headphones off his head completely, Joshua presses pause on his laptop before narrowing his eyes at his best friend. He knew this routine. He had seen Jeonghan be interested in people before.

“No, not that I’m aware of. But, I don’t ask about my sister’s dating life because I don’t care. It’s none of my business and it’s none of yours Jeonghan. How do you know it’s “girls from work” on her phone, anyway?”

Shrugging, Jeonghan picks at a loose string on Joshua’s comforter avoiding his best friend’s eyes.

“Cause I asked, and she told me.”

Joshua scoffs and nods at Jeonghan’s words. That made perfect sense. That was a completely reasonable question to ask your best friend’s sister.

“Whatever.”

Jeonghan mocks Joshua as he pulls his headphones back up, placing them securely over his ears. He knew that Joshua was probably right. He probably should leave you alone, respect that unspoken bro code, but fuck if you didn’t make that difficult.

“I didn’t know it was your favorite mug. I thought it was like a household mug.”

You stare at Jeonghan as he holds your mug in his hand. The same mug that you have used every single day for years, and specifically the same mug he has seen you use since he showed up to stay with you and Joshua two weeks ago. Lifting your hand towards him, you whine dramatically because not only is he drinking from your property, he is once again half naked in your kitchen. For the past week it seemed like Yoon Jeonghan was doing his best to break you.

“Why do you hate me? Seriously? What have I done to the universe to deserve you?”

Jeonghan smiles into the mug taking a sip of his coffee, his eyes following you in your cute little pajamas as you walk past him into the kitchen. He couldn’t help himself when you got close enough. Reaching out, Jeonghan pokes at your side causing you to gasp and jump at the contact.

“Oh, you! I’m gonna…”

Sitting the mug down next to you on the counter, Jeonghan grins at you, stepping towards you to push your back against the cabinets. Your brows furrow as you feel your stomach tighten and your heart beating quicker at how close he is to you.

“Gonna, what?”

Jeonghan watches you swallow hard. Your fingers move to grab at the lip of the countertop for stability when the man leans in closer to you and you feel overwhelmed with the scent of his cologne.

“Slap me? I might like it. Yell at me? Call me names? I could give you a few options.”

Opening your mouth to speak, you find the words are harder to come by than you would like. Jeonghan looks like he is about to speak again when both of you hear Joshua’s voice causing the man in front of you to step away grabbing your mug once again.

“So, I just found out I have to go out of town for the weekend. My boss wants me to represent my division at this meeting. It’s kind of a big deal.”

Finally looking up once he is in the room, Joshua seems to feel the tension furrowing his brows.

“You guys okay?”

You weren’t sure if you could answer that question so instead you just nod as Jeonghan lifts the mug in his hand as if he is offering Joshua a toast.

“Good luck man. Know you’ll kick some ass.”

It was the first day that you and Jeonghan were alone in the house together. Joshua had left for his business trip early Friday morning promising to be home as soon as he could Monday night. You had tried to ease his concerns by telling him that you could handle Jeonghan’s bullshit just fine on your own, but could you?

Now it was Friday night and you had hoped that Jeonghan would want to go out. Maybe you could avoid the feelings that had been growing between the two of you over the past couple of weeks.

The house seemed quiet as you walked into the living room, your favorite mug securely in your hand. You had decided to use it to hold your wine despite having perfectly good wine glasses. Ever since Jeonghan had stolen it from you, it felt more important to use it at any given opportunity.

With the man nowhere to be seen you let out a soft sigh deciding to flop down on your sofa and turn on the television. It had been days since you had let yourself relax in your own house. Every time you had tried either he or Joshua would find a way to include themselves.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy their company, but it was Jeonghan’s lingering glances, the way he was undressing you with his eyes. It was the way you were enjoying it that made it impossible to stay in the same room as him. You couldn’t let yourself fall for your brother’s best friend. There was an unspoken sibling rule.

“Oh, there you are. What are we watching?”

Jeonghan sighs lazily as he sits next to you, his body resting far too close to yours than necessary. Glancing over at the man, you furrow your brows and slide your legs closer to yourself under your body as if you are giving him more space on the three seater sofa.

“I was going to watch some trash television, but I can do that in my room. Here…you can watch whatever you want, Jeonghan.”

Offering him the remote, you watch Jeonghan’s face fall before he lets out a sigh taking it from you.

“Y/N, did I offend you or something?”

You purse your lips and shake your head starting to slide off the sofa when Jeonghan grabs your hand to stop you.

“Jeonghan…no, you didn’t. I just–whatever it is…I can’t. It’s not that you aren’t great, I’m sure you are, but –”

“I’m Shua’s best friend.”

Jeonghan watches you nod causing him to sigh and furrow his brows.

“But we are also both adults, Y/N. I mean…fuck, I have liked you since I was in high school, if I am going to be completely honest with you. I know I have been a bit of an ass while I’ve been staying here, but why does Shua get to say what we can and can’t do?”

Leaning your head back as Jeonghan talks, you can’t help but to close your eyes and whine a bit at his words. It was unfair, this was all unfair. He couldn’t pull the high school crush on his best friend's sister card on you right now.

“Y/N, seriously…look at me.”

Finally looking back down at Jeonghan you sigh when he takes your mug out of your hand to sit it on the coffee table so he can hold both of your wrists. You can’t help the way your skin erupts with chill bumps to the feeling of his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on the inside of your arm near the heel of your hand as he waits for you to talk to him.

“He will be upset with me if this happens between us.”

The man in front of you smiles and you can’t help the way your stomach tightens to the sight of it. His handsome face was something that had always made you swoon since the two of you were teenagers. Jeonghan laughs before biting his lip and pulling you back towards the sofa to sit with him.

“Then just blame it on me.”

You scoff softly, feeling Jeonghan’s fingers brushing along your arm briefly as he leans towards you speaking. It isn’t until his lips finally touch yours that you speak once again.

“Oh, I will.”

Jeonghan grins before capturing your lips for the first time with a soft groan. He had been wanting to kiss you since the moment he saw you that morning in the kitchen. Sliding his fingers along your neck, Jeonghan brushes his thumb along your jaw as his other hand moves to pull you closer to him by your hip.

A soft moan slips from your lips as you slide over his thighs and onto Jeonghan’s lap on the sofa. You feel his lips pull up into a smile against your own, causing you to pull back to look at him as his hand slides under your shirt over your back.

“Sounds so pretty, baby. Why are you looking at me like that? Hmm? You like how I feel between your thighs?”

Shaking your head, you can’t help but to whine out your answer feeling Jeonghan’s fingernails scratch along your skin.

“You are insufferable.”

Laughing, Jeonghan rolls his hips upwards to press his growing erection against your soft shorts. He was loving your reaction to him. Every little whine and whimper. Every time your body jerked to his touch.

“You like it, I think."

Shaking your head, you lean your head down to rest your forehead against Jeonghan’s. Your own hips roll down to meet him as a shaky breath slips from between your lips when you try to speak once again.

“I–maybe. God, just touch me already, Jeonghan.”

Still smiling, Jeonghan raises a brow to your demand. His fingers slowly explore your skin just below your shirt.

“I am, Y/N. Why don’t you be a good girl and tell me exactly what you want, huh? I think you’ve been wanting this for just as long as I have.”

Cursing him under your breath, you can’t help but to whimper when you feel Jeonghan’s lips press to the column of your neck as his fingers press into the top of your shorts waiting for you to do as you were asked.

“Fuck you…ah! Take my clothes off, Jeonghan. I’m so wet, don’t you want to feel that? I thought you had been thinking about this since high school? Wasn’t I some wet dream for you?”

Jeonghan groans into a laugh at your words, his mouth pressed against your collarbone before he nibbles at the skin. Pulling back the man stares up at you, his hands sliding under your shirt to push it upwards exposing your skin to him little by little.

“You have no fucking idea. Used to get in trouble all the time for staring at you. Wondered what it would be like to have your attention back then, but baby…I know what I’m doing now.”

With your shirt discarded into the floor, you let out a soft moan feeling Jeonghan’s lips press to the center of your chest just above your breasts. Lifting your hands you run them through his soft hair arching your chest towards him feeling his fingers sliding up your spine towards the clasp of your bra.

“You did have my attention. I…oh god…your mouth.”

The moment your bra is on the floor with your shirt, Jeonghan’s mouth finds your breast. His teeth, tongue, and lips moving over your soft skin as if it will sustain him for months while he listens to your sweet moans between words.

“Mm, tell me, Y/N. ‘Cause it didn’t feel like it. I was just your brother’s stupid friend. You were this Goddess, even back then. Untouchable…”

Shaking your head, you whine out Jeonghan’s name causing the man to thrust his hips up towards yours. He finds himself wishing his sweatpants and your shorts were out of the way already.

“No…fuck, Jeonghan. I wasn’t anything special. I’m still not.”

Lifting you up, Jeonghan laughs quietly against your sternum before he shakes his head and moves to stand pulling you into his arms.

“You got no idea how special you are. I’ll show you in time, but right now...I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve.”

Smiling against Jeonghan’s lips, you wrap your arms around his neck feeling his fingers pushing at your shorts and panties before he lets gravity pull them to the ground.

“Oh yeah?”

Nodding, he smirks against your smile before nipping at your bottom lip walking you out of your clothes towards the hallway and your bedroom.

“Yeah, fuck you so good you won’t think of anyone else. You gonna be a good girl and let me?”

Walking backwards into your bedroom, you can’t help but you laugh at Jeonghan’s words even though they cause heat to rush to your cheeks. Pushing your thumbs into the top of his sweatpants, you push them down with his boxers only feeling a bit of resistance when his hard cock springs back towards his stomach.

“Thought you were my good boy, Jeonghan? Now you want me to be your good girl?”

Jeonghan grins at your words, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he takes a step forward pushing your knees against the side of your bed causing you to be pinned against it and him. A gasp forms on your lips when you feel his hard cock press against your lower stomach smearing it with pre-cum.

“That what you wanna call me, your good boy? I can go by that? Or daddy, sir, master, baby…”

“Shut the fuck up…”

Jeonghan’s laugh stops short and turns into a groan when you wrap your hand around his length and twist it from his base to his tip, letting your thumb glide over his head to collect some of his pre-cum. You enjoyed rendering the man speechless, though you knew it was short lived as Jeonghan opened his eyes, his body shuddering at your touch.

“Call me whatever you want, just as long as I am inside of you. Lay down for me, baby. Spread these pretty legs for me.”

Pushing you back with his body, Jeonghan watches you fall back on your bed, your body bouncing once as he smirks down at you. His eyes wander over you, taking in every inch of you that is visible to him now until he stops between your legs with a groan.

“So pretty, and all mine?”

The man was possessive but you weren’t complaining. Instead, you were getting off on it. You could feel the way you were getting wetter with each word from his mouth. Sliding your hands along your bedding, you nod to Jeonghan’s question causing the man to smile at you. His hands work their way along your legs to help you spread them as his mouth waters for you.

“Can I taste you? You are so wet, Y/N. I might die if I don’t get my tongue on this pussy.”

Your face felt like it was on fire at Jeonghan’s words, but you nod and whine out a yes, giving him permission to go down on you. You weren’t sure you had ever had a man talk to you like this before. You weren’t sure you could think of a time when someone had looked at you the way Jeonghan was, like you were everything he had ever wanted.

Lifting your leg to his shoulder, Jeonghan shakes his head in disbelief at his luck before turning his head to kiss your calf. You watch as your body trembles to the feeling of his kisses working their way to the center of your legs as he moves from either thigh taking his time. It’s only when his mouth is level with your pussy that Jeonghan looks up at you again and smiles.

“What are you waiting for?”

Jeonghan laughs at your question, his warm breath causing you to arch off the bed slightly as you feel his left hand sliding under your hip so that his fingernails can scratch at your skin lightly.

“Just admiring the view, sweetheart.”

“Oh, my god..just do it or…ah!”

Jeonghan causes you to gasp mid sentence as he uses his hand against your hip to pull your pussy against his mouth. You moan his name, feeling Jeonghan’s tongue circling your already pulsing clit as he groans to your taste.

Digging his nails into your skin, Jeonghan can’t help but to smile against your pussy, feeling you roll your hips against his face. He loved that you were enjoying being with him this much already. He loved how your moans would go higher when he would press his lips together around your clit and suck at it like you deserved.

Jeonghan was doing his best not to rut into your comforter to the feeling of your slick around his fingers, as he teased your tight entrance. You were clenching and dripping so much as you whined his name. Jeonghan wondered if you were getting close, but as he slipped a single finger into you, his tongue running flat along your soft folds he knew his answer.

Your body arched almost violently, feeling Jeonghan’s index finger slide into you. The moment it curled back against your spot and the man’s lips sealed back over your clit you were a goner. Your fingers found Jeonghan’s hair drawing a long deep groan from him as he worked you through your orgasm.

Taking a breath as he pulls back from between your legs, Jeonghan groans out your name looking up at you while you catch your breath. He had never wanted someone as much as he wanted you at that moment. The afternoon sun catching the sweat forming on your skin, your breasts rising and falling with each breath, the way you whimpered his name and reached for him. Everything about you was driving him crazy.

Sliding from the bed, Jeonghan ran his hand through his hair glancing around the room before looking at you again.

“Condom?”

Shaking your head, you reach for him once again and the man furrows his brows letting you pull him back down to the bed on his side. Your lips meet his in a slow, languid kiss before you speak to him explaining yourself.

“I’m on the pill, I’m okay. Long as I can trust you, can I?”

Jeonghan groans to the idea against your lips, his fingers pressing against your side as he rolls over on his back pulling you over him. Nodding the man slides up the bed with you until his lean is against the headboard. You feel his knees slide up under you causing you to whine to the feeling of how his cock rests against your stomach.

“You can trust me, baby. Here…”

With one hand, Jeonghan guides you to your knees while the other strokes his length slowly. Your eyes move from his hand moving over his cock to his face making Jeonghan smile when he teases his head between your folds.

“I’d tell you to sit down slowly for your sake, but that’d be a lie. Sit down slow for me, darling. You are so tight and wet…I might lose it too quickly if you aren’t careful. As much as I’d like to watch you fuck yourself on my dick…”

Shaking your head, you lift your hand, putting it over Jeonghan’s mouth, feeling the man laugh before he kisses your fingers, getting the idea to shut up. Your hands moving to his shoulders, you let Jeonghan guide his cock into you as you lower yourself over him slowly like he had wanted.

Letting out a soft moan of his name, you lean your head forward once you are sitting over Jeonghan’s cock completely, your knees resting on the bed. He wasn’t so big that the stretch was uncomfortable, instead he had a length that hit you perfectly.

Swallowing hard, feeling you clenching around him, Jeonghan leans his head back. With a groan he rests his hand that had once been on his cock on the bed so that he could lift himself and you up slightly to thrust into you once feeling you push down to meet him just like he had wanted.

“Fuck…just like that, Y/N. You’re perfect, baby.”

Jeonghan’s words cause you to whine, your eyes finding his as he watches you roll your hips over his cock to meet each deep, deliberate thrust. You could already feel the coil inside of you once again winding tightly. Your velvet walls hugged Jeonghan’s cock so tightly that he was seeing stars with each movement.

“Please…please…”

Your words are whispered, but Jeonghan hears them and can’t stop the smirk that crosses his lips. His eyes watched your pretty thighs beginning to shake and even though he knew he was so close to following you it was more important to him now than ever that he pushed you over that edge before him. It was as if he had something to prove to himself at that moment, listening to you beg him for your release.

“Yeah? Baby? You wanna cum for me? Hm? Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

You knew that you should be annoyed with Jeonghan’s words, but instead they just cause you to whine and nod. You did want to cum for him. You wanted to be good for him. God you hated how much you wanted it. Letting out a loud moan you fall forward against Jeonghan’s chest, feeling his hands slide along your back, his hips pistoning against yours as your orgasm washes over you once again.

The feeling of your cum around his cock was like nothing Jeonghan had felt before. He had slept with other women before. He had made other women cum with his cock, but it had never felt like this. He had never wanted it this bad, so when your mouth rested against his shoulder and you cried out his name during your release, Jeonghan was a goner.

Fingers dig into your skin, small half moon divots imprint themselves where Jeonghan’s nails find purchase at your hips as his mouth rests against the side of your head when he cums into you. Thick, warm cum paints your walls and mixes with your own release with each hard thrust as Jeonghan fucks you through his climax.

Breathing hard, Jeonghan collapses against your mattress with you laying on top of him. His legs fall flat under you out of exhaustion, but his hands hold you close like a man afraid to lose something important.

“Jeonghan…”

Your voice is soft and almost angelic as it cuts through Jeonghan’s post climax haze. The man smiles, his fingers finally relax and brush over your hips as he lets you go, letting out a groan to the feeling of you rolling from him. It’s only when you start to sit up facing away from him, that panic ripples through Jeonghan.

“Wait…where are you going? Did you not like it?”

Feeling his fingers wrapping around your wrist, you can’t hide your smile as you glance over your shoulder at the handsome, sweaty man on your bed. Leaning back down you press your lips to him drawing a smile from him and causing him to furrow his brows in confusion before you finally speak.

“I liked it, baby. I’m just going to start the shower and use the bathroom. I’m not leaving you. Remember, you said I could blame you. None of this is my fault.”

Grinning against your lips at your words, Jeonghan finally lets you go watching you slide from the bed to move towards the bathroom.

“You called me baby.”

Waving your hand, you dismiss his words and Jeonghan laughs, turning back on his back to look up at your ceiling and the patterns from the sun going down. He knew that Joshua would be back in a couple days and that eventually he would have to explain this to him but he was determined to make the most of the time he had with you before that.

“Explain this to me as if I were five. You two are what?”

Joshua looks at you and Jeonghan from his chair to the sofa. Jeonghan’s arm on the back of the sofa, his fingers trailing along your shoulder.

“Dating. Going out. Making sweet love on the regula–”

“Jeonghan I will fucking kill you if you don’t stop talking.”

Putting your head into your hands, you listen to your brother threaten his best friend. It isn’t until you hear your brother whine out your name that you look up, raising a brow when he seems like he’s looking for an explanation from you.

“He said I could blame him, so it's Jeonghan’s fault.”

Hearing a betrayed gasp, you meet the eyes of Jeonghan as you stand up with a laugh pulling his hand from your shirt.

“Nuh uh, baby. You said and I quote, “then just blame it on me”.”

Gesturing towards your brother, you blow a kiss at your new boyfriend as he playfully narrows his eyes at you.

“It was rhetorical!”

“What, you can’t take the heat but you wanna date my sister? Some boyfriend you have, Y/N!”

Walking away you laugh listening to the sounds of Jeonghan and Joshua’s playful banter as the two dissolve into laughs. You knew they would be fine.

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rae-ha-writes · 1 year

Text

you vs the universe

✧ jeon wonwoo x reader

✧ summary: you've had a bad day, starting from when the ac decided to give up in the middle of the night during summer. after a long, tiring day you return home to your beloved orange cat, butters, and your longtime crush/roommate, wonwoo

✧ genre: fluff, comedy bc i think i'm funny; roommates-to-lovers; you are completely oblivious that wonwoo has been in love with you for over a year; bad day turns into a very good one; the intimacy of having someone tie up your hair

✧ notes: reader is fem with long hair; calls themself butters' "mother"; there's mentions of past injury; panic attack mention; mention of a sexual act but not in the context of it being sexual, but in the context of it being on a shirt bc i saw a sticker and got inspired

✧ post note: sooooo the first two paragraphs are showing up messed up for me. There’s actually supposed to be another paragraph ahead of the current first one, but whenever I try and edit it in the post reverts back to the wrong one. So apologies for the first two paragraphs on here being messed up; when I try to fix it, it doesn’t work :(

✧ word count is 4.2k

You didn’t even want to enter your apartment complex. When you woke up in the early hours of night, you were covered in sweat. Your hair was stuck to the back of your neck, your shirt clung to your armpits. There was a damp spot on the bed from where you had been laying.

After using the restroom you stumbled to the thermostat, softly cursing your orange cat as he wound himself around your ankles. You had stared at the thermostat for a second, uncomprehending. Then you frantically fled to Wonwoo’s room and woke him up.

“Well,” he had mumbled, squinting at the bold 85 that the thermostat boasted. He fumbled with it for a moment, before relenting and announcing it was broken. “I’ll call the landlord in the morning. Not like anything can be done about it until everything opens up.”

So the two of you had opened the windows and turned on every fan in the apartment. You checked the temperature of Butters’ water fountain, ensuring the flow was still cold. Wonwoo had watched as you cooed at the tabby, reaching out and petting him before pressing quick kisses to his little orange head.

“You care more about Butters than you do me,” your roommate had said. His voice was deeper than usual, and you foolishly fought against how it seemed to force its way inside you and settle.

“Only slightly.” Your knees had cracked when you stood again. Wonwoo was looking at your shirt, and it was then you remembered the grey cotton had done absolutely nothing to soak up your sweat and instead a large stain spread out around the neck.

After bidding Wonwoo a good-night (for the second time in a night) you had discarded your pajamas and underwear, pulling out brand-new everything.

Which was what led to your current predicament, which was also further evidence that the universe was against you.

It wasn’t until you were standing in front of your building did you remember that the t-shirt you were wearing was your last clean one. It was the one Wonwoo had gotten you two years back when he and Mingyu had gone on a vacation to the Pacific Northwest that depicted a redwood tree and had the phrase “Big Red Stick National Forest” written across it. Even worse: you were also wearing your last clean pair of underwear, having intentionally set it aside yesterday evening as a reminder.

The air conditioning was back on in the apartment complex, but that did nothing to stop your bad mood or clothes from clinging to you; even worse, the cold air made your sweat stains turn cool and freeze against your skin.

“The whole universe is against me,” you announced upon entering your apartment. Wonwoo glanced over from his spot on the couch. Butters stood from where he had been curled up on Wonwoo’s chest, stretching out before jumping off.

“I think you’re exaggerating,” Wonwoo said, rather objectively.

Butters pranced over to you, looking like a small show pony. He stretched out his front legs one final time before looking up at you, blinking his huge green eyes, and screaming.

“I know!” You agreed, leaning down and scooping Butters up into your arms. He immediately began purring. Butters forcefully rubbed his head underneath your chin and you returned the favor, rubbing your face in his. “Wonwoo just doesn’t understand us, Butters. He’s a meanie.”

“Now how is that fair?”

Wonwoo stood, stretching. You watched as he extended his arms up towards the ceiling, fingers splayed and reminding you of Butters after a nap. Wonwoo was wearing a tank top, one that hung from his frame and did nothing to hide his collarbone. His muscles flexed as he stretched and you couldn’t help but watch his biceps strain, and you sort of wondered what it felt like to press your hand against his lower back as he stretched, feeling how his muscles moved.

Once upon a time, Wonwoo was nothing but a string bean with awkward angles and too-sharp elbows and knees. That was the Jeon Wonwoo you had met; that was the Jeon Wonwoo you had agreed to room with.

But then he met Lee Jihoon and suddenly decided visiting the gym was a brilliant idea, filling one of your cupboard shelves with protein powder.

Again: proof the universe was against you.

You felt Butters take a deep breath, and then he was screaming again. You turned to look at him, and he reached up and settled a paw against your mouth. His lime eyes peered into yours and seemed to say “get it together, mother.”

He was right. You needed to get it together.

“Why is the universe against you?” Wonwoo finally asked, done with his stretching. He made his way to the door, his feet bare and hair sticking up on one side, looking so painfully domestic and sweet.

For a moment you let your mind wonder. You were a successful business woman returning from a long day at the office. There was air conditioning in your apartment. You were greeted by your trophy husband and cat. Wonwoo was telling you about his day, which consisted of cleaning and gaming. You were setting Butters back on the ground so you could grab Wonwoo around the waist, sneaking your hands up underneath that too-large tank top and settling them against his skin. You were kissing Wonwoo, unhurriedly and sweetly, taking all the time in the world because the matching rings on your fingers meant that the two of you were united forever, that you had until the end of the world to kiss Wonwoo and tell him you loved him.

And then Butters wiggled against you, moving so he could dangle over your shoulder and forcing you to hold him like you would hold a baby you were about to burp.

“First the air conditioning wasn't working.”

“Obviously.”

“The subway was crowded and stinky. My carriage smelled like someone pissed in it, and someone probably did. I tripped stepping off of the sidewalk and onto the crosswalk --”

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo interrupted, his dark eyebrows furrowing. He glanced over you, eyes darting behind his glasses. “Did you get hurt?”

You shook your head. Butters was purring so loudly that the neighbors could probably hear it. “Only my pride was hurt, if I’m honest. A nice man who was jogging stopped and helped me up.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed for a split second before his face took on his normal neutral look. You wondered if he was still hooked on the prospect of you falling. A handful of months ago you had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, walking in front of Soonyoung just as Seungcheol launched a killer pitch at him, the ball slamming into your stomach and causing you to double over.

Wonwoo hadn’t seen it happen; had only heard Seungcheol and Soonyoung’s shouts from the kitchen where he and a few others had been talking. You remember Wonwoo suddenly appearing at your side, practically shoving Soonyoung away from you and taking you into his arms. You remember him petting your head as you cried from the pain, Seungcheol recounting what had happened; you also recall Wonwoo shouting at Seungcheol and Soonyoung, whisking you away from the get-together and ignoring his two friends for a week.

That entire week he was hovering around you. He would routinely ask if it was okay to touch your stomach, if he could look at it, just to see the progress of the violent bruise that was forming. Wonwoo constantly had a frozen bag of peas or corn ready for you, switching one out whenever he deemed it too warm. It wasn’t until the bruise was fading and you urged him to get in contact with Seungcheol and Soonyoung did he finally let up on his mothering.

He was a good friend, caring so much about your wellbeing. Your heart fluttered a little at his concern, and you shifted Butters in your hold so you could reach out and squeeze his arm. “Don’t worry about it, Wonwoo! I didn’t even land hard enough to get a scratch, see?”

You offered the hand of your palm for him to inspect. He glanced at it casually. He then reached out and grabbed your wrist, eyes trained on the skin there. “That was nice of the old man to help you,” Wonwoo said.

“Oh, he wasn’t old.” He kept his eyes trained on your palm. You wiggled your fingers. You wanted him to look away from your hand with that serious look, wanted him to instead meet your eyes with his dark ones and be on the receiving end of such an open display of devotion. But instead it was your hand he looked at with such seriousness.

Again: the universe was against you.

“Thought you said he was an old man,” Wonwoo returned, tone casually. He pushed up his glasses.

You shook your head, Butters letting out a trill of discontent at the movement. “No, I reckon he was around our age? You should’ve seen his calf muscles, Wonie. They were huge.”

Wonwoo hummed a little. His thumb began brushing against your palm, gently swiping the skin there. Your heart began to beat in rhythm with the movement of his thumb. “Did you get his number, then?”

You furrowed your brow. “Why on Earth would I do that?”

Wonwoo finally looked up from your hand. His eyes no longer had that serious look to them, and a small smile curled the edge of his lips. You liked how he grinned like that, when his smiles weren’t large enough and instead seemed to play with only one side of his mouth. It made him look adorable; endearing; sweet.

“Okay. So no air conditioning; you tripped; the subway smelled like piss. What else am I missing?”

Wonwoo’s thumb stopped brushing against your palm. He released your hand. You immediately missed it and wanted to reach out and return his hand to its rightful place in yours.

“Uh. My chapstick was so hot from the weather that when I went to apply it, it was all mush. My airpods disconnected and Taemin’s MOVE blasted in the elevator. A toddler was screaming in the middle of the CVS and I honestly wanted to start screaming with him, because today has fucking sucked.”

Wonwoo nodded. He was still grinning. “Wow. Anything else?”

“My clothes are smelly and wet -- even my underwear.”

Wonwoo blinked.

Your eyes widened. You let out a shriek; Butters screamed with you. “NO -- they’re wet from sweat! I’m wet from sweating! Not from anything else -- just sweat! Because it’s so hot! It’s hot outside!”

“Ah,” Wonwoo’s mouth was agape, eyes round. He glanced at the wall. Back at you. At Butters. Back at you.

The universe was fucking against you.

“You can borrow some of mine,” he said.

And because the universe was so against you that even your own self was against you, you agreed.

The t-shirt he gave you was several sizes too-large, as Wonwoo tended to go for comfort over what looked good more often than not. It was from the vacation you, he, Mingyu, Seokmin and Minghao had taken around Christmas. You had said something about the Grand Canyon being the perfect place to take pictures and then suddenly Wonwoo was presenting you with a plane ticket and saying your flight was the next day.

And so your little group of photography nerds had ooo’d and aaah’d the Grand Canyon. Wonwoo hadn’t gotten a shirt at the giftshop, you remember (and tried to shove away the shame you felt at remembering something as little as that), but at a gas station several miles out he had suddenly appeared with a plastic bag and a large smile.

Then he had presented you with the shirt you were wearing currently. It had a picture of the Grand Canyon with a little hiker on the edge. There was a quote bubble coming out from the hiker that said “I rimmed the Grand Canyon”.

Seokmin had actually peed himself from laughing so hard.

His underwear was snug around your middle, and you tightened your shorts in an effort to keep them up. You walked from the bathroom, feeling infinitely better. Wonwoo was setting a bowl next to the sink, and as soon as he caught sight of you his eyes went almost comically wide. You did a little spin, Butters screaming at your feet.

“Ta-dah!” You cheered, doing jazz hands. “Better, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo agreed. “Loads better.”

You joined Wonwoo at the sink, pushing your hair behind your ears. A fan sat on top of the kitchen table, practically starting a tornado from how violently it spun the air.

“What’s up with your buddy over there,” you asked, nodding towards the fan.

Wonwoo looked over at the fan. He had been looking at your chest, but to be fair to him, that was where the iconic text that still sent Seokmin into hysterics eight months later was. Wonwoo was probably just reading the phrase and reliving Seokmin’s embarrassment at having wet himself.

“Ah,” Wonwoo began. He pushed up his glasses. “I had cereal and it was hot.”

“Your cereal was hot?”

He looked back at you, eyebrows raising. “No? What -- why the fuck would my cereal be hot?”

“You just said it was!”

“No? I meant it was hot in the apartment,” he clarified. Wonwoo’s voice had that same tone he got when he found someone absolutely ridiculous. “The heat is definitely getting to you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. But I do know you’re not leaving me to do all these dishes.”

The pile was tragic. It was tragic in that it was a sore reminder that even with the two of you combined, you and Wonwoo didn’t have a single responsible brain cell. Or perhaps you did; Butters was still alive, afterall. So that had to qualify for something.

At least the pile was washed off, you justified.

It could be worse.

Like Seokmin and Soonyoung’s shared apartment.

“Okay,” Wonwoo began. He turned to face the dishes with you, hands splayed on the counter. His hands were tan, just like the rest of him, from spending time outside exercising with Mingyu (Jihoon absolutely refused to exercise outside). Every time you looked at his hands and were reminded of how large they were, you couldn’t help but swallow and try to combat the heat that flashed through you.

His hands were big. Almost comically big. Except it wasn’t funny how everytime you saw his hands you wanted to reach out and lace your fingers through his, you wanted to press kisses to his palms, wanted to know how it felt to have his hands settled at the base of your neck, guiding your head into a kiss --

Anyways. Anyways.

There was a dull thud. You looked to see Butters peering over the edge of the coffee table at a book he had no doubt pushed off. He looked away from the book and at you. Your eyes met, and you knew for a fact that if Butters was capable of judging another being, he would absolutely be judging you.

“You were going to leave the dishes to me, though,” Wonwoo pointed out. You looked at him. He was smiling down at you, eyes crinkling.

“Okay, you caught me,” you returned. “Now that we both know each other’s evil plan, let’s do them together.”

There was a brief pause. And then Wonwoo narrowed his eyes, cocking his head. “Do you hear that?”

You went still, trying to listen. “No, I don’t. What --”

“My phone is ringing,” Wonwoo said, pushing away from the sink. “I better go and see who it is!”

“I see your PHONE IN YOUR POCKET, ASSHOLE!”

Nonetheless, you shoved your hair back from your face and looked down at the pile of dishes. Sighing, hopefully loud enough for Wonwoo to hear, you forcefully turned on the water. You shoved the plug into the sink, vowing to make Wonwoo pay somehow.

You rearranged the dishes, setting the larger bowls and plates on the counter. You tucked your escaping bangs back behind your ears again. You began with the bowls, scrubbing them and trying to come up with a master plan to get Wonwoo back for his desertion.

Maybe you could only do your half of the dishes and leave his dirty ones. But then he’d catch on and just start ordering out more in an effort to not have to clean. You could make him clean out the litter box, but it was his turn to do it anyway. You could invite him to a movie night and make him watch the Barbie movies, but then again he somehow always found a way to enjoy himself during them.

You could make him watch a kid’s show. Maybe like Bluey? Fuck wait, though, you genuinely enjoyed Bluey and didn’t want to turn it into a punishment.

You let out a groan when your bangs fell from behind your ears, obscuring part of your vision again. You shoved them back, uncaring of the water that fell from your hands and dripped onto the shirt.

Oh! You could invite him to a movie night and invite Mingyu and not tell him! You had unintentionally done it once, having forgotten to tell Wonwoo that you had invited your mutual friend until Mingyu was knocking on the apartment door. Wonwoo had seemed sour the entire night, but you waved it off at him just being pissed that Mingyu took the last soda from the fridge.

Yes. That was the play.

You grinned at your brilliance, wiggling a little in celebration. Your hair shifted and once again your bangs fell to your face, dangling in front of your eyes.

Groaning, you lifted your hands from the soapy water to try and force your hair to obey you and keep away from your face. Then two hands settled on your waist, squeezing.

You jumped, shrieking a little. Wonwoo laughed, his chuckle deep and bringing heat to your cheeks. He squeezed your waist again. “Just me.”

“Well I know that now,” you snapped. “Announce yourself next time, dude. Could’ve been holding a knife and stabbed you. Reflexively.”

“Reflexively,” he mocked, before letting out another huff of laughter. You felt his warm breath on the back of your neck. Despite the humidity and heat, you shivered.

His hands moved from your waist, but you didn’t get a chance to miss them as they traveled up your body, close enough for you to feel the ghost of them. “Don’t move, baby.”

Obediently, terribly obediently, you went still. His long fingers carded through your hair, untangling it. If you were Butters you would have been purring. Then Wonwoo chuckled again as if he was laughing at you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were somehow purring. Then you caught yourself leaning back into his touch and realized why he was laughing.

You immediately straightened, pushing as close to the sink as you could. The edge of the counter dug into your stomach.

Wonwoo tugged one of your locks of hair. “Listen to me,” he chastised you. “I told you to be still.”

“I am,” you whined.

He didn’t say anything. His hands returned to your hair. Wonwoo’s fingers resumed their petting, but this time they didn’t linger. He pulled at your hair, gathering it. It wasn’t until he was tying the scrunchie around your hair a second time did you realize what he was doing.

Your roommate was tying your hair up for you.

Wonwoo was tying your hair for you.

Jeon Wonwoo, the man you‘ve been daydreaming about for the past two years, the man you’ve been imagining holding hands and even kissing, was putting up your hair. He had seen you struggle with your bangs and took it upon himself to help you. He didn’t just hand you the scrunchie but did it himself.

You turned around as soon as you felt him tighten the scrunchie enough so it would hold. You peered up at him; he looked back down at you. His face was as neutral as ever, but even then you saw the little shine in his dark eyes. You wondered if you were delusional, wondered if he felt the same pull you did, if he felt the string that tied the two of you together tighten and urge you together.

“Why did you do that?

Wonwoo was quiet for a moment. Then he tilted his head, eyes narrow and sharp. “Guess.”

And then he was pulling away from you completely. Your mind was blank as he took a handful of steps away from you, watching him run a hand through his black hair and the muscles on his back flex.

Guess.

You were on him in a second.

Your hands went to his waist, turning him towards you as you lifted yourself onto the tip of your toes. He was leaning down to you, one of his hands going to your shoulder, bringing you close, the other to your cheek, guiding you to his mouth.

It was frantic and messy. He was pulling you closer and closer, arm wrapping around your shoulders and fingers sinking into your hair. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue insistent and sloppy as it forced its way into your mouth. You let him in, your hands hurriedly shoving up the hem of his tank top and flattening against his skin. You felt the warmth of him, both from his skin and his mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck.”

You let out a soft little noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan. He cursed again, his hands moving. One cupped your jaw and the other went to your neck. You let him manipulate you, his mouth taking and taking from yours, his teeth biting down on your lip.

The hand in your hair pulled sharply; you gasped.

Wonwoo pulled away. The hand on your jaw moved, the other one still holding you in place. You watched, heart fluttering and gut clenching, as he removed his glasses and tossed them onto the table.

And then his mouth descended onto yours, devouring once more. He pressed ever closer, his hand traveling to grip at your waist. He murmured your name, chanted it, as if it were ancient words of prayer. Wonwoo kissed you like you were a god and it was his offering, spit smearing across your mouths and nails digging into skin.

There was an inhuman scream. You let out a shout of your own against Wonwoo’s mouth, pulling away and whipping your head towards the sound.

Butters screamed again, scrambling against the coffee table before launching himself off it. He continued his scream as he sprinted across the living room and into the kitchen, his orange tail pointed straight up into the air. Butters slid on the hard floor as he came upon his food bowl, where the automated feeder was dinging and announcing dinner time.

You watched your orange cat inhale his food, completely unaware (or uncaring) of what had just taken place between his parents. Slowly you turned to look up at Wonwoo, who was already looking at you.

“Uh,” you eloquently began. Shyness crept its way into you, as if you didn’t just have Wonwoo’s tongue down your throat and weren’t half a second away from offering yourself on a silver platter.

“Hi,” he returned, just as awkwardly. He shifted, his hands moving. One remained at your waist while the other went to the table, retrieving the glasses he had heatedly discarded.

You watched as he put them back on. The air was silent between the two of you, but just as rigid as in the moments leading up to the kiss. But instead of filling you with passion and heat it made you cringe, your hands flexing against Wonwoo’s bare back.

“Okay --” “So here’s the thing --”

Both of you abruptly broke off. You and Wonwoo were both still as you waited for the other to continue. When neither of you did you couldn’t help but giggle, pitching yourself forward to bury your face into his chest.

Wonwoo’s chest rumbled as he laughed, his arms going around you to hold you close. You felt him press his face into your hair, glasses digging into the top of your head. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, thudding loud against your ribcage.

This was it.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for like, two years,” you mumbled into his shirt, words rushed and your mouth practically smashing against his chest.

Wonwoo was still for a moment. You felt as if eternity had fit itself into those few seconds of pause, your heart coming to a complete still as your mind leapt to conclusions. This was the moment everything would change, and your brain was screaming like Butters did at midnight when he found either you or Wonwoo's bedroom doors closed.

Then he was pulling you away from him, one of his hands coming to guide your chin so you were looking up at him. His eyes were soft and sweet, and the corner of his mouth was beginning to pull up in a smile. “Say that again? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes you did,” you protested. You were grinning; your heart was dancing. “Asshole.”

Wonwoo chuckled again, and then his mouth descended on yours.

Okay. Maybe the universe wasn’t completely against you.

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