#day 5: school au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojonanami · 1 month

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❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND OFFERS TO TEACH YOU HOW TO LOVE, HOW CAN YOU SAY NO ?? ❞

✧ pairing: college student!yuji itadori x f!reader

✧ summary: yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, aged up characters (don't like? don't read), childhood best friends to fwb to lovers, college au! (no curses), reader is the same age as yuji (both 20s), grew up as neighbors, mutual pining, nobara playing cupid, jealous!yuji, yuji is so golden retriever bf, nightmares, mentions of parental death via car crash (yuji), adoptive dad nanamin :), nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (under a blanket with sleeping friends nearby), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing, fanart by unknown artist (found on pinterest, pls let me know if you know the og artist so i can credit)

✧ wc: 13,544

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 5 has been sold to two anons!

“You want me to teach you?”

The words left your best friend’s lips nonchalantly as if he was asking you if you wanted him to teach you how to ride a bike.

But that’s not what he was offering to have you ride—

“Yuji,” you say slowly, “what are you saying? Do you even know what you’re saying?”

Yuji Itadori was dense, but you knew he was far from stupid. You learned that in third grade when he punched a bully that had been picking on you, the final straw being when he had tripped you, causing you to skin your knee. Before you could even well any tears up in your eyes, you heard a thwack and a yelp as Yuji had laid the boy out on the playground. You stared at Yuji, as he offered you his other hand to help you to your feet, as your eyes slid from him to your bully.

Yuji knelt down, carrying you on his back to the nurse’s office, “but Yuji, what about him? We left him—“

And he set you down outside the nurse’s office — and he only smiled that wide smile he had always reserved for you, “Don’t worry — I made sure no one was looking.”

But now, you were beginning to doubt his sanity, rather than his intelligence — “I know what I’m saying,” he chuckles, trademark smile on his lips, “I’m just offering you the chance to practice,”

“This isn’t practicing a sport or test—you’re offering,” you shift on your bed, while Yuji lounges on the floor, back against the bottom of your bed, “you’re offering to sleep with me, Yuji,” he leans his head on your bed, looking up at you at way, your face upside in his vision.

“I know, I know, but it’s not a big deal is it?” he’s acting so nonchalant you wonder if one of his teammates had hit him hard in the head during practice, “we’ve had all our firsts together,”

You scoff, “That was like our first steps, first day of school, first drink—“

“First kiss—“ he interrupts, and your face burns at the memory — a preadolescent game gone wrong that ended up with you and Yuji sharing your first kiss when you were teens.

“That wasn’t real,” you wave him off, crossing your arms, “and this isn’t just a kiss for a game—this could change our friendship—“

“It won’t, if we don’t let it,” his gaze is more serious than you’ve ever seen Yuji be — not when he was usually all wide smiles and enthusiasm, “it’s us, we can get through it, and we don’t have to let it get weird right?”

You chew on your lip, “Yuji, what do you get out of it?” And he’s tilting his head at your question— “I mean you don’t have to do this — just because I’m insecure because I don’t have experience,” you mumble.

And that’s how the conversation had started — your complaints about your friends talking about their boyfriends, exes, and hookups, while you just nodded along — far too aware that you hadn’t even had a proper kiss, much less sex. And now you had found yourself here.

“Look,” he slides up to sit on your bed, a good distance away from you, his eyes finding yours — warm hazel that felt as if it was drizzling over your skin wherever his gaze traveled, “I want your first time to be safe. I don’t want you to just hook up with someone and something bad to happen because you can’t say no — with me,” he clenched his hand into a fist holding his other hand flat as he gently hit his fist against it, “you can tell me to stop and if I somehow don’t or don’t hear you, punch me,”

You snort, “Yuji,” he’s shaking his head.

“I’m serious, I want you to be safe,” and you’re fidgeting with your fingers in your lap — this was Yuji, Yuji — you couldn’t say you hadn’t noticed how well he had grown up. Not when all of your friends drooled over him — especially with how liked he was — by everyone.

“What if I lose you?” And he chuckles, as he breaches your personal space and his hand brushes yours.

“You won’t, ever. I promise,” and your breath catches — many millions of times had Yuji touched you throughout your lives — an arm over over your shoulder, a hug, even holding your hand through crowds during festivals — but a simple brush of his fingers against yours had your heart rattling against its bony enclosure, begging for you to let it out, “what do ya think?”

And you’re thinking — this would be the best outcome — you weren’t one to hook up with a stranger and you were burnt out on dead end dating app conversations, and to have your first time with someone close, someone you knew — it would be ideal.

“Are you sure?” And his lips curl into a soft smile, leaning closer, as his fingers gently brush against your locks.

“Would I be here like this if I wasn’t?” his breath warms your lips, as his fingers skim your cheek, “is this okay?”

You nod wordlessly, unable to find the words to even reply — you had never thought of this situation would ever happen — especially like this. You lean against his hand, calloused from his practices, but as gentle as it always was.

“We can take it as slow as you need,” he murmurs, as he’s even closer now, your eyes fluttering shut, only for his lips to graze your forehead. You pause at the featherlight touch — wondering if it actually happened when your eyes open to find his, “no need to rush, right?” He smiles, as he gets to his feet, “are we still on for tomorrow’s study session?”

“Of course,”

He scratches the back of his head, “Good because I still don’t understand math or why I need it, but unfortunately, I still have to pass,” he grabs his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he offers a smile before he’s gone.

And you’re left sitting on your bed, the warmth of his touch still on your skin, wondering what the fuck just even happened.

“Yuji, you just have to solve for x,” you sigh, explaining the problem for the billionth time, as his pen waves back forth between two fingers, “it’s simple,”

Your weekly study sessions with Yuji were a constant throughout your life, though more for Yuji than you. Yuji is very intelligent, despite his demeanor in class where it felt as if there was a perpetual question mark over his head — he just learned by seeing and then doing. And the repetition helped you all the same. But you had never felt so conscious sitting next to the boy you called your best friend.

“Maybe to you, but I don’t why math has to involve letters,” he wrinkled his nose at the problem, sighing, as he twists the pen around his hand, and your eyes catch the movement — you didn’t know how the little boy’s whose hands you used to hold had gotten so big now — calloused from his practices, but so soft against your skin, “is something interesting about my hands?”

Your eyes snap up to meet his, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “No, just, uh, impressed that you can twist the pen around your hand like that,”

“Oh, that?” he’s as unfazed as usual, leaning back a little, “that’s easy. I could show you if you want,”

“It’s fine,” and you’re trying to focus back on the problem, when you find him still staring, “what is it?”

“If you wanted to hold my hand, you just had to ask,” his fingers graze yours, with enough time for you to pull away, before his fingers lace with yours, “and we can do more if you want?”

This was crazy — it was probably a mistake, but — as his touch made your heart flutter, warm rolling in waves that erupted into butterflies in your stomach — why weren’t you pulling away?

“What does more entail?” and he inches a little closer, his breath warming your lips, “but you still haven’t gotten this problem down, are you just trying to get out of studying?”

A chuckle on his lips, “Maybe I’m just looking for the right motivation, so how about we make a deal?” He moves over, spreading his legs apart, and pats the floor in front of you — for each question I get right, I get a kiss,”

And why you agreed to this, you really didn’t have words—but now you were sat between his legs, nearly in his lap, as he leaned forward — his chest against your back as his chin brushed your shoulder and his cheek brushed against your own, breath warming your neck — trying to get a better look at the math problem. His arm was wrapped around your side as his pen scratched against the scrap paper, trying to solve the problem. You bit your lip, trying your best not to glance at him, but you spot his wrinkled brow out of the corner of his lip and the tip of his tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth— and your lips curled, he still had that habit from when you were kids.

“There, I think I solved it,” he murmurs, and you have to hold back a shiver at the words rumbled against your ear, “is it right?”

And god, you could barely think, much less do math, but as you glance over the question and answer — he’s got it right.

Fuck.

“It is,” you say softly, “is all you need some motivation? Because I would have just promised I would go to see the next Human Earthworm movie,”

He chuckles, his lips nearly against your ear, as his hand gently traces your jaw, “I’d like that, but I think i rather have what I was promised, as long as you’re still okay with that,”

Your breath hitches, as you follow his lead, rough pads still so gentle against your cheek, as your eyes find his, but you don’t find his usual doe eyes — but instead find pools of lust threatening to drag you under. Although from the way your lips part and eyes flutter shut, perhaps he had you underwater for far longer than you even knew.

His lips graze yours — it’s barely a kiss, a peck maybe — as he does his best to ease you in. You didn’t know lips could be so soft — meeting again and again, stealing logic from your mind and breath from your lungs.

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, not even a breath away from your lips. You’re nearly dizzy, mind reeling from his touch, heart jumping at his thumb rubbing lightly against your cheek.

“I am, just a little strange to be kissing, much less you,” and his brow knits together, “but not bad at all,” you add, and he chuckles, his fingers grazing your cheek firmer, as he leans in again, “we said one kiss—“

“Do you really want to stop now?” he’s murmuring, and your noses bump against each other.

Your lips find his again and now you can taste the sour candy he had stolen from you, but an overwhelming sweetness overrides it, and your hand brushes against his cheek, the other finding purchase on his chest.

“Is that okay?” You murmur, as you lips part, the two of you catching your breath, your shared pants filling the silence, your cheeks burning as your eyes avert from his, “I don’t know—“

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it,” a small chuckle on his lips, fingers cupping your chin to guide your gaze back to his — a subtle heat that makes your insides turn to molasses, sticky and sweet and far too warm, “just do what feels right, ok?”

And his lips find yours again, gently as he did the first time, but more passion behind it, swallowing your quiet murmur of his name with ease. Your lips move against his just as his did — you try to push aside the thoughts of whether you were doing this right. But the slight brush of his teeth against your bottom lip makes you forget too with a gasp.

He pulls away with a grin on his lips, “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” and his lips are kissed red, your thumb brushed against his swollen lips, “don’t tempt me more,”

“You’re the one who started this, shouldn’t you take some responsibility, Yu?” your lips graze his cheek, curling as a rosy flush settles over his cheekbones, “nothing to say?”

“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” and he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, making you shiver, as he pulls you even closer, arms around your waist, “I don’t want to rush you,”

Cute, you think before you even think, and yet the way his face is hidden away in your neck, breath warming your neck makes your body flush, and when have you ever thought of Yuji as cute? And yet you couldn’t remember a time that he made your heart race either.

His lips press a small kiss to your neck, drawing a yelp from your lips, “Yuji—“ he’s nosing the hollow of your throat, “ah, you’re teasing me,” you whine, and he’s lifting his gaze back to yours, heavy with want, a want that leaves you bereft of any semblance of sense.

“You started it,” he murmurs, before he finds your lips in another kiss — this time it’s a slow heat, languid as it threatens to burn both of you alive, flames licking at the edges of your reason. And his phone goes off — a reminder for practice that he groans at, “I should go. I have to go run laps,”

“Now?” And he’s slowly disentangling himself from you, the absence of his touch lingers, the heat ebbing, “don’t you usually practice in the mornings?” You get to your feet slowly as well, handing him his math notebook, and it occurs to you when you spot the puddles outside, “it was too wet,”

And he nods, scratching the back of his head, as the two of you walk out into your apartment’s living space, “and I forgot my protein shake—“ you head over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out his shake, and he blinks, “how—“

“You did the same thing last week, so I just bought a pack for you,” and his lips curl as he walks over and takes the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing — and even that much alight a flutter of nerves through your body.

“Thanks,” he grins, and you nod.

“Of course, I thought it just made sense since you come here every week—” you turn to shut the refrigerator, before turning back, only to find him stepping a bit closer, “Yu—“

“I almost forgot, one more lesson,” and he’s leaning close, and your breath catches in your throat, as his lips brush yours, fingers tracing the swell of your cheek, “a kiss goodbye,” and he parts, a brush of his fingers against yours, “I’ll text you later,” and he’s gone in a flash.

Your left, fingertips touching your lips, a questioning lingering as he left — whether these feelings blooming in your chest were just from the kiss, or something more.

But you glance at your phone — a text from Yuji:

Golden Retriever Bestie: thanks for the drink again :)

You lock the screen — but you couldn’t hope for more, right? Not when this was started with the intention of stopping. But why—as you laid back into bed, staring up at your ceiling in the same room the two of you had spent the last two years watching movies or studying in, eyes squeezing shut—

Why did you still want more?

When did Yuji Itadori fall in love with you? It would probably be easier for him to list the moments he hadn’t fallen for you — but the earliest he can remember was when he had hurt himself climbing a tree in the schoolyard, falling from the branch he had made it to. You had been watching him the whole time, telling him to come down, and when he fell, you were at his side. His vision was a little blurry but when it cleared, he saw you knelt above him, big tears leaving your eyes. And when he came to, you hugged him tight, before helping him to the nurse’s. You had even insisted on bandaging his cuts, not letting the nurse do so.

And that’s when he knew — he knew he always wanted to wake to you beside him.

“You what?” Nobara scoffed at him, as she held up another of her new purchases in front of her while looking in her full length mirror, “so instead of asking her out and confession this pathetic crush—“

“Pathetic is kinda harsh, Kugisaki—“

“It’s been over a decade — your one sided feelings is now in secondary school — it’s officially pathetic,” she hangs up the new leather jacket she bought in her closet, before turning to Yuji, “so instead of confessing, you asked her to be your friends with benefits—“

“That’s not exactly—“ she cuts him off with a look, “ok that’s kind of what I did,” he shakes his head, “she was venting about how she never had her first kiss and words started coming out of my mouth and wouldn’t stop—“

“Not the first time that’s happened to you is it?” And Yuji glares at her through the mirror, “what? You came to me instead of Fushiguro because you wanted a pretty girl’s opinion right?”

“I said girl, nothing about—“ it was her turn to glare at him, “alright, alright — what do I do now? I want to tell her I like her, but if I do, I might seem like a—“

“A creep? A weirdo? A pervert?”

“I was gonna say liar, but those too,” he rubbed a hand down his face, “what do I do?”

She sighs, tucking a strand of her dyed hair behind her ear, “the only thing to do in situation like this,”

“Tell the truth?” And she scoffs.

“No, of course not, just use this time to make her fall for you, but that means you’ll have to use this agreement to your advantage,” she hums, “she said she wanted more experience right?” And Yuji nods, “who says it has to just be making out and sex?”

“You want to go on a date? Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you turn the heat of your burner down, hoping you hadn’t completely burned your omelet now as you flipped it, “I thought this was just supposed to be for the more…physical sides of things,” your cheeks burned.

God, what the fuck.

“I mean part of gaining experience is learning how to date, right?” And you’re placing your slightly burned omelet in the plate, as you wipe your hands off with your dishcloth, “we could go to an arcade, maybe catch a movie,”

“Human Earthworm 4?” And you hear him chuckle over the line, and the sound makes your lips curl — it always felt like an accomplishment making him laugh, but even more so now.

“We don’t have to—“

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you never did — you just loved to tease him, as you always did, “they’ve grown on me,” and you didn’t know there was more room for Yuji to grow on you, you thought his roots had already went far and deep, tangled around every inch of yourself and your mind, even your heart — but now—

“Does 2 PM work? I’ll come by and pick you up from your place,” and you didn’t know where it would go but—

“Sounds perfect,” he had found his way into a place you never thought anyone would find themselves in. — and as he hung up, biting your bottom lip—

And it seemed he was here to stay.

“You’re such a cheater,” you glared at Yuji as he won for the tenth time at the boxing game — hitting the max score every time, “tell me what the trick is,”

“You know I’m strong,” Yuji gapes, holding his arm, “how would I cheat?” And you’re pouting, crossing your arms.

“You’re cheating by being you,” and Yuji has to bite back his smile — you were being so cute — but he knows saying that will earn him a punch in the shoulder harder than you gave the punching bag on the machine, “now you have to buy me an ice cream,”

“For?” He raises an eyebrow.

“For being a cheater,” and he can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips that earns him a bunch of slaps to his arm, before he’s wrapping that same arm around your waist, your complaints chased away by a gasp, “what—“

“I was going to buy you anything you wanted anyway, it is a date after all,” he smiles, and you stammer, but you don’t pull away, “what flavor do you want?” After you tell him, he goes off to the concession to buy you both some ice cream, and when he finds you at a table, he sees you’re not alone. His lips are a tight line, as he finds a guy leaning against the booth you sat in, clearly flirting with you, your back to Yuji so he can’t see your face.

He finds his way back to you, his hand brushes your shoulder gently, “is everything okay?” He asks you, meeting your gaze without regard for the stranger — and he’s glad he did, because he spots your pursed lips and darting eyes that told him everything he needed to know, “you need something?” He asks the guy, a friendly smile on his lips.

“Not from you,” the guy scoffs, “I was talking to—“

“Well, you’re talking to me now, not my date, so—“ and you’re leaning into Yuji, “you need something or not?” And the guy grumbles something under his breath before slinking away, and Yuji’s sliding in beside you when you move over, “you okay?”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave,” you sigh, shaking your head, “sorry—“

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmurs, as he hands you your ice cream, “as long as you’re okay,” his arm slides around your shoulder and squeezes you, “i would’ve punched him if it wouldn’t have ruined our date,”

You snort, as you lick your ice cream, “if you punched him harder than you did the bag, don’t know if this date would have ended with us going home,” and he pouts, as he laps at his ice cream, and he feels you turn to look at him, “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, Yu,” and he chuckles, he wanted to say — only when it came to you.

But he knew that he couldn’t. Not like this.

“I didn’t think I was either.”

“Nope, not gonna admit it,” and Yuji’s grinning still, as the two of you walk out of the theater, his arm still around your shoulder, “no it wasn’t that good,”

If there was one thing about Yuji is that movies were literally his obsession — one movie marathon when the two of you were teens had turned him into a fanatic. And he often ended up dragging you to all of them he saw in theaters — and you probably had watched the Human Earthworm movies the most amount of times anyone ever has — aside from Yuji. Well, more like you watched him watch it, because while he was smiling and laughing (or crying) at the movie, you were looking at him.

And right now, he looked far too smug, “So you admit that it was good,” and you cross your arms, shaking your head, “I saw you tearing up at the end — I told you, it’s all about love!”

You purse your lips, if only to hold back your smile, before sighing, “How would no one tear up at that ending?” And his hand’s grabbing yours, tugging at your arm, as the two of you walk along, “Yu—“

“I knew you liked it! C’mon, I knew you would, now what was your favorite part?” And your lips curl into a smile, “what?”

That was one of the things you loved the most about Yuji, how excited he could get — how he loved everything so wholeheartedly with no reservations, and you knew he was the one person you could always count on to cheer you up.

“Nothing, nothing,” you chuckle, letting your fingers lace with his, “my favorite part?” And you want to say — watching him enjoy the movie.

But you can’t.

“Probably the ending,” you slowly smile, “liked it when the credits rolled,” and he’s mock glaring, as you laugh before his arm tightening around your waist, “Yu-ji—“

“Not going to be honest?” He murmurs, before kissing your chin, “then maybe I’ll make you.”

“Yu—ngh, please,” Yuji could get addicted to your taste, it was never enough, was it? His lips had spent the last twenty minutes kissing every inch of your face and neck, traversing over every nook and cranny as he always wanted to — and yet it was never enough. Any time spent with you was never enough —because you always made anything better, and nothing ever worse.

And he knew no one else would ever feel this good.

How many times had he imagined just this scenario? Of you in his bedroom with him alone, as you had been many times before, but never like this. You never looked at him like that before — with that shyness mixed with an undercurrent of want. And it was enough to rip him away and drag him under with you.

“Please what, baby?” Yuji looks up with a wry smile and soft eyes that burn a path where as it raked down your body like coals across a fire, “want me to stop?” And he’s dragging a thumb down your untouched lips.

You cover your face with the back of your hand, and he’s gently tugging it away, pressing a kiss to your wrist, your pulse jumping underneath, “I want more,” and fuck if he wasn’t at full mast from the kissing, he was now at your words, “I want you to…kiss me and…touch me,” you mumble, eyes averted, but he’s smiling all the same — you were so cute.

“Where can I touch?” he asks softly, his nose brushing yours, “need you to tell me. I don’t want to rush—“

And your lips crash against his, your fingers finding the back of his neck, threading in his pink locks. He’s pausing a moment before he melts into your kiss, and you’re taking the lead, as you lean further into the kiss, your fingers sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. His tongue flicks against the seam of your lips and you part for him.

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur as you break the kiss, panting, strings of your spit still connecting your lips, your breathy words nearly enough for him to lose all control, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,”

And he’s more than happy to oblige, his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, his hand toys with the hem of your shirt as permission, and you part from the kiss to nod. His hand slides up your soft flesh, pushing up your shirt along with it — finding your lacy bra underneath. He’s tugging the shirt up and over your head with your help, and god—

He has to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you. His fingers reach out, toying with the strap of your bra, “Did you wear this for me?” And you biting your bottom lip was all the answer he needed.

“Yu—“ he’s tweaking your hardened bud through the fabric, “ah, fuck—“ and he leans down to suck the other side through your bra, while sliding down your bra strap.

“Need to taste you,” and you’re nodding, while he’s reaching around to brush against the clasp of your bra to undo it, and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare skin — you’re so fucking pretty.

He always thought you were pretty — when you were kids drenched from running around in the rain, when you were just waking up from a nap with your hair askew and dried drool in the corner of your mouth, when your eyes were wide with excitement and nearly jumping up and down to tell him good news; and when you’re smiling—especially when you’re smiling.

It was his favorite thing.

“Don’t stare so much,” you’re trying cover yourself, but his hands catch yours, easing them off, “It’s embarrassing—“

“You’re perfect,” and your lips part but no words come, but you can’t meet his gaze, “you are—“

“You’re just saying that—“ and his fingers pinch your nipple drawing a gasp from your lips, while he leans down and takes the other in his mouth. His eyes find yours, blown into deep, dark pools by his lust — ones you’d be more than willing to drown in.

“I’d never just say that, especially to you, baby,” and you’re about to make a smart remark about him calling you ‘baby.’ But you forget every word you ever learned when his fingers start to drag down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans, “can I?”

And you nod, your back arching ever so slightly as his lips press a sweet kiss to your bellybutton. He’s kissing down your soft legs as he tugs down your jeans — one to your thigh, another to your knee, and another to your ankle —before he’s kissing up the other.

“How’s that feel?” he murmurs, eyes flitting up to meet yours, and fuck, your lips parted and swollen a pretty red, eyes half lidded with want, and — as his eyes fall between your thighs — a growing wet spot on your panties.

His fingers toy with the elastic, snapping it lightly against your skin, a slight flinch only, as his eyes gaze at your clothed cunt with near reverence. He looks for permission, before he leans in to press a kiss to your swollen clit, a small yelp escaping your mouth.

“Yuji,” you whine, lifting your head to meet his gaze again, “please,”

“Say my name again, please,” he’s kissing your thigh gently, and it feels as if you’ll crumble under his touch any second, wither away in a figment of his imagination, and he won’t ever get the chance to hear you like this again, much less touch you. He was selfish to take advantage like this — and he knew he was — but he couldn’t leave it like this.

“Yuji, just touch me—“ and your head falls back as his fingers graze your clit through your nearly translucent underwear, “ngh, you fucker—“ and he’s chuckling, as he tugs your panties away.

“Wanted to keep them on since you looked so good, but,” and he’s pocketing them with a grin, “I’ll just keep them instead,” your dripping walls twitch at the thought, “s’good for me. What do you want, my fingers or my tongue?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, just touch—“ and your head lolls against the pillow as his tongue drags up flat up the length of your weeping pussy.

“You’re so sweet — I could live here,” he murmurs, as his fingers spread your slick folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips as he does, “can’t wait to feel you cum around my fingers,” he’s easing a finger in — and you’re so tight, you’re tensing as he tries to part your walls, “relax, ok? I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry. I won’t ever hurt you,” his eyes meet yours and you’re nodding, as he pulls his finger away, a shiver at the empty ache, but it falls away into another moan as his tongue replaces it.

The wet squelch of your folds is enough for him to cum right there — you smell as sweet as you taste, as he kisses your clit, before dragging the length of his tongue over your sopping slit again, “Yuji—fuck—“ your fingers find purchase in his pink locks right when he decides to sink a finger inside you again.

“That’s it,” he grunts, as he works his finger knuckle deep into you, “so good f’me, so tight,” he’s murmuring, and your syrupy walls wrapped around his finger makes him wonder how good it will feel when his cock is inside you. He’s palming his erection through his pants, desperate for any kind of fucking friction, “g’nna add another,”

And you’re nodding, “please, I—“ and a second finger joins the first, and the lewd noises grow louder from your slick and his fingers begin to pump faster — teasing and stretching your walls as they begin to flutter around you, “Yuji, Yuji—“ his name leaves your lips like a prayer, but he’s the one who would worship at your feet, if you’d let him, your moans and whimpers were all he needed to survive, and he’d give his very soul if it meant he could be at your side.

His fingers are fucking you open, the tips of his fingers brushing against the spot that his your mouth falling open in a silent moan, “that’s it, cum for me, pretty girl,” and pleasure rips up your spine, as you cum all over his fingers, thighs shaking as you do. He fucks you slowly through your orgasm, helping you ride it out, until he’s slowing, leaning up to prsss sweet kisses to your face.

“I’m going to pull them out slowly,” he murmurs, your eyes still fluttered shut, but they slowly open to watch him ease his fingers from you. Soft pants leave your lips as you watch him with lidded eyes lick his fingers sticky with your release clean.

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, as he moves up to lean over your face, and you’re nodding, “let me clean you up and we can sleep, ok?” he’s moving to get off the bed, but you grab his hand, and he tilts his head.

“What about you?” You mumble, frowning, eyes flickering to the tent in his pants with a shy gaze, “I want to—“

“It’s okay, let’s just take it easy today,” he’s smiling, fingers finding yours and squeezing, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “you look like you’re about to pass out,” and you’re pouting all the same, but you seem to relent as the exhaustion sets in once again at your words, “I’ll be right back,” and he retreats to his bathroom to wet a washcloth, only to come back to you fast asleep.

He chuckles at the sight of you sprawled out on his bed — a sight not uncommon to him on nights you spent over, but never like this before. He leans on the bed carefully, mattress creaking ever so slightly under his weight, as he begins to clean you gently — and luckily, you don’t wake by the time he’s done. He can’t put your jeans or underwear on so he opts to grab a pair of his freshly washed shorts and slides them on you. He adjusts the blanket, draping it over you, running his fingers through your hair to tuck it behind your ear, and the back of his knuckles over your cheek.

“Yuji,” you mumble in your sleep, and he bites his lip — as he returns to his bathroom, softly shutting the bedroom door and the bathroom door behind him, a glaring problem to deal with, as he is still nearly waddling at this point from the grazing of his boxers against his aching erection.

He undoes his jeans quickly, eyes fluttering as he pushes both down and strips his shirt off before slipping into the shower. The squeak of the shower faucet and the water running hopefully don’t wake you — but more importantly, he hopes his moans don’t.

His dick was rock hard and aching still — there were so many times he nearly came in his pants, and by how drenched his boxers were — maybe he had. But fuck, you were so gorgeous, laid back and spread out for him.

His fingers grazed his weeping cock, smearing the precum up and down his length, thumb tracing his slit, as you would. He could see you thumbing his head experimentally, as your eyes flickered up at him, doe eyes, yet glazed over with lust. It wouldn’t be long until you’re slowly pumping him, as he does now — from base to tip, teasing his balls all the same. You’d flick your tongue over the tip, sucking at the dripping precum — wrinkle your nose at the salty taste, but you’d suck at his tip all the same.

He’d look down at you as your hand switches to toying with his balls, as you let his cock slap against your tongue, before letting his length slip past your lips. Your lips would feel so much softer than his hand does right now, jerking himself off, your plush lips and tongue wrapped around his dick. A low groan escapes his lips, as he covers his mouth, hoping you couldn’t hear him over the running water. The squelch of his precum and his soft moans would only make him want to repay the favor, making you cum over and over, until you were begging him to stop.

Fuck, he was close, by the way his cock twitched in his hand — where would he cum with you? He’d cum anywhere you wanted — but to cum on your face or chest, the image made him shudder. Your tongue would flick out to clean up some of the cum, and—

Fuck, he moans your name, as he cums all over his fingers, his release sprayed against the tile of his shower, dripping down and mixing with the water. He’s panting, as he cleans his hand off in the shower, leaning his head back.

What has he gotten himself into? Was it right for him to do this? You didn’t know how he felt — and he didn’t know if you would ever feel the same. But as he got dressed and crawled into bed beside you, keeping his distance as you slept, he felt you move closer, mumbling his name as you did. He couldn’t help but softly smile, running his fingers through his hair—it didn’t matter if you never ended up loving him, as long as you knew what you deserved—to be with someone who loved you, as much or even more than he did.

He let himself drift off, a loose arm thrown over your middle—he’d let himself have this, if only for now.

“Oh come on, you couldn’t get the ad free version, Fushiguro?” Nobara complains as yet another commercial comes on, as she glares at the black haired vet student, who sat on the floor after she stole his armchair.

He only shrugs, bearing little to no reaction, “If you’re going to complain, then why don’t you pay for it?”

Nobara and him begin to bicker ever so slightly, and Yuji chuckles in your ear, “are they more fun to watch then the show?”

The four of you were at your apartment, watching a new season of a TV show you all had started last year. You were sat next to Yuji on the couch, your bodies nearly pressed against each other as you shared the blanket, a little cold from the rain outside.

“They’re always more entertaining than the show, that’s why we agree to this,” you whisper back, the proximity of your bodies making your cheeks burn. You turn away, hoping he can’t feel or even hear the way your heart was beating down your ribs to burst free. Every time he shifted even slightly, you felt your body react — so conscious of even a twitch of his fingers — you wanted to bury yourself under the blanket.

It had been like this since that night.

You had woken up to him asleep beside you. Your eyes fluttered open as consciousness slowly crept into focus, sunlight filtering into sight, a small groan leaving your lips. And it wasn’t until you tried to reach for your phone you realized the thing beside you wasn’t a pillow but a person.

Your eyes flew open and you found Yuji still sound asleep beside you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sleep on the same bed — especially after a late night where one or the other didn’t want to go home — but it was different to wake up entangled with him, especially after the events of the night before came flooding back.

And after that, each time you had been around him, you had become more and more conscious of his touch, nervous even, at the simplest of brushes of his fingers. And this? His body pressed against yours, his fingers grazing your thigh nearly, and his soft breath against your ear — god, you were going to lose it.

“You ok?” he murmurs a half an hour later, and the question itself makes you squirm — because no, your hot best friend was pressed against you and making you want to do nothing more than kiss him—

Wait, wait, hot? Your mind stutters at your own thoughts, lagging to comprehend yourself — hot? You wanted to kiss him? You always knew Yuji was hot, he was objectively — especially based on how many of your friends had wanted you to hook them up with him — but you had never thought of him that way. Maybe in passing — but to you, that was the one line you could never cross, especially when you had seen so many friendships fall apart because of a relationship.

You never wanted to risk Yuji like that.

But then here you were — blurring that line you said you never cross — and letting the ground split underneath the two of you.

“I’m fine,” you mumble back — and yet here he was, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and as the minutes ticked by, it began to eat away at you. Did he not find it as meaningful as you did? Did he not feel as good as you? Do you need to touch him just to make him feel just as heartsick as you were?

And now you know what you wanted to do.

As the show went on, Nobara and Fushiguro fell asleep — Fushiguro asleep with a cushion he had stolen from Nobara’s armchair and Nobara curled up in said armchair, passed out.

“Should we stop the show and go to bed?” Yuji asks you, albeit innocently — but there was anything but innocent intentions in your mind when you shake your head, a smile on your lips.

“Let’s keep watching,” your fingers grazes his thigh, as you lean over, lips nearly brushing against his ear, “it’s just getting interesting, right?”

And his breath hitches, “what’re you—“ and your fingers inches higher, grazing over his already tenting erection, a hiss escapes his lips, as he’s covering his mouth.

“Shh, don’t wake them,” and your fingers are ghosting and teasing over his cock, the precum already starting to seep through the fabric, as he shifts under your touch. Your thumb flicks over his head, now fully hard, “so big already,” you mumble, and now your lips press sweet kisses to his neck, finding small cuts and bruises from his practices, and a gasp escaped his lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this—“ and your lips find his, and he melts so easily into your touch, your fingers toy with the elastic of his shorts, his eyes flickering to the two sleeping. He’s pulling away for a breath, lips utterly ruined — his fingers running through his hair, “please—“ and your lips curl.

Your fingers finally brush against his leaking cock, and his head falls back, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, lips parted as soft pants left his lips. And you’re nearly shivering yourself at his want — seeping into your own body, as his pants and moans send a wave of heat between your thighs.

You rub your thighs together, as you shift even closer somehow, “Gotta be quiet Yu — they can hear us after all,” you murmur, right as your thumb swipes over his slit, a yelp caught in his throat, as his hand flies back to lips, “good boy,” and his dick twitches at the praise, as your finger begins to trace along his veins, “so big, how am I going to fit you inside?” you murmur, biting back a smirk when a muffled groan reaches your ears.

Your fingers finally curl around his length, you never thought a cock to be pretty — but Yuji’s was. You stared at it under the covers, flushed a lovely red, too dripping pearly beads of precum, and the slight curve it had to it — made the ache in your cunt only grow.

“Please, baby, I need, please—“ he’s whining, “I need you—“

And you oblige him, your hand beginning to spread the pre along his length, beginning to stroke him slowly from base to tip. He’s biting his lip, hard, nearly drawing blood as he chooses to bury his face in the crook of your neck, if only to muffle any moans that fell from his lips.

“S’good for me, Yu, wanna make you feel as good as I did,” his moan vibrates against your skin, cock twitching in your fingers, “gonna move faster, don’t want our friends to see you like this, do you? You have to be quiet,” and god, why did only seem to get harder at your words?

Your fingers begin to jerk him off in earnest, the wet squelch of his cock nearly not hidden enough by the volume of the TV, but nearly don’t care at this point — you just want him to fall apart under your touch, need him to.

And oh, he’s so close. His groans are more frequent, his hips jerking against your fist, and when your other hand finds his balls, squeezing — it’s too much.

He moans softly, “I’m—“ and that’s all he manages before he spills on your fingers — warm, white spurts splatter against your palm and the blanket, dripping, as he falls back, limp against the sofa. His cock softened in your hand, as you pull it away, before gently wiping him clean with the already drenched blanket.

He’s panting and fucked out, eyes half lidded as his chest rises and falls, watching you lick your fingers clear of his release, gaze never leaving his.

“Didn’t know you’d taste this good—“ you barely can manage, before he’s leaning forward to kiss you. Your fingers slide against his cheek to cup it, feeling his hand tangle itself in your hair, “Yuji—“

“What was that about?” he murmurs, “not that I’m complaining but—“ but then Megumi starts to move and you both freeze, your breath catching, until Megumi seemingly falls back asleep, “we should head to bed, but—“

He looks at the blanket, and the mess you made of him and the couch alike.

“The blanket I’ll toss in the washer, the cushion I’ll clean up and just turn over—“ and you smile, “and you take a shower before bed,”

His brow still knits together, “but we haven’t—“

“We’ll talk later,” and when later came, Yuji found you fast asleep in bed, with more questions than answers. But he supposed, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his answers could come later.

How long has it been?

You stared at your phone — as if you could will it to receive the message you’ve been waiting for. As if it would grant your one and only wish for a text or a call — but it didn’t. Instead, it only gave you a spam call and a text to let you know you had a discount code for your favorite takeout place.

Great.

It had been a week since you had heard from Yuji — and a week since that night. You had woken up to the other three gone — gone off to their own apartments after you had slept in and texts on your phone from them in the groupchat. It was a few days before break — before you and Yuji would be heading back home for a few days together. But you hadn’t seen him at all since — not a chance to talk, much less seeing him.

Was he upset? Was he done with this? Was his promise to stay empty in the end? Was it your fault — for pushing it, for agreeing to it, and for falling for it all the same? Falling for it or — your eyes trace the screen of your phone as if it’s his cheek — or falling for him.

No, you rake your fingers through your hair, no, you didn’t love him — not like that. Not the way you shouldn’t, the way you had sworn yourself never to — but maybe all promises between friends were empty, when they were made like this.

But you weren’t made to let this break apart.

You found yourself at his door after classes, knocking at his door of his apartment. The door opens, and you find Yuji rubbing his eyes, hair askew, and shoulders drooped.

“Hey,” he yawned, he’s still shaking off the shackles of sleep, “sorry, what’s up?”

“Are you okay?” Your furrow your brow, your eyes spot the dark bags under his eyes, large enough to nearly engulf his eyes all together, “you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he steps aside to let you in, you glance around, his apartment wasn’t usually the cleanest — but it wasn’t a wreck like it was now. Clothes scattered, unwashed dishes stacked up, and papers strewn about.

“I just haven’t…been sleeping—“ and then you remember.

It wasn’t about you. It was about him. And you were so wrapped up in yourself, you weren’t thinking about him.

“Yuji, you’re having those nightmares again, aren’t you?” You murmur softly, and the way his gaze falls to the ground tells you everything you need to know, “alright, go lay down,”

“What?” he’s blinking, but your hand already finds his as you take him to his bedroom, “what are you—“

“You lay down. I’m going to make you dinner, and then you’re going to sleep,” and he sits on the bed reluctantly, fingers against his knees, as he bit his lip.

“I can’t sleep, I told you—“ you cup his cheek, and guide his gaze to yours.

“Remember what we’d do when you couldn’t sleep after the accident?”

“This feels ridiculous,” Yuji murmurs into your chest, his head buried there, while your fingers run softly through his pink locks, “we’re not six anymore—“

“So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t do this still,” you say, as your fingers pause, “unless you don’t want me to,”

“I didn’t say that,” he mumbles, and you can hear the blush in his voice that undoubtedly painted his cheeks, “I just meant it feels like I’m bothering—“

“Yu, don’t make me pinch you,” you murmur, rubbing his head, “you’re never a bother,” you kiss his head softly without thinking, and soon your cheeks are burning too, “sorry I didn’t—“

“Why are you sorry?” He chuckles, “we’ve done a lot more than kiss recently,” and he adds, “especially you,”

You bite your lip, glad he couldn’t see your face like this, “I thought that’s why you weren’t talking to me, I thought you didn’t like what I did…on the couch, you know—“

“I know,” he chuckles this time, “and how could I not like that?” And you swallow the lump in your throat, as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence that you choose to breach.

“You haven’t had these nightmares in a while,” you murmur quietly, before you add, “we don’t have to talk—“

“I know, but it happens from time to time, especially this month,” and your brow furrows, “don’t wrinkle your forehead at me,” and you lean back to gape at him, a smile pulling at his lips, “you always do that when you find out I’m keeping something from you,”

He moves ever so slightly away, turning to look at the ceiling, “Well I think I have a right because this is a pretty big thing to keep from me, Yu,” you pout, and your fingers begin to absentmindedly trace his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut — you always treated him so gently, like that something that could shatter, but he knew you would always be there to put him back together. Because you did that once already. Over a decade ago, “why didn’t you tell me?”

Because he didn’t want to worry you. Because he didn’t want you to think of him still as that broken kid you watched after when he had his world fall apart.

Because he didn’t want you to take that burden — he wanted to handle it himself.

“I didn’t want to bother you—“

“It’s never a bother when it’s you,” and his voice catches in his throat — fuck, how did you always know just what to say?

He takes a breath, “it’s just the same dream. Of the crash,” he could see something so clearly that he never experienced. He was at home with you when the crash happened — a play date Yuji had insisted on when he had cried and begged his parents to stay with you instead of going to dinner with them. They had relented — and that was the thing that left him alone.

It was lucky that his grandfather was able to take him in, and stay close by — so he still got to go to school with you.

“Let’s try to sleep, ok?” You murmur, “you’ll feel better when you sleep,” you cup his cheek, and he’s biting his lip, “what is it?”

“What if I see it again?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid that his words were any louder he would speak it into existence.

“Come here,” you say softly, your fingers gently guide his head to face you, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” A sigh leaves his lips as he moves closer, letting you engulf him in your arms, his eyes shutting, and letting himself relax for a moment — the first moment in far too many days.

When he let himself slip into sleep’s embrace—it was the first night he didn’t dream of the crash — he dreamt of you.

And when he woke in your arms in the morning, your soft lips parted as you slept, sunlight dappled on your skin through his window, and the way your fingers held onto the fabric of his shirt — he knew, he knew he had to tell you how he felt.

He needed to end this — his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear — if only to begin something new.

You had to end it — it hadn’t sunk in until the car drove back home. The quiet morning drive left you both in a comfortable silence, the quiet white noise of his playlist, along with Yuji’s terrible singalongs and your bickering over his music choice. And you found yourself more than once staring at him as he drove, to the point where he had caught you looking.

“What?” He tilts his head when the light turned red, fingers drumming on the steering, the other poking your side.

“Nothing,” and you’re playfully slapping his hand away, a smile on your lips — same smile you always had with him. Always—because he’s your best friend. But he was so much more than that.

You were in love.

The two of you had returned to the place where you had laid your roots to rest and let your seed scatter to the wind. Only to return as a different flower altogether — but you knew, you couldn’t let it go on.

It had become painfully clear that morning, you had woken first, the sun had not peaked over the horizon yet, and you found Yuji fast asleep — breaths even and face relaxed. You knew his parents had scarred him deeply — he spoke of them often, but not at all at — he mentioned their presence, but never his own feelings. You knew he had a habit of putting others above himself — but you had missed this — all of this week, you could have been there for him, but you were caught up in your own thoughts and you had made it all about yourself.

And he deserved more than that.

He deserved more than you.

And you couldn’t risk losing him — lose him in a stupid argument or a disagreement and then never be able to comfort him again? Never be able to be by his side? You couldn’t bear to even fathom that.

“Nanamin was asking about you,” Yuji says as the two of you walk home from the local convenience store — a late night run that produced a familiar bag of treats the two of you always shared when you came back home.

“Oh really? Are classes over for high school already?” The English literature teacher had taken Yuji in for his last year and half of high school after his grandfather passed, and Yuji always stayed with him on breaks.

“He asked if you were going to come with us to see my parents tomorrow morning,” it was a tradition to go visit Yuji’s parents graves each year around this time — you always paid your respects whenever you could, “he also said you’re free to stay over, but you have to sleep in a different bedroom,” you snort, “he said and I quote ‘we are past the age of sharing a room,’” You laugh, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “he’s not exactly wrong though,” his fingers graze yours, and there’s nothing more you want than to take his hand, but you know one way or another, you’d drop it in the end. Wouldn’t it be better now? When there isn’t far to fall?

So you do, letting your hand fall away from his.

“I’d be happy to see your parents, but I don’t know if staying over is a good idea—“ and he’s shaking his head with a chuckle in his throat.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you don’t want to—“

“We should stop, Yuji,” and his smile slips off his face as if it was slapped off, he blinks, shock settling into confusion.

“Why?” Only one word and it manages to break you all the same.

“We just shouldn’t. This was supposed to be about teaching me, but i think I’ve learned enough,” you’re turning away, but his fingers are gently finding your wrist, “Yuji—“

“You don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Yuji asks, and your glass-like facade shatters so easily — why does it always have to break so readily when it comes to him?

But you pull away all the same, “I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. I don’t want to. I can’t lose you—“

“You won’t lose me—“ but you’re already walking off, sparing a glance back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning when we leave, Yuji,” and he’s opening his mouth to call out, but he stops himself, watching you disappear up the street.

What just happened?

The car ride to the cemetery is notably silent. Yuji’s eyes burned when he woke, head aching from the circles he ran around in last night, trying to figure out what happened. Nanami drives in the quiet, his eyes noting when Yuji chooses to sit passenger instead of beside you, only with one glance that’s averted after Yuji refuses to meet it.

Yuji didn’t know what to make of what you said. After everything, he thought maybe — just maybe, you felt the same as he did. He thought he could tell you tomorrow, tell you when the two of you were alone — and even if it didn’t work out, it would be okay.

But now — as his eyes stole a look at you in the rear view mirror, he wondered if it ever would be okay again.

You left the car a moment to go use the bathroom when they stopped to fill gas in the car, and that’s when Nanami speaks.

“So did you finally ask her out and she said no?” And Yuji’s head snaps to his, but Nanami only stares back, “you aren’t hard to read, Itadori. You’ve liked her for a long time,”

Yuji scratches the back of his head, “I did something, kinda stupid,” and Nanami tilts his head, “really stupid, ok? And I was going to tell her how I felt, but she broke off what we were doing—“

“You weren’t dating?” Yuji’s cheeks burn as he waves off his teacher.

“That’s not important! But what do I do, Nanamin?” the blond haired teacher raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not hard to know what to do, Itadori. It’s what you should have done. Tell her how you feel,” and then you’re walking back to the car, “come on, let’s get back. We’re close now.”

And your gaze avoids his own when Yuji watches you get back in the car, and his lips part as if to stop you — but he doesn’t.

Not yet.

You stood with Yuji as he tended to his parents’ graves. Simple stones that he was able to put in with time from his part time jobs, ones he had insisted he would pay for himself — refusing any help from anyone, even you. You knelt down, helping him clear the strewn dead leaves, brushing away dirt and snow — your fingers brushing when you both reach for the same place.

And your eyes meet, as both of your fingers intertwine slowly — the three of you pay your respects, and Nanami finally stands.

“I’ll wait for you two at the car,” Nanami says with a nod, leaving the two of you alone. You both already had placed offerings at their graves, arranging them slowly, as the two of you stand, the silence of the cemetery hanging overhead — light streaming in between clouds in the overcast sky, the sounds of the wind rustling the trees the only thing in the quiet.

“Thank you for coming,” Yuji says softly, and your blink, eyes sliding to his.

“You never have to thank me for that, Yuji,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as you want me to come, I’ll always be here. And I’ll always pay my respects to your parents, regardless of that,” you say, and that's exactly why you had to stop with him. You couldn’t bear to lose him — lose this, not when he’s lost too much and he was too much for you to lose, “come on, we should get back to the car,” as you pull your hand away from his.

And maybe things could get back to normal.

“I know,” and he doesn’t move as you turn to leave, “and that’s why I love you,”

And you smile, “I love you too—“

“I don’t mean it like that,” and you freeze a moment, his words barely processing before he continues to speak, “I mean I do love you in that way too — but that’s not how I meant it now,” he says, as you turn to face him — not finding a hint of humor on his expression.

“Yuji—“ your brain can barely process your best friend confessing to you — much less next to his parents’ graves— “should we be having this conversation—“

“It’s the perfect place to have this conversation,” he glances around at all of the graves, and he’s shaking his head, “maybe not the perfect place, but—“ his gaze softens when he finds yours, “you saved me,”

“Yuji—“

“No, you did. After my parents died,” he stares at the stones side by side — “I could barely function. I barely wanted to do anything but sleep — but you, you pulled me out of bed. You made me go places. You made me smile again,” he says, “but that’s not the reason I fell in love with you,” his lips curl into a soft smile, “it’s because it’s you — your smile, your laugh, your being — it reminded me of happiness existed, and then I realized you were the only person who could make me happy the way you do,”

“Yuji—“

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I don’t want to lose you, lose this chance to tell you how I feel, to tell you—“

“Yuji—“

“And I’ve always loved you — there’s never been—“ and you’re hugging him, before you even know you are, your arms are around his middle, face buried in his chest, as he murmurs your name.

“The only reason I broke it off was,” your voice wavers despite your efforts to force it to stay even, “I didn’t to lose you by not being good enough—“

“You just have to be you,” his brow furrowed into the same valleys he teased you for, “you’re all I need,” his hand finds your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, “how could you think you weren’t enough?”

“You don’t tell how you feel sometimes — you don’t tell me what you’re thinking, I didn’t even know you had nightmares—“ you break off, “what if we continued this and you realized you deserved better than me? And it was already too late for me because I love—“ you break off.

“You what?” he asks, and you’re biting your lip, “I’ll say it again if it will make you—“

Fuck it.

You lean up and press your lips to his, swallowing his words as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder. And it felt right. As it always did with Yuji.

“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you, in the same way you do,”

“As a friend?” And your brow furrows, “kidding! Kidding—ow!” You’re smacking him playfully, before he catches both of your wrists and pulls you close, “does that mean I can call you mine?”

“Or baby,” and he flushes, a cute pout on his lips, “what? Isn’t it—“ and he’s kissing you again, your heart leaping as he does, his hands sliding around your hips, “Yu-“

“And what’s my pet name? You still haven’t given me one—“

“Have some decorum,” a voice cuts through, and the two of you jump apart, as Nanami stands, glaring at the two of you, “come on, if you’re done paying your respects, then we should go home,” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “the dead shouldn’t have to put up with this.”

Yuji’s cheeks are tomato red at this point — as he covers his face— but you only chuckle, your fingers intertwining with his, squeezing, “c’mon let’s go, and maybe I can give you a pet name when we get home,” and you both turn to face his parents, as you pay your respects and head down the path a little.

Yuji faces his parents, kneeling down to say goodbye again — and he remembers how it was their idea to set up Yuji to have a playdate with you, all those years ago. And now, here you were — the most important person in his life.

“Thank you for everything you did for me,” and he glances at you over his shoulder as he gets up, “especially for helping me find her.”

“Yu-ji—“ you gasp, as he’s tugging you into your bedroom, bumping himself carelessly into the wall as he guides you both to your bedroom. You giggle as he presses you against the wall outside your room, “I text you my parents are going out for dinner and this is how you greet me? What happened to hello—“

His lips crash against yours and you forget about ‘hello’ and just about every other word in your head. Your lips curl against his lips, as his body cages you against the wall. It had been a few days since you and Yuji had been able to have a moment alone—Nanami was watching you both cautiously, while your parents had been keeping you busy at home, seeing family or cleaning up around the house. And Yuji was growing increasingly desperate for some time with you — that wasn’t hidden brushes of fingers under the table or stolen kisses out of sight from family or friends.

“I missed you so much, baby,” he’s murmuring — and you didn’t know it was so possible to look like a kicked puppy so much until you met Yuji, “can’t believe Nanami was so mean and kept making us keep the door open—“

“It didn’t help that he walked in us making out on your bed three times—“ and a moan escapes your lips as he kisses your neck, teeth grazing against your racing pulse, “fuck, Yu—“

“How do you always taste so good?” he mumbles against you as he leads you inside your bedroom and shuts the door. His eyes glance around your childhood room, as he takes in the childhood posters plastered on the walls, the untouched books, the stuffed animals from a millennium ago that still lined your bed.

“My family has not changed much here for years,” your cheeks burn, as he only chuckles, walking you backwards into your bed, and you climb into the bed, only grabbing a stuffed animal from behind you, “remember this?”

He snorts, as he takes the stuffed penguin from your hands, “How could I forget? I tried a million times to win this,”

You tilt your head, “You said you won it your first try—“ and you gasp as he looks away, cheeks flushed, “you were trying to impress me,”

“Not that much,” and you’re leaning closer, brushing your lips against his, “maybe just a little,” you kiss him more insistently this time, sliding against his, fingers curling in his soft strands, “maybe too much,” and you smirk, noses bumping as your lips find each other’s again and again.

And your fingers slide down to drag his shirt up and over, freeing his chest and abs to your sight — and what a sight it is. So toned and tanned from his American football practices in the sun — perfect for your fingers and lips to explore the peaks and valleys of his body, hands already far too eager.

He returns the favor by lifting your own shirt off in an instant, groaning when he finds you wearing nothing underneath — your eyes can’t help but flit down and find his erection already tenting in his sweatpants.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” his eager hands are already teasing and palming you breasts, a whimper drawn out by his precise pinches and touches, “so good for me,” and your hands drag down his chest, leaning down to press kisses to his chest as your fingers trace along his abs, making him groan.

He’s pouting, after he pulls you into another kiss, “it’s not fair,” he mumbles into the side of your neck, “I feel like I’m always the one who’s more nervous than you are,”

You chuckle, kissing his jaw, “I felt the same way, why do you think I touched you on our TV marathon that night?”

And he’s blinking, as you lay back on the bed for him, “you didn’t know—“ you shake your head.

“You had offered to help get experience, and even when we had done things, you were just so…normal,” he chuckles, before laying beside you.

“I had some practice acting normal around you, but I really didn’t. I think you nearly gave me a heart attack that night,” and you grin, drawing so close that you even feel the hitch of his breath.

“That good, huh?” You tease, and it only takes a moment until he’s hovering over you, lust pooled in his gaze that lights a fire on your body wherever it lays.

And his lips meet yours right after he whispers, “I’ll show you good.”

“One more, baby,” Yuji tells you, but you barely hear it through the haze of pleasure and heat that fills the room, along with the sounds of the squelch of his fingers in your tight cunt, “just need one more,”

And how many times had he made you orgasm already? You’d lost count — five or six at least. The first had taken some time, working his finger into your weeping slit, the way your walls stretch around him make you wonder how good it will feel when he fucks you. It’s not long before he’s sinking another finger in, the sounds and feelings of his digits curling is enough to bring you to orgasm. And the rest are a blur — another finger in your tight entrance, fucking you open as he toyed with your walls, until you came again and again.

And now he bent down, lips around your clit, teasing and sucking at the sensitive bud, as your fingers curled in his pink locks as the lewd moans fell from your mouth with ease. You’re so close — so fucking close, and when his fingertips brush against that spot and it’s all too much.

You cum around his fingers and mouth, his name on your lips as you do, back arching against him, as he eases his fingers from your cunt. He licks his fingers clean as your eyes flutter open to meet his, “You taste so good, baby — you’re perfect,” and you watch as his tongue flicks out to clean his lips and chin of your sticky release.

And soon enough he’s kissing you, hand cupping your cheek, letting you taste yourself on his lips, as your fingers drag over his bare chest and follow his happy trail into the elastic of his boxers. A soft moan leaves his kiss ruined lips, as his eyes are lidded with lust, soft pants against your skin.

“Is this a dream?” Yuji murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, “never thought we would get here,” and you turn your head to meet his lips in another sweet kiss.

“It isn’t, we’re here. Took us long enough,” your lips curl, your fingers tracing over his cheek, “and nowhere else I rather be — or no one else I rather be with,”

“You sure?” And you’ve flipped him over, kissing down his body, fingers tugging at the elastic of his boxers until his dick is freed from the fabric, “fuck, baby, you don’t have—“

And his words are cut off with a grunt as your fingers grazes his erection, teasing his weeping head. You start to pump up and down, working the thick beads of precum over his length, his head falling back.

“How’s your cock so pretty, Yu?” you coo, blowing air over his dick, making him twitch in your hand, “never thought one of these would ever be so pretty,” you let his length slap against your tongue, slowly dragging it down your

He hisses, hands grasping at the sheets, as you bend down to flick his tongue against the head of his cock. Your lips close around it, and suck, raising the back of his hand to cover his mouth, “fuck, s’good, baby, I—“

And you’re letting his cock sink past your lips, your tongue flicking against his slit. Your eyes find his own, as you hollow out your cheeks and sucking hard, and his hips buck into your mouth. His tip brushes against your throat, and you’re moaning around him, your fingers cup his balls, nails digging into your scalp.

“Baby, fuck, I’m close—where—“ and he’s trying to ease you off, but your hands only hold his hips in place. Your nose brushing against his pubes. And when you’re suck hard on his tip, toying with his sack, only for him to moan your name, before cumming down your throat, his hot release painting your insides.

You’re slowly pulling off his dick, a string of cum and spit connecting your lips to his cock, a smile on your face. You swallow his release, the salty taste still on your lips as you watch him pant, chest rising and falling.

“Taste so good, Yu,” you murmur, and you’re moving back up to kiss him, “think I’m addicted,” you murmur, as your lips find each other again and again.

“Now you know how I feel,” he smiles, fingers running through your hair, “been addicted to you for over a decade,” and he’s sitting up, guiding you into his lap slowly, “we can always stop right here, we don’t have—“

You kiss him softly, the way he deserved, the way you’ve wanted to for so long, “I want to, Yuji, I really want to,” your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his hand, his arm slipping around your waist, “because I love you,”

And your fingers grasp his hardening cock, pressing it to your dripping slit, and god, he’s so fucking big. You knew how big he was, but just feeling him pressed against you makes you ache at how he’ll be stretching you out. He drags his dripping tip against your slit, letting your cum mix together, letting his head catch on your clit.

Finally, you’re sinking onto him, his thick length parting your walls, inch by inch. Your head falls back, as he leans into your touch, watching you flinch at the stretch, “you okay?” Yuji’s pressing sweet kisses to your lips and cheek, “should I stop—“

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s starting to feel good,” your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck, “ and he’s helping you sink into him, until finally your hips are flush to his, “fuck, Yu—you’re so deep—“ his cock twitches against your walls, a shiver up his spine at your words.

And he’s panting, his lips pressed to your shoulder, “you feel s’good, baby — so wet and warm—“ you smile, cupping his cheek, “can’t believe this is real — can’t believe—“

“It’s real, Yuji, it’s real,” your lips curl into a smile, “I’m here, I love you,”

“I love you too, I love you so much,” he kisses you again and again, as he shifts slowly under you, swallowing a gasp that leaves your lips.

“Please, Yuji, move—“ and he obliges, beginning to fuck into you, and your head falls back, as his cock rocks into you, a moan falling from your lips as you do. He’s groaning your name again and again, a grunt when you begin to ride him in tandem, both of your thrusts sending him deeper into you.

“Baby, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so good f’me,” his lips finding your neck, as his strokes become faster and deeper, the sounds of your skin slapping together rings in your ears as he fucks you harder and harder, “g’nna cum, s’close,“

“I’m close too,” you’re panting as his lips find yours in a sloppy, messy kiss that has you losing yourself more and more, as his thrusts become more and more swallow. And when he finds your clit between your bodies, rubbing as he finds that one spot that has you seeing stars, “Yuji- I’m—“

And you cum hard around him, soaking his cock and thighs as you do, walls squeezing him tight until he’s spilling his warm seed inside you. You slow as you do, legs quivering, as you nearly slump against him and he holds you impossibly closer. He helps you both detangle, easing his softening cock from inside you, a small groan as he sees your mixed releases leaking from you. He helps you lie back, as he wraps his arms around you, running his fingers through your hair.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, brow furrowed in slight worry as your eyes flutter open, lips curling as your fingers smooth the wrinkles of his forehead.

“I’d be better if you’d kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges, a soft kiss to your lips that leaves you warmer than you were before, “now I’m perfect,”

“You always were,” and you chuckle, rolling your eyes, before shaking your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“No, that’s because I had an excellent teacher,” and he laughs, before he pulls you even closer, finding your lips in a kiss.

“And you always will.”

“Come on, Fushiguro, pay up,” Nobara holds out her hand, as Megumi glares, pulling out his wallet and plucking money from his wallet and handing it to her.

“You cheated,” he says as she snatches the money, counting it with a grin on her lips, “I don’t know what you did, but I know you did,”

“You never said we couldn’t give them advice,” she grins, as she pockets his money, “and all I did was give Yuji a nudge, he’s the one who fucked—“

“Alright,” Megumi rubs his temples, “I get it, but it’s still unfair — we’ve been waiting for them to get together all these years and all of sudden he gets the idea to become her friends with benefits—“ and Nobara only grins wider, “you didn’t—“

She shrugs, “you can wait around for two idiots to figure it out, or you can shove them off the deep end.”

“I knew you cheated,” Megumi grumbles, “that’s the last time I ever make a bet with you, Kugisaki,”

And she smirks, “Well now you’ve been taught a lesson too.”

✧ a/n: another celebration fic done! now just one more and then i can start preparing for the next follower celebration :). i've settled on using wips but i'll pick out a bunch of prompts for you all to request for certain ones. that way, you all have had a hand in them <3. thank you to laney for helping beta <3.

✧ taglist: @adrenova, @nakariabnrb, @skvllknight, @hanlay, @spider-fan72, @anonimusunnoaniswriting, @chososcamgirl, @thenezuko, @catsgomurp, @too-much-snow, @sashaiko, @forest-fruits-jam, @rita-ritarita, @anyaeuh, @dezznuggetsblog, @jayathelostdragon, @newspapergirlmal, @2livelaughlovefictionalmen2, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @xoocii, @firelordazulaaaa, @cira273, @twosec0nd, @ororomunroro, @sunamatic, @withoutanameyet, @gojorgeous, @masctomboy805, @hantaslittlearsonist, @lemonpoppy-seed, @malmare, @teraine, @boopadoopa333, @jeyughh, @coffeebun17, @faeryli, @katienaps, @tojbitch, @fushitoru, @soulofoz, @yamaguccitadashi

#sab [mlist]#yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori smut #yuji itadori fanfiction #yuji itadori fluff #yuji itadori x you #jjk smut #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji smut #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji fanfiction

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tonycries · 3 months

Text

Go For It, Gojo! [Part 2] - G.S.

Synopsis. Just two weeks ago you could barely stand him - so, really, why is your heart beating so loud? Surely, it’s just the way he’s got you pushed against the wall, face stuffed in your cunt - right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, slight angst + comfort, vibrators, banter about physics, cunnilingus, Yaga is tired, oral sex (male + female), college! AU, both reader and Satoru do some growing up, overstimulation, super sappy actually, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.

Word count. 10.5k

A/N. Passed out five times, here’s Part 2 (joke). PART 1 HERE. Art by @_3aem on X.

Gojo Satoru likes to think he’s hilarious. A real connoisseur of the fine art of comedy. The fifth member of Impractical Jokers, if you will.

Which is probably why, for someone who didn’t know the definition of shutting the fuck up, he sure was intent on staying quiet about whatever this was.

It’s been exactly 2 weeks, 5 days and 17 hours since you and Satoru had entered this weird limbo, and there still wasn’t a peep out of the man about what the two of you are to each other.

Friends? Acquaintances? A booty call that he happens to argue way too much with? You’d smack that pretty nose of his if that was the case - as soon as you admittedly stopped being a pussy yourself…

But, semantics.

And right now, his fingers intertwined with yours as he practically drags you through the aquarium ticket counter - you couldn’t help but wonder - was this a date?

Not exactly lovers, but definitely more than friends, a tense understanding crackling in the air between you two. Something prickly and jittery that pooled in your stomach and made your head spin.

And as someone used to having the answers to everything, it bothered you that you didn’t have the one to this.

You haven’t been to an aquarium since you were a kid - quickly having outgrown it at the ripe age of seven. So, really, it made sense that the 6’3 manchild beside you insisted it was the perfect spot to celebrate finishing your assignment.

“That damn quantum entanglement hell.” you’d called it - and ranted about all the way inside - more so to fill the charged silence than anything. His fingers still tight around yours despite the dissipating crowd, burning into your skin.

“You know for someone who loves the elegance of science, you’re an extra hardass about quantum entanglement.” he titters in-between worried mutters of “doesn’t that old lady look like the mafia queenpin from the café.” as you two try to navigate your way through the aquarium.

You desperately cling onto his remark - a sense of normalcy you could finally breathe in.

“Well, Satoru, for someone who treats life like an improv show, you sure have a knack for avoiding scientific precision,” you retort, some strange part of you delighting in the way his fingers tighten around yours.

“Precision is for pussies.” he chuckles, bringing up a hand to your face, fingers wiggling in a ludicrous attempt at hypnotic suggestion. “Besides, sweetheart, life is a cosmic joke, and quantum mechanics is the punchline.”

“As expected from a Pilot-Wave theorist, that just sounds like an excuse to be lazy. ‘Oh, let’s embrace uncertainty and blame it on quantum mechanics!’”

“It’s also the punchline.”

“At least my punchlines make sense.”

He lets out an exaggerated whine, “And here I thought we were bonding over shared disdain for the hard-headed laws of physics.”

“Shared disdain? I actually respect the laws of physics. They’re the backbone of our universe.”

“Maybe.” he responds, voice a bit uncharacteristically somber. “But, quantum mechanics, uncertainty, whatever. In the end it doesn’t matter the universe, aren’t we all just wandering through a sea of unpredictability? It’s exciting.” he weaves through the crowd with you, gaze flickering between you and the vibrant schools of fish.

And maybe you’re an overthinker - you’ve always been told you were - but it felt like his words carried a heavy tone that went beyond your stupid little debate about quantum entanglement. This was not about physics.

“That excitement often leads to chaos, no matter the universe.”

“Embrace the chaos in every universe then. It keeps things interesting.”

“You’re incorrigible.” you scoff, meeting his intense gaze head-on, skin flaring at the sheer intensity of it. “I bet in every universe you’re an unchangeable hell-raiser.”

“Maybe.” He leans in, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, gaze now locked on you, his lips dangerously ghosting your ear. “Or maybe I’m just more of a hands-on learner?”

It might never have been about physics.

It’s innocent fun, right? Two classmates celebrating the end of an assignment? Innocent, innocent fu-

“Y’know with the way you’re so dripping wet f’me, I’m starting to think our lil’ arguments are just foreplay, prez.”

Sleek plastic cold against your back, Satoru’s mouth hot on yours - hungry and insistent. Lips tangy with the taste of minty toothpaste and the thrill of the forbidden as he cages you against that heady bathroom stall.

“You’re the one that riles me up. Got a degradation kink, Satoru?” you shoot back between gasps as his greedy hands map every curve and dip of your body. Groping. Kneading. Such a fucking tease.

“Mhm~ Love when you talk dirty to me, sweetheart.” he hums into the heated skin of your neck. White-hot tingles of electricity running along your body. “Though, I really prefer when that smart mouth is choking around my cock instead.”

“I’m gonna hah- drown you in the fucking clownfish tank.”

“Kinky, but that’s not that’s not the magic word, sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth - in both pleasure and irritation, but most importantly the need for more more more. He always did drive you insane. Words choked, “P-please.”

A sharp moan rips from your throat as long fingers graze your swollen folds through your soaked panties. Teasing the dainty hem. Pulling it down. Delving in. Curving deftly upwards, easily pressing into that one spot inside. Over and over. In and out in and out in and-

“Teasing hah- teasing bastard.” you hiss, even as your traitorous hips buck into his touch.

Satoru chuckles darkly, breath warm against your ear, sending shivers running down your spine. “Your teasing bastard.” Your heart pounds in your ears, mind caught on the “your”, drowning out the distant hum and bustle of the aquarium outside.

And before you can open your mouth - maybe to say something so utterly stupid - he falls to his knees. Pretty lips ghosting your inner thigh, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. A stark contrast with the cool air of the bathroom stall.

Mindlessly, your legs press together, a bead of slick trailing enticingly down them - aching for an ounce of friction. Down, down, down-

And Satoru notices - of course he notices - because his tongue darts out urgently, tracing the seam of your swollen folds. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, pooling your juices on his tongue before letting them flow down his throat - groaning as if it was his favorite taste.

Shit, you really were his favorite taste.

Nose-deep in your cunt and on his knees in that cramped aquarium bathroom, all he can do is lap up your juices. Cock aching, tasting you, breathing you in like a man dying of thirst.

Pulling down his trousers just enough for his throbbing erection to spring free. Leaking tip smearing against his toned abdomen, trailing down the prominent vein in the middle. A large hand firmly gripping the base, pressing his heavy balls so obscenely on your calf, pulling in sinful little tugs to you.

Blood rushes straight to the throbbing erection in his hands at the way your breath hitches, pretty little mewls of his name leaving those kiss-bitten lips. Such a shame he had to muffle them, two fingers in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself.

Ah, he didn’t get to see those manta rays yet, but it’s alright - right now, hips bucking helplessly into him, your hands knotted in his hair - you’re his favorite view anyway. His pretty girl.

“Hngh- Jus’ like that, Satoru.” you moan.

He groans into your dripping pussy, vibrations sending a jolt of electricity shooting through your veins, making you clench further around the tongue pushing its way into your heated hole. Cunt aching for release, and his leaking cock not far behind as he fucks his fist urgently. Grinding into you like a fucking dog in heat.

“Please.”

Granting your unspoken request, he moves purposefully. Nose catching on your clit, rubbing it over and over as he alternates between gentle sucks and rapid thrusts of his tongue dipping into your entrance. Satoru’s unspoken pace sends you spiraling into insanity - and the edge.

Almost there.

You lock eyes with him, seeing just as much need for you reflected back in his own eyes. Flitting between his hungry gaze and the thumb teasing his flushed slit. Jerky, desperate strokes of his hand along his veined length - up, up, up - just the way you do it.

Time seems to stand still as with one two three thrusts you shatter all over his tongue. Choked-up cries of his name bouncing off the walls of the empty bathroom as you chase peak after peak on his pretty face.

Your vision blurs at the edges, blood roaring in your ears. Torn between wanting to scream in pleasure and not wanting to be arrested for public indecency. Breathless whispers of pleasure slurring together as your mind clouds with only Satoru Satoru Satoru-

As the haze clears slightly, you realize you’re cradling his head, stroking his silky locks soothingly. Pulling away - embarrassed more at this than what just transpired - you let Satoru rise to his feet, towering over you.

“On your knees, sweetheart.”

Still delirious from your orgasm, you mindlessly drop to your knees before him. Wordlessly, he guides himself into your mouth, precum salty on your tongue and cock glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

His hips begin to thrust, matching the pace from before as he fucks your hot mouth. You relax your jaw, letting him take control as he plunges deeper and deeper. Fighting the urge to gag as he hits the back of your throat. Saliva drips down your chin so lewdly, smearing on his cock,

Satoru’s breathing grows heavier and heavier as your nose hits the tufts of hair on his pelvis, already wet with precum and spit. Grip searing on your scalp, you look up to meet his gaze - eyes half-lidded and tears clinging to your lashes.

Maybe it was the carnal look in your eyes, or the way your glossy lips stretch so prettily around him - because with a guttural groan, Satoru spills his load down your throat. Grasp steady on your hair, making you sputter and drink every drop as his cock twitches on your tongue. Cum dribbling down the corner of your lips, the tap! tap! tap! of it ringing in your ears.

As his high passes, you feel as if you’re in a daze as Satoru helps you up. Voice shot and throat burning as he cleans the both of you up.

Gentle hands on your cheek, a thumb caressing your lips. Your face burning at the way he looks at you. Why does he look at you like that.

A soft smile plays on his lips - kiss-bitten and prettily glossed with your juices. Wordlessly, he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, sending a sudden tug at your heartstrings.

“I bet in every universe we sneak around and choose the worst lil’ hideouts.”

Yeah. Yeah, maybe you did.

And you don’t know why it hurt.

It’s almost like you’re on autopilot as you quickly smooth down your clothes and follow Satoru outside, back into the bustling aquarium as inconspicuously as possible.

As you walk side by side, you can’t help but feel the previous euphoria inside you coiling into something more. Something uncomfortable.

Passing by a group of kids excitedly pointing at a giant tank of tropical fish, you feel a wistful ache as you’re reminded of simpler times. Back when you didn’t analyze everything interaction. Maybe back when things were better.

Pulling back, “Satoru…”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“About what happened…about us-” you sputter out, uncharacteristically inarticulate. “I don’t want-”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, y’know.”

Your head snaps up. Unspoken words lingering in the air - is it me or you that doesn’t want to talk about it.

Your eyes catch on the shine of his hair in the cool light. The subtle flex of muscles beneath his shirt as he leads the way through the mesmerizing corridors of the aquarium, the soft glow of the tanks casting an ethereal light on his silhouette.

His hand warm in yours, and that little dimple at the corner of his grin as he turns to you. Devastating.

It was like something snapped. And it hits you with a pang. All glory and beautiful.

He wasn’t yours.

And he probably might never be.

Somehow that terrified you.

Because in the end, weren’t you just playing along in his elaborate cosmic joke? Just part of his unknown?

But why did that hurt so much?

“Gojo, I’m going home.”

Fear.

---

There have only been three times in his life that Gojo Satoru has truly felt fear. The first, of course, was right after kissing your pretty lips in that dingy closet - if there was ever a true “ah, if I live I’m making this my legacy” moment then that was it.

The second was when he accidentally walked in on Yaga practicing his interpretative dance routine in the faculty lounge. The man had some moves - but it was something that Satoru saw nightmares about for days.

And the third time? Well, that’s the ongoing saga of trying to decipher you and why the hell you were sitting in another row during Advanced Quantum Physics, so gorgeous and unbothered ignoring him.

No texts, no calls, no snarky debates on anything since the aquarium a few days ago.

Almost as if he was back to square one - worse even.

So yes, Gojo Satoru is scared. In fact, some might even say he’s utterly terrified.

But even more than that, he’s so so stupid.

Because for the life of him he couldn’t remember what he’d done to mess up that fragile little connection that you two had formed.

Maybe you just liked seafood too much to visit the aquarium? That couldn’t be it…

Did you find out he accidentally knocked over that stack of books in the library and blamed it on you? No, he’s heard you blame worse things on him to his face.

Have you finally gotten sick of him?

…

Nahhh.

He steals a glance in your direction. Eyes mapping your ramrod posture, the way you’re hanging off of Yaga’s every word, and that slight frown marring your features. Ah, you looked so beautiful there even when you looked like you’re about to have an aneurysm.

It’s as if you’ve erected an invisible fortress around yourself, and he’s outside looking in. Desperately calling for you.

Satoru sighs inwardly, realizing he’s going to have to pull out the big guns. With the subtlety of a sledgehammer, he clears his throat, shifting his chair a little too loudly to yours in the row in front of him.

Paying no mind to the irritated glance that Yaga (and you) shoot at him, he whispers loud enough that it probably carries to the entire classroom. “So, prez~ Did I accidentally stumble into an alternate universe where you still hate me or have you just been avoiding me like I’m a contagious disease.”

You flinch - probably both at the audacity and at him addressing you. Eyes still firmly trained on the now-disgruntled Yaga, you reply curtly, “This is not an alternate universe, Gojo. And I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy ignoring me? Space might’ve worked for Neil Armstrong but it won’t work for me, sweetheart. Just tell me what I did so I can get on my knees and beg for forgiveness.”

Your brows furrow, eyes rereading the same sentence on your textbook over and over. “Just focus on these causal dynamical triangulations, Gojo.”

“Oh yeah, I had one of those once.”

“Satoru. I swear to-”

A sharp call of your name - followed by his. Professor Yaga’s irritation, now palpable, hangs in the air like a storm. “If you two can't maintain some decorum, I suggest you continue your discussion outside.”

Satoru grins unabashedly, batting his long lashes, “Why, Yaga, I thought you enjoyed our discussions.”

“Out, both of you.”

Each word clipped and shattering your dreams of becoming Professor Yaga’s protégé into tinier and tinier pieces.

“You heard the man, prez. Let’s take this show on the road.”

Hastily, you gather your belongings, shooting an apologetic glance at Professor Yaga, who gives you a sympathetic look in response. As the door slams behind you, noise ringing in your ears, you stand frozen in a mixture of shock and disbelief.

Satoru, however, seems unfazed. “Well, that was an unbridled success.”

Irritation spikes as you hiss out, “What?”

“I mean, you called me Satoru for the first time in days so I consider that an unbridled success.”

A strange stab at your heart, and maybe for the first time since working together on that quantum entanglement assignment, Satoru’s joke doesn’t land.

Your eyes narrow at him, “This isn’t a joke, Satoru. I needed Professor Yaga’s guidance - how else am I going to get a research position with him?”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

Following your weighty silence, Satoru lets out a heavy sigh. The expression on his face looked more serious than you’d ever seen it as his eyes search yours. “Look, prez, I didn’t mean to mess things up for you - though Yaga basically worships the ground you walk on so-”

At your raised eyebrow he gets back on track, “Anyway, something’s wrong and I just wanted to understand what’s going on between us.”

A humorless laugh leaves your lips, “Now you want to talk about us?”

You clench your fists, frustration and confusion boiling over within you. You know you’re part of this too. You know you’re not blameless in this tangled mess. And right now, the sheer warmth of his gaze made a strange little part of you consider just giving in and running to his arms. Fuck what he wants of you. Fuck all the uncertainty.

And that’s exactly what scared you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of thoughts within your mind. “I don’t even know what ‘us’ is, Gojo. And I don’t think you do either.”

Your voice is surprisingly steady - as are your feet as they carry you away from Satoru. You’d caught one, final glance at the slump of his shoulders, and the silent plea in his eyes.

Purposeful steps sound in your ears as you walk to God-knows-where. Yet, they still stutter - as does your heart - as Satoru’s voice rings in the hallway behind you, “Take all the time you need, prez. I’ll win you back with my world-renowned Gojo charm again~”

Light words following a heavy admission, his humor attempting to bandage over the cracks of what you two had not too long ago. The echo of his words accompany you down the corridor, and despite yourself, you find your lips tugging into the slightest beginnings of a smile. The slightest.

It’s okay. This is okay. Things can go back to whatever they were now - normal, steady.

“World-renowned Gojo charm.” you repeat under your breath, ready to find a quiet corner of campus where you can throw yourself into causal dynamical triangulations.

Gaze unwavering, Satoru stands still, searching for any signs of you looking back. Turn around. Turn around turn around turn-

“Mr. Gojo, are you going to find the building exit with the same enthusiasm you exhibit when spouting lines from your imaginary romance novel?”

“Ah. Yaga, I was just- wait imaginary? I can assure you that my charm is as real as quantum mechanics - just ask your star student! Although these days even quantum mechanics might have trouble explaining why she’s-”

“Mr. Gojo.”

“Understood. On my way.” A comical salute, “May your lectures be as riveting as my girl when she’s threatening to drown me in clownfish tanks~”

“Good. And please, spare us all from any more ‘unbridled success’ in the future.”

---

The following week turned into a delicate dance, a waltz of cautious side steps and tense half-glances - all of which were met by that fond gaze that made your heart clutch so involuntarily. Like a silent drama where neither of you knew the next line.

The sprawling campus now seemed so tiny, a tension connecting the two of you like an invisible thread. From Professor Yaga’s class - now so dull without that usual bickering - all the way down to that café just off-campus where the stuffy air hums with old banter and unspoken words.

Yet, the routine remained unchanged, you still found yourself visiting there time and time again - by that little booth in the corner, right next to the window. Just without your familiar companion.

You never realized how quiet the café could get without someone talking your ear off about everything from the Pilot-Wave theory to why the little girl at the grocery store who mistook him for a Kakashi cosplayer is definitely conspiring against him.

It’s thrown you off - and you’re sick of thinking of that stupid smirk when you’re trying to meticulously sort through the overflow of student archives.

Ugh, you’ve been losing sleep over these for days. Feeling hot under your temples, you try to push away the pressure behind your eyes - If you don’t get this categorized before the next meeti-

“Whatcha reading, sweetheart?”

Speak of the devil.

Startled, you look up from your sea of paperwork.

Ah, there he was. All nonchalance and grace, eyes twinkling with mischief and an easy grin curling his lips. And for a moment - a brief, fleeting moment - you’re filled with a familiar warmth, tension from the past few days melting into nothingness.

“Oh, just some archives.” you blink, with a measured calmness.

“Absolutely fascinating.” Satoru chuckles, sliding into the chair across from you with the casual elegance of someone who’s completely unaware of the mess he left in his wake. “What’s next, a riveting analysis on the historical significance of paperclips?”

Ignoring his banter, you focus diligently on the task at hand - Gakuganji would have your head. “If only. Now what do you want, Satoru? I’m busy.”

His grin widens, undeterred. “Busy with what? Cataloging the thrilling history of staplers and notepads?”

You shoot him a pointed look, “The secret lives of archives can be more scandalous than you think, Gojo.”

“Just how do you contain your excitement, prez?”

“I don’t.” you drone out. Shuffling your papers, gathering them with a deliberate focus. “Now, if you’re done with your stand-up routine, I actually have work to do.”

Satoru straightens up, the playfulness in his eyes dimming ever so slightly. “Wait wait, sweetheart, we need to talk.”

You let out a sigh - there it is. And maybe you were being petty. Maybe you were slightly scared. “Oh, now, we do? How convenient.”

“Can’t we just go back to the way things were? I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He runs a hand through his silky locks, a gesture that usually accompanies his frustration.

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Weird? Gojo, things have been weird between us for a while now. You just never bothered to notice until it got inconvenient for you..” You stand up, your archives now neatly organized. “I have to finish seven files of these now, excuse me.”

A subtle ache takes residence in your bones as you walk away, his gaze hot on your back. The barista, a friendly soul who had witnessed countless interactions between you and Gojo, offered you a sympathetic smile as you made your way out.

The café's atmosphere, once cozy with laughter, now suffocatingly laced with unease. That invisible thread connecting you both feels strained. Hanging by the thinnest of threads - on the verge of snapping.

And, yet, through it all one thought rings clear.

You missed him.

Satoru didn’t know what hurt more - the way you called him “Gojo” or the way he didn’t even get a giggle out of his paperclip joke.

“Gojo, things have been weird between us for a while now.”

Yeah, definitely the way you called him “Gojo”.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the cloud of doom himself. I can barely enjoy my Earl Grey. What’s eating at you, young man?”

Satoru’s head snaps up at the curious croak, tone a mix of concern and amusement. His eyes meet sharp, perceptive ones that seem to cut through his sulky haze. Oh, it’s the mafia queenpin.

At his wordless staring she plows on, taking a seat opposite him, “Oh c’mon, boy. Don’t think I haven’t seen you lurking and moping about. You’ve got as much subtlety as my late husband - and he once tried to hide a mistress by having her disguise as a potted plant.”

A half-hearted grin makes its way onto his face, “No potted plants here, just the usual existential crisis. You know how it is.”

The old lady snorted, unimpressed. “Please, spare me the theatrics. I’ve seen drama queens with more subtlety. Now spill.”

Satoru hesitated, wincing at the stare that seemed to cut right into his soul. It reminded him of a little someone.

Finally, he sighs relentingly, “It's complicated. Things with someone... changed. I miss the way it used to be, you know?”

A sharp cackle, echoing in the empty space around them. “Ah, love troubles. You youngsters make it sound so dramatic. Look, boy, if you want something, go and get it.”

He huffs in defeat, now way more into impromptu love counseling than he initially thought he’d be. “I tried but-”

But the old lady cuts him off, sharp and incisive, “Trying isn’t the same as doing, kid. And let me tell you, I’ve seen enough guys like you wasting time pondering instead of acting.”

It seems this mafia queenpin brought out all the childish, petty sides of him. Because Satoru whines in a way that he definitely wouldn’t if you hadn’t been avoiding him and if you hadn’t called him “Gojo” and-

“But she hates me, and she’s sick of me.” A rare vulnerability creeping into his voice. “Maybe things were better the way they were.”

“Life’s too short for that crap. And trust me, that girl does not hate you, you’re just scaring her off. I would have smacked you after that first dumb comment about paperclips.” The old lady snorts, dismissing his complaint. “Uptight academics, always scared of their own feelings. Afraid that if they acknowledge them, the world might end.”

Satoru blinks, taken aback by the unexpected insight. “Scaring her off? I'm just being myself.”

She leans in, sharp eyes drilling into him - picking him apart. “Being yourself doesn't mean avoiding the real conversations. You’ve got feelings, boy. Instead of playing the joker, try being sincere for once. Maybe you’ll be surprised.”

Taking a patient sip of her tea, “Now, go and fix whatever mess you made. Or better yet, just grab the girl and give her a damn good kiss. Works wonders.”

Satoru blinks, taken aback by the unexpected advice. The old lady cackles again, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

“Now, scram, and let an old lady enjoy her coffee in peace.”

He nods, more to himself than her, feeling a strange mix of determination and embarrassment at being given advice by the same lady he had a silent bet with you about being an underground overlord.

Immediately standing up, he salutes her goodbye before rushing out - only to stop abruptly halfway out the door. Turning and speedwalking back to the table, with a mix of curiosity and urgency.

“Hey, granny, I have a question.”

“Anything as long as it isn’t my age, boy.”

“Would you happen to have any mafia connections by chance?.”

Ah, you think you’re dying.

Or maybe that’s just what the towering stack of papers on your cluttered desk want you to think…

It mocks you. A painful reminder of the mundane world you were now in. That invisible thread connecting you to that little booth in the corner of the café now feels like a noose tightening around your neck.

What’s done is done. And right now you have bigger fish to fry - fish shaped annoyingly like the unresolved chaos of these archives.

You rub your eyes, room swaying slightly as you squint at the tiny print, letters melting into one another and conspiring against you. Rereading the same sentence over and over, sweat beading on your forehead.

God, was the heater on too high?

The documents on the desk seem to dance, a mocking waltz that laughs in the face of your feeble attempts to restore order. Chaos.

Stop it.

An incessant pounding on your temples, blood roaring in your ears.

You reach for a pen, your fingers fumbling as it slips through your grasp. Falling onto the floor with a clatter that reverberates in your throbbing head. Chaos.

The room is stifling, walls closing in on you. Breaths hot and labored. Temples drumming louder. And louder. Urgent and insistent. Chaos.

“Open up! It’s Satoru!”

Satoru.

Body acting before your brain, you stagger out of your seat, the world spinning dangerously as you clutch onto the desk for support.

Satoru?

Your unsteady feet carry you towards the door - almost subconsciously. You wince at the stab of pain in your temples as it throbs in time with the urgent knocking.

Hands unsteady on the doorknob, vision bleary, yet you’d recognize that shock of cloudy hair anywhere. His words hit you before the realization that Satoru was here, and why was he here looking so adorably disheveled like he’d run here and what was he rambling about now-

“I'm so so sorry. I messed up, I should’ve noticed. I know I’ve been avoiding the real conversation and I didn’t realize how much-”

His voice, tinged with a vulnerability you’re not used to hearing, is abruptly cut off as Satoru looks up from where he was fumbling with his fingers in nervousness - wide blue eyes taking in your glassy eyes and clammy skin. In your hazy vision you make out the deep concern creeping its way onto those pretty features.

“Sweetheart?”

A sudden wave of dizziness hits you. The room tilts, and for a brief, disorienting moment, you feel like you’re floating in space. Ah, didn’t know you could breathe in space. Wonder if you’ll win a Nobel for this discovery?

A sharp call of your name cuts through the haze, the last thing you register before the world folds around you like a delicate paper. Fading to black., and perhaps the warm arms around you are the only thing grounding you right now. The chaotic waltz has won.

Now, the great Gojo Satoru usually calls his mother for only one of two reasons - 1. His beloved ramen shop is closed, or worse - out of his favorite special spicy sauce, and 2. A dire and life-threatening emergency.

“Mama! I’ve got an emergency and no it’s not the ramen this time.”

His mother’s voice crackles through the phone, a mix of concern and amusement. “Satoru, are you sure it’s that dire? I’m at a work meeting, y’know”

Dramatically, “Of course, mama. Someone I care about is sick. Yes, I have a heart under this fabulous exterior. A real one.”

A brief pause, “Oh my lil’ Toru~ You mean you finally confessed to that student prez you’ve been swooning over for months? The one with ‘a brilliant mind like a quantum computer’ and ‘eyes like-’”

Squirming in embarrassment, “Well- not exactly, but-”

“Spill.”

“I need the recipe to our secret family chicken soup, like, urgently. It’s a life-or-death situation.”

His mother’s laughter echoes through the phone. “Life-or-death, huh? Alright, my little drama king, I’ll send it right away. But you owe me a detailed account of what's happening.”

“Deal!”

With a click, the call ends, and Satoru is left in your hallway, holding you in his arms, desperately awaiting the secret weapon - his mother’s legendary chicken soup.

In the meantime, he shifts you in his arms, steady hands carefully lifting you off the ground, cradling you to his chest.

Face burning at the practiced way his feet carry him to your room. “Come on, sweetheart. Wake up. Don’t make me regret not calling an ambulance. Should I call an ambulance? No, chicken soup first, then maybe an ambulance. Ugh, I should've paid more attention in first aid.”

Slow, deliberate steps through the corridor. Heart dropping as his eyes catch on the mountains of scattered papers and files. Next time he passes by Gakuganji’s office he’s gonna swap the keys on that fossil’s keyboard.

The soft click of the door closing seems too loud in the quiet room as he lays you gently on the bed. Heart clenching at the way you bury yourself mindlessly into the covers, pretty eyes still screwed shut, he mutters to himself “What am I going to do with you?”

His gaze drifts to the scattered papers on the floor, starting to gather them, creating a semblance of order amidst the chaos. Satoru glances at you, noticing the creased lines on your forehead even in your unconscious state. A pang of guilt hits him.

“Avoiding the real conversation, huh?” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He risks a glance at your sleeping figure again, “I’m sorry, my sweetheart.”

Finishing his impromptu cleanup - and after taking maybe one picture of you all snuggled up - he gets up determinedly to make the legendary chicken soup. “I’ll make it right, prez. First, chicken soup. Then, we'll have that real conversation, no matter how scary it gets.”

You wake up to the cacophony of pots and pans, and a voice…cursing bad cooking for being genetic? The aromatic smell of chicken soup hits you - as does the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

Joints aching, you try to sit up, the room still spinning - but ever-so-slightly less than before. Recollections from earlier slowly come to you, you don’t even have to look at the figure now standing at the doorway to know who it is.

“Whoa, there, sweetheart. Lay back.”

Your weakened smile is met with a worried frown. Satoru’s gentle tone, masking his franticness, rings in your ears like a song you loved but haven’t heard in a long time. He rushes to guide you gently back onto the bed, a thumb wiping away the sweat trickling down your temple. “Soup’s on the stove. But first, let’s get you cleaned up. Is that okay?”

Before you can protest - as if you had the strength to - Satoru scampers off to your bathroom. You lay there in the deafening silence as he does. You had an image to uphold, archives to categorize, and a Satoru to distance yourself from.

But right now, your eyes meeting his like constellations aligning in the night sky as he returns with a small basin filled with warm water, a soft cloth draped over his shoulder, you think that you wouldn’t mind falling apart for him.

Sitting down beside you, his gaze never leaving your face, “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” A tenderness in his voice matching the warmth of the damp washcloth gently dabbing your forehead.

A heavy feeling settles in your gut. You want to shy away from the fondness in those blue depths as they never leave yours. You want to block out the hushed whispers of reassurance as his fingers trail lightly across your skin, uncomfortably hot. You want to cry.

And you don’t realize you are until Satoru’s hand stiffens, eyes widening with emotions you can’t name.

Oh.

Satoru has seen you strong, capable, and fiercely independent. He’s seen you turn his elaborate equation into a doodle of a ramen bowl with the caption, “Even my ramen has more substance than this theory, Satoru.”

But Satoru has never seen you like this.

“Hey, hey, c’mon. It’s okay, prez. I’m here. I’ve got you.” Satoru whispers, as if afraid that speaking louder might shatter the fragile reality you both find yourselves in.

His words hanging in the air, and the sincerity in his eyes coax you to unravel the knot of emotions you’ve been suppressing ever since you were pushed into that damn closet with him.

“Satoru.” And it spills out. “I’m scared. And I missed you. And I’m scared that I missed you - scared of what that could mean, and scared of where this might lead. Because I missed you and you’re here.”

His brows furrow in concern, but he remains silent, urging you to continue.

“I've built walls, convinced myself that I can’t afford to be vulnerable out of fear of the unpredictable. Yet, here we are. I can’t escape it, and it terrifies me.” you confess, eyes flickering away from the intensity of his gaze as if avoiding the reality of your words.

Satoru inches his hand closer to cradle yours. “You don’t have to be scared, prez, I’m not going anywhere.” His voice a steady anchor, “Though, I was scared too. Scared that if I confronted these feelings, you’d run away. So, I waited, telling myself that I was giving you time, but honestly it was just a shitty excuse.”

His thumb caresses the back of your hand, a gentle rhythm matching the beating of your heart. “Because for all I spout about chaos and uncertainty, facing these feelings head-on is scarier than any angry Yaga.”

A fresh wave of tears - both at his admission and at that familiar attempt to lighten the humor. “You’re an idiot you know.” you sputter.

“I know.”

“And your theories on life and the universe are stupid.”

“Absolutely.”

“And your overpriced glasses make you look like the fourth blind rat from Shrek.”

“Now that’s too far, he’s a mouse, sweetheart.”

A watery chuckle as his fingers interlace with yours. Satoru leans in, his forehead resting against yours - no care in the world for how contagious you might be. Because fuck if the sickness might not be then these feelings sure were.

“You scared me, y’know.” he confesses.

“I’m sorry. I should have taken care of my-”

“Not that.” Satoru’s unspoken words echo in the small, charged space between you two.

Your heart clenches, understanding. “For that, I am sorry, too.”

Disappointment spikes your heart as he withdraws slightly, hand feeling cold at the sudden absence. But before you can question the impending doom at his mischievous glint, Satoru produces a pen from your top drawer.

“What are you up to now, Satoru?” you drone, raising a brow at his antics.

“Just a little insurance policy.” he smirks at your confused hum, taking your left hand back in his. Pen poised over your ring finger, ink cold on your skin.

“Insurance policy against what?”

“A promise.”

A delicate infinity sign, it draws your gaze and locks it there. You almost miss the flush creeping up on Satoru’s ears, “Just a symbol, y’know- We can get an actual ring if you want, my mother is actually best friend’s with-”

The sight of him makes something bloom in your chest. It hurt. Not because of fear, but because you felt so full.

Cutting off his rambles with your lips on his. Steady, and electric, molding together as if they were meant to fit perfectly. A lingering promise.

When you finally pull away, he huffs out an euphoric laugh. “I was gonna say you look like you wanted to kiss me so bad, but you already did.”

Rolling your eyes, “Think if I tell you something now you can write it off as me being sick and delirious?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Satoru, I love you.”

And that’s all Satoru ever wanted to hear.

“And I love you, in every universe.”

---

The sleep that follows Satoru’s “world famous Gojo family chicken soup” - and that heavy conversation - is the best you’ve had in days. You dream of manta rays in tuxedos, the guests of honor at yours and Satoru’s Nobel prize ceremony.

And, 12 full hours later and finally clear-headed, you find yourself groggily standing in the middle of your room. Blinking in disbelief at the perfectly categorized files of archives, and the sparkling organization of your once-scattered space - Satoru, peacefully snoring at your desk, pen still tightly gripped in his hand.

He…finished all of it?

Your heart clenches, warmth flowering all over your body.

As you approach, Satoru stirs, those familiar blue eyes slowly opening to meet yours. A dazed smile stretches across his face as he sheepishly scratches the back of his head.

“Got a bit carried away. Guess you really are rubbing off on me, prez.” he chuckles, his voice still laced with sleep.

“Good then, soon your brain won’t be a black hole of theoretical abstractions.”

Eyes sparkling, he throws his head back to laugh, carefree. “There’s my girl. Feeling better now, hm?”

Your face burns at his words, and his proximity as he stands from his chair to tower over you. Heat radiating off his skin. “Yeah, all thanks to your mother’s recipe.”

“And my charm, of course.”

“Oh, yes, the begging on your knees.”

“Hey it worked, didn’t it? Don’t insult the world-renowned Gojo charm that way~!”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress a smirk. “Yes, yes of course. That world-renowned ‘Gojo charm’ strikes again. Is that why Yaga sent me a gift basket apologizing on your behalf?”

“Listen, sometimes collateral apologies are inevitable. And I learned the hard way that wishing Yaga’s lectures are as riveting as my girl when she’s threatening to drown me in clownfish tanks does not go well.”

A startled laugh escapes your lips, sound bouncing off the once-heavy walls, and you almost miss the captivated expression on Satoru’s face. A tender smile spreads across his lips.

Laughter bating, you throw your hands around his waist in one, fluid motion, relishing at his flustered expression. “We should go to the aquarium again sometime.”

“Mhm~”

A beat of silence. One. Two.

“Satoru?”

He leans in, minty breath fanning your face. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Thank you.”

Body moving almost subconsciously, your lips crush against his. Hungry and yearning. Kissing each other with a desperation that eclipses the need for air. He didn’t mind dying if it meant suffocating by your lips anyway - both of them.

You let out a muffled moan as he pulls on your lips, hands snaking down to grip your ass, squeezing possessively. His tongue was sloppy, intertwining with yours with matching urgency. Trapping yours between his ruby lips, sucking so lewdly.

Large fingers bruising on your waist, pulling you flush against his body till you could feel the incessant banging of his heart against his ribcage - or maybe that was yours.

His shirt is all but ripped off of him - as is yours, and if you were in a clearer state of mind you’d feel sad at the tattered state of your favorite Steins;Gate t-shirt. But all that flies out of your mind at the creamy skin of Satoru’s chiseled chest.

You raise your hips to meet the throbbing erection now straining against his pants, fabric stretched and precum forming a pool right at the tip of his leaking head. A low groan is stifled into your mouth, almost as if it hurt to be apart.

Satoru’s fingers dig into your hips, moving you to grind against his achingly hard length at a maddeningly sensual pace. Up and down, up and down, up and-

A white-hot jolt of electricity runs down to your cunt each time the prominent vein down his side catches on your covered clit, thin panties now soaked with your slick and his precum.

You almost don’t recognize the disappointed whine that leaves your lips as he pulls away, delicate strings of spit snapping.

“You drive me insane, sweetheart.” he murmurs, breathless with lust.

“The feeling’s mutual, Satoru.”

And it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, probably you by the end of this.

Because with a low, carnal growl, Satoru picks you up as if you weigh nothing. Seating you roughly onto your nearby desk and pinning you down. Papers scattering everywhere in the heat of the moment, rendering his earlier hard work useless.

Satoru crowds your space, ravaging your mouth, grinding against your heated core till the only thing you can see is him, the only thing you can feel is him, the only thing you can think of-

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The friction is maddening, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Yet, Satoru, as always, disrupts your plans. Breaking the heated kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You cry out - both in pain and pleasure - as he continues his assault, digging your nails into his sculpted back.

“I won’t be the first one to cum.” he mutters into the crook of your neck as a hand roams up your thigh, deftly pulling off your shorts. You writhe beneath him as lithe fingers tease the hem of your dripping panties, relishing in the choked gasp that leaves Satoru’s mouth as your swollen lips catch on his tip.

“Oh yeah? Damn well won’t be me either.”

You’ve barely gotten the words out before he tears off your panties, pocketing this pair as well for a lonely night - though, with the way your cunt quivers at his touch, he doubts it’ll be any time soon. “Wanna bet, prez~?”

He plunges his fingers inside you with a savageness that steals your breath away. Easily finding that magical spot, thrusting inside to hit it with scary accuracy over and over. Your plush walls convulse around him, crying out his name. Ah, he missed this.

But you weren’t gonna sit there and be one-upped. A trembling hand moves down to urgently tug down his tight boxers. Rock-hard cock springing out, glistening with precum, your favorite shade of pretty pink. It made your mouth water.

Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your tight grip on his length, thumb swirling deftly under the sensitive slit. Spreading his precum along his flushed head. Torturing him. Warmth pooling at your core at the way he fucks your fist in mindless, shallow thrusts.

“Fuck. You really do drive me insane.” he groans, voice strained with desire as he keeps up the punishing pace of his fingers in your dripping cunt. Both of you unrelenting. Both of you in a fight for the other’s release.

It’s a close tie.

“Oh- oh, sweetheart I’m-”

And Satoru spills into your hand in thick, hot spurts and pornographic moans. Your fist still pumps up and down his twitching length, milking him for all he’s worth as you tip over the edge as well, walls fluttering around his merciless fingers.

“I win.” you challenge, eyes half-lidded as you still reel from the intensity of your orgasm. Satoru’s fingers quiver inside you as he pulls out with a hiss. Pupils blown-out, the look in his eyes feral.

A slow grin spreading across his lips, words breathless and tinged with a bit of insanity that made your pussy clench, “Best out of three?”

“Always knew you were a sore loser.”

“Nah, I’d win.”

“You’re on.”

Before you know it, you’re being thrown onto the bed, bouncing at the sheer force of the throw - cut short as Satoru looms over you, pinning you down onto the mattress.

His lips graze yours with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as they grind on yours. You moan as his still-painfully hard erection throbs against your wall, head falling back in surrender as your swollen folds envelope him in his favorite heaven. Sensitive - so sensitive.

Hands moving to your breasts, cupping them, teasing. Rolling your nipples between his deft fingers as your hips buck wildly into his. Precum and slick smearing obscenely. Faster. More desperate. Absolutely filthy. Racing towards the end.

And your voice cuts through the heady air, “W-wait, Satoru, wait. As the winner last time…” Words trailing off enticingly, a hand reaching hastily underneath your pillow.

Oh, just when Satoru didn’t think you could surprise him any more.

A jolt goes through his body at the thick, pink vibrator that emerges from beneath the pillow. Sleek metal catching the light, his eyes trailing up, up, up, intimidatingly large in your hands.

Eyes widening, Satoru’s breath hitches in his throat as he watches you handle it with practiced ease. Flip, switch - bzzzzz-

It rings in his ears and resonates through the room. A surprised smile stretched across his lips, despite himself. “Oh, who knew the esteemed student prez was such a little minx. Shit, sweetheart, gonna give me a heart attack.”

“You’re not the only one with lonely nights.” You nod pointedly at his pants - strewn across your bedroom floor and panties stuffed safely in his pocket.

You bite your lower lip in a way that has probably all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his pulsing cock. Aching for something. Aching for you.

Sensually, you press the buzzing toy against your clit, hips bucking at the immediate and intense stimulation. A jolt of pleasure making you gasp.

Satoru watches, spellbound, as you writhe beneath him - eyes locked so dangerously with his. He can see the slick beading at your folds, pooling onto your bed sheets.

Impulsively, he reaches out, wrapping a large hand around yours, guiding it to your dripping hole. “Now…” your eyes light up in excitement at his predatory tone. “That’s just playing dirty, prez. I might just cream myself.”

Agonizingly slow, Satoru eases the vibrator inside you, walls clamping down so deliciously. A clever hand draws tight, little circles on your throbbing clit.

You arch off the bed at the sensation and the stretch - full. So full. Full and so in heaven.

A fresh wave of slick coating the already-glistening metal, Satoru begins to fuck the toy into you, matching the rhythm of the vibrations. Relentless, he was absolutely relentless. Base meeting your swollen lips, tip kissing your cervix.

It drives you insane. He drives you insane.

“Fu-fuck Satoru-” Breathing ragged, tears pricking your eyes at the sensitivity, it only takes one two three more thrusts of the vibrator stuffing your cunt before you’re cumming with a loud cry of Satoru’s name, till you see stars behind your eyes.

“Ah, I’m so glad we made it to the bed this time.”

“Idiot.”

“Love you too~” Satoru continues to fuck into you mercilessly with it over and over, drawing out your high until you’re left limp and boneless beneath him. The only thing you can do being to take it.

As the shocks of electricity in your body fade, Satoru carefully removes the vibrator. You whimper at the sudden emptiness.

“Round 2 goes to me.” smugness evident in his words, slightly muffled by your lips.

“Shut up and kiss me. It’s the tie-breaker.”

His lips capture yours in a deep kiss. You can taste the salt of your sweat on his lips, and the desperation of the moment. It’s intoxicating. More addictive than any drug in the world.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him against your body - sticky with sweat and cum - till you can feel his rock-hard cock once more. Eager and aching for you. Teasing your folds with his leaking tip, readily spreading for him.

Finally, after what feels like hours - maybe even weeks - of buildup, he sheaths himself in your snug cunt the way you’d been dying for these lonely nights with just your vibrator. And with the way Satoru lets out a low, desperate moan - head thrown back - you think he might share the sentiment.

“God. Hah- Ah you look so beautiful under me, sweetheart. Hngh- wouldn’t get used to this in my lifetime.”

“Then hngh- find me in the n-next.”

He presses in slowly, languidly - a sensuality that envelopes you and makes you keen at the stretch. Finally bottoming out, he savors the heavenly feeling of being completely inside you. You really were heaven on Earth.

Pulling back, prominent veins grazing that spot just right, he rams back into you with purpose. Savoring you. Torturing you. “Satoru oh- f-fuck me like you hah- mean it goddamit.”

But it’s not long before the great Gojo Satoru loses his handle on himself. Maybe it was the tears clinging to your lashes. Maybe it was the way your legs wrap so tightly around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust. Or maybe it was the fucked-out whines of his name spilling from your mouth.

Because he’s fucking into you desperately. Feral, deliberate strokes that make you ass sting at the smack of his heavy balls. The harsh slapping of skin on skin echoing in your heady bedroom at his unforgiving cadence.

The air charged so tensely that you could barely breath - or maybe that was the way Satoru’s furious tip kissing your cervix over and over knocked the air out of your lungs. Every nerve ending in your body felt alight with white-hot pleasure, electrifying you from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head - filled only with Satoru Satoru Satoru-

Vision blurry, head dazed so lustfully, you barely notice the way Satoru reaches down between you, his fingers familiarly finding your clit to rub harsh circles on it in time with his thrusts. It’s too much. Ah, you were going to pass out.

Instead, you cum - all over his twitching cock. The sensation almost too much as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Especially when your walls clamp down, milking his cock so sinfully as Satoru spills into your snug cunt.

Balls tightening as he thrusts thick ropes of seed into your dripping pussy, your juices mixing with his as he thrusts animalistically into you, fucking it deeper and deeper. Decorating your plush walls white, cum spilling out of your sloppy hole as it overflows.

Flashes of light behind his eyes at the sensitivity - pain, pleasure, yearning all melting into one, gooey mess that mirrored his heart right now. Desperate calls of your name leaving his lips like a prayer. Because maybe you were his salvation.

With a moan of pure ecstasy at the feeling of being so full you think you’d explode, you pull Satoru to you, nails dragging down his shoulder and every part of you wrapped around him so impossibly tight. As if you never wanted to let go - and you didn’t.

You don’t, even as you both gasp for air - and sanity. Even as he collapses his sweaty body onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight. And you especially don’t let go as those dazed eyes bore into yours, a tender moment in the weighty silence.

Because right now, no words were needed.

“I love you.”

“And, I love you. In every universe.”

Except maybe those.

It’s only once reality is setting in, exhausted and intertwined so tenderly in his arms, that a sense of familiarity permeates the heavy air.

“I win.”

An agitating, grating voice that you loved so much.

You let out a dragged out groan, rolling your eyes. “That’s only because I went easy on you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’d love to prove you wrong, sweetheart, but I think my dick is out of commission for the next week at least.”

A sharp bark of laughter startles its way out of your lips as he bounces you two on the mattress, laying on his stomach and swinging his feet as if he was at some slumber party.

“Soooo~ Now that we’re finally dating, I can finally stop holding back on the quantum entanglement puns, I’ve got a list on my Notes app that-”

“I’m gonna entangle your face with my fist.”

“Jokes on you I’m into that.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“But you love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

---

Gojo Satoru likes to think he’s hilarious. A real connoisseur of the fine art of comedy. The fifth member of Impractical Jokers.

So, of course, he had to barge into the hell that was his new 8am class with style. Bursting in through the swinging doors, imaginary cape flowing in the wind. Sue him, so what if he’s an attention-whore?!

His bright gaze sweeps over all the students barely keeping their eyes open, before finally landing on you - on the edge of your seat, brows furrowed so adorably and eagerly drinking in every word Yaga droned on about. Who the hell found advanced quantum physics that riveting?

Intrigue piquing as he makes a beeline to you, Satoru’s heart lurches at that weird little part of him that wishes your attentive gaze was on him instead. Strange.

Sliding into the empty seat beside you, of course he immediately turns on his world-renowned Gojo charm. You’ll be putty in his hands in no time~!

“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.”

“...”

Okay, maybe that didn’t come out as suave as he expected, but damn, not even a giggle?

You couldn’t blame the guy for getting nervous in front of a pretty girl! Nor could you really blame him for plowing on despite that - not after the jolt of electricity that ran through his body the second your irritated eyes met his.

Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul pierced and buried six feet under.

It was sort of addicting.

And if Satoru thought his knees were weak at just a glare from you - well, he was not ready for the way you snapped at him and told him to shut the fuck up. Ah, truly a woman of his dreams.

Not even half an hour into the lecture and if you asked Satoru to recall a word spoken by Yaga then he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. The words went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the next - too focused on getting your attention on him at least once more.

He just wished you’d look at him - let him see all the shades of your eyes, and the exact degree at which your lip curls in annoyance. What would that smart mouth say to him next?

“Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

Which is why he positively jumped at the chance to show off his academic prowess to you. Only to find…you teetering on the edge of your seat as well?

Your voice is even, a fiery glint in your eyes. He’s entranced.

“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.”

Oh. This was going to be interesting.

Heart banging against his ribcage, voice slightly shaky, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”

Thus, Gojo Satoru, in his failed attempts to flirt, starts a rivalry with you that shakes the entire physics department - and his heart.

He was sure if he told Shoko and Suguru the real reason why he was suddenly spending hours poring over his physics textbooks then they’d definitely laugh their asses off - after giving him a good smack for being so ridiculous.

It’s not that he didn’t like being on the receiving ends of your snarky remarks and death stares - but it’s just that he also wishes you’d kiss him silly while you do it. God, for someone voted campus hottie three times in a row, why was it so hard to just ask you out?

Which is why, seeing you being dragged into their little circle at that off-brand frat party, he thinks - ah, this might just be fate.

Silently thanking Shoko for her accidental wingmanning, Satoru watches in amusement as you reluctantly scribble your name on that crumpled piece of paper. And if he slipped in a couple extra with his name on it, well, he was only glad you were too busy cursing his entire bloodline out to catch him.

The smell of cheap beer filling his senses, strobe lights matching the banging of his heart against his chest. Even if he did cheat at the game a little, Satoru didn’t think he’d end the night with your soaked panties burning a hole in his pocket - and the whisper of your lips on his searing even more. He was dazed.

Was that…a dream?

It must be, right? There’s no way the gorgeous student prez who hates his guts would suddenly be in the same proximity as him - let alone let him tonguefuck you into insanity.

You tasted so sweet.

Yeah, must’ve been some hallucination.

Months later, your soft grumbles in his ear, and your hand warm in his, swinging playfully between you two in the buzzing aquarium - a part of Satoru still thinks he’s hallucinating.

“Slow down, Satoru! The fish aren’t going anywhere.” you huff as he flits excitedly from tank to tank, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store. Yet, you couldn't help the beginnings of a smile curling at the corners of your lips at his childlike excitement.

“Can’t! I couldn’t show you this last time, even a hardass like you’d love it.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by the breathtaking sight before you.

A grandiose tank - a kaleidoscope of an underwater world that stretched beyond your field of vision. Hues of blues and greens glimmering before you. Marine life you wouldn’t be able to name - no matter how many hours of watching NatGeo - in an ethereal dance across the water.

“Last time we were here we talked about multiverses. I know now, I hope that in every universe, we’ll be here together. Standing side by side, watching the deep blue and arguing about physics.”

Eyes widening at the beauty - and his words - you turn to Satoru, only to see his piercing gaze already on you. Satisfied grin bathed in a soft blue light from the tank, his twinkling eyes reflecting you and the lights and you. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

“See? Didn’t I tell you you’d love it? I’m always so great at these thi-”

You shut up that big mouth - with your lips on his.

Tender and weighty - as if you two had all the time in the world. And, your hands electric under Satoru’s touch, cold metal of the infinity sign searing into your ring finger - you think you probably do. Because Satoru’s tastes like candied apples and everything you could ever want. A promise.

“T-told you I was irresistible.”

Confident words, muffled by your lips. You pull away with a disbelieving huff of laughter, and you’re glad you did - because you catch a glimpse of the nervous twinkle in his eyes and the flushed cheeks betraying him.

“You wish.” you chuckle, brushing your fingers over his cloudy white locks. That familiar, easy grin tugs on the corners of your heart, and for a moment - just this moment - it feels like just the two of you in this bustling aquarium. In this uncertain world.

“Sure do.” he whispers, as if a secret - meant for just the two of you.

“Now, my prez, wanna go to our little booth at the café and debate the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

A/N. Can you tell the title was inspired by Go For It, Nakamura?

Also so sorry for posting only sporadically this week, for some reason my posts refuse to show up under any tags and as a creator that’s really discouraging. But here’s to next week being better hopefully!

Plagiarism not authorized.

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@bbyxxm @maskedpacific @mrs--imperfect @dunixxd @scarammouch

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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