Fractured Desires

Fractured Desires

ꕥ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Reader, past Suguru x reader, in this chap also some Shoko x reader- It's a mess tbh lol

ꕥ Content warnings-MDNI-explicit sexual content, threesomes/ foursomes/ complicated shit, infidelity. Abusive gaslighting Suguru. Yandere Gojo behavior. In this chapter- Rough sex, whipping, paddling, obsessed behavior, stalking, deep throating, female on female oral, use of nipple clamps and pain play, dacryphilia, breeding kink PSYCHO stalker SATORU but he's hot. And reader likes it!? Toxic relationship

ꕥ Word Count this chap- 12.6k

ꕥ Summary- You meet Suguru Geto at your work, he is charming, gorgeous, and has a poly lifestyle. You jump in, and you all share women and have way too much fun. But then it's starting to get serious between you, official even. He can't wait to have you meet his best friend. But... Satoru Gojo hates you. The minute you meet. He gives you no reason, but he's nasty to you, no matter what you try. Suguru finally has enough of Satoru being so mean and brings up the idea - 'let's have you two fuck this frustration out'

Satoru hates you because deep down wants to make you his. He doesn't understand how Suguru could ever want anyone but you. Though it's a bad idea, he agrees to share you with Suguru for a chance at you and... The moment he touches you... Rules are bent and broken, Suguru develops feelings for another girl, and Satoru gets further obsessed with you. Nothing is as it seemed. Will everyone get hurt?

Split btwn Satoru's POV and yours

Chapter 6 ꕥ Masterlist ꕥ Playlist

Chapter 7

The next night

Your POV

The bar is packed that night, you’re going to head out early with Satoru to finally get that date you’ve been dying for. And there Satoru is, sitting there at the bar while you work, with his fancy outfit in the wild sports bar, looking like a million bucks. He is sipping on the sweetest drink you could concoct, watching you intently.

The music is thumping and the lights flashing, creating a chaotic yet energetic atmosphere. You and Choso are bustling around, serving drinks and trying to keep up with the demand. As the time ticks by, there is a tightness in your chest, while you bend over now, breasts on full display in a pretty pink corset top. Satoru licks that lower lip, glaring at you, and you give him a wink.

“Gotta get good tips, Toru.” You whisper, taking his glass and shaking him a new drink, his blue eyes glow even in the dark club.

“Little bitch, you're so getting punished tonight.” He murmurs, and your brows raise, as his words send desire, hot straight to your tummy. You tense as his words wash all over you, your eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.

“Well I have a short shift so that I can leave for the date, Sir.” You whisper now, leaning close, your hands brushing against his as you pour his drink, the clear pink liquid into that little martini glass. He smirks up at you.

“Quit working and move in.”

“Wha-!?”

He chuckles now, and fuck it’s nice, to see the face so normally in pain, or in anger, genuinely smile. He’s so beautiful he makes your damn heart ache, every movement of his azure eyes lights you on fire, like you can physically feel it all. He’s so intensely watching, the entire time, and you have to wonder if he had done this before but…

You really don’t care.

You enjoy his gaze, his jealousy, his possessiveness. The way he watches every movement, like he’s watching a dance. You like him saying to not work anymore, fuck you almost want to, say fuck independence and let this six foot four man fuck your brains out daily. Who wouldn’t? It also didn’t help that just a smirk from those lips has you wet.

“He’s intense, yeah?” Choso murmurs, earning Satoru sticking his tongue out, and Choso does it back, making you giggle.

“He’s super intense.” You say, earning the middle finger now. “Woah!”

“Brats, both of you.” You and Choso laugh then, as you’re filled with this odd joy just for the moment. Satoru and Choso surprised you by getting along, with Satoru being so possessive with you, and hating everyone, you were honestly surprised. And Choso enjoyed him, even though you did omit Satoru’s more concerning behaviors.

He doesn’t need to know everything.

The bar is a whirlwind of chaos, with the thirsty patrons shouting for drinks, the clinking of glasses, and the constant throb of the bass from the speakers. You manage to keep up the facade of a happy, flirty bartender while serving drinks with a shaky hand here and there.

“Shit, she’s here.” You murmur then, and look to the barback, smiling and batting your lashes. “Could you take over for a few?” You ask sweetly, and he blushes, nodding eagerly.

“Of course!” You walk past the bar then, and up to Satoru who pulls you against him roughly, leaving you breathless.

“Stop flirting, brat. Every time you do I’ll smack the fuck out of you.” He grips you right then and there, and you can’t stop biting your lower lip, as you stand between his legs.

“You jealous of little me, Toru?” You whisper, and he scowls, but then she’s finally here, Shoko Ieri.

She smiles sadly at you, and you leave the position between Satoru’s legs to hold out your hands, which she gladly takes, dark eyes taking you in. “I wasn’t sure you’d come!”

“I am so fucking sorry, shit. I swear… he didn’t tell me you had any rules.” She says, and you pull her away, looking at Satoru now.

“Let’s go where it’s quieter, okay? But first, Cho can she have some wine? The best we have.” Choso pours the fanciest you all have, and she takes it gratefully, eyeing him then.

“Fuck, aren’t you hot.” She says, and you see Choso blush a bit, making you giggle as you look between them.

“Isn’t he young for you, cougar?” Satoru teases, and she shoves at him, glaring now.

“Cougar, then what are you, old man?”

“I’m thirty one!”

“I'm thirty, shithead!”

“You’re very pretty.” Choso says softly, and Shoko melts, as he holds out a tattooed hand, decked out in rings. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too, love.” He kisses her hand over the bar, and Shoko’s mouth is left open as he gets back to working. “Why didn’t you just date him!?”

“You bitch.” Satoru grumbles, and she grins.

“What, he’s so sweet! And hot.” She sips her wine and may or may not be checking out Choso’s ass. “You’re a psycho, Satoru.”

“Yeah, yeah, she likes it.” He says, running a hand down your waist, and you can’t stop your little gasp, nor the dilation of your eyes. Shoko looks back and forth between you now, shifting her weight on one leg.

“Oh shit, you’re in love.” Satoru goes wide-eyed then, as do you, looking at her as she’s so calm, humming to herself. “What, you’re not? Knew it that night, just didn’t know the mess that happened.”

“Come on, you two.” You pull them both now, guiding them to where the pool tables were, a quieter area of the bar where people weren’t shouting and singing drunkenly. They both sit down now, and Satoru yanks you on his lap, despite your protests.

“In love.” Shoko quips again, Gojo scowls at her, but she just shrugs, and you’re blushing under the club lights once more.

“He hates me.” You say, and she scoffs at that, as Satoru’s wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing you firmly on his hard lap.

“I do hate her, so much.”

“Mmhmm, well if that’s hate, cut me off some.” You giggle at that, holding her hand now, smiling. “I thought you would hate me after that night. I really didn’t know what was going on. He told me you two were completely open, and you were like fucking Satoru on the side.”

“What! Oh god. No, the first time Satoru and I did anything was with Suguru…” Satoru tenses under you, you can feel his anger, his upset. You stroke a hand gently with your own soft fingers, trying to calm him. “And I respected his rules, though I will say I did kiss Satoru when not with him. But it was like… the way Satoru looked at me…”

“In love you mean.” You grin, and Satoru is flipping her off, sipping his drink now, grip tightening.

“Whatever it is.” You peek down, and his look softens just a bit, that mad look in his insane blue eyes that wrecks your every sense. You brush his hair back for a moment, and his white long lashes flutter shut, his lips relaxing in that firm set of his jaw, and you enjoy just that far too much, just looking at him. “I knew something was different than how Suguru did.”

Shoko studies you two, grabbing a cigarette then looking at you. “Will it bother you?”

“No go ahead.” You say, and she sighs, pulling a lighter out. She flicks with the lighter, then Satoru takes it, shaking it up and pushing it down, igniting a flame for her. She brushes her pretty hair back, leaning forward, taking an inhale then.

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Sure thing, brat.” She rolls her eyes at him and he hands her back the lighter, his hands going back to your hips.

“The way Suguru looked at me, it just… isn’t the same, and then when I noticed how he looked at you um… I was worried. But it wasn’t until Satoru that I really worried, because I could tell he was head over heels, and that I wasn’t that for him.” Shoko looks away then, over at the bar, where Choso is flipping bottles in the air, to the cooes of the crowd.

“I didn’t think he had it that bad for me. I was thrown off too, but then he assured me you two were so open. Now I feel like a whole bitch, I am part of what’s hurt you so bad now.” Shoko says, sighing.

“No, no… it’s on him if you didn’t have that information.” You say, she smiles a bit with her thin, pretty lips.

“I really only played because of you.” You blink then, as she caresses your cheek, leaning forward a bit. “You were so hot, and I was curious about Suguru I guess, all these years.”

“Me?” She laughs, leaning back and taking another hit, dark circles only enhancing her eyes as she looks up and down your body.

“Yeah you, like a little barbie.” You feel Satoru’s chuckle under you, shaking your body gently.

“That’s what she is, isn’t she?” Satoru hums, only further making you warmer with all the attention. “Sexy little barbie.” He nips at your bare shoulder, as Shoko watches with amusement.

“Toru…” You wiggle just a bit, making him suck in a breath, as your thighs shift with desire.

“Of course I was interested, and I must say… she’s elite, isn’t she Satoru?” You’re a mess now, cheeks on fire, red to your damn ears, and Satoru is getting even more insistently hard as you shift more, doing stupid things to your psyche.

“Elite pussy, absolutely. So elite I turned down a blow job.”

“You!?”

“Oh I can’t even imagine fucking anyone again. Too obsessed.”

“Holy fuck, well there you go. Who needs Suguru then.” You giggle a bit, but then grow a little serious.

“That’s not all, he… well he planned all of this, fucking me, to begin with, long before I met him. All because um… you and Toru had sex.” Shoko glares then, slamming down her wine.

“What now? Suguru wouldn’t… would he?” She looks to Satoru, who’s frowning now, just nodding a bit. “Fuck, he’s like that now? I know he’s changed, but… to play you and bring you into this? The fuck, man.”

“And he’s assaulted her.” Satoru casually says, and you stiffen a bit, as Shoko stands.

“Yeah what? He what?”

“More wine, Shoko?” You ask softly, standing, and she nods, caressing your cheek softly.

“Please, angel? I need something stronger for this shit.”

Soon the three of you are talking about everything, and Shoko looks so disgusted as you tell her what Suguru’s done, now she’s taking shots, you all are actually, you split your tips you’ve made with the barback as a thank you. Choso is smiling over at the three of you, and despite everything Suguru has done, he hasn’t broken your spirit, it’s still thriving.

“Satoru sucked in bed.” Shoko says, and he snorts, taking a shot himself now. “What you did.”

“You sucked in bed, so fucking lazy.”

“Worst fuck ever.” She says with a shiver, and you’re awkwardly looking back and forth as they look at you. “Now her…”

“Yes, her…” They both touch your arm on either side, and you look down shyly as they look at each other, then you. “I won’t share her with a guy, and I wouldn’t fuck you again Shoko… yuck…”

“Same, you’re so gross… but…” They’re grinning now, and you look between them wildly.

“What’s in your devious minds you two, I’m not sure I like it.” Shoko laughs, sultry now.

“Well if you don’t touch me at all…” He says, pressing kisses on your neck as he is speaking to Shoko.

“Oh I don’t want to. I’d say don’t touch me but I can tell your hands will be all over her anyway.” She kisses on your neck too, and you’re buzzed and confused. “Maybe I just prep her for you and leave.”

“Prep me!? What-”

“I’m okay watching that. But remember she’s mine.”

“You’re so psycho, Satoru-”

“Hey, I’m here you know!” You wave your hands now, and they just smirk down at you, Satoru all tall and gorgeous, Shoko petite and pretty.

“What would piss Suguru off the most? Me picking you over him.” She whispers then, and you gasp, looking at Satoru.

“But you said no sharing, ever stalker.” He grins at you as you say that, his snowy white hair falls over his brow just so, glinting silver in the lights.

“I’ll give this one exception, it’s a win-win. Watch your pussy get eaten out and Suguru gets fucked? Fucking genius.”

“My pussy… oh.” You’re covering your face with two hands, blushing furiously as they stare at you hungrily now.

“Yeah, sweets, you know one way to test it.” She picks up her phone then, and your heart is pounding as she video chats Suguru. You watch as he pops up on the video then, and she sips her drink, looking positively devious. Satoru’s sliding his hand under your skirt, rubbing over your panties, and you look up at him, wide eyed.

“You like that idea, little slut.” He hums, pressing in, and your eyes flutter shut as you get wetter, against his finger pressing your clit now. You struggle to focus, faintly hearing Suguru’s voice, then Shoko aims the camera towards you, and she kisses your cheek then.

“The fuck? Why are you there?” Suguru asks, and Shoko laughs, throaty and sexy, that mixed with Satoru’s finger sliding under your skirt brazenly in a damn bar is making you tremble. It slips under your panties now, finding you hot and slick, and your hips buck up.

It’s so naughty you can’t stand it, how amazing it feels to have his touch, a secret one in a crowded bar you work at. It’s hard to remember Suguru exists at times, not when Satoru is bending down, whispering in your ear. Not when he’s sliding that finger between your lips, and you’re biting back a moan, his other hand splaying the expanse of your waist, pressing in.

Fuck you’re wet.

“I’m here visiting her, of course. You know, she’s just too yummy, isn’t she, Satoru?” Shoko’s intent is clear, and you can’t even face Suguru right now.

“Shoko, what are you even doing. I’ll come and-”

“Nah, we’re headed out soon. R & R, you know. I could video it for you, Suguru, isn’t that what you forced on her while you were whoring around?”

“You don’t know… I didn’t… Shoko, just me and you talk please. I don’t need them there.”

“Well, then leave her alone and sure, I’ll talk to you. Can you do that, can you leave this girl the fuck alone?”

“I was just upset I… yes, if you’ll talk to me, please.”

“Pathetic.” Satoru murmurs behind you, his finger pressing in now, and you start pulsing around it as it curls up.

“Fine then, keep your word. But I’m totally thinking of eating your ex out tonight, does that upset you, Sugu?” She says with a mock pout, and you fade out the rest of their conversation, because Satoru’s fingers are hitting far too good, and he’s moaning softly, turning your knees weak.

“T-Toru…” You murmur, you know no one can see his hand but you wonder if they can see that pleasure on your face. You grip the arm that’s wrapped around you tightly as Shoko and Suguru go at it.

“So wet for me, aren’t you baby? Pretty little fucking… whore… all for me… say it baby.” He’s pumping in and out as he barely speaks, so quiet it’s like he’s in your damn head, and you try to stop your eyes from rolling back, as your nipples press against your corset, begging for more, and your cunt is soaking his hand fully now.

“For you.” You say softly, and he groans now, sending shivers down your spine as he presses that spongy little spot, right in your tight walls.

“Remember, even if she eats you out, I'm letting her, because you're all mine, yeah? You’re all mine, forever… can’t ever fucking leave.”

“Fuck you’re toxic…” He snorts at that, but you agree, nodding again. “I’ll do anything you want me to.”

“Oh yeah?” You nod again, then Shoko hangs up finally, smiling at the two of you as her eyes rake over your body.

“You two are already playing, I see. Hmm…” She comes in front of you, bending down to kiss you then, and you feel Satoru pumping even harder as she does. “So don't you have a date?”

You struggle to speak, as Satoru is playing you so damn perfectly. “I… y-yeah, we do.”

“I’ve already got a limo for the date, let me take you home, you two can play on the way. I have drinks and everything.” Satoru says softly. “But just once, and remember-”

“Yours. Damn he's psycho.” You giggle at that but then gasp as his fingers press in deeper and Shoko kisses you once more.

“Fuck thats hot. Let's go, now.” Satoru grumbles.

“Lemme say bye to Cho!” Satoru sighs.

“I'll say bye too.” Shoko teases, and Satoru reluctantly pulls his fingers out, sucking on them, making you throb now, thighs shifting as you watch him, elegant fingers in between his lips. Your mouth is open, earning his sharp grin, only for Shoko to drag you to the bar, but you feel Satoru's gaze burn a damn hole in your back.

Soon you’re in Satoru’s limo, which was far too big and luxurious, the only time you’d been in one is prom, and he’s lounging right beside you, pushing champagne into your mouth. You sip it eagerly, as he watches you, blue eyes glowing even in the dark of the limo, lit up with a rope of LEDs, as Shoko preps to take another shot of tequila, looking at you then.

“Satoru, can I take a shot off her tits?” She asks, and he chuckles, running his hands down your shoulders.

“Please do. I should take one too.” He murmurs, and you take the shot now, putting it between your breasts, making Satoru moan as his lashes lower, long fingers running down your breasts where they’re full and high with your corset. “Fuck you’re sexy, so slutty too bet you’ve done this.”

“Of course I have, you mad, Toru?” You push him playfully, making him grip a wrist, as he licks it, making you shiver. Shoko pours a little salt on your wrist, then takes one of the limes off the plates there.

“Watching you two is like porn, jesus. Open this pretty mouth, sweets.” She says, and you do so, taking the rind of the lime in your mouth now, and Satoru licks the salt of your wrist now, before burying his face against your breasts, sucking the shot down his throat.

You watch that adams apple bob, so fucking sexy, just a drip of tequila running down his throat now, and he then takes the lime in his teeth, the juices dripping down your chin. You’re so eager for him you can’t stand it, it’s like every movement your psycho… maybe boyfriend!?... takes is like sex itself. He gently takes the lime from your mouth now, lapping his tongue along your jawline.

You moan softly, as he licks all the juice off, until he gets to your mouth, and you taste the bite of that agave on his tongue, you greedily kiss him back, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke. He’s got his big hand on your cheek, sliding back to your hair and pulling, moaning softly as he does.

“Y’know, I tasted her first, yeah?” Shoko says, and he turns and pulls away, lips smacking as he does, glaring at her.

“Shoko!” You say, and she just chuckles behind her hand.

“You’re such a bitch. I bet I eat pussy so much better.” He says, and she rolls her eyes, coming to you and licking your wrist now.

“Bet I do. You always had to be perfect at everything, little shit.” She salts your wrist and he scoffs, rolling his blue eyes. Something about their friendship seems so natural and real, they just react differently than Suguru had with her, it was like they were truly friends despite perhaps a mistake in the past.

“How’d you all have sex? No offense, I can’t see it.” You said then, and Shoko grimaces, as Satoru shivers in disgust.

“Oh god we were wasted, and I had a bad break up. We were like nineteen, then, just so young. I barely remember more than it sucked.” She says, and Satoru snorts as he sits next to you, brushing your hair back behind your ears, placing a shot glass back between your breasts now.

“I don’t remember much except the next morning we were so disgusted, we said we’d never bring it up. It was like two seconds in before we both thought, the fuck are we doing.” Satoru says.

“Oh… I noticed that night how you all seemed just like friends fully. Whereas Suguru…”

“Fuck Suguru. That’s what I’ll take the shot to.” Shoko says, and you and Satoru grin.

“Cheers to that. Also I’m putting this on Insta, let’s make him suffer some more, yeah?” Satoru says, filming on the phone then, and Shoko grins, then she is licking your wrist, before taking the shot from your breasts, gulping it down her delicate throat, then Satoru takes the glass as she bites the fresh slice of lime.

When she takes it away she’s kissing you, and Satoru cuts off the video, as he comes to pull on your hair, pricking pain tears in your eyes, and you gasp as Shoko teasingly swirls her tongue in your mouth. Satoru yanks you then, slamming his lips upon your own, overtaking your already addled senses, as the alcohol warms your tummy and desire hits it.

When he pulls back, you remember the time with Suguru, and expect them to kiss, but they’re just hungrily staring at you. “Do you all not wanna kiss or anything?” You ask curiously, they both look disgusted then.

“Don’t make us.” Shoko says, and you laugh as Satoru rolls his eyes again, running a fingertip down your chin.

“I only want you, evil little brat that you are.” He says huskily, kissing you again now, spreading your thighs. “But I do want to watch you, watch that pretty face cum, feel you…”

“Fuck.” You whine out now, and Satoru is behind you, you’re on his lap as Shoko is between your thighs, shoving up your skirt now. Satoru has your chin tilted as he leans forward, so tall and lanky, to watch your face now. “Satoru…”

“Remember you’re mine.” He says, and you nod, as you then turn to look down at Shoko, brushing her silky hair back, as she looks up at you. She licks her lips, and you can feel the heat building between your thighs.

"You're so beautiful," she says, her voice a low purr.

You can feel Satoru's hands sliding down your hips, before they hook in your panties, shoving them down your legs, as Shoko finishes taking them off, gliding them down your ankles. You feel Satoru’s breath against your cheek, as his hardness presses against your ass, and Shoko’s sweet breath tickles your thigh.

“You are so beautiful, so beautiful it fucking kills me. All of you.” Satoru says, husky then, and Shoko's hands glide up your legs. Her mouth is hot and wet as it touches your inner thigh, and you gasp, your eyes closing involuntarily.

“You both are so hot, fuck.” You whine, and they both laugh a bit, tickling your skin even more, you’re a trembling fucking mess as Satoru holds you so tight with one arm around your waist.

As Shoko continues to kiss and lick higher and higher, you’re running one hand down her shoulder, down soft skin, as the other reaches back to Satoru’s face, leaning your head back at an angle to look at him. Desire flaring on his face as he looks right at you, like you’re the only thing in his world, like you are his world, and it takes your breath away.

You can't help but arch your back, your body begging for more, pressing further against his hard body and up for her kisses. Satoru's hand moves up to cup your breast, his thumb playing with your nipple, sending waves of pleasure through you along with Shoko teasing your clit with her tongue, looking up at you, her long nails pressing into your inner thighs.

“Oh my god! Mnh…” You cry out now, making her smile against you, you feel the upturn of her lips.

"You like that, baby?" Satoru whispers, his voice full of satisfaction. You nod, unable to form coherent words when Shoko's mouth moves lower, and you can feel her breath against your entrance, making you shiver. She looks up at you, her dark eyes filled with lust.

"Ready for me to get serious, sweets?" She asks, and you nod again, throat constricted as Satoru yanks one of your breasts out of that top, pinching your nipples hard.

With a wicked grin, Shoko dives in, her tongue parting your folds and sliding inside you. You cry out, the sensation so intense that you're not sure if you can handle it. But as she starts to move, as she explores and tastes, you find yourself lost in the moment, unable to think about anything but the pleasure she's giving you, and the man allowing it.

You can feel Satoru's hand moving down to grip your hip, his other hand tangling in your hair as he guides your head back. His mouth is on yours again, claiming you, possessing you, as if to remind you that no matter who else is touching you, you belong to him. And fuck if you don’t realize it, even as you’re getting wetter and wetter, soaking Shoko’s pretty face.

The very limo spins around you as the two of them work in tandem, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, delicate fingers, then rough long ones. You've never felt anything like this before, never been so exposed and so wanted, even in your experiences before. Because now Satoru could act exactly how he wants to, claiming you, all over you, not holding back.

He’s moaning in your ear, pressing up as she continues to bring you higher and higher now, and you’re crying out, your body shaking as you try to keep it together, Satoru’s mouth on yours, Shoko’s tongue in your pussy. You can’t believe what’s happening, but the feeling is so intense that you’re screaming out brokenly in the limo, to their soft sighs and cries.

Shoko’s tongue swirls around your clit, and you moan louder, your body arching off Satoru’s lap at it, then his hand moves up to your throat, squeezing gently, that perfect pressure he knows. “You’re close, aren’t you little slut?”

“Y-yes, close, close.” You whisper, as Satoru is gripping your hips, moving them and controlling your movements as you grind against her face, as Satoru bites your neck hard, and you’re shaking as the pain mixes with Shoko’s talented tongue.

“Cum, like a good little whore for me, baby. Let go now.” He orders, and you do just as he says, eating up his words as he wraps a hand around your throat, choking you as he watches you fall apart, hunger all over his face. “Let me see you.”

Satoru’s POV

Satoru feels your little body tense now, as you press against him, two lines between those eyebrows, your face contorted in pleasure, as you’re reddening just a bit when he squeezes even harder. Your pretty eyes roll back, and you gasp for breath as Shoko makes you cum, and he looks down to see you’re gushing all over her, and she’s drinking it up.

Satoru’s precum is sticking to his boxers, his pants as you cum, hips bucking up, your hands gripping his wrist as you look right at him with blown out eyes. Your lips part as you struggle to breath, fuck your life is just in his hands isn’t it? You’re all his, and you seem to know it, even as he lets her bring you to orgasm, you’re looking right at him the entire time.

Satoru could cum right now, but he’ll wait, till you’re all alone. He needs to do so many things to you tonight, now that you’re all his, he needs to make you such a fucking pathetic mess under him. He lets you go now, and you suck up a greedy breath, as Shoko rises, licking her lower lip and smirking at you, and you giggle breathlessly, your lush breasts heaving now.

Satoru takes those breasts in his hands, feeling you shiver against him as he feels their weight in his hands, so fucking perfect. His thumbs brush on your perky nipples now, making them taut as Shoko leans up to kiss you, and fuck if it’s not hot to watch you, kissing her back, your tongues messy, just a tiny bit of saliva dripping between both of you as she cups your face.

You turn to him then, a beautiful blush decorating your cheeks, and you turn your body toward Satoru, cupping his face with your small hands, tenderly, resting your forehead on his. And Satoru knows then, this is so past the obsession and lust, and it’s past falling, Satoru Gojo is madly in love with you.

He’s in love with you.

With you.

You.

He can never let you go, he can never let anything happen to you, fuck he can’t stand the thought of you not in his arms. He doesn’t even know how he’ll work without you there, will he bring you every day and have you warm his cock with your perfect cunt as he works? Will he fuck you over his desk and cum in you over and over, until you’re pregnant?

Will he come to your work every day and watch you, fuck you in that break room so much you’ll trip and fall as you try to be flirtatious in your little outfits? The ones that show too much of that tight fucking body, of your supple curves that constantly make his hands itch to grab you? The ones no one should see.

Should Satoru just hide you away?

No, you love your life too much, and he loves you enough to suffer others seeing you, for now. But the thoughts linger, of just keeping you at his house for him and only him, and bringing you everywhere he goes. He could keep you so fucked out you’d not care, not when he controls your body so well, not when you’re so clearly into him as well.

Feelings for him?

Feelings… for him.

You have them.

How?

Satoru kisses you softly then, exhaling, as you turn in his lap, and one of his hands splays your waist, thumbs pressing into your ribcage. You kiss him so sweetly, over and over, until it takes everything not to fuck into you, but he wants to keep that just for you all, he can’t have someone else, not when he has to lose himself in your every breath, your every sound, every touch.

You’re his now.

“You two are gonna make a baby. I need to get home.” Shoko teases, and he laughs as he watches you giggle, and fuck if it’s not so sweet to hear that throaty little laugh, to watch your face scrunch up so happy for once.

“That was amazing, Shoko. Don’t you want me to return?” You ask her softly now, your delicate fingers brushing back Shoko’s dark hair. She smirks a bit, her eyes going lidded.

“This psycho here is about to lose his shit as it is, but I had fun pleasing you.” She says, and Satoru watches you shift a bit, looking up at him now.

“Toru, don’t you wanna see my skills?” You ask, pouting so pretty, and he chuckles a bit, tapping your nose, why do you make him so stupidly happy, what is it about you?

“You can but I will bury my face in your pussy. I don’t know if I can look at Shoko like that.” Shoko laughs then.

“Same, I don’t wanna watch you two fuck again it was weird. But if you want to, Sweets, you can. Oh fuck my phone has gone crazy.” She picks it up as it’s buzzing, she sits next to you now, laughing. “Suguru is blowing it the fuck up.”

“Oh gosh I hope I didn’t give you a headache.” You say, you always care so much about others, and not enough about yourself, it makes Satoru angry, but at the same time he enjoys this so much about you. He’s kissing up your neck now, you tremble just a bit in his arms, he watches little goosebumps form on your smooth skin, everywhere he touches.

“Nah he’s bullshit for all this. Oh, he’s so fucking mad. He wants to come talk to me now.”

“Would he hurt you?” You ask, and she shakes her head. “Are you sure… I don’t want to-”

“Sweets, I’m good, promise. He won’t do shit except grovel at my feet. Now, I should head to my place so I can deal with him, get him to stop fucking with you both, I hope. If I just explain, Satoru and I are not interested and never have been. Do you think he’s too far gone, Satoru?” Shoko asks then, and Satoru sighs, for he can’t imagine how Suguru could redeem himself after what he’s done to you.

Satoru feels so much intense hatred towards him now, he’d been through so much pain because of a stupid fucking mistake years back, and now you have been through pain. Your first experience was now horrible, ruined for you, so Satoru detests Suguru so much, the one closest to him, but he’s going to make sure he doesn’t get near you ever again.

“I’ll keep her safe, don’t worry, Shoko. If he tries some shit, call me, don’t let him touch you, alright?”

Shoko nods, then leans in to kiss you goodbye, before punching Satoru in the shoulder, making him stick his tongue out at her. You slide off him then, sliding between her legs and slipping up her little black dress, looking to Satoru to get permission, and fuck if you’re not so hot now.

“Once, I’ll allow it. For scientific purposes.” He muses, making you giggle as Satoru tells the driver where to go.

You bend over right in front of him, you still have no panties on, so Satoru slides a finger down your slick folds, making your toned thighs tremble under his touch, he feels those muscles as his free hand runs down them, those calves so tight from your heels you prance around in, to the buckle of that heel still around your ankles.

You clench around his fingers, your soppy little cunt sucking him in when he slides two inside, past that tight entrance, as his other hand slips back up your thigh, gripping your ass, pulling your pussy wider for him. Shoko’s eyes shut in pleasure and she’s screaming out now as you bury your face, and he hears little sounds of you lapping her up.

Fuck you’re sexy, Satoru said he wouldn’t watch, but he’s watching you, and your little hand gripping Shoko’s slender thigh, while your free hand reaches back to Satoru, he takes it and shoves it behind your waist, pressing you further down, and you start gushing around his fingers now. You want him to control you, don’t you? With your little whines mixing with Shoko’s moans filling the limousine.

Shoko’s pulling at your hair, arching her hips up for more, and you’re shuddering as Satoru starts pressing on that spot, your hand sliding up to cup one of Shoko’s breasts, as you bring her higher, Satoru is pressing you closer and closer to your edge once more. You’re pulsing, and fuck he could slip into you now, as he’s holding your delicate wrist so tightly.

You come up for a gasp of air, crying out from his fingers, scissoring in and out of your perfect cunt, hair flowing down your back as you do, then you dive back down and with a couple more flicks Shoko has fallen apart, and she’s cumming on your beautiful face. Satoru lets your wrist go, yanking you up by your hair to look at your face now, soaked and glistening, and you lick your lips with a mischievous little grin.

Satoru swipes at Shoko’s wetness, his eyes drinking you in, and he smirks a bit as he pulls your hair hard, like you enjoy it. “You better have enjoyed that, you’re not doing it again.” He whispers, you whine out pathetically, leaning up to kiss him, but he holds you just a bit off, to keep you needy.

“Never again why, that’s so amazing. Elite.” Shoko muses, adjusting herself then, breathless, but Satoru glares at her. “Yours, I get it crazy.”

“Mmhmm. She enjoys it too much, slutty brat.” Satoru says, kissing you then, and you make this mewling sound from the back of your throat, back to straddling him. Fuck you feel so good in his arms, so good on him, as he inhales that scent, sweet jasmine mixed with your heady arousal. Shoko giggles at you two, grabbing her purse and yanking a pack of cigarettes out.

“Bye you crazy kids.” The limo comes to a stop now, and Shoko stretches, pecking a kiss on your cheek, looking at her phone now. “I think I’ll beat his ass, sounds fun to me.”

“Bye, Shoko, thank you so much.” You say softly, and she smiles, a little sad looking now.

“I still feel like shit, but maybe it’s all for the best, you’ve got psycho ass Satoru now, hmm?” Satoru flips her off, and the two of you just laugh. Shoko waves as she steps out, and Satoru looks down at you, stroking your cheek.

“Ready to go home for a few, baby?”

“Baby, not slut? And home now huh? That’s quick.” You whisper, and he just thinks of you, on his bed, what if you never leave, just stay there naked, waiting. Fuck the thought has him leaking more pre cum, cock straining.

“I have a dress there for you, brat. Can’t have you out in this where we’re going, hot as it is.” You kiss him then, softly, cupping his face.

“Thank you, Toru, that’s thoughtful.” You say, and he scoffs, but at that look in your glittery eyes? Fuck.

“Tch, it’s nothing, I need to dress you up, like my little doll to use.” He says, running his fingers down your arms, and watching you ignite under that touch.

And just like that, Satoru’s world shifts, the anger is a constant, but it’s now tempered with this fierce love for you, and the desire to keep you safe, to keep you in his arms forever. The intense need to fuck you until you can’t remember anything else except for the feeling of him deep inside you, to make you cum until you can’t walk straight.

Fuck he needs to kiss you until you can’t breathe, to make you love him just as much as he loves you, because there was no turning back now, was there? And as the limo starts moving, he’s already thinking of all the ways he’s going to make that happen tonight, all the positions he’ll have you in, all the ways he’ll watch that perfect face in pleasure.

You’re straddling him, your hands on his shoulders as he kisses along your neck, making sure to bite you hard, your skin in his teeth, making you gasp as your head is against his shoulder, feeling his hardness beneath you. Satoru’s hand is squeezing your ass as he whispers into your ear.

“You’re mine, all mine, you know that right?” You exhale, pulling back a bit to look into his eyes.

“You’re so intense, Satoru Gojo. But yes, I know. I made that choice when I called you that night.” You brush back his hair carefully, fuck your touch feels so good to him, it’s hard to take. “Satoru…”

“Mmm, what brat?” He asks, squishing your breasts in his hand and watching your expression.

“Tell me something no one else knows about you.” And for a moment, Satoru Gojo is surprised, his eyes flickering to the side, for you’ve caught him off guard. He thinks of so much he wants to tell you, about himself, but he doesn’t even know where to start.

“That photo, I stole it from Suguru’s phone when you started dating.” He says, and you suck in a breath, eyes going wide. “It’s one of you in lingerie, that outfit that has crotchless panties and your tits out. The amount of times I’ve cum to it…”

“Yeah, you did? Stroke yourself to it?” You whisper as you grind on him, and he moans, yanking you even closer and pressing up, feeling the heat of your eager cunt against his clothed cock.

“I’m breaking you in half tonight for this fucking mouth. Still taste Shoko on you, you know that?” He huffs, and watches your eyes dilate, the pupils overtaking your lighter irises, like a little ring now.

“Do you like that too, Satoru?” You ask softly, and he exhales, pressing up again, watching your head tilt back, exposing more of your pretty throat for his kisses, his bites, his tongue as your heat enwraps his cock.

“Nothing like your taste, evil little brat. You consume me.” He grabs your waist as he keeps licking a trail up the side of your neck, he feels your nipples pressing against his chest. “I would picture fucking you on my desk, would stroke myself in my office looking at it.”

“You need more pictures of me, huh?” You tease, and he sighs, nodding, as the Limo stops once more.

“I have a set for you to wear, under that dress. I’ll tie you up and do a photoshoot like that.” You blush right in front of him, even in the dark, and he smiles at that. “Never been tied up?”

“Of course I haven’t been, crazy. You mean my wrists?” You ask, narrowing your eyes a bit.

“Nah, entire fucking body. Hang you from my ceiling. You blush everywhere, you know?”

“Shush. Letting your crazy ass tie me up seems like a bad decision, what if you keep me tied up!?” He smirks up at you, it’s like you’re reading his goddamn mind, of his baser instincts that he shoves deep down.

“Only one way to find out, but that’s after the date. We’re here, c’mon.” He taps your hips now, and the driver opens the door. Satoru stands and tips him, letting him know to wait for a while, before giving you his hand to step out, when you step in the house he can’t help but press you against a wall, slamming his lips down on yours brutally.

You melt into his arms, lips so pliable and sweet, and Satoru briefly considers fucking you against that wall, but he wants to make you beg, plead, and you’re already close to it. You whine out, reaching down to rub his aching cock now, making Satoru even harder, sticking to his fucking boxers, pressing into your hand.

“Let me suck you for a bit first, please?” You ask softly, and he chuckles just a bit, as he brushes his thumb down your full lower lip.

“Then get on your knees, you can see what you’ve been doing to me all damn day.” You drop right to your knees, and Satoru takes one hand, pulling at your hair as one braces on the wall, and you’re unzipping him, opening your mouth eagerly, Satoru shoves your face on him, feeling the back of your throat, so wet and tight. “Oh my… f-fuck… that’s it, take it down that throat.”

You’re sucking and licking so eagerly, as he uses your throat, looking down at eyes watering with tears that trickle down the corners, landing on your long lashes, dripping to your cheeks. You are so fucking beautiful when you cry, aren’t you? Satoru feels your throat constricting around his length as you suck a breath through your nose, just like he showed you.

“Wanna know how often I came to that picture?” You whine, nodding now and pulling back just a bit to suck him, lapping his precum out of his tip hungrily.

“Please tell me, please.” You beg, voice hoarse from his cock, then he pulls your hair even harder, hips snapping his cock into that perfect throat again and again, you make his entire body shiver with pleasure, as his mind wanders, eyes rolling back in his head at how perfect you feel.

“I would lay in bed at night, picturing all the ways I would have you, how I’d suck, bite and kiss your skin until you’re black and fucking blue. Pinch those nipples so hard they’re swollen, then I’d beat that nice little ass of yours too, hit it over and over till you’re covered in my handprints- ah fuck!”

You’re moaning around him, bobbing on him so good, fuck you’re such a good girl, aren’t you for him? Satoru pulls out then, your cheeks hollow as you suck so hard, until he pulls out with a pop, and sees you’re covered with slobber and drool, dazed out eyes eating him up from down there.

“Satoru do we really need a date?” You ask, and he is tilting your chin up, to stroke your cheek, as he leans down.

“You demanded one, needy little brat. My dick gets you that horny, doesn’t it?” You pout, nodding, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, fuck you make him stupidly happy, don’t you?

“The words more than anything, but of course this.” You kitten lick his tip, and he sucks in a breath at that, pulling back at how sensitive he is now.

“Well if you’re a good girl I’ll show you some of what I’ve wanted to do.” He eases you up now, and watches as you nearly fall, and he gives you a smirk. “Can’t even walk from sucking me? Why are you so pathetic, hmm?”

“You make me this way.” You kiss him then, and he tastes himself, your tongue still has his precum on it, making him moan. “You have good self control, I am afraid mine is shit.”

“Oh baby I’ve had to watch you for so long, I’m patient now.” You blink a bit now, lashes casting shadows under your eyes, where he notices you’ve put concealer to hide those circles you have lately. But it’s not like he’ll let you get any sleep, will he? “There’s a box on the kitchen counter, if you’re not too fucked out to make it there.”

“Fuck off, Toru.” You scowl, and he laughs at you as you stomp over to the kitchen now, taking the black box with blue ribbon, opening it, then you gasp. “Oh my, it's so gorgeous… it’s so fancy!”

“Go put it on. But look under it.” You lift the tissue paper, then he watches your face flush, as you lift the black lace. “You’ll wear that under the dress.”

“Yes, sir.” You’re teasing but you’re making his cock hard again, fuck Satoru is just edging himself, but it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy to do that anyway, to tease his tip and play and play until he hurt. Now you’re right here, and you’re looking up at him, a smile lighting up your face, and it stabs him in the chest.

Satoru Gojo doesn’t hate you.

Satoru Gojo never did.

Hate, no…

He’s loved you since he saw you.

Your POV

You never hated Satoru Gojo, did you?

No, quite the opposite.

As you sit next to him that night in this fancy, beautiful little restaurant, cozy and intimate in a red plush booth together, and you look at him as he studies the menu, it’s like something clutches at your heart. He’s so heartbreakingly beautiful, with his smooth, perfect skin, those high cheekbones, those pouty lips that are pursed as he thinks of what he wants.

The soft lighting of the restaurant makes his skin shimmer, the intimate glow of the table lighting casting little reflections in the hollows of his cheeks, casting a striking shadow. His hair is freshly brushed back, but just a bit falls in the front of his forehead, making your fingers itch to brush it back now, but he is brushing it back with long, elegant fingers.

He’s in this three piece suit, a dark blue, and you’re in a glittery navy blue dress, that hugs your curves perfectly, as if Satoru had measured you inch for inch. It has a slit that goes daringly up one thigh, revealing a garter that was pink leather with a metal heart. Satoru had rolled his eyes as you had squealed in excitement at the fact he’d gotten you something pink.

“You staring at me?” He says then, in that husky voice so teasing and conceited, his swirling blue eyes locking on yours, making your mouth go dry. You swallow a bit, nodding then, watching his lips turn up on one corner.

“Can’t help it, too gorgeous.” Your voice is soft, but you see just a hint of pink on his cheekbones, before he scoffs.

“Of course I am. Look at you though.” His gaze flickers, and you feel his looks like a caress as they rest on your neck, then to your collarbone, then lower and lower, heat pooling in your tummy. “Surprised we made it out of the house with you in this. This is how I would dress you, like my doll.”

“Your doll, hmm?” You whisper, he lets out a quiet sigh, leaning close and kissing you gently, just a brush of his sweet lips. “Is that freaky talk, Toru?”

“Maybe you’ll see later tonight. You’ll be up all night, better order something good to fill you up before I do.” You’re a mess now, squirming in your seat, thighs rubbing together as you crave friction, crave him. “Want me to order for you?”

“Please? I’m used to like… a winghouse or something.”

“Gotta get used to finer things.”

“You’ll keep me around, hmm?” Your hand rests on his muscled thigh, and he leans closer to you now, you inhale that expensive, tantalizing cologne in your nostrils, making them flare just a bit.

“You’re not going anywhere. Did you think I’d let you go so easy?” He snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him, your leg over his own as he keeps looking at the menu.

“Do you still hate me, Toru?” You ask, and he looks away then, as if contemplating something. You wonder at times if you’ll ever get in his head.

“I never hated you.” You blink in surprise then, in shock almost, gasping as he then holds up two fingers and three waiters clamor over, all women who are dying for a chance to serve him. “White or red wine?”

“Pink.” You snort as he scowls at you, then sighs, looking over at the wine menu and running a finger down it.

“A bottle of Rose, please.”

“Yay!”

He glares again, and you’re laughing behind your hand. “Then we’ll start with the Duck Pâté en Croûte…”

“Duck!?”

“Shut it, prissy brat. Let the master work here.” You just watch him, as he speaks oddly perfect french. “Also the cake d’alsace to start, then we’ll have filet mignons for the main course, pick whatever side you think is best here.”

“Yes, of course, such a good choice Mr. Gojo!” One of the pretty waitresses says, and he just looks back at you, smiling a bit.

“Dessert we’ll do the creme brulee and chocolate mousse. I think that’s everything we need for the night.” He hands them the menus, and they eagerly bounce off, well two of them, one leans forward to whisper in his ear, and he tenses a bit, before glaring at her. “I tip insanely well especially if you don’t flirt with me while I’m with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry… Mr. Gojo…” She blushes and runs off, and you look at him in surprise, smiling then.

“I’m your girlfriend, hmm?” He rolls his pretty eyes, long snowy lashes fluttering as he sighs.

“I won’t ask you.”

“Oh then maybe I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Then ask.” You both glare now, and then you laugh, caressing his face with your fingers softly. “I’m kidding. ‘Oh of course I’ll date you, Satoru’ there.”

“Didn’t ask.” You nudge him playfully, drooling practically at his smile.

“You’re so handsome when you’re smiling you know.” He pouts again, narrowing his eyes, and you sigh. “No really, I love it.”

“Yeah yeah, simp so hard for me, don’t you.” You roll your eyes at him, as they bring the bottle and appetizers, he pours you a glass himself, tilting the glass just so, before handing it to you.

“Maybe I do simp for you.” You admit, and he’s grinning again, he tries to hide it but it’s of no use, Satoru is having fun, and so are you.

Who would have thought.

His hand comes to cup your face, as he holds a little morsel of that crazy fancy food on a silver fork, and you part your lips, letting him pop it between. You chew then, eyes shutting, moaning a bit. “Fuck that’s yummy.”

“It is yummy.” He murmurs, and you gasp when he has slid a hand up your bare thigh, under the thick white tablecloth, making your body tense with stark desire. Your eyes open to see him studying you, those eyes so damn intense it’s hard to take. “So you tell me something no one knows.”

“You actually wanna get to know me? Because I’m your girlfriend?” You tease, only earning a rough squeeze on your thigh, bruising as he presses you down into that seat, making you so wet you can’t stand it. You want him so damn bad it hurts.

“You’re mine. Yes, you should tell me things now.”

“So demanding.” You scoff, as does he, then you sigh, taking a sip of the sweet Rose, with it’s tart aftertaste tickling your tongue. “Okay, well my parents um… left me when I was young.”

Satoru pauses then, his brows lowering. “Fuck them.”

You smile at that. “Yeah, they left me with my grandparents, who were sweet but we were very low income. I got picked on for having no money, for not having nice things, so I didn’t have many friends.”

“Fuck them too.” He sips his wine, and you raise your glass.

“Cheers to that.” Your glasses click, and fuck it feels good just to speak to him, for once no insane drama looming over you all. “So I ended up working my ass off from a young age, I bought what I could to sort of fit in, then I guess… boys started finding me pretty, so I ended up popular by default towards the end of high school. But I never felt like I fit in.”

“Why the Barbie bimbo aesthetic?”

“Well I never had barbies growing up, I had nothing really. So I sort of idolized her, she could do anything. I should show you my special collection.”

“No thanks.” You stick your tongue out and he smiles softly, hand soft on your skin again. “If you must.”

“I must, I collect all sorts of them, from the fifties and everything. Mmm, so yummy…” He’s putting another bite in your mouth now.

“So you got popular later. And you own that house don’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“I may have looked it up online and saw you on the deed.” You lean back, glaring up at him now, and he shrugs, taking a bite and looking far too sexy doing so. “What, can’t I be curious?”

“How often did you watch me?”

“Just at night, I worried someone would stalk you.”

“Like you!?”

“No, someone terrible who’d hurt you.” You look up at the fancy ceiling with all the hanging chandeliers then.

“No more of that, got it?”

“If you move in.”

“Satoru!”

“It’s for your own good. Hush now.” He’s slipping his hand between your thighs now, where you’re hot and soaking wet, and he moans softly, as your hips rock against your better judgement. “You like it, stop fucking lying. You like me so obsessed with you I can’t think.”

“Fuck off.” It’s true, there’s something mentally wrong with both of you, you lean your head on his shoulder then, clinging to his silky blue tie and crying out when he finds your sensitive clit with a rough finger in little circles.

“I won’t have to as much now that you’re mine.”

“That’s so… toxic… mmm…” He hums just a bit, pulling that finger back and sucking on it like it’s dessert, your mouth positively waters.

“So you had shit parents, and a rough childhood. That kind of explains the overt daddy issues.”

“Oh whatever. You wanted to be called daddy.” You whisper in his ear, nipping the lobe then, enjoying that suck in of his breath.

“Fuck you, brat.”

“Mmm, you should. Edging yourself all damn night.”

“Just wait, fuck you’re impatient.”

Your hand slides up his lap now, over his cock, and he jolts then, as you tease him right back.

You don’t make it for dessert, that is in the to-go boxes now.

Satoru strips you down, the dress slithering off your body as he avidly stares at you, as it falls to a pool around your ankles, onto the floor of his bedroom. Satoru exhales, stepping back and holding your hands, pulling you toward his giant bed now, eyes devouring you in the lingerie. Your breasts are spilling out, and it’s barely covering anything.

Your first instinct is to cover up just a bit, then Satoru is picking you up in his arms, carrying you and hoisting you up on the bed to sit, hands trembling just slightly as they work down your breasts, your waist, your hips. He squeezes your breasts, bending down and licking your nipples through the black lace, your head falls back as it feels so damn good you can’t take it.

Satoru’s free hand slinks across your tummy, it trembles under his touch, until it goes to your throat, cupping you under your chin and looking down at you. “I’m feeling generous, I’ll let you pick. Tie you up, overstimulate you, or I could cause you so much pain, leave you marked everywhere for me. What does my greedy brat want?”

You’re so nervous you’re shaking, as you want it but you don’t even know what he’s talking about, what all it means. “Um… let’s try the pain?”

“You’re cute.” He says softly, tapping your nose, then he leaves for just a few and comes back, with a wood paddle and whips, and you’re even more nervous when you see little nipple clamps and a silver dangling chain that connects them. “Nervous?”

“Y-yeah. I’m new to this sort of thing.”

“Suguru is vanilla huh?”

“I don’t wanna think of that.” Satoru sighs at that.

“You wish it never happened?” He attaches a collar to your throat, it looks like some goth choker Cho would wear with a chain, then he tugs firmly, pulling your breasts out of the cups of the lingerie, running the cold metal on them, making you gasp.

“I only don’t regret the time with both of you, because that was our first time, wasn’t it, Toru? Mmm…” His eyes flicker with emotion then, and you watch him gulp, before he’s easing the clamps, and you’re whimpering. “Ah- ah… Toru…”

“Our first time to me was that night you came to me. Because that’s when I got to do what I really wanted. All by myself, the only way it should be.” His husky voice gets rougher as he twists the clamps, and they’re steadily pinching your nipples now, getting hard between them. “Fuck they look pretty like this. I can’t wait to suck on them after, you’ll be so bruised.”

“Toru do you even use a safe word?” He chuckles, as he places little kisses down your throat, tickling your skin.

“Sure we can, let it be barbie. But you’ll like it, you’ll do so good for me, a perfect girl won’t you?” You nod eagerly, and then he’s flipping you over, letting your legs dangle off the bed, you’re still in your black heels you notice, but he’s down there, taking them off, one by one. “If you can take ten hits I’ll get you off with my mouth, if you can’t you’ll be choking on my cock. Got it?”

“I’m good with either- ow fuck!” He smacks the fuck out of you now, on your right ass cheek with a paddle, making you glare back at him, while he looks hungry, licking his lips.

“You’ll address me better than that. C’mon, baby, y’know what to call me.” He says, caressing that cheek now, it stings and burns.

Satoru’s POV

“Yes, Sir?” You ask tentatively, bracing for another hit, and he smirks behind you, as he watches you bent over.

“Arch that ass back more. There.” He cooes as you press it up, your ass and hips like some perfect heart over his bed. “I’d brace yourself.”

“Shit-ah!” You cry out as he smacks your other cheek, watching it jiggle perfectly as he’s hit you hard, the sound resounding in his quiet room with a loud smack. You’re shivering, head buried. “Was sir not right?”

“No, baby, it wasn’t right. But it’s okay, I’m enjoying this view.” Both of your ass cheeks have red whelps, and he’s stripping down slowly, loosening his tie and his belt buckle as he’s straining against his boxers. “How should you address me baby?”

“D-daddy. Ah!” He smacks you again, this time lower on your cheek, but not quite as hard, and you’re moaning, shifting your hips, he sees those puffy lips of your cunt so perfectly where your thighs have a gap, and he’s sliding his finger between them for just a moment, groaning as you whimper. “Please…”

“Please what, brat? You have six more. You determine how hard they are.” You take a breath, looking back at him with pretty tears in your eyes, making him even harder.

“Please touch me more, Daddy.” He moans at that, at how that name sounds from your lips, images of him making you a mommy fucking killing him. Now he’s envisioning you pregnant, and he’s yanking his shirt off, suddenly too hot.

“If you don’t make a noise for the next two I will. Can you, slutty little girl?” You nod eagerly, bracing yourself again, fuck you’re adorable, aren’t you? “It’ll hurt less if you relax.” He grips your hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples in your lower back, and you exhale, softening your stance. “Ready?”

You nod, then he hits you hard, right between your ass cheeks, over your overheating cunt, and he hears you suck in a breath, burying your face, but you don’t make a noise. He’s so proud of you, especially when he smacks you again, right on your thighs, where he knows it will hurt more, but you’re just quietly moaning into his blankets.

“You’re such a good girl. I don’t think you need more hits.” He puts his paddle down then, and caresses your ass cheeks, covered in red marks, but you look back at him again, lust overtaking your gorgeous face.

“I wanna be s’good for you, Daddy.” You whisper, then arch your back out more. “I can take the rest.”

Fuck.

“You can take four more? You sure, brat?”

“I can do it, promise.”

You like it, fuck you like it don’t you? Satoru bends down on his knees now, kissing where he’s marked, his breath merely teasing your cunt, fuck he’s wanted to lick it all night, but he wants you a mess, and you’re becoming one for him. He stands back up, grabbing the whip instead, stepping back and angling it on your right cheek, leaving another welp.

You keep your noises in, but he sees it, the wetness drooling from your cunt. “You’re making a mess, these carpets are expensive.”

“S-sorry, Daddy.” You’re so good, fuck.

“Three more, you ready?” You nod, and he smacks you again, again, then again… and you nearly fall, he has to wrap an arm around you before you collapse, knees knocking. Satoru cups your face gently, eyes searching yours for any sort of pain or fear, but your eyes…

They’re glazed over with desire, dilated.

“You did so good, baby.” He says softly, and your tears fall down your pretty face in streaks, as you sniffle, clinging to him then, slamming your lips on his, nearly knocking him to the floor with the ferocity.

“Please, please, please.” You whisper fervently, Satoru gently places you up in the center of his bed now, leaning over you on his arms, struck by your beauty as you’re sobbing under him.

“I’ll take care of you baby. I’ll take care of you.” He says softly, and watches as you sniffle, as your hips arch up, your ass must be throbbing huh? But you’re clinging to him desperately, then he’s kissing your lips, drinking in the rest of your sweet cries, tasting those salty tears, before he’s spreading your thighs, kissing down your throat, his mouth watering as he thinks of your pussy on his mouth again.

“Toru… need you. Need you.”

Fuck you need him?

Well Satoru needs you, on him, under him, a fucking mess.

Perfect.

Your POV

Satoru’s looking up at you with those beautiful blue eyes, and your ass is pulsating with brutal pain, but it only enhances your need for him, of how much you crave this man. He’s so sweet now, such a fucking contradiction, as he parts your glistening lips and swipes his tongue up, you damn near cum from just that, thighs shaking as you scream out.

He moans softly against you, his hands shoving your thighs up as his tongue swirls your clit, before he's sucking it into his mouth. You scream out in pleasure, hands entwining in his snowy white hair, as he hums on it and you feel the pleasure shooting through your body, mixed with the pain of the clamps and your stinging ass cheeks.

Satoru laps you up as you cum all over his face, drinking you with an eager tongue, now he is reaching up, tightening the clamps. The pain just makes you wetter as he then pulls on that chain, and it constricts your breath just so, on either side of your throat, licking more and more fervently.  You damn near can't take it, it's too many sensations at once, along with his blue eyes that look so lovingly at you.

You cum harder this time, this orgasm making your hips buck as you gush all over his mouth. Satoru moans, sliding up now and pinching your nipples again, you feel the tears start all over at the pain, and he looks at you so adoringly, so intensely, brushing your tears aside.

“Yeah, does it hurt baby?” You nod, jerky movements as your thighs quiver around his hips, and you feel that hot length on your inner thigh. “Want me to take em off? Gotta ask nicely.”

“Please d-daddy… mouth.” You're reduced to broken, nonsensical statements, yet again. Satoru makes you lose your sense of self, you forget how to move those lips.

“Okay baby. I'll take care of them.” He whispers, pulling the clamps off to reveal bruising nipples, which he tenderly kisses. You gasp, back arching into the hot embrace, jerking back when he sucks one into his mouth, so sore and aching you are crying more. “Mmm… you know how pretty you are crying?”

“Am I, Daddy?”

“You're so pretty. That mascara running down these cheeks… aw look, they're so puffy and red.” He pinches your nipples, and you let out shaky sobs as he cooes over you mockingly. But you're even wetter, hands reaching for his hips, pulling him down.

“Please, inside… me. Please oh please.” You whisper, pleadingly looking up at his pretty face, and his eyes dilate until they're so dark, and he is pulling your hips up as he holds his cock at the base, rubbing on your clit, making your face scrunch up in pleasure as it hits, you cum just when his tip presses in.

Satoru sucks a sore nipple again, eyes watching as you’re crying in pain, before shoving his cock inside you, so many fucking inches snug in your entrance, hitting your cervix on the first damn thrust. He releases your collar now, your cunt tightening around his cock as he slams into you, so deep, so rough, that you're sure he's going to split you in half.

But oh it feels so good, like nothing you’ve ever felt before, as you fall more into Satoru, the man that watches you, that stole pictures, that looked up your damn house. The same man that turned down a pretty waitress right in front of you, that’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the goddamn world, as his cock wrecks your pussy, and he wrecks your fucking mind.

You can't stop screaming, your throat hoarse as he hits that spot so good, that spot that makes your eyes roll back into your head, his thick leaky tip pressing again and again, until he’s flipped you, and you’re on top. You rock your hips, rolling them and resting your hands on his chest, and he’s moaning as he fucks up into you, sucking on your sore nipples, biting them and making tears fall down onto his face.

He’s fucking you so hard, you're bouncing on his cock, those bruised cheeks smacking against his hard thighs as you are slammed down his length, his hands brutal on your hips. Your thighs are sticky with your cum, dripping down to his stomach, mixing with his sweat in precum, sounding so loud and squishing so fucking obscene. Satoru slides his hands up your breasts, pinching them and making you shiver as you struggle to move.

“You’re so good for me, so fucking perfect. All mine, all fucking mine, aren’t you?” He whispers, yanking you down then, gripping your ass that’s covered in whelps, as you fall against his chest, your hair falling like a curtain to the side of you both.

“Yours, m’yours Toru.” You say softly, and he gasps then, his eyes fluttering shut, as you kiss him desperately, tongues entwining so fucking sloppy, and he’s steadily thrusting slower, but deeper, impossibly, you think you’ll break from it.

“Wanna be my little doll?” You nod eagerly, having no clue what he means. “Then stay really still, and don’t speak, can you? Let me use you.” You nod again, and Satoru groans, his movements getting erratic as he lifts your hips up and fucks into you, and you scream out, making him smack your cheek just slightly. “Stay still, dolls can’t move don’t you know?”

You get even wetter as you try to stay still, as Satoru cups your face, looking so deeply in your eyes, his cock making your inner walls throb, so fucking sore but you want more, more, more. You stay so quiet, tears still falling as his big hands brutally use your ass to bounce you, and your eyes roll back, as you bite your lip so hard you break the skin.

“That’s it, good girl. Good girl, my little doll. Just mine.” He cups your face then, flipping you, shoving your thighs up so high you’re going to be so sore, the stretch delicious as he presses you down with his weight. “I’m gonna fill my pretty doll up, that’s what you’re good for, cumming in, hmm?”

You don’t answer, and he grins, shoving his cock back in, holding your thighs down as he cups your face, eyes drinking you in as you’re sobbing at how good it feels, your nipples against his chest, his body dripping with sweat, your ass scraping against the blankets. He’s hitting that spot inside you, the one only he can hit, making you scream against your will.

“Sorry, sorry…” You whisper, and he huffs then, shaking his head, gulping as he grips your face so goddamn tight, squeezing your fucking skull.

“You’re mine, all mine. Aren’t you?” You nod eagerly, and he moans, and you can feel him thicken and throb, as he presses in so deep it hurts, and you’re shaking everywhere as you struggle to stay on this Earth, as Satoru becomes your Earth, your universe, your everything.

“Y-yours, all yours. Yours.” He moans then, kissing you before he’s coming deep inside you, your body milking him, making him pulse out everything he’s got, and he moans so loud, his cheeks flushing.

“Take all this cum, wanna get you pregnant baby. Yeah?”

“Yes, please… please.” You’re gripping him so tightly, cupping his face as he is, as he pumps you so goddamn full, filling you everywhere with those hot sticky ropes of cum, until you’re both trembling messes, kissing desperate, messy, sloppy.

And when he’s done,  his cock still deep, his eyes closed for just a moment before he blinks and looks at you, caressing your hair and looking at you like that? When you’re sobbing into his neck, feeling so empty and so full at the same time. “It’s okay baby, I got you. You did so good, you know that?”

“Satoru…” You’re huffing, your cheeks reddened, your eyes watery, as he eases your legs down, still nestled snug in your cunt, aftershocks making you both gasp, both whine.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He kisses your forehead, but you shake your head then, for once all this drama of Suguru, of everything was shoved back, and only one thing was completely clear.

“Satoru… I… I love you.” You whisper then, between your tears, a mumble, and Satoru Gojo pulls up, resting on his hands over you, his blue eyes wide.

Shit…

ao3 chap: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58179796/chapters/151141063

A/N: Stalking isn't cool, Gojo is hella toxic... but it's a yandere story you knew this lol.

this story is so good, i had to binge-read entirety since 1am. i'm definitely putting this on my top 5 reads. felt like i was in high-school all over again. talking feet-kicking, giggling, and smiling so hard your cheeks hurt vibes. thank you @celestie0 for this beautiful work of art. everyone, if you know what's good for you read this!!! please and thank you <3 note: story still in progress :)

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl

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

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

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 12/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.3k

a/n. man the color scheme for this chapter is kinda giving BRAT lolol...i mean gojo IS brat. anywho, i don't have much to say at the beginning of this chapter but i do have a LOT to say at the end of it sooo see y'all at the bottom!! hope u enjoy. also BIG THANK YOU to @whereflowerswenttodie who beta read parts of this chapter for me n convinced me not to scrap it lol

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

11:03am you: hi! 11:03am you: good luck today 11:03am you: incase i don’t see you

11:05am Gojo Satoru: Why wouldn’t you? Aren’t you gonna be on the field for your newsletter shots?

11:07am you: i mean yes but idk where i’m gonna be stationed so 11:07am you: it might not be on UTokyo’s side of the field

11:08am Gojo Satoru: Okay then I’ll look for you before the game starts

11:10am you: no pls don’t. coach yaga thinks i distract you. i don’t want to get yelled at again. he scares me :(

11:12am Gojo Satoru: Haha you’re silly 11:13am Gojo Satoru: East side entrance at 2 11:13am Gojo Satoru: Be there

11:14am you: or be square?

11:15am Gojo Satoru: Yea whatever shape you wanna be in is fine cutie

It’s a bright sunny day outside, perfectly blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds seen outside the window of your shared room in your apartment, and you realize spring is fully here from the way birds chirp past the glass. You’re stuffing your camera case full of chilled Kodak film rolls, your last stash left, and it’s the last piece of equipment you pack before slinging the strap over your shoulder and heading out the door.

Mina had offered to give you a ride to the stadium since your car’s still at the shop, but you’re happy you opted for the bumpy bus ride and although you come close to low-grade concussions from the bang of your head to the window at every other speed bump, the music in your ears while someone else is operating a public transport vehicle helps you think creatively before shooting shots.

It was surprise enough that Mina of all people was going to this game, and when you questioned her about it in the morning, she looked at you like you were absurd to assume anyone from UTokyo wouldn’t be at this game, and sure enough, it’s all anyone on Instagram has been repping on their stories or talking about in the bustling minutes before lectures. Even Utahime was going to this game, and she hates all intercollegiate sports. You knew the game was a big deal, given the way Coach Yaga was yelled at via email by the Dean of UTokyo to make sure the team wins today because a multimillion dollar Nike sponsorship would be greenlit by the prospect (for some reason you were cc’d in an email chain among divisional higher-ups, but you weren’t opposed to snooping in on conversations that were entirely outside of your tax bracket).

It’s because it’s the second to last home game before the season ends, and apparently this has been statistically the best season the UTokyo D1 Men’s Soccer team has played since the new millenia. No pressure to the players on that fact, but failure wasn’t much of an option for them anymore. 

And you can feel the stakes the second you step inside the stadium. Packed would be an understatement, there were people flooding the aisles, overbooked for the sake of the university pocketing an extra buck no doubt, but spectators could care less since they were able to at least get in on the basis of that irresponsibility in the first place, despite the stadium’s capacity having long been reached before the pregame festivities even start. Banners and signs drape over railings with the school’s striking blue and golden colors, every single replay screen is lit up and brightly pixelated at every north, south, east, and west entrance for inclusive viewing. As you pass VIP security and make it into the lower field-level entry, the scattered chants from the crowd amplify in volume and you almost wince a little to yourself from the noise. The stadium felt like a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of everyone inside. 

You’ve never been more overstimulated in your life, except instead of finding it frightening, it was electrifying. And for once, you think you can understand what an athlete must feel when playing on their own home turf surrounded by those that are wholeheartedly rooting for them.

Hana is quick to spot you, panic clear across her face as she regards you with a couple pages with your assigned vantage points, a rushed briefing session, and then she’s darting down the sidelines to make sure equipment is set up appropriately where needed. She’s understaffed, given you told Utahime about Kai’s little intervention last week and she made a nasty point to the university (and possibly a handful of legal threats) and they relented in firing him. So now the three of you were down a photographer, and the extra work shows in the instructions she gave you as you skim the sheets. 

A glance at your phone tells you it’s close to 2pm, and your eyes take in the expanse of green on the field. UTokyo’s players practice kicking shots off to the right goal post, while YCU’s players practice shots off to the left. You can’t spot where Gojo is, but you faithfully head down to the East Side entrance like he asked you to. 

When you round the corner, you almost crash right into an Ichiko mascot, but swiftly dodge, and then you stop in your tracks when you see Gojo standing right at the concrete entrance. He’s leaning back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed at his chest, and he’s stretching his neck side to side with a creased brow, an intense look in his eyes, lost in serious thought, scanning the wall across from him like he’s mapping out plays in his head. 

When you approach him and catch the corner of his eyesight, he leans off the wall and flashes you one of his so extremely charmed to see you grins on reflex, and suddenly there’s nothing your senses seem to pick up on except him. Like everything else around you just disappears.

“Hey, you,” he says when he comes up to you, and you walk him like a dog back to a corner that’s tucked further away from noises and sights. You lean your back against the wall now, the coolness of concrete seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and he stands a step in front of you. Your hands toy with the strap of your camera.

“Are you ready to win today?” you ask him, and look off to the right into the flourishing seats that are still being filled to the brim, “clearly there’s no pressure.”

He breathes in deep, and releases it slowly, like there really was tension to relieve. “We’ve got no choice but to win.”

“Is that something Coach Yaga says to you guys often?” you ask him, because the man recited the same thing about five times in that email chain. “Also, apparently you take years off of his life.” Another thing he recited about five times in that email chain.

Gojo only addresses what he wants to address, as per usual. “Yeah, it’s something he says to us often.” 

“So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

He looks at you puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

It’s hard to assume that he didn’t have something to talk about with the intention of telling you to meet him here, because this is the same place you confessed to him a few weeks ago, and so is also the place he so painfully rejected you. But maybe he doesn’t think about these kinds of things as much as you do. “I see.”

His tongue pokes to his cheek as he studies your anticipating expression, and then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “What are we doing? I mean, I like you, and you like me too, at least I hope you still do. Why don’t we—…why don’t we just give it a go already? I don’t see how we can move forward if you won’t at least let me take you out on a date.”

Your hands stop fidgeting with your camera strap from his words, and you lick your lips, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him so your gaze drifts down to his chest in front of you. His uniform is clean, no smudges of dirt or grass, just pure white fabric underneath heat-pressed blue and golden accents, and of course, that signature number 10. You’re sure he’s all you’ll ever think of when you see that number now for the rest of your life. 

You know when you want something so bad you don’t know what to do once you have it? Because it almost seems too good to be true? 

“I just wanted to let stuff between us breathe for a little bit,” you confess, “it’s just, it was a lot to deal with. Being around you when I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. I don’t know if this is odd to say, and maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just feel like somewhere along the way, I kind of…forgot who you were for a little bit.” This kind of vulnerability would have you running away with your tail between your legs with anyone else, but not with him. Not after everything. 

His expression softens, melting away that confrontational energy he had earlier, and he nods slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find words. The presence of them is there, though, you can feel them. But what good are his thoughts if not voiced? 

“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time getting to know you again, I guess.” You squeeze your arm in reassurance of yourself because he wasn’t giving it to you. You let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, to be honest.”

You can tell he’s at a crossroads, and you think back to this week and his efforts to get you to open up to him again. You know how he feels right now, because it’s exactly how you felt when he rejected you. Like when someone is so close, yet so far, you can feel that they’re within arms reach but never truly. And they’re slipping away for some reason that you may never know, but all you can do is assume that it’s a fault of your own. You’re not really sure what he can do to make you feel secure about this whole thing anymore, and you can see the slight panic in his eyes when he realizes that too.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he tells you, rushed with a desperation entirely contrary to his words, “what’s a week or two when I want to spend a lot more of those with you anyways.” But he takes a deep breath, like he’s already mentally preparing himself for an agonizing wait in his head.

There’s a sound over the stadium speakers, something technical and sporty and goes entirely over your head in dismissal, but to Gojo it seems to have a different effect, as he’s suddenly attentive and stands up straighter, that focused expression on his face from earlier resurfacing. You realize he needs to get back to the field. 

“Can we continue this conversation after the game?” he asks you hastily, already turning towards the center of the stadium. And he adds an obligatory, “sorry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quickly agree, suddenly feeling like you’re taking up his time. 

He gives you a small smile, unsure in its presentation but pure in its intention. But he can only take one step towards the field before you reach out and pinch the fabric of his jersey to keep him still. He feels the tug of it and fully faces you once again. 

“Um. Just a sec,” you say, “I have something to give you before your game.”

“Oh?” he looks at you with interest, “I fucking love things.” 

“You have to close your eyes though.”

“…what is the thing…” He squints at you with a what are you up to expression.

“Just close your eyes!” you snap at him.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face and then he closes his eyes. “You’re scary as hell sometimes. Excuse me for being cautious.”

You roll your eyes, useless because he doesn’t see it, and then take a step towards him. You cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, his cheek twitching slightly from the unexpected contact, and then you raise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his cheek. It’s short and sweet with the sound of a peck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, then you quickly lower yourself back onto your heels, take a step back and tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. The ground suddenly interests you.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times with shock and his hand comes up to brush the tips of his fingers against the spot you kissed him, and then his gaze goes comically dazed when he reaches out to hold you. “Alright, c’mere you,” he says, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he leans down to kiss you but you laugh and push his face away.

“No no no, only on the cheek for now,” you say with a small laugh.

He does nothing to restrain his frustrated groan. “You can’t do something that cute and then expect me to be chill about it.”

“If you win, then, maybe I’ll let you kiss me for real.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

He’s close, towering over you near this bustling east side entrance that he seems to like so much, and his eyes drop to your lips. “Alright. I like those odds.” 

You give him a smile and slip away from him to get back towards the field, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

The pregame events are a blur, with blaring music accompanied by the sounds of the sports announcers clipping across the speakers, finally quieted down in time for the players to line up on the field for the national anthem which was then followed by UTokyo’s alma mater. 

You’re stationed on the same side of the field as Minato, UTokyo’s side, while Hana is covering the sidelines of the opposite end with the opponents goal post. Minato’s filling up a cup of Gatorade for himself at the athlete’s station and then he comes back around to find you.

“Are you ready to take your shots? I see Hana wanted you to shoot on film today,” he says to you as he sloshes around Glacier Freeze in a flimsy plastic cup.

You twist your aperture dial with your thumb. “Yesss, all set. I’ll try to keep up.” 

He nods at you in approval.

The atmosphere feels nerve wracking. Something felt different about this game, the stakes feeling high. Well, of course they’re high, because if they lose today then they’re out of the tournament. But the stakes feel high for other reasons too, an energy you can pick up on but can’t quite discern. 

Your eyes drift across the field where you can see a referee placing a ball at the center of the field. Off to the right, you can see Gojo standing with a few of his other teammates, including Geto, Nanami, and Choso, and they’re all gesticulating to various corners of the field as they discuss what you can only imagine have to do with their plays for today. And you realize— it’s their last college soccer season. Their second-to-last official home match before the championship, and for those of them that haven’t qualified for the national league, it may be their second-to-last match of this caliber for the rest of their lives. One of the final chances that they have to prove something of themselves. The determination was palpable. 

The chief referee’s whistle cuts through the air with three short chirps, and that gathers the attention of all the players on the field. UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kickoff, and YCU’s players choose to attack the left side goal.

Your stomach churns with anticipation, the crowd hushing too as all the players take their places on the field. If you feel nervous, you can only imagine how the athletes feel. There’s a rhythm that you’ve learned over the past couple of months getting to know the sport, where players stretch out their necks and kick out their feet and take subtle deep breaths as they survey the stands. Idle moments before the start of the match where they have no choice but to look forward and only forward, so they take a moment to stay in the present for as long as they can gather. You’ve never been much of a sports spectator, and perhaps you’ve only recently had some personal interest in the team, but you realize you feel pride in your school as you stand behind chalk sideline and see UTokyo’s colors scattered across the field in uniform. And fuck, you wanted them to win. You wanted them to win with fierceness and wrath, and it’s a desire you share with the crowd. 

Gojo spends a minute talking to the referee before the black and white striped man pats him high on the back in the good sport and urges him towards the center of the field. He lifts his foot up onto the ball, rolling it back and forth underneath the spikes of his cleat, and you can see it in his eyes, even from all the way over here, that he seems to have different ideas in mind for this game too. High stakes. Pre-determined, set with will, evident in the clench of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he surveys the field with his eyes, and you’re lost in the sight for what feels like forever because you can hardly register the chirp of the ref’s whistle. 

And then the kickoff starts. 

The ball is tapped to Geto to start the play, and the first few minutes were intense as the ball was passed back and forth between UTokyo’s players, placing pressure on YCU’s defense as they inched closer and closer towards the goal. A pass between UTokyo’s #4 was intercepted by YCU and the ball was rushed down towards the left side, the crowd’s horror evident in the uproar as they raise to their feet in fearful anticipation, and with ruthless offense, YCU’s forward takes a clear sink shot towards the goal, and the crowd holds their breath before they watch Choso lunge for it in air, gloved hands firmly grabbing the ball and then pulling it to his chest with a possessiveness you can only expect to see from a skilled goalie, before he crashes down into the ground and the crowd releases relief in the form of rowdy roars.

Ten minutes in, with everyone on their toes, each team tested each other’s defenses. UTokyo were known for stellar offense, especially within the past few years with players like Gojo Satoru and Takuma Ino joining the league as powerful forwards, but UTokyo’s overall offense was still statistically second to none other than YCU. And the pressure YCU was putting on UTokyo’s defense was wearisome to say the least. You glance to see Nanami, who is UTokyo’s best defensive player, huffing and puffing as he stands between two light-footed YCU players in an attempt to guard, and fails an attempt to steal the ball before it gets to the feet of YCU’s striker #6, passed in a split second off to his teammate, with a fake so seamless that it has Choso just a couple inches away from touching the ball before it’s sent flying into the net. 

The noises from the crowd are still loud, but dampened in spirit. 

With the referees hand signal up in the air, the current score is confirmed. 0-1, YCU. 

Coach Yaga calls for a sub, in which he switches Nanami out for who you believe is a 2nd-year defensive player name Yuta you’ve seen around practice with a promising statistical record for interceptions, and you watch as Nanami takes the bench before he swipes the sweat off his face in exhaustion. God. Just fifteen minutes into the match, and YCU already has UTokyo’s defense winded from play. 

You bring your camera up to your face, forgetting for a moment that there was still a job to do here, and you position the direction of the lens towards the center of the field, where Gojo takes his place at the ball once more. Yuta briefly passes by him, signaling some play to him by holding up a number three, likely something Coach Yaga asked him to pass on to Gojo, and you see him briefly nod, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes slowly and pulls his jersey up to wipe at the sweat at his forehead. 

The referee chirps the whistle, Gojo taps the ball to Yuta, and the play starts. 

YCU immediately puts pressure on UTokyo’s offensive play once more, with eager movements to steal the ball, but it’s passed between UTokyo’s players with ease, more practiced and more sure. The kind of play that you and the rest of the school was used to seeing from them. However, Geto loses the ball on a left-back pass, but right when YCU makes attempts to cover field in a long-shot kick towards the left, Yuta intercepts the ball and swiftly passes it to Gojo.

The crowd immediately rises to their feet in anticipation, watching as Gojo shuffles the ball down the field, dangerously close to off-field boundaries, a signature tactic he uses because he knows there’s not a single player in the league that can match him in precision and control to keep the ball in-field on a steal, and he swiftly passes it towards Geto with a side-swept kick, beelining down towards the goal post, in perfect time for Geto pass-back to meet his feet and when Gojo was this close to a net, there was no stopping him. 

He draws his right foot back, and explosively kicks the ball forward, chipping the grass under it in the motion, and it’s sent flying towards the goal, and then threaded past the goalie right to the back of the net. The cheers that erupt across the stadium rumble the ground beneath you. 

1-1, even match.

UTokyo spends no time celebrating, other than a few pats to Gojo’s back as he nods in acknowledgement, no emotion on his face other than pure concentration and greed. The greed to win, like a righteous sin. He stretches his neck out, panting slightly as he takes his place towards the right side of the field and the referee chirps his whistle to signal YCU to start the kickoff.

They quickly make attempts in moving the ball towards their scoring-end of the field, but face push-back from UTokyo’s defense, unable to make it much further past the midfield line, and you bring your camera up to take a snap of Gojo, who you see is still standing off to the right side of the field. But when you position it and peer through the viewfinder, that space he once stood at was empty. You pull your camera down, and blink at the sight, and then the crowd is picking up in volume once more.

Gojo sprints down the flank, cutting past every defender, and moves towards YCU’s attacking goal, which was a shocking place to be for a center forward, but you could feel his desire and determination to steal this back-and-forth ball, and succeeds when YCU makes an open pass, thinking they were in the clear, only to have Gojo sneak in at the last moment and get the ball at his feet. 

The play moves by in a flash, a blur that you or anyone else in the stadium could hardly keep up with it, movements so fast you were shocked a human being was capable of even running that far in such a short amount of time, and in an almost embarrassingly easy play, Gojo makes a fool out of YCU’s defenders as he slips the ball through the legs of his last obstacle before he struck it with sharp precision, sending it soaring to the corner of the goal, past the outstretched arms of the goalie, and into the net. 

2-1, UTokyo.

It was electrifying, the feeling that strikes through the stadium, one that reaches you in your own blood. You’re shocked, standing here, after witnessing Gojo score two goals within the matter of minutes, against one of the top three teams in the league. It’s a shock that reaches everyone, including Coach Yaga who’s standing about ten feet down the line from you, his arms crossed, and you see his eyes for the first time as he takes his sunglasses off to get a better look at what he’s seeing.

You trail his sight, dragging your gaze across the field until it lands at Gojo, who is barely acknowledging the encouraging pats and shakes and goodhearted shoves that his teammates were giving him, because he was focused. It might sound crazy to say, but you swear his eyes looked like a fiercer shade of blue, like they were lit up, and you’re insanely glad you’re not one of YCU’s defensive players at the moment because you feel fearful of him even just standing on the sidelines. 

Your gaze trails back to Coach Yaga, who slowly puts his sunglasses back on but his brows are narrowed tightly as he crosses his arms over his chest tightly.

The “athletic zone”... You’ve heard of it before. A state of pure focus, of peak performance, where an athlete experiences optimal concentration and a sense of effortless control over their actions. In which they perform at their highest level, where time slows down, any and all distractions fade away, and they’re completely immersed in their sport at hand. At the task at hand.

Coach Yaga seems to pick up on the fact that Gojo was on the edge of tapping into that state. 

YCU makes a substitution, and you watch in anticipation as they begin the kickoff. 

There’s fire in their veins with desperation to even out the score once more, rushing the ball down the off-field line, one of their center forwards mimicking Gojo’s signature attack pattern, and Yuta struggles to keep up with the expert dribbling of a fourth-year player with more experience on him, so much so to where he completely leaves the ball unguarded and there’s an open shot, but Geto places pressure at the last moment, in a fierce battle for the ball, before YCU’s center forward loses the ball over the goal line. 

Choso picks the ball up, tapping on it harshly a few times as he surveys his eyes down the field, and all offensive players begin to shuffle towards their attacking goal in anticipation for the goal kick. He signals his hand down and then holds up two fingers in the air before placing the ball down on the six-yard box. He tightens the strap of one of his gloves, eyes squinting, and you follow his gaze down to a part of the field where you note UTokyo’s best aerial players are located and being guarded by YCU’s defense. And with complete trust in his team, that’s exactly where he kicks the ball. 

Geto makes first contact with the ball, his chest colliding with two other YCU players as his head comes out on top and he headbutts the ball closer towards the inner field, and Gojo immediately gains access to it with a bounce of his knee. The crowd holds their breath, fear that they’ll lose the ball to a steal in the split second it spends floating in the air, but Gojo urges it forward with a bounce off of his chest and then rushes it straight down towards the goal post. 

You wonder what sight he sees right now. Where you’re dead center, at no angle, lunging towards the sight of an open goal with a sole goalie standing in the center, anticipating to block your shot, and three defenders on your tail. There’s no room for error, no time to think, only instincts that you cultivate in the last leading milliseconds. They say that, in sports, athletes channel one hundred hours of practice in just a brief second on the field. A split second success that was years in the making. You can’t even imagine possessing that level of perfection in your body, or possessing that level of confidence that you can follow through with it in a moment as dire as this.

It was unreal, the way Gojo fades away from all the defenders, and faces no fear when confronted with the sight of the goalie in front of him while drawing his foot back to kick the ball. You lift your camera up at the last second, no time to think about aperture or ISO, just like he had no time to second-doubt a single twitch in his muscles, and his foot makes contact with the ball so harshly that you can hear the explosive sound even among the delirious cheers from the crowd, before he hook, line, and sinks it straight past the goalie’s head, rushing by like a scarcely deflected bullet, and into the net behind him. 

3-1, UTokyo.

The whole stadium is momentarily speechless, all players and referees and recruiters and reporters and coaches and employees alike, before the most deafening cheers you’ve ever heard in your life scatter across the stands.

There’s a moment of brief reprieve, where the players can catch their breath while YCU makes yet another substitution, as if they’re just trial-and-erroring it at this point, and the cheers in the stadiums remain idle as you can’t tear your gaze away from Gojo.

It’s one of those moments where you realize that someone who you thought was so familiar to you was actually someone you hardly knew at all. You knew he was a talented soccer player, everyone on campus knows it, potentially one of the best to ever grace the league, and the amount of times you passively watched his plays on a lecture hall projector screen as your professor enthusiastically broke them down during class, even before you met him, was good enough for you to realize that he was insane, a one-in-a-million, a talent you cannot replicate, one you have by divinity. One you were born with. 

And yet, somehow, getting to know him these past couple of months, he just felt so human. For someone so seemingly beyond you, he felt so…close? In those moments where it was just the two of you, it was hard to imagine that he was capable of such greatness, and that so many people were rooting for him with wholehearted tears in their eyes and cheers from their hearts, because most of the time, when he was with you, he was just a dorky idiot. You find that your heart is beating fast in your chest, that feeling of being unsure of what to do with what you’ve been wanting resurfacing powerfully. 

“This is insane,” you hear Minato say from beside you and you jump a little from your thoughts being interrupted.

You twiddle with your camera straps. “I know…almost done with the first half and we’re up 3-1…I thought YCU are number one in offense for the league?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, that is insane too. But what’s even more insane is that three of the goals so far have been scored by one player.” He tips his chin towards the right sight of the field and you trail his line of sight. “By Gojo Satoru.”

Your brow furrows as you watch Gojo, his hands on his hips and his mouth slightly open as he indulges in a few shallow breaths to gain energy while YCU prepares for kickoff. Three goals, by just one player. Your eyes widen when you realize that is insane, especially for a D1 semi-final qualifying match.

“You know what the divisional record is for most goals scored by a single player during a championship match, y/n?” Minato asks you as he lifts his camera up to take a picture of the area Gojo was standing in. 

You shake your head and wait for his response.

He drops his camera down and glances at the photo on his screen. “Four. During Keio Uni vs. Osaka Uni, near the beginning of the tournament back in 1997 by Osaka’s center forward number 24, Yuji Nakazawa. Meaning no one’s managed to beat that record since the new millenia, for a couple decades. Although a few players came close.”

You blink at him, and Minato is jerking his chin over in the direction of Gojo again.

“I think he’s trying to beat the record.”

You can only widen your eyes at Minato in realization, and then the chirp of the referee’s whistle draws everyone’s attention back to the field. 

The sports announcers go wild on the speakers, the crowd raving all the same, standing to their feet like the team just won the championship match.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! We are watching HISTORY in the making!! Gojo Satoru, UTokyo’s very own 3-year consecutive MVP, has scored his 34th goal of the season, highest of any player in this year’s season so far, and is now on the road to beat the league’s long-standing record for most goals scored by a single player in a championship match since 1997!!” And the crowd roars even louder as you stare out at the field in awe.

YCU starts the kickoff following the prompt short chirp of the referee’s whistle, and with two minutes remaining on the clock for the first half, make desperate attempts to book it down the field towards their attacking goal, one of their midfielders making a clumsy attempt to strike the ball to the net in the final minutes of the half, and Choso easily catches it in his arms, right before the buzzer of the timer sounds, and the match moves into halftime. 

All of UTokyo’s players immediately flock towards Gojo in sportful glee, finally having a chance to surround him and harass him with harsh pats on his back and ruffles of his hair for his play in the first half. Choso even puts him in a headlock because they all don’t know what else to do with their excitement and adrenaline rushing through their bodies. Their win for today was basically confirmed with the way he was playing. 

You catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of people, and he has a boyish grin on his face, reveling in the embarrassing amount of attention from his teammates, that focused look from before dissolving into his normal self again. But you can see through him, as well enough as you’ve learned to at least, and you can tell he’s not satisfied. He’s thinking it’s not enough. There’s still more to be done, and it’s not time to celebrate yet. 

His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you. 

Your heart jumps a second in your chest. He stands up straighter, despite his teammates still clinging to him, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes when your eyes meet. 

Cheerleaders take their place out onto the field, performing their numbers with loud music blaring, and the recruiters seated at their white tables get up to roam across the sidelines in discussion with referees and with Coach Yaga and with whatever players they can sink their greedy teeth into, as well as sneak at refreshments while they’re at it. You can see off to the right that Hana has reunited with Minato and she’s showing him some of the shots she took over at the opponent's side. 

UTokyo’s players start to make their way to the benches to grab for towels and drinks of water and to sprawl across in rest, and you hear loud familiar laughter approaching as you watch the players sprawl across the benches, so you avert your eyes towards the source of the sound. 

You see Gojo approaching the benches, two of his teammates slung with their arms around him in some type of adrenaline-drunken glee as they talk dramatically and theatrically which Gojo entertains with his own drunk-off-of-adrenaline glee. And you raise an eyebrow at his demeanor when he makes eye contact with you.

“There’s my freaky little photographer,” he says, and he’s standing up straight and—wait, is he puffing his chest out as he makes his way towards you? Oh for fucks sake.

Gojo has always been confident around you, for as long as you can remember, but in the fair few moments he’s been cocky, he’s been a menace. And you can only assume the testosterone-induced high of being on the verge of breaking a league record in front of the entire school then subsequently getting homiesexually praised by his teammates for the better part of the past five minutes, not to mention with the crowd and the reporters feeding his ego with a spoon across the speakers, he’s been transformed into the final boss of cocky.

His teammates surround you too, their hands on their hips as they assess you and Gojo when he meanders right up to you, arms held out to hug you, a sleazy sight you’ve seen probably six times this week, and you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks as you place a hand on his chest to keep him away.

“You’re sweaty and gross, please stay away from me,” you reprimand him, “this is an expensive lens that is not humidity-proof.” 

“Hey, you’re the girl that Kentaro socked in the face with a ball the other day at practice, right?” one of his teammates asks, leaning in towards you to take a closer look at your face.

“Oh yeahhh, ‘cause Satoru wasn’t paying attention,” another one of his teammates chimes in teasingly, hardly heard over the loud remix playing in the background as the cheerleaders continue to perform on the field. 

You shrink a little from where you stand. Gojo’s got an irritated look on his face and he’s shrugging his teammate’s elbow off of his shoulder.

“I really hope you’re getting my good angles,” his teammate to the left comments before winking at you, and you purse your lips together. 

The one on the right leans in too, looking at your cheek with an assessing look in his eye. “At least it didn’t leave a scar on your cute face—”

Gojo shoves the both of them back and away from you by elbowing them in the chest, and they make deep eugh noises before stepping away and rubbing at their sternums with pouts on their faces.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he grumbles, “she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flush slightly with warmth at the attention, and you watch as his teammates scurry away to adhere to some social hierarchy Gojo seems to possess over them.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

“Yes. Eventually. Whatever, did you see me out there?” he turns his torso towards the field and points behind himself with his thumb, “when I—”

“Oh god, you know what’s soooooooooo super sexy to me?” you interrupt him. “When guys are humble.”

“Oh c’monnn,” he curls his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, to where you stumble a little on grass and he holds you when you fall into him with more clumsiness than grace. “Tell me you aren’t at least impressed by me.”

You pout, because you are, and you’d really like to give him some reassurance and validation, but for some reason his cocky attitude is setting you off. “Satoru,” you sigh, wiggling a little in his hug, but he holds you tighter, “I’m working right now. Cut it out.”

He lets go of you at that, sober enough from the adrenaline to realize you’re being serious, but he steps into your space so only you can hear him. “What? Are you embarrassed?”

“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.

“Of me. Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks.

“No. Why would I be embarrassed of you?” you ask with sharpness.

“I don’t know, just, sometimes I feel like you’re always annoyed by me,” he says with a sigh. “It’s like, you’re really sweet sometimes, and then kinda rude out of nowhere, and it’s sort of messing with my head.”

You pout. “You were messing with my head for weeks.”

“And I’m sorry about that,” he quickly interjects, like he already knew you were brewing up that counterargument, “but you don’t have to act like you’re all disinterested and indifferent just to get back at me for it.” He places his hands on his hips and wipes his temple on the round part of his shoulder when he feels a drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. “You don’t have to act embarrassed around me either.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you deny, and your cheeks feel hot, and for some reason you feel angry. “In fact, I’m the one that should be asking you that question. Because I still very clearly remember that time you said I was just someone you know in front of your friends.”

He groans and tilts his head back with frustration. “Can you just let that go? Things have changed between us since then. Move on.” 

“You kissed me and then pretended I was just a stranger to you in front of your friends,” you grit as you cross your arms. “That’s the level of sincerity that I know from you, Satoru.”

“Oh, okay, so there’s nothing else I’ve done that shows you that I’m serious about you?” he asks rhetorically with incredulity, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

No. That’s not true, not true at all. But he’s pissed you off now and so all logic was to the wind. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re not embarassed of me, and if you’re really serious about me this time, then fucking prove it.” You’re speaking out of spite, and you fear you’ve just set him off too.

“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the microphone straight out from a passing reporter’s hand, replacing it with a gatorade bottle. The reporter stares at the bottle he’s now holding with confusion. “I will.”

“W-Wait—” you squeak out, feeling the hair at the back of your neck bristle in anticipation and a shiver gets sent down your spine. The cheerleaders are making their way off the field at the end of their routine, and you can hear the thumps across the loud boisterous speakers when Gojo whacks his palm to the microphone to make sure the thing was on before he jogs to the center of the field.

The crowd is already cheering, ecstatic to see the afternoon's star player and pride & joy of their school, and Gojo takes a moment to soak in all the glory in comical appreciation with bowing towards all 360 degree angles of the stadium.

“Uhhh,” you hear Choso from beside you, who’s strapping his thick goalie gloves tightly to his wrists, “Why the fuck does Satoru have a microphone while standing in the middle of the field.”

“It can’t be for any publicly decent reason,” Geto muses.

All you can do is watch.

“Hi, uh,” Gojo starts, static blaring slightly across the speakers and the crowd winces with him, “sorry. I’m Satoru, Gojo Satoru, you might know me from—uh, the game you’ve been watching?”

Cheers all around, because as if a single person wouldn’t know who he is. The stands were rowdy and most definitely drunk off of sidestep beers the stadium has been serving all afternoon long. 

Gojo is about to continue speaking, when he catches sight of the table of recruiters in the corner of his eye and he turns to face them out of respect. “Oh, yeah, uh, number 10,” he tugs his jersey up at the shoulder to stretch out the fabric, the 1 and the 0 flattened in view, “division player ID 233-997. Coach Yaga keeps my business cards in his purse if you want one.”

“SAAAAATTOOORRUUUU!!!!!” you hear Coach Yaga yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Anywho,” Gojo continues, and the music dims slightly, so he glances at the stop clock on the screen, which shows him he’s got roughly five minutes left to pull off whatever idiocracy he had in mind before the second half of the game starts. “Just here to say that there’s this girl I really like.”

The crowd gets louder, almost deafening, and sonically mostly feminine in (delusional) hope he’s gonna name call one of them.

Gojo’s voice is crisp and clear through the speakers as he clarifies. “She’s standing over there,” he says as he nonchalantly points to your exact latitude and longitudinal direction, “with the big camera slung around her neck that looks like it could pull her down to the center of the earth. Yeah. She’s super cute and I really like talking to her.”

“Uh-oh,” Geto murmurs from beside you, and you glance at him to try to get a read on the situation but you can’t.

Gojo starts to pace across the center of the field now, like he’s working the crowd. “But get this—she thinks I’m not fuckin’ serious about her!!!”

The crowd groans with him in unison. Yep, most certainly drunk. Or high off of glee. Either way, he’s playing them like a violin.

“Huh?” Gojo’s voice sounds distant now, away from the mic, and you can see on the large pixelated screen that he’s being interrupted by someone that looks like one of the videographers, “oh, what’s that? This is being broadcasted? Uh-huh. Oh. I’m not allowed to cuss? Oh fuck, okay. Er— shit, okay. Wait—shoot, okay.”

Choso’s smirk is heard from beside you, and you catch Geto and Nanami shaking their heads in your periphery.

“LIKE I SAID,” Gojo continues into the mic, “the girl I like thinks I’m just messing around, so. Uh. To show her that I’m serious about her, I’m gonna…” He looks up at the sky to ponder, and you can hear people shouting all sorts of suggestions of nonsense from the crowd. And instead of saying proclaim my undying affection for her through a romantic soliloquy straight from my heart in the presence of the entire school, he says—“I’m gonna strip. Yes. Down to my tighty whities, Imma strip.”

H–

Huh?!?!?

You don’t even have time to be horrified or scared, you’re just bewildered beyond belief that that’s what he came up with.

What the fuck kind of reassurance did you ask for. And what the fuck kind of reassurance were you about to get?

The crowd goes wild, it’s no surprise to say everyone and their mothers wants to see him naked, even the straight dudes would dig it for the gym inspo. And he points straight to you, sleazy look on his face and you’re going to ignore the fact that he just winked at you too as he crosses his arms to hold the hem of his jersey and pulls it up over his head in the most raunchy and slutty way a man can take his shirt off.

The music manager is quick with the bit, and is most definitely a fellow Gen Z college student, because Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack (ft. Timbaland) starts playing across the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.

“Ayo why’s Satoru Magic Mike’ing the field right now?” one of his other teammates calls out through a mouthful of protein bar, “What the fuck did I miss?”

The cameraman does God’s work in a hella zoom-in of Gojo’s sweat glistened abs, then pans up the naked expanse of the perfect taut skin across his chest, and you can’t help but stare even among all your horror. It’s like when a male bird embarrasses the fuck outta himself to attract a female bird sitting on a perch, except instead of within the context of a NatGeo documentary, this was your real life. Everyone wants him, but he’s making a fool out of himself for you. 

He pretends to stretch his arms up into the air, a cover-up to flex his biceps, and then he kicks his cleats off, and the socks come off too. Entirely unnecessary, as showing one's ankles is simply too slutty, but alas he’s a whore. And when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his shorts, and there’s anticipating screeching from the crowd, he finally gets chased by security. 

Except he’s an intercollegiate D1 athlete, why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to outrun a bunch of dudes in black?

The camerawork on him is phenomenal as he runs across the sidelines of the field, eliciting a wave down the bleachers. So good in fact that you’re pretty sure the camera man could shoot for the Olympic track and field, with the way the stadium’s got a clear sight of Gojo mouthing the lyrics Them other fuckers don’t know how to act from the song still blaring with satirical rage on his face as he makes a fool of the men chasing him around the perimeter of the field.

And then he does it, drops his shorts, discards them with a kick, and he’s down to his tighty whities as promised. Cameraman has got to be displaying some previously undiscovered level of talent as he zeroes in on a shot of said tighty whities, with Gojo’s—forgive me, I need to be crass—huge bulge prominent in Big Dick Energy fashion except his tighty whities have little red hearts in rows across the fabric so do with that duality what you will.

He’s outrun security with a steady grin on his face as he eats up the drunken crowd’s cheers and riots and roars and you feel like you’re the only sane person in this stadium, or maybe you’re just not used to the fanatics of a college sports crowd. You peep the men in black trailed all the way on the left side of the field where they abandoned their pursuit of Gojo.

He taps imaginary pockets at his thighs, very muscular thighs you take indulgence in noticing, as if he expected to find something there, and he looks around when he doesn’t. He shrugs and grabs the microphone of the next passing sports commentator he spots, and then he makes his way back to you.

His breathing is a little shallow, and he inhales deep to catch his breath. “Baby.” The crowd SCREAMS at the way he purrs the word into the mic. “Will you do me the honor,” he’s huffing and puffing, heard across blaring speakers, “of being my lawfully wedded girlfriend?” And then he holds the mic to your lips.

“W-Wha—” you stutter, and there’s chanting across the crowd with words that barely make sense until you finally realize they’ve started to yell say yes! say yes! say yes! “Oh my gosh, okay, yes, fine, now please, for the love of god, put some freaking clothes on!”

The crowd goes wild with cheerful glees, and Gojo shoots fists up in the air in celebration as he runs all the way towards the center of the field with high knees, and you’re gawking at the sight, before he falls backward onto the grass and makes delirious snow angels on the ground. You see Coach Yaga’s vein popping in his neck from pure agitation as he storms off towards the center of the field to knock some sense into Gojo, but you know that Coach Yaga can’t kick him out, because they still have a game to win. The perks of being the most valued player in the league is getting to act like an absolutely insane idiot because you know they still need you in the end to bring it home.

You glance to the right, seeing his teammates nodding slowly then getting back to wrapping athletic tape around ankles and stretching out shoulders, with immediate acceptance of his actions like it wasn’t even out of character for him to do. And you realize again that you don’t know Gojo as well as you think you do.

And then the halftime timer is up.

You see Gojo approach the benches in a quick jog, squeezing some water into his mouth with his green gatorade squirt bottle, and when your eyes flit up to the screens on all four entrances, you see that the cameramen are still all focused on him accompanied by the continued buzz of conversation among the crowd following his public spectacle. But he seems to already be past any semblance of embarrassment as he takes the attention with ease, before he glances up to make eye contact with you and then lightly jogs right up to you.

“Did that prove to you that I’m not embarrassed of you?” he asks you, cocking a brow with a smug look on his face as he gets all up in your personal space. 

“I don’t know, but I’m certainly thoroughly and expeditiously embarrassed of you now,” you say, cheeks feeling flush when he leans forward so he can make eye contact with you at eye level. “I’ll have to move to a different country.”

His grin is relaxed. “Yeah well you asked for it.”

“Maybe. But I underestimated what a lunatic you are.”

“You’re my girlfriend now, you’ve gotta get used to it.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Satoru–”

“Tomorrow,” he cuts you off, “Hinode pier. I’ll pick you up at six. It’s a date, so wear something cute. And preferably easy to take off.” And then he’s attentive to the chirp of the referee’s whistle in the air before jogging backwards towards the feel and eventually turns on his heel towards the field while you’re left with warm cheeks and a heart that felt like it was moving at a mile a minute.

The timer for the second half refreshes on the screen while you loosely hold your camera in your shaking hands. It occurs to you that you haven’t taken a single photo of him before the start of the kickoff, and so you bring the piece of consolidated metal up to your eyes, peering through the viewfinder and focusing it on the center of the field. And there he was. Your muse.

Gojo lets out a breath, which you can see even from here that it’s shaky and staggered with resistance, and he lifts his jersey up to swipe at the sweat trickling down his face as he eyes the ball underneath YCU’s player’s foot just prior to the start of the second half. There it was—that look again of pure focus. 

3-1, forty-five minutes on the clock. And the referee chirps the whistle to start the second half.

It’s immediately evident that YCU has returned to the field following halftime with renewed energy, pressing high down the flank relentlessly past UTokyo’s defense, so fast it was hard for anybody to even keep a steady eye on the ball with the fluidity of their passes. The persistence pays off in the fake double-pass that slips past Geto’s feet, a moment of hesitation in the broken flow of UTokyo’s defense, and one of YCU’s strikers has the perfect line of shot towards the goal before digging his foot under the ball and sending it flying towards the corner of the goal post, scoring themselves a goal within just the first five minutes of play.

3-2.

The pressure mounts at the next kickoff, and with about seven minutes of solid play, with back-and-forth passes, multiple attempts at both goal posts to no avail on either side, it was clear that exhaustion was bustling in the veins of all the players.

One of YCU’s offensive players seems to capitalize on this, jumping on a defensive lapse of a pass Nanami attempted to make towards Yuta, and the ball is swiftly stolen then raced back towards the goal post. Choso prepared himself at the line, light on his feet paired with a solid stance, but in a millisecond of a moment, YCU’s offense unexpectedly passes the ball to a player racing up the midfield, and the player chips the ball neatly into the exposed corner of the goal despite Choso’s attempt to lunge for it in mid air.

Equalized, 3-3 game, momentary shock across the players’ faces, and the crowd bustles with something that sounds less like glee and more life fear. YCU was prepared to live up to and hold onto their title as the league’s number one offense, and as Minato explained to you during your time working in this job, an offensive team isn’t good at scoring goals, but rather exceptional at breaking down the other team’s defense.

Your eyes zero in on Geto, who stands in the center of the field for kickoff, and he’s huffing and puffing. He's the lead of defense for the team, and you can only imagine the level of pressure he feels right now. He glances around to his players, over to Nanami who seemed to share the same level of exhaustion, and then he glances towards Gojo who stood in front of him off to the right. Except you notice that Gojo looks relaxed, albeit still exhausted, but there’s a composed expression on his face even in the moment of heightened stakes. With locked eyes, Geto nods at Gojo and raises two fingers up into the air to signal a play, of which Gojo seems to respond to by closing more distance between him and the goal post prior to the kickoff, positioning himself almost directly in front of it, to which YCU’s defense immediately begin to guard him in a tight radius. 

The kickoff begins, with Geto making a few passbacks with Nanami as they close distance towards the field before passing it off to UTokyo’s string of offense and then receding back to their defending goal. UTokyo continues to close distance, raising stakes for YCU as their defense begins to falter under pressure, and the ball gets passed to Gojo, who only keeps it in possession for less than three seconds before he passes it back to Yuuji, a risky decision to make in the second half of a semifinal match, but the first-year swiftly unleashes a powerful shot that rockets past YCU’s goalkeeper, up towards the corner, except–

It bounces off the metal of the goal post, shot off with projectile speed back towards the center of the field, but with razor-sharp reflexes, Gojo headbutts the ball in air, twists his torso and strikes the ball with his foot past a dumbfounded goalie who can’t even move an inch to guard the ball that he already knew was going to sink right into the goal, and that’s exactly what it does. 

The stadium erupts with the momentum.

4-3, UTokyo. 

It was a sweet moment, one you manage to capture on camera of Gojo running up to Yuuji and ruffling his hair in reassurance, despite the missed goal. Your heart feels warm in your chest, feeling your own sense of melancholy that this was one of the last times they’ll ever get to play together on a team. 

Your eyes widen when you glance at the scoreboard, realizing that he’s tied. Gojo is tied for the most goals scored during a championship match. There were less than three minutes left on the clock. UTokyo either preserves their lead, or they risk moving into overtime, which, judging by the exhaustion on the UTokyo players’ faces in the wake of YCU’s relentless offense this entire game, moving into overtime would be a hefty, hefty risk. 

YCU’s center forward takes his place in the center of the field, fire evident in his eyes as he glances across the field. YCU are light on their feet, channeling everything in their bodies into these last moments of the game as they prepare to start the kickoff. You glance across UTokyo’s players, and although they look spent, there was a resolute look to all of them. It wasn’t the time to give up or feel at ease even near the end of this grueling battle. Now was the time to play. 

The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.

YCU immediately presses hard, as all their other plays have been all game, in their desperation to score. You can already see UTokyo’s midfielders move sluggishly in comparison to YCU’s offense, a drag to their feet as YCU pushes past the first layer of defense towards their attacking goal. Geto takes an aggressive approach, making moves to steal the ball while Nanami and Yuta guarded both flanks, and there was a relentless pass-off happening that ate up more than a minute of the remaining time.

Nanami succeeds in stealing the ball, but immediately loses it under his feet by a YCU midfielder, who makes a broad pass down the sidelines to YCU’s star forward who then powerfully kicks the ball towards the unguarded area of their goal, a dangerous shot that was clear towards the crossbar and Choso makes a leap for it, high into the air, his glove brushing against the ball, the entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation–

And the ball lands in the net. 

4-4, tied game. With one minute and seventeen seconds left on the clock. 

There was no time wasted in getting back to center field. No time spent dwelling in the horrific roars of the crowd as they watch with anxiety and fear. No time spent to process or consider or signal any plays. Not even a single second used to catch breath. When there is this much at stake, an athlete thrives on momentum. 

To your surprise, Gojo isn’t the one that takes place at the center of the field to start the kickoff. Yuta stands there instead, and you notice his eyes are erratic as he surveys all corners of the field. 

The referee chirps his whistle. 

Yuta immediately passes it off to the side to UTokyo’s midfielder, who curls it towards their attacking goal with a swift pass to Ino, who closes distance towards the goal, but one of YCU’s defender slips in, undoing any progress they had made in their offense by stealing the ball and sending it back towards mid-field. Forty-three seconds. The crowd’s roars heightened as YCU continued to push forward, thirty yards now from scoring, and UTokyo’s defense was desperate to stop them but their momentum was cracking in the wake of their exhaustion. 

It was a moment you don’t think you could ever fully or truly recall, one that you wish you had focused all your energy and attention to so that you could commit it to memory for the rest of your life. The image of Gojo pushing all the way to ten yards before their defending goal, a place where no center forward should really be at in a game like this, but it was exactly what their defense needed. It was exactly what the team needed. It was exactly what the school needed. For the ball to be in his possession.

With twenty-two seconds left on the clock, he steals the ball from right under YCU’s offensive feet, and then charges towards the opposite side of the field. The crowd rises to their feet, thunderous roaring that overtook any and all senses, as Gojo weaves through forwards, center forwards, midfielders, and defenders, covering the entire span of the field in lightning time. Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty hards, ten yards–

In a moment you couldn’t believe, he digs his foot underneath the ball, and sends it flying out towards the goal. There was not even a margin of an inch in which it slipped past the goalie’s hands, past his head, and swiftly flew right into the net.

With three-two-one seconds, the match was over. 

5-4, UTokyo’s win.

The final whistle blew, and for a moment, there was silence. As if the world paused to catch its breath. Then, all at once, the crowd erupted with glee that shook the entire stadium at its core. Flags waving, scarves held high, toasts of beer held up to the sky, it was deafening, and it almost makes you want to cry. Thousands of voices shouting in unison, celebrating the hard-fought victory of their school’s team. A type of pride that was fostered, and well-deserved, and long-lived.

You quickly glance towards the field again, and see Gojo standing right at the same spot where he had kicked the last and final goal, staring towards the net. You can’t see the expression on his face, but it surprises you how still he is. Like a statue, staring at the goal with the ball tucked into its corner. The very epitome of what it means to succeed in this sport was right in front of him, and it seemed like he wanted to soak the visual in for as long as he could.

His trance is abruptly interrupted when his teammates swarm in, rushing over like a wave of pure adrenaline. They slap him on the back, ruffle his hair, shout his name, the sounds of gleeful disbelief mixed with exhausted sighs of relief swarming into the air. And Gojo finally melts away from the tension of the match and into the celebration as he weakly returns the embraces of his teammates while he catches his breath. 

“IT’S OFFICIAL!! IT’S OFFICIAL!! UTOKYO’S VERY OWN GOJO SATORU HAS OBLITERATED OSAKA UNIVERSITY’S RECORD FOR MOST GOALS SCORED BY A SINGLE PLAYER IN A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!!” 

The speakers are blaring the voices of the sports announcers, along with ambient music to match the intensity of the match that everyone had just witnessed. 

You should probably be doing your job. You know, take a picture of the huddle of players on the field as they bask in the glory of a close victory, but instead your feet start moving on their own. Like a magnet drawn to him, you make your way towards Gojo, only a slight hesitation in your step as you stop about ten feet away, suddenly unsure. But when he makes eye contact with you, all that fear melts away.

He hastily pats the backs of some of his teammates, acknowledging their praise at the center of the huddle before tightly squeezing past them to make his way over to you. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of pride in your school’s team, but more importantly, in him. What was the acceptable thing to do? Run to him, into his arms, and hug him while he twirls you around? Tackle him to the grassy ground? Kiss him like your life depended on it? You have no clue what the acceptable or sane or normal thing to do is. But he’s made his decision for you when he walks right up to you, his hands holding your waist as he pulls you towards him. He smells earthy, of grass and salt and sweat and of all the hard work he poured into today, the wear and tear of the game evident in the wear and tear of his jersey. He only manages to huff out an exhale at the sight of you, like some relief washing over him just by looking into your eyes. Forget the fact that the crowd was all watching and that all of the screens you could see past his head were focused on the two of you, because all you could hear or see or think was him.

“I believe you owe me a kiss,” he says, huffing as he catches his breath but that doesn’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face.

You nod your head, giving him your own version of a sweet smile as your arms slide up past his shoulders, crossing behind his neck, and he leans down to kiss you.

You hear a swell from the crowd, some teasing comments off in the distance from some of his teammates, you’re pretty sure you hear Coach Yaga yelling at him to get back to the benches, but it all melts away with the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he kisses you at the center of this stadium.

It was a moment so pure, so sweet, so picture perfect, and for once, you’re not the one behind the camera taking the photo. You’re the one that’s in it.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of kickoff ch12]

a/n. aaa thanks a lot for reading!! pls the fucking public stripping scene was so stupid i apologize on behalf of kickoff gojo for his behavior 😂😂 i’ll put him in his cage dw this chapter had some of what i consider to be the most challenging aspects of writing for me (internal conflict, grand public gesture, sports jargon) and so writing it felt like an uphill battle the ENTIRE time i wrote it and edited it. i considered scrapping it sooo many times cuz i just wasn't happy w it...but whatever i can't expect to be 100% happy w every chapter i put out there haha. i think kickoff has become a lil sacred for me since i've been working on it for a while now but likeee...sometimes u just gotta say fuck it we ball (tbh kickoff gojo probably says that to himself before a match) anywho, i am veryy thoroughly excited for what i've got planned for the chapters to follow, especially moving into the last angsty arc before the end of the series!! so i look forward to picking up momentum w this series again :0 honestly chapters 10 through 12 were the most difficult things i've written so far for a lot of reasons, but i have a feeling things will go more smoothly for me creatively going forward since what i've got planned falls well within my writing comfort range oh also there seems to be a little confusion about the number of chapters left, as i know i had originally said 12, but i anticipate that there will be about 18 chapters of kickoff total!! so still around six chapters left before the end :)) much lovee thanks for reading!!

OH WAIT ONE LAST NOTE I'M SORRY i didn’t really have a way of organically incorporating this into the story n i’m not sure if i’ll get a chance to in the upcoming chapters, so i just wanted to share this part of ch7 (gojo’s pov chapter) that is relevant to this chapter:

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

the record that gojo broke in this chapter is the same record that his father almost broke before he got the call that he was going to be a dad :0 

➸ you're all caught up!

additional notes. please do not pressure me for updates or ask when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)

taglist:

@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@wynney @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

@phoenix-eclipses @who-can-touch-my-boob @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance

@foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress

@tsukikourito @pickuptruck01 @gabriiiiiiii @4y3sh4 @tiredflame132

@cliosunshine @btszn @izayas-rings @semra4 @ethereally-lyann

@drthymby @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010

@joemama-2 @horisdope @banenemilk @nanasukii28 @spindyl

@ri-sa20 @thexmistress @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @sashisuslover

@chwesuh-imnida @megumisthirdog @imjustaweirdnerd @angelicscribe

[taglist is closed]

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thank you gege for creating the love of my life but ****** for everything else

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traveling is literally the most exhausting experience but so worth it ✈️

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FIRST WORD — girl dad!gojo satoru

girl dad satoru, established relationship (you’re married, it is indicated that you have two other kids besides the little one that appears in this drabble), nanami cameo, suggestive credits at the end (breeding hinted, just to be safe), sry this lowkey sucks + not proofread, i typed it out in 10 mins but i hope you enjoy!

satoru is trying really hard to get his little daughter to say “papa”, but oh well

“come on, my life — say it”

satoru, crouched down before the baby chair where his little daughter is sitting, a picture of his face in one hand while the other alternates between pointing at the photo and then at his face, slowly repeats, over and over, with utmost perseverance and patience, the first word he wishes his little one would utter—

“pa-pa”, he carefully speaks, syllable by syllable. “pa-pa”, and again. “come on, baby — at least you don’t betray me, i know you’re papa’s girl — come on now, say it”, he pleads.

this has been going on for the past few weeks.

your entire house currently looks like the room of a teenager where it’s posters on the walls and little trinkets on the shelves, courtesy of heavy hyperfixations. but instead of posters and trinkets it’s your husband’s face, everywhere. kitchen, living room, hallways, your baby’s room — every-single-where and every-single-surface and wall has the photograph of your husband’s face on it. he even purchased custom-made plushies and toys of himself, some of which are hanging from the musical baby mobile above your daughter’s crib — but instead of music it’s his voice, teaching his toddler through made-up songs how to say ‘papa’.

“satoru, don’t you think this is a little bit, um— “, you once brought up, pausing to clear your throat, trying your best to sound softer while you say this. knowing how sensitive he is about the matter, and how devoted to have this innocuous win — “…too much? hm, love? it’s like you’re… brainwashing the baby…”

lips immediately pursed, satoru pouted under his nose — “easy for you to say, our two other kids said ‘mama’ first — effortlessly, at that. let me have this one at least”

okay, you shrugged and backed off.

and this morning, as you sipped on your coffee, you silently watched your husband in the kitchen — kneeled down before the baby chair, going about his educational routine.

after he was done with the photos, he took your daughter’s hand and pressed her fingers on his lips, while he kept repeating the word ‘papa’. he said that this method allows the baby to see the way your mouth moves as you speak but also hear and feel the sound all at the same time. (he sure has read a lot of things on the internet)

but your little one remained silent, only giggling here and there as she poked around her father’s face, completely refusing to cooperate with him despite his desperate attempts.

it is an endearing sight, really. part of you felt pity for your husband, you cannot lie. he was trying so hard, and for what...

all of a sudden,

the doorbell rings.

“i’ll take it”, you quickly pad over to open the door.

it’s nanami — dropping by with some baked treats for the kids, as he often does. your children love him a lot. during dinner gatherings he always sneaks away to read them bedtime stories. even though he doesn’t look like the type on the surface, he sure has a soft spot for children. and, truth be told, they are all naturally drawn to him as well. maybe it’s his calm demeanor and the sense of safety he brings along with his presence.

“ah, thank you — these look so delicious, i am sure the kids will die for a bite”, you chime, as you guide him into the kitchen.

“oh— nanami, it’s you”, satoru casually points out without even turning his head to greet him, his eyes glued on his little daughter… who seems to be looking elsewhere, past her father…

…at nanami.

a bit bothered by that, satoru shifts a little bit to the side, to block the view — to, once again, be the main focus in his daughter’s eyes. but, alas…

she tilts her head, googly eyes glancing at the blond man behind her father.

she opens her mouth, a giggle first escapes, and then—

“na-na—”, she pauses… “—mi” — a beam of laughter and her hands reaching forward, pointing at nanami.

silence in the kitchen befalls.

you cover your mouth with a hand, trying to prevent yourself from bursting into laughter. it’s tragic but funny at the same time, and you know — in just a few seconds the real baby in this room will not be your daughter.

“nanami”, satoru slowly stands up, shoulders hanging low and voice — monotone and stern. “get out”

p.s.: satoru makes a scene. he is absolutely devastated. you have to drag him away and pick up the pieces and calm him down. and, of course, he thinks — the only way to make things better is to give him another child. a new opportunity…and you need to get down to business, now. while nanami is babysitting downstairs.

coming soonnn, taglist is open 🫶🤍

chapters of us (a bookstore romance)

ᰔ series. chapters of us (a bookstore romance)

ᰔ pairing. - architect/carpenter gojo satoru x bookstore owner reader

ᰔ summary. your love life is as quiet as the shelves of your bookstore. seeking a change, you sign up for a dating app and become captivated by a picture-less/nameless profile—belonging to none other than gojo satoru, a charming architect with a complicated past. your online connection sparks with undeniable chemistry, but you remain unaware that the man you’re drawn to is also your neighbor next door. when he unexpectedly walks into your cozy bookstore, your world shifts. as you navigate feelings for both the mystery man online and the neighbor who feels like a heartbeat away, hidden truths loom over you. can love blossom amid secrets, or will the shadows of your pasts eclipse your stories before it even begins?

ᰔ word count. tbs

ᰔ fic warnings. contains explicit sexual content, guy-next-door, romantic tension, rough sex, age difference (gojo is 32, reader 23), themes of self-doubt, angst, insecurities, heartbreak, and emotional trauma. explicit smut, rough sex, self-destructive behavior, violence, he falls first and is down bad, illnesses, divorce, complicated relationship/pining, alcohol use. happy ending. ᰔ genre/tags. age difference (9 years), neighbors to lovers, slow burn, romantic tension, emotional depth, self-discovery, secrets, heartbreak, healing. 18+ ᰔ status: in progress ᰔ ao3 + wattpad

ᰔ navigation: chapter list: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | epilogue

ᰔ story details: c.o.u q&a, gallery: gojo’s aesthetic, readers aesthetic, bookstore, workshop, gojo headcannons, ᰔ taglist: — (open! comment if you'd like to be tagged for future chapters)

© chiyokoemilia. please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works.