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lovelybotblog · 20 days ago

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GOOD LUCK BABE

when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night / with your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife / and when you think about me, all of those years ago / you're standing face to face with "i told you so"

pairing: shoko x fem!reader contents: angst, angst, angst, no curses au, reader is rich, reader is addressed with she/her pronouns, childhood friends to ???, no-curse au, some gojo x reader, alcohol consumption, smoking and weed wordcount: 4k

“Do you like him?”

You’re twenty-one the second time Shoko asks you this question. You’re out on the balcony, attempting to ignore the loud yelling and music being blasted from the small apartment behind you. You lean over the railing, looking down at the people below you. Shoko takes another drag of her cigarette. She glances back at the closed door behind you. She can easily catch the white blob of hair amongst the partygoers.

“Of course I do! You’re all my best friends.”

You both know that it’s not what Shoko means.

“Yeah, but do you like him?” Shoko repeats, and you pout when you realise that she’s not letting you off the hook. You send her a look while gently tapping your fingers against the railing. Shoko’s eyes follow the movement, trying not to glare at the diamond ring on your finger.

You grew up different; Shoko knows that. Whereas she and Suguru grew up relatively normal, had parents who worked simple jobs and came home to cook dinner, you and Satoru were raised by maids and strict rules. She supposes this is the reason you’re so nonchalant about all this. Whereas Shoko as always had the choice, you never had. Still, it bothers her how willingly you let yourself be captured, how little you fight for the freedom to be your own person. She wishes she could shake you till you understood, but instead, she’s stuck here on this shitty balcony, hoping that you might answer her question truthfully for once. She takes another drag of her cigarette, inhaling deeply and hoping that you won’t notice how tense her shoulders are.

“It doesn’t matter if I like him,” you say, shrugging. You glance over at Shoko, and something passes between you for a moment. Your eyes flicker to her lips, still wrapped around her cigarette. It’s barely a second before you’re making eye contact again.

“I’m just happy my parents chose Gojo and not that asshole from Zenin Enterprises.”

You’re twenty when you go to a bar for the first time. It’s your birthday, officially the last one to turn twenty out of the four of you. It’s the first time in six months that you managed to get together. After you graduated, Satoru immediately started working at his dad's company; you and Shoko started at separate universities; and Suguru… well, none of you really know what he’s doing. Shoko recalls him saying he has some kind of sales job that causes him to travel a lot.

By this time, purple circles have settled under Shoko’s eyes, and cigarettes are a staple in her purse. In all honesty, she doesn’t want to be here. It’s a fancy place—more of a club than a bar, really. Satoru’s choice, of course. There’s no way that you picked this place.

You look stunning. Dressed in a top and a mini skirt, you look both expensive and endlessly tempting. You’ve already drank some at your place, where you all started, and you’re pleasantly giggly, hanging on Satoru's arm. Shoko wishes you’d hang off her like that, but recently there’s been a weird divide between you. You’re hard to get a hold of.

You catch her eyes and smile. “You look nice tonight, Sho,” you say, lips curling teasingly as you reach out to pull a piece of hair behind her ear. “Your hair has gotten longer,” you add with a hum.

Shoko shrugs. Suguru and Satoru are talking about something that she’s not a part of, so she moves closer to you. “How have you been?” she asks casually, trying to act like she isn’t hanging off every word you say.

“Come dance with me,” you reply, grabbing her hand and pulling her out on the dancefloor. Shoko follows you wordlessly. She’s never been much for dancing, but for you, she’ll make an exception.

“I’m alright,” you say. “School is hard,” you add, and Shoko follows the way your body moves, easily falling into a rhythm with the music. She wonders why you couldn’t have this conversation at the bar, but in a way, she’s happy that she doesn’t have to share you with the boys for a while. Your fingers are intertwined as you both ignore everyone else on the crowded dance floor. It’s hot, and the music blasts from the speakers beside the DJ, all contributing to making Shoko feel dizzy.

“What about you, Sho?” you ask, dancing closer.

“School is hard,” she repeats after you, grinning when you roll your eyes. You dance for a little while longer, silence creating a distance between you. Shoko wonders why it’s like this all of a sudden. You used to always be close; the silence between you was never uncomfortable like this.

“I miss you,” Shoko says. She doesn’t even know why she says it. These are the kinds of things Shoko feels in silence. She never shares them with other people. But for some reason, she can’t stand the thought of not being able to share it with you. You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“I’m dating Satoru.”

Cutting Shoko open with a scalpel would probably have hurt less. The music becomes white noise, the room feels small, and the air becomes hard to breathe. She looks towards the bar where Satoru’s talking with Suguru. As if on queue, Satoru looks up from his conversation to look at the two of you. He smiles at Shoko when their eyes meet. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. Bastard. It’s always him, isn’t it?

“I need a cigarette,” Shoko mumbles, walking towards the smoking area of the club.

“Sho,” you say, following her as she makes her way through the dancefloor towards the doors with the smoking sign. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you say, and Shoko shakes her head as she pushes the door open and exits onto a small rooftop. The air is chilly, and there are several people already there, smoking and talking.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat as Shoko lights her cigarette and takes a long drag. “Will you at least look at me?”

She does. Soft, kind brown eyes locked on you. You’ve always revelled in Shoko’s attention. It made you feel special to be deserving of it, for a person who’s usually nonchalant and seemingly careless, that you were interesting enough. Even when she would tease you and push your buttons, you liked it.

You don’t like it right now.

“Why?” Shoko asks. Your brows knit together.

“Shoko, I’m sorry if you’re mad–”’

“No. Why him?” Shoko interrupts. She takes another drag before blowing the smoke off to the side. You frown.

“You promised you’d stop smoking,” you say, and Shoko laughs.

“Is it your parents?” she asks, stepping closer. Smoke fills your lungs as she blows some onto your face. You turn to the side, but she grabs your chin and makes you look at her. “Is it you? Do you like him?” She asks. You frown.

“Yes,” you reply, though it’s half-hearted and soft.

“Speak up,” Shoko says, but you don’t. Your brows are furrowed, and there’s a little pout on your lips. Your hands come to tug on her shirt as if you’re beckoning her to come closer, but she doesn’t, not even bothering to look down at where you’re holding onto her.

She feels an awful desire to kiss you, to show you what liking—no, loving—someone really is. She doesn’t fight it when she leans in, pressing your lips together. This kiss is much different from any kiss you’ve shared before. It’s meaner, more desperate. As if Shoko is trying to put every word she won’t speak into this moment, lips moving against lips. Your fingers move from her shirt up to her neck, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

Shoko tastes like smoke and the beer she took three sips off when you first arrived. It’s deprived; how good it all feels to let go. Then you part and you gasp for air for a few seconds before you step back, wiping your hands in your shirt and turning around, disappearing into the bar.

You’re fifteen when you say the words that make Shoko take the first drag of a cigarette. You’re sitting on the floor in your room, watching some show that you begged her to see. Shoko can’t even remember which one it was, although it doesn’t matter all that much. You’re huddled close together, giggling whenever the main characters do something funny. Your eyes are on the screen, but Shoko can’t help but look at you.

It’s dark out. She should’ve been home hours ago, but your parents aren’t home—they never are—and the maid left hours ago.

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Sho?” you ask. Shoko blinks, turning to look at the TV again. A kiss scene is unfolding. Fairly innocent, she thinks. She looks back at you to find you already looking. Your faces are awfully close, only illuminated by the blue light from the show still going, though it’s all background noise at this point.

“No,” Shoko replies bluntly. You smile, your cheeks heating up as you lean in closer.

“Do you want to?” you ask. It’s innocent. You’re smiling, your eyes darting down to Shoko’s lips for a second before they’re back up.

“I don’t know,” Shoko replies. Already at fourteen, she hates how she feels around you. There’s something disarming about you that makes Shoko lose all her cool and turn into a complete puddle of weird, awkward teenage mess. Her heart always seems to hammer in her chest, and her hands feel clammy.

“We could try, you know,” you say. You’re so close now that Shoko can feel your breath on her lips, smell the fruit rolls you ate earlier. It’s so very you, so sweet. Blood roars in her ears, and she doesn’t say anything, afraid her voice might betray her.

“For practice,” you add, and Shoko finds herself nodding along. For practice, sure. She ignores the gnawing feeling in her chest, the looming knowledge that she can never come back from this. Shoko has never been much interested in love or boys. She’s always opted for medical books and crime mysteries instead of chick flicks. Though with you, it’s always been different. You could rope her into watching The Notebook and Titanic as many times as you wanted if it meant Shoko got to spend time with you.

“Is this okay?” you ask, placing your hand on Shoko’s cheek, and she nods again. “Yeah,” she replies, almost breathless. You’re so close now.

So so close.

It’s innocent. There’s no tongue, no great big sparks. Yet Shoko feels electric. Your lips are soft. So soft. And despite how blunt you were just seconds ago, you feel shy now all of a sudden, pulling away with flushed cheeks and a sort of dazed look on your face.

“Thank you,” is all you can think to say, and it makes Shoko snort at your reaction. This causes a giggle to be pulled from you as well, and you sit there for a while, just lingering in each other's presence, high on the experience of your first kiss together. It’s innocent, sweet. Shoko wishes she could bottle up the feelings you give her and save them from the rot she’s already feeling building up inside of her.

She reaches for your cheek and pulls you in for a second kiss. You let her, getting braver this time. Your lips move against each other. It’s inexperienced and clumsy, but Shoko wouldn’t have it any other way.

Then you whisper the god-forsaken words.

“I wish you were a boy, Sho.”

And Shoko feels the rot fester in her gut.

“I should go,” she replies, stumbling out of your room and down the hall of your obscenely large house. She ignores your calls for her as she slips down through your kitchen.

She stops in her tracks when she notices the small packet on the counter. The maid must’ve left it, she thinks to herself as she picks it up and inspects it. Shoko and you have spied on her during enough smoke breaks to know. Two cigarettes left. She glances at the door. You haven’t followed her downstairs. She puts the box in her pocket and walks out your front door.

How can two cigarettes hurt?

You’re twenty-three when you walk down the aisle in a beautiful white dress. Shoko watches from the fourth row, right next to Nanami. You and Satoru stand in front of the altar. Suguru sits on the front row with Satoru’s family. You hadn’t asked Shoko to sit with yours.

The vows are formal. Clinical, almost. As though someone else wrote them for you, as though neither you nor Satoru actually feel the things you say. Nonetheless, you look blinding in your dress, even more blinding as you walk down the aisle and lock eyes with Shoko.

She smiles at you. Purple rings have become more prominent under her eyes during the past few months. She’s told you they’re from late-night cramming and studying, and while that’s not technically untrue, there's another reason why she sleeps so badly as well. You smile back, and Shoko feels the green little thorn in her stomach reach just a little deeper.

“Why are you looking all gloomy?”

It’s playful. There’s no ill intent behind it. Satoru, as always, pretends to be unaware of anything that might start an uncomfortable conversation, instead resorting to acting like a fool. Shoko sighs.

“Fuck off,” she says, though there’s no edge in her tone. She can’t ever really hate Satoru. No one can. That’s what's so annoying about him. Satoru walks forward and joins Shoko on the balcony from the venue of your wedding afterparty. Shoko doesn’t know where you are. Probably somewhere entertaining your guests, pretending that this is the happiest night of your life.

Satoru eyes the cigarette between Shoko’s fingers as she takes another drag.

“I thought you were quitting.”

“School’s been stressful.”

“Ah,” Satoru nods, resting his arms on the railing and looking out over the city. It’s a peaceful night. The sky is clear, though you can’t see the stars due to the light of the city. Shoko exhales.

“Are you doing alright, Shoko? You seem distant,” Satoru asks, eyes trained on the view in front of them. Shoko hums.

“I’m alright,”

They stand like that for a while, neither of them saying anything. Shoko wonders if she should just tell Satoru everything. About how she’s in love with his wife and has been for years. How she wakes up in the middle of the night, gasping for air and chasing dreams of you. You with your soft lips and pretty smile. You who never flinches away, you who remains the centre of Shoko’s world no matter how hard she tries to untangle herself from your web of love and praise.

She imagines it wouldn’t go down well. Even if Satoru has married you out of duty, she knows he still loves you. Maybe not as a wife, but as a companion. You’ve known each other for so long, known that you were promised to each other since you were mere children.

“Ah, fuck, I better go save my wife.”

The moment has passed. Shoko looks back towards the glass doors to the party. You’re stuck talking to some elders. Shoko doesn’t know who they are, but she assumes they’re from Gojo’s family. You glance towards the balcony. “Save me,” you mouth, and both Shoko and Satoru snort.

“Duty calls,” he sings as he walks past Shoko. He looks back over his shoulder once. “Come back once you’ve finished that one, okay?”

You’re eighteen when you all huddle together on the floor in Suguru’s room, giggling and whispering about the joint that the boys somehow managed to secure. Suguru lights it and takes the first inhale. Satoru follows, cheeks immediately turning pink and a dopey smile settling on his lips as he passes it to Shoko. You watch Shoko curiously before she hands it to you.

Carefully, you fold it between your two fingers, eyeing the little roll carefully. “How do I do it?” you ask, and Shoko snorts. Satoru is giggly already, lying down and putting his head in Suguru’s lap. Suguru looks mostly unaffected, yet he cracks a smile and pinches Satoru’s cheek.

“You put it between your lips, and then you inhale. You gotta feel it all the way in your lungs,” Shoko explains. You try to do as she says, but when you exhale, barely any smoke comes out. Suguru chuckles.

"Yeah, that was not an inhale,” he says, and you poke your tongue at him. Shoko moves closer to you, ignoring Suguru as she puts her hand on your thigh.

“Try again,” she says, and you do, looking at her at the same time. Shoko smiles, and you choke, coughing out some as you feel tears prickling in your eyes. Shoko rubs a soothing hand along your thigh while Satoru laughs. You pat your chest, coughing furiously as tears run down your cheek and Shoko smiles at you.

So cute.

“C’mere,” she says, once your coughing has subsided. You pout at her, but move closer nevertheless, till you’re in her lap. The boys are quiet now, watching your exchange as Shoko puts a hand on your waist, taking the joint from your fingers with the other.

“You ready?” she asks, and you nod wordlessly. Slowly, she inhales before leaning into you, blowing into your mouth. This time you inhale, puffing your chest out in a manner that makes Shoko grin. You exhale again, and Shoko pats your cheek rewardingly.

“Good girl,” she mutters, and your jaw drops. Suguru coughs, and you can hear Satoru’s giggle increasing as you climb out of her lap and grab the joint again. Shoko smiles at you. The knowing kind that makes you want to bash your head into a wall. You ignore the heat in your cheeks as you peel your eyes away from her.

“Okay, I can do it myself now, thank you,” you say, taking a big inhale. You hold it for a few seconds before exhaling again, white smoke leaving your lungs.

“There you go,” Satoru says, flashing you his perfect white teeth. You frown and take another drag, for good measure, before Suguru takes the joint from you.

“Woah, there,” he says, raising a brow at you. “This is your first time, right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, already feeling lightheaded. “So what?”

“Might want to take it easy,” he says. You don't bother to reply, instead looking back at Shoko. She’s leaned back, resting on her elbows. She meets your gaze, tilting her head to the side. Taking you in. Examining you. You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, but you don’t break eye contact.

Then she nods at you. A tiny one, barely noticeable. You almost think you imagine it, if it isn’t for the teasing look in her eyes.

An invitation.

You don’t hesitate to take it, climbing over and promptly laying your head in her lap. Shoko laughs, but she lets you, adjusting herself so she can sit up and play with your hair. You hum, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around her. You feel light, pleasant.

“Someone’s feeling touchy,” Shoko says, smiling as she watches your brows knit together. She brings a finger down, running it over the crease formed between your eyebrows, forcing you to relax.

“You’re my best friend, Sho.” Your voice is airy. “I’m allowed to feel touchy.”

You’re twenty when you kiss Shoko for the second time before slipping inside the crowded bar again. Shoko waits a few minutes before she follows you back in. She can still feel your pillowy lips and taste the gloss you wear. She feels dizzy, almost, under the neon lights, but she’s unsure if it’s the alcohol and nicotine or just you.

Her eyes land on the table where she saw Satoru and Suguru earlier. The white blob of hair is easy to spot; it always is. Even when you’re running your fingers through them.

Ah.

Even when you run your fingers through Satoru’s hair while you kiss him stupid. His hands are on your hips, pulling you in. She can’t see your face, only your back. In a way, she’s glad. It makes the whole ordeal much easier.

“There you are.”

Suguru moves towards her, smiling casually when she turns to look at him.

“I assume she’s told you?” he muses, nodding his head towards the two of you. Suguru’s hands are in his pockets, and his hair is tied back. Shoko shrugs.

“Yeah,” Shoko says. She looks at you again before turning back to Suguru. “How long have you known?” she asks, and Suguru scratches his neck and hums.

“About a month,” he says. Shoko shifts from one foot to another and nods. A month. A month and you didn’t tell her. She scoffs. Suguru raises a brow.

“Are you upset?”

“No,”

“Alright,” there’s a teasing edge to Suguru’s tone that tells her he doesn’t quite believe her. Shoko’s brows narrow, and she feels her fingers itching for another cigarette.

She gives you a last glance before pulling Suguru out with her for another cigarette. If you wanna kiss boys in bars, then so be it.

You’re twenty-six when Shoko opens her door in the middle of the night and finds you on her doorstep, completely drenched from the rain.

“I’m afraid there’s something rotten inside of me,” you say, and if your eyes weren’t brimming with tears, Shoko might have blamed your wet cheeks on the rain and tried to shrug it off, but it feels impossible with the way you stand there with red rims around your eyes. “I’m afraid that there’s something wrong with me, and it’s only a matter of time before you all figure it out,” you repeat, almost gasping for air as if each word brings you physical pain to speak.

And Shoko steps aside, because what else can she do. How could she turn you away when you’re all she’s ever wanted, all she’s ever loved. Yet none of you make another move to do anything else as Shoko stands with the closed door behind her and you stand in the middle of her living room, your soaked clothes dripping in a puddle underneath you.

“What’s going on?” Shoko asks. Your lips are downturned and your brows are furrowed, and you look so miserable that it makes Shoko’s stomach churn.

“I don’t love him.”

A beat.

Shoko stares. Your eyes are trained on the puddle beneath you.

“You were right. It doesn’t feel right when I’m with him. He’s my best friend, but—”

“Why are you here?” Shoko interrupts. She rubs the bridge of her nose, taking in a deep breath.

“Sho-” you stumble across the room, but Shoko places a hand up and you stop in your tracks.

“Stay there,” she says, and you frown.

“I’m sorry, okay. I should’ve listened to you,” you say, knowing that it won’t help anything but saying it anyway.

Shoko always thought she would feel satisfaction in this moment. Some sense of superiority. To be able to say “I told you so” with a smile dancing on her lips. That all of it—all of the rot and pain—would be worth it once you realised you were wrong. Instead, she just feels bitter.

“Yeah. You should have.”

She realises she’s wasted so much time. Waiting, and waiting, and waiting. And for what? Shoko sighs.

“You should leave.”

thank you for reading!

i'm satoru when i get high btw. very giggly, very happy, very in love with all of my friends.

tagging @madaqueue since you asked, my munchkin. <3

masterlist | divider by enchanthings

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lovelybotblog · 21 days ago

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…spider-man gojo

credit aliyartss on instagram

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lovelybotblog · 1 month ago

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It's him he's the princess

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lovelybotblog · 3 months ago

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People need to write more Suguru Geto fluff because every time I click that damn “suguru geto” tag nine out of ten posts are some hella crazy thirsty shit 😭😭😭 LIKE COME ONNNN I just want to read someone holding his hand and telling him everything is gonna be okay

#geto #suguru geto #jjk suguru #geto suguru #jjk imagine

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lovelybotblog · 3 months ago

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bed quem !

“– Who’s that cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent? ”

satoru gojo! x female reader!

summary: You're at a party hosted by the company you work when fate brings you together with the most breathtaking man you've ever seen with a unique sense of humor, but, can you play along? contents: slight use of "y/n", suggestive, cursing, sunshine x grumpy, fluff, non-curse au word count: 8k

The investment fund you worked for, one of the great pioneers in the New York economy business, was throwing a party to celebrate the merger with a Japanese company, several exchanges of partners and workers between countries were already underway, and you were one of the workers who benefited with a promotion.

So at the same time you credited a small part of the celebration to your position as one of the new company's controllers. And also your colleagues in the area, because from time to time they came up to you to congratulate you.

“Hey, y/n!” You heard a voice calling you in a festive tone.

You looked around trying to find where that voice was coming from through the speakers that were playing electronic music louder than the normal for an executive event. The owner of the company loved to rock his parties, you could describe it as unforgettable and overdoing.

You were surrounded by people talking and dancing, your vision under the liquors you acquired during the night made your vision poorer and the phosphorescent colored lasers that ran throughout the event hall blinded you when they passed through your sight.

“Congratulations.” You felt the hairs on your neck stand up when you felt an unfamiliar grip on your shoulder, the warmth exuded from the voice meeting the flesh of your ear.

You glanced over your shoulder, taking a preemptive step back. “Jackson.” You greeted.

"If I was harsh with you earlier, it was because I wanted to motivate you." It was one of your male colleagues, not one you liked. “I always knew you'd get here.” You knew he hoped you didn’t.

“Thank you.” You responded with a pursed, thin, not heart-holy smile.

He mirrored your expression, taking a small breath before speaking again, “Now that we are in the same branch, any misunderstanding we may have had is best forgotten.”

You forced yourself to control your eyes from popping out of your sockets as your glare intensified, feeling the grip on the glass in your hand tighten. He was a real punk. When you were working for him as an analyst not more than a couple of months ago, he yelled at you calling you ‘useless bitch’ when his irreverent purchase went wrong and blamed you for your numbers being wrong (which were not), when he was the one risking it all for a few million when the estimates you’d given him were clearly low.

“You think so?” You didn't know if the heat you felt was because of your growing anger or the high temperature of the place.

“Definitely,” He answered you, letting out the annoying laugh that you had to endure so many times after hearing him tell one of his sickening jokes first thing in the morning. You brought your French 76 to your mouth, settling the taste of the vodka into your system to put up with more of the thug in front of you.“For the sake of the team.” He winked at you.

The glass stopped on your lips, your eyebrow suffering an unnoticeable twitch. For the sake of the team you should break the glass over his head.

“You guys having fun?” Another one of your colleagues joined the conversation, breaking the closeness the man had forced between you and him.

“Akira! I was hoping to see you.” Your voice came out with happiness, surrounding your senior colleague's shoulders, full of gratitude. She chuckled, fully knowing the reason for your mannerism.

“Am I interrupting something?" She questioned, bringing her index finger to her chin in curiosity, staring sharply at the man in front of you.

Who shook his head, bringing the hand that was previously on your shoulder to the back of his neck, a nervous giggle escaping from his lips. "Not at all, I was just congratulating y/n on her achievement."

Akira nodded, grappling one of her arms to your waist, her gaze not slipping from the man at any moment. The “Mama bear” nickname given by the employees was truly accurate and Jackson was a known pain in the ass, so it was her job to keep him in line. In addition to being treated with fear for being CFO, Akira was also respected for being the only woman with her position in the branch.

Jackson scanned the room, looking for someone else to bother, "If you'll excuse me, ladies." He vowed his head before leaving the scene.

You laughed next to your senior while watching the man's back. “He’s such a moron.”

“He is.” The woman sighed, finally concentrating on your state. “And I should get you a drink, we have to celebrate my little chick hatching.” Akita teased you, squeezing your side. She was the one you did your internship with. She made you go through hell with paperwork and marathons to hand out schedules from one executive to another, but with impeccable effort and paranoia of failure, you managed to get through it with honors.

You both walked towards the bar, making your way through the crowd and greetings from colleagues. You felt your feet starting to ache from the pointed heels you were wearing, shiny black with an ankle strap, they were beautiful of course, but they were higher than what you usually wore.

Although the thought of your accomplishment rolling through your head cancelled it out. You could claim to be happy, it had been a long time since you felt proud of yourself.

"You said earlier that you were hoping to see me, is there anything in particular you want to talk about?" Akira asked you, her gaze searching for empty seats at the bartender's counter. Your arms let go of the woman when you realized how long you had been holding her.

"Oh, yeah. Before I came I was analyzing your idea of buying that new company you rambled on a few days ago and it's actually not a bad idea, despite the small income they have now, in a year's time they will grow their incomes 45% percent. I think we should take the risk." You began to explain quickly and concisely as you were guided by the other. A smile escaping your lips at the idea of all the new possibilities.

A small, incredulous laugh was heard from Akira, "M’kay, babes, I know you're all-excited and your child prodigy nature makes you hungry for action,” She interrupted herself to point to two lonely seats, heading towards them. “But enjoy your first big accomplishment.”

You felt a cold wave washing you out. Every cell in your body felt electrified, eager to learn, excited about how efficiently or poorly your ideas could turn out.

The other woman knocked the wood plank of the bar twice as she climbed onto the stool, you mimicked her action. “Two Margaritas, please.” She asked the bartender as he approached the two of you, he nodded at the petition and walked away.

You noticed that the bar was packed, people were really taking advantage of the free drinks. Groups stood close to the bar for easy ordering, couples were talking in the stools, and baristas paced back and forth with a mental list of the many orders.

“You are very smart, but you're also young. You shouldn't spend all your time working, go loco, screw up sometimes, it'll be okay." Akira lectured you, everyone with eyes could notice that you were a very committed person with the complement of your responsibilities, a little too much. "I know you mean well, but it can wait until we're on work hours." She continued, "We're at a party."

The party was formally work-related, so technically you were in work hours, you thought.

“When you get to your mid-forties depressive crises, you can bussy you up with work, but girl- a few years ago you were just a graduate, you still have time to live out the silly, saccharine crush and drunken weekends. What are you doing?” She made you question yourself.

You knew you were very dedicated to your career, but you realized you were starting to act like your father. A chill runned through your body.

"Look at me, I wish I had the availability you have." Your eyes scanned the woman from top to bottom. Her hair was thick and curly brown, her skin was a dark cinnamon color, and her eyes were tiger-like. Even though she had birthed two children, her curves were preserved intact.

I wouldn’t mind being busy if I looked like you in my forties, you restrained yourself to say. But you were a smart person, you understanded what she was trying to say from the beginning, the thing was that you had no motivation to do it.

The drinks arrived, “Thank you.” Both of you said to the bartender, following him with your eyes as he walked away again.

“I’m not a boring person.” You defended yourself, watching the woman raise her eyebrows and slightly widen her eyes.

“I know.” She answered, smiling with her lips, paying attention to the train of your thoughts.

“I go out.” You continued trying to remember interesting things you have done, Akira nodded as she said ‘okay’, “I date, I have gone on dates.” You added, remembering the dude who asked for your number in your local coffee shop and your old college friend who you ran into while waiting for the subway and asked you out, the one you’ve been texting for three weeks.

“I’m glad you do.” Akira responded, waiting for more opening from you. “My husband will pick me up, I can give you a ride if that's what you're worried about.” It was hard times with the security of women, she understanded if that’s what got you doubting, she would too.

“That would be nice.” You mumbled, that would change the cards on the table. You were celebrating, you reminded yourself. “I guess I could get a few drinks.” Akira’s composure regained its excitement.

“And maybe some shots after!” She added with a smile, moving closer to the edge of the stool.

“Yeah!” You nodded your head, trying to match her enthusiasm, realizing that maybe she was the one who needed the fun night and she was just trying to find a reason to go loco, as she said. There was obviously a lecture in her words, a try to change your mindset, and she kind of did, because you don’t remember well how she managed to convince you to drink the two margaritas. Then you ordered a line of shots that made the warm go up to your neck. Suddenly the loudness of the party didn’t bother you, and you felt happier, making you match your senior extrovertness.

People started to join your circle, one of your Mexican coworkers started shouting “Fondo, fondo, fondo!” As other of your coworkers drinked his beer from top to bottom. Everyone around cheered when he finished, it reminded you of your college days.

In any other business party that behavior would be completely judged, but apparently the ambience of this was given to do any kind of exaggerated outgoings for people to do. You knew that they were gonna regret that the day after and on Monday, everyone was gonna pretend they didn’t go nuts.

“Miss Campbell, the CEOs would like to introduce you to someone," One of the secretaries of the office whispered in Akira's ear, who nodded quickly. You got off the stool, reaching to your coworker, worried about being left alone.

“I'll be right back, wonder girl,” Your senior captivated your attention, patting you on the shoulder. “If you need anything, feel free to call me or text me, whatever.” She said before walking away, leaving you amazed that she looked like she hadn't had a drop of alcohol, walking upright and a stoic expression settling in when it came to business again.

You waved at her when Akira turned her head to see you, you smiled at her, trying to calm your nerves down when you noticed everyone around you was unknown to you. You stepped back to your seat but your back bumped into something.

“So, you are the wonder girl?” You heard a voice behind you making you jump, taking you out. You turned around, facing probably the most handsome man you have ever seen. You quickly noticed his unique white-snow hair, whose locks of hair decorated his big blue eyes as clear and bright as the sea water on a sunny day. The next thing you noticed was that he stole your seat, the one you left alone for like ten seconds. "I pictured someone different." He admitted with a smirk, letting a chuckle out.

You scoffed, trying to figure out if you were surprised by his boldness or his looks, probably both.

“Are you gonna tell me your name or…?” He asked, leaning his arm on the bar, tilting his head slightly, allowing himself the luxury of observing your facial features freely while you looked around to check that it wasn't a prank because there was no way someone could talk as shamelessly as him.

“My name? Who are you?” You questioned him. You noticed his slanted eyes, you assumed he was one of the Japanese employees who blended in with your company.

“I asked first,” He stated.

You huffed at his words, watching him roll back his shoulders, making you notice how broad he was compared to you.

You forced yourself to return your gaze to his eyes, not without first noticing the sunglasses hanging on his unbuttoned formal shirt, slightly giving more room to see his chest.

“And I didn't mean anything negative when I said I picture you differently.” The white-haired man clarified, leaning closer to your face. Even if you were standing and he was sitting, his face was leveled slightly higher. You crossed your arms, waiting to receive a worse comment, “I imagined someone more nerdy looking, maybe with ugly, giant glasses, and a somewhat evil personality.”

Your body relaxed at that, quickly changing your surprised expression to a questioning one, “What assures you that I’m not evil?”

He held your gaze for a few seconds, his smirk still plastered on his face. He leaned back, resting one arm on the bar and placing his other hand on his thigh. “Although you have quite a few envious people talking badly about you behind your back,” He began to speak, making you furrow your eyebrows at his words, “While I was waiting in line for my order to be taken, I noticed that, of all the people you were surrounded, you were the only one smiling so sincerely and purely the whole time.” He unfolded himself, his cheeky smile faded into a smaller but still sincere one.

“So, not only you stole my seat but you also were stalking me?” You pointed out, trying to focus on something other than the fact that someone who looks like him took the time to observe you. The heat returned to your neck and cheeks, it made you feel flattered, a bit of excitement even.

“Well, I'd say that you just happened to stand right in the spot I wanted to lay my eyes on. And the seat was empty, so I took it." He teased you, throwing his hands in the air.

“Oh, and you’re also a comedian.” You say before drinking the rest of the cocktail you still had in your hand, the ice cubes had already melted and the flavor was diluted. You were trying to figure out what to expect from this interaction.

Your sense of self-preservation was telling you to back away, he was making you nervous and that wasn't a good sign. You didn't know how to handle this type of situation -whatever his intentions were-, you deduced that he was probably just playing. But he was magnetic, he made your heart race, his mere presence was imposing. You felt drunk by the way his features seemed sculpted by the gods, by the way his voice was like a siren's song drawing you to the bottom of the sea, by the way his beauty numbed the pain caused by your heels.

He leaned forward as he watched you remove the contact of the glass with your lips, although it stopped midway when from the corner of your eyes you glanced at the way his arm muscles flex under the fabric of his white jacket, immediately sliding your gaze to his eyes. Now that he was closer you noticed how long and full his eyelashes were. “And you are pretty.” He admitted.

You feel your chest rise up and down at this, taking a deep breath that crashes into his face, making him flicker his eyelashes brushing the top of his cheeks. His innocent words might not have any meaning, he might be messing with you, but you also couldn't help the nauseous feeling of highschool-like when the popular guy smiles at you.

You didn't want to smile at his compliment, you didn't even know his name, you were being irreverent. But it was obvious that he worked for the same company, so it shouldn't be so dangerous to trust him, no, you shouldn't let your guard down. Your internal fight was making you more confused.

“I don’t know your name.” You verbalized when no other response came to your mind.

The man didn't seem unfazed, he quickly catched that his name was not your only concern. "Well I don't know your name either."

“But you know my nickname, I think that's already an advantage for you over my personal info. It’s only the fair to give me your name." You fought back.

His brows cured together with a hint of hesitation. His soft smile was intact but it was more than obvious that his thoughts were plotting, he licked his lips, “Then no names.” He proposed.

You could reject him and walk away from the situation without any problem, but you would be lying if you denied that you were curious about him. Plus Akira’s lecture had an impact on your brain chemistry.

“Fine by me.” You agreed, leaving the glass of your hand on the counter.

And as if planned, the barista just happened to leave three diluted reddish drinks that seemed to be cosmopolitans and another dark red glass in front of Gojo. “Thank you,” He muttered, handing the man behind the bar a generous tip. He turned to look at you out of the corner of his eye but you managed to look away before he catched you. “Are you keeping me company?”

“Uhm, weren’t you supposed to take this somewhere?” You pointed out the glasses on the counter.

“I am in no hurry.”

You raised an eyebrow at his immediate, smugly and playful response. “Won’t your friends miss you?” You questioned him with a smile at his smooth talk.

“They’ll understand.” He tried to play it off knowing damn well his friends were in fact not gonna understand.

“Kay’,” You nodded, leaning on one of your feet, your left hand playing with the edge of the counter next to you. “Cool, cool, cool.” You said, instantly regretting it.

You looked down as you pulled your beautiful black sheer dress with nude bottom from your stomach down, which had gathered at the base of your waist from when you were sitting.

You wanted to lean on something, preferably sit down, but you also didn't want to change the position of the man in front of you. You didn’t even realize you were stuck in the middle of his manspreading.

“So, are you staying with me?” His voice took you out of your thoughts as he rested his head on his bicep, lowering the level of his head to be able to connect his gaze with yours, still on the ground.

You couldn't help but let out a small smile as his eyes shone craving to capture your attention, his smile widening when he succeeded.

Then reality hit you, you shouldn’t like being enthralled by his charms, you couldn’t. It was exciting, yes, but it was wrong because, “I’m with someone.”

That sounded ugly, it turned your stomach to say that, but it turned your stomach more to see his smile slowly disappear, you were starting to get used to it.

“I mean, he’s not my boyfriend yet.” That garbage of a sentence escaped from your mouth, the man in front of you tilted his head as a confusion expression grew on his face, “But I’m talking to someone, and he might get to be my boyfriend at some point,” You should stop talking, “-and I think it would be immoral of me to talk to you being aware of the other person's feelings, not that I think you’re flirting with me! Ha-ha,” You should really stop talking, “He trusts me, I wouldn’t like to betray him.” You finally finished, letting out a sigh, closing your eyes against your verbal diarrhea, that was humiliating.

That's why you didn't go on dates or go crazy like Akira told you, because everything ended up screwed up like now, painfully accurate like she said. You were about to apologize and leave, your burning face buried in your hands as a bursted laugh cut you up.

“Good, I hate betrayal,” he told you, his accent slipping through his words. You separated two spaces between your fingers to make way for your eyes, noticing that his hands were now resting on his knees, at your sides. He offered you a soft smile as he tried to imagine a man more handsome, polite, stronger, funnier and skillful -in any kind of way- than him, but he couldn’t, “But us sharing a drink while we chat isn’t overstepping the mark, is it?”

You thought about it a bit, you didn’t know anything about him, but he was at the company party, so he had to work in one of the companies, probably the Japanese one, and seeming that they became one, that turns you into coworkers sharing time to strengthen the union of companies. Camaraderie, that’s it.

“I guess not.”

His smile grew -watching as your expression relaxed- proud and cheeky, but his eyes remained soft, trying to remain understanding if you denied his invitation.

Even if he was a smooth talker, when it came to girls he never really needed it, it was natural that they always approached him. But you were a totally different kind of afterglow, everything he'd heard about you, good or bad, wasn't enough to prepare him for a stunner like you.

If he took your seat, it wasn't because he wanted to sit as he said, but because from the moment he was in line to order you caught his eye, eclipsing everyone in the room, making his legs weak with your dancing silhouette under the fluorescent lights of the disco and your smile that could light up the darkest nights.

“Okay, then let’s talk,” The mysterious man pressed, his gaze piercing your hands still over your face, trying to see that little giddy smirk of yours. He pulled away again and slid one of his drinks towards you. “You set the limit.”

You let out a giggle-sigh like, he was truly breathtaking. And a skilled manipulator, because it was the first time a man charms had convinced you to give in to your own warnings.

You shifted your weight to your other foot, still hesitant, “Fine.” You agreed, lowering your guard as you reached out to the drink, the tip of your fingers brushing against his as he took a couple of seconds to let go of the glass that shuddered on your hand when you were obnoxiously pushed from behind with a subsequent ‘sorry' from a person poking their head in the bar trying to get the barista’s attention.

“Let’s go to the sofa, it’s too noisy here.” You forced yourself to say to the white-haired man in front of you when you noticed the slight annoyance that grew on his eyebrows towards the person who pushed you.

He nodded, as you didn't miss the way he effortlessly took the remaining three drinks between his long fingers. When he stood up you felt a flutter run through your body when you noticed how he towered you and his muscular shoulders and flexed arms significantly framed your figure.

He guided you, making you way through the crowds, to where you had previously pointed out some sofas in the corner of the place, which although it was the quietest area, it was only because all the people there were flirting or hiding in the darkness to smooch. If he was honest, he wouldn't mind if your old monologue was thrown out the window and you opted for the second option.

He sat down first, then you imitated him, putting more distance between the two of you that you would like.

“I don’t bite.” He growled at you, watching as you leaned over on the edge of the sofa now gaining enough confidence to attentively observe the drinks he had placed on the table in front of you.

He rolled his eyes although that was just a facade to hide the fact that he almost tripped when you were walking behind him and he peaked a glance at you just to catch you checking him out.

In any other time he would use that to make the other person nervous, but in this case, your case, was just different. He knew you were smart enough to quickly throw a comeback, and even if it wasn’t a very strong one, you had the power to make him giggle with anything you said and he still couldn’t understand that.

“Are you serious? Cranberry juice?” You snatched at him, passing your nose over the glass he previously had in his hand, completely ignoring his silent request. “This is what kids drink.” You chuckled.

He raised an eyebrow, placing his arm on the back of the sofa and cupping his cheek on his hand, expectant to hear your thoughts.

“I understand if drinking isn’t your hit, but there are so much better things to drink, you know?” You said as you turned to him, returning your gaze to his eyes.

“Like what?” He played along with you, a roguish tone dancing in his voice, low and taunting. You noticed how his eyes traveled from you to the arm's length of empty space between you, clearly bothered by it. “Something like that?” He loosely pointed out the drink in your hand, the one offered to you earlier.

“I mean, this has alcohol, but yeah,” You responded, you knew what was probably coming next but you still let it continue.

He smirked, beautifully, godly and unreal. He was the kind of person you meet once in a lifetime, the type of person that leaves you awestruck with his beautiful, ethereal presence. And you had him in front of you, talking to you so casually, so willing to do what you said that made you annoyed.

It took your breath away to think how far you could take it.

“I wouldn’t mind trying it.” His calm voice silenced the techno music blasting your ears. You reached your hand towards one of the cocktails on the table, but he stopped you, “No, I want to try that one.” His gaze layed on the glass held by your fingers.

When he told you he wanted to share a drink you didn’t expect to be literal.

“All three drinks are the same,” You clarified, the corners of your mouth curling up but freezing the moment the white-haired man slid across the sofa towards you in one motion.

The fresh, mannish scent of his perfume made its way into your nostrils.

“But this one looks extra delicious,” he replied, watching the way your lashes brushed against your high cheekbone in disbelief. “Would taking a sip be crossing the line?” He continued talking, placing his hand on top of yours that was holding the glass, you were as surprised as he was that he dared to do so.

It took you a couple of seconds to release your grip on the glass until you were sure he had a good hold on it. You were really trying not to fall for his charms, for the sake of your situation-ship, but it was like his hands were meant to meet yours.

You watched him bring the glass to his lips, his attention never leaving your expectant eyes. You brought a hand over your heart and formed a fist as you felt the rhythm increase and beat harder when you realized your knee was brushing against his.

“Did you like it?” You forced yourself to ask, biting the inside of your cheeks trying to ignore the heat that grew after taking awareness of your contact with him.

He took the glass from his lips with a tight-lipped smile. At this point the alcohol punch should already be settling and his tongue flavoring the acid from the cranberry and lime juice. He slowly nodded at your question, trying to widen his smile but it only turned into a distorted grimace.

You let out a chuckle, his eyebrows unknitted together when you inadvertently patted him on the shoulder, “Do you want to spit it back into the glass?” You questioned, noticing how his cheeks were still puffed out.

He nodded again, quickly bringing the glass to his mouth to spit the liquid out of his mouth, not before covering the action with his free hand to not disgust you.

“Yuck…” He chirped while his facial muscles twitched, leaning towards the table to leave the glass, you were close enough to catch a hint of his perfume in the breeze he produced. Yet you got so carried away that you didn't notice when your body moved forward on its own to catch more of him.

It smelled woody, sensual and expensive.

“I like your scent.” You took the opportunity to give him a compliment when he had his back turned, a way of establishing that you had no problem with him.

You sat up straight again, nervously playing with your fingers, glancing at his profile, catching a pleased smile forming on his face.

“Thank you.” He appreciated, bringing one knee up onto the sofa as he twisted his torso to look at you again, a witty smirk warning you, “Now let me smell you.”

That hitched your breath, unsure if you heard right. “Kinky~,” You tried to tease him.

“You heard me right, don’t think I didn’t notice you sniffing me.” He laughed, sounding coming from the belly, like when children laugh and throw themselves back.

You felt the heat burn your cheeks, if it weren't for the low lighting of the place, you're sure you would be as red as a cherry. You had just been exposed by him.

“It’s only the fair!” He recalled your earlier complaint.

“What? No!” You replied with a frown, crossing your arms with your hands on the opposite shoulder as you remembered that your dress made you sweat, so you probably wouldn't smell as nice as you did in the beginning of the party. Plus, it was a ridiculous request to ask and accept.

“Why?” He asked, still with his playful tone lingering.

“Because it’s weird!” Your voice rose in exasperation, nearby couples looking at you in annoyance, causing the white-haired man to suppress a laugh when your tense expression turned into one an anxious one, wishing to stop being the center of attention.

“Well, then I could say the same about you.” Compared to you, he remained calm despite the insinuations.

Your head moved slowly from side to side, you couldn't believe how intimate the situation felt, the way his voice coaxed you, or why you were still there with him despite your own limitations.

It was clear that he was attracted to you, but you didn't understand why. He could have anyone he wanted, he could bewitch people with his mere appearance, and yet you were the person in the room he devoted his time to.

He confused you, he made you doubt yourself and your knowledge, when in your whole life you had always had everything clear and established.

You didn't know if he was a divine gift, or if he was a test of restraint.

“Come on.” He pressed on, adjusting himself in his seat, a smug grin widening in his face.

A flutter began to trot across your chest, your fingers pressed deeper into your skin, the thought of his figure near you made your body tingle.

“This is such a weird way to flirt,” You muttered, lowering your gaze to the sunglasses hanging on his shirt.

“I don’t see anyone flirting.” You heard him reply in the same low tone as yours, moving closer.

You couldn't even look him in the eyes, you were too embarrassed at the realization that you liked his attention, because you shouldn’t.

“You are stupid,” You said under an incredulous chortle, letting your arms slide down your body into your lap.

You felt guilty for keeping talking to him knowing his intentions and your reveries about the cute boy in front of you.

It wasn't entirely your fault, because although the guy you were romantically involved with was smart, attentive and average looking, but he was also kind of boring, you could never laugh with him because he never understood your jokes and he was quite judgmental.

Maybe it was just excuses, like the ones cheaters make after committing the act.

“Then let me continue being stupid,” he said, putting his arm on the edge of the sofa behind you. Your heart lifted as you felt his figure close once again, heat beginning to ignite your body.

From then on everything began to feel like it was in slow motion, from the moment you looked up and you were enchanted by his sparkling and magnetic eyes, as blue as the sea in summer, until your head leaned back without your order, opening the way for your bare neck as if you didn’t owned your body.

And you sat there, waiting for him to get close, “Am I crossing a line?” He mumbled just a palm away from your face.

“You’re about to.” You responded in the same playful tone with a bit of a warning written under lines which was forgotten the instant he made you nervously giggle when you felt his warmth breath electrify the bridge of your neck, causing your skin to prickle.

His hand was still on the side of your hip, his forearm gently brushing your waist, almost unnoticeable if it weren't for the heightened level of your senses. It was like you were trapped in a bubble, immersed in innocent intimacy.

“Am I crossing the line?” He teased you, his azure gaze connecting with yours, leaning forward just a few inches from your skin.

His malicious smirk spread across his face, making you roll your eyes at his mischief. He was too cheeky, too cocky.

You felt so hot, both because of the temperature of the place and the situation. He laughed, confident and amused by the situation. Having him close, led you to notice that he was as tipsy as you.

You looked up at the ceiling to try to ignore the reasonably strange looks from the people around you, although you could still get a sight of the man's whitish hair at the corner of your eyes.

It didn't take long for you to feel his nose touching and sniff the crook of your neck, hitching your breath, “Am I crossing the line now?” He whispered, sending a goosebump through your spine. You slowly shook your head, trying to keep your hand on your lap and not brushing with your fingers his hair that looked so silky and shiny, that even from a distance it was easy to detect the smell of his shampoo.

Then his touch traveled from your cleavage to the crease of your armpit and you quickly pushed him back with a hand on his chest, he immediately bursted out laughing.

“What is wrong with you?!” You scolded him, smacking him in the chest, dying of embarrassment. Your face burned hotter than you'd ever felt before, your nose and cheeks itched and burned as if a bucket of boiling water had been thrown on you.

He was lying on his shoulders, his chest going up and down with each laugh he let out, you could distinguish his abdomen contracting even through his shirt.

“M’ sorry! Sorry, ” He apologized amidst giggles, trying to sit up, one of his hands traveling to your wrist when you tried to stand up. “Just so you know- you didn’t smell bad at all.” You stood up again with your back to him, but he pulled you back and turned you around, plopping down on the couch again, “In fact, you smelled like really good.” He promised now seated properly.

His jeering voice had faded into a convincing sweet one, with puppy eyes and all.

“Don’t go.”

You should, but didn’t want to.

“I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, well- I did want to annoy you but because that’s the only way you look me in the eyes with your eyebrows furrowed and a little pout.” He started chattering, desperate to explain himself.

Your eyes traveled to his grip on your wrist, just tight enough to keep you close without hurting you, one of his fingers slowly massaging the palm of your hand to calm you down. “You command.”

You looked up again, now watching him lick his plump pink lips. Your breathing was labored, your thighs were pressed together, and your free hand was squeezing your knee.

Something inside you felt minisculely change, your gaze joined with his felt heavier and more connected than before, it was as if you could feel him deep in your chest, like a knot that you couldn't swallow.

“Is your heart racing?” He asked you in a breath, his hand twitched against your skin.

“How do you know that?” Your breath was trapped, trying to climb up your rib cage, sending a burning ache you couldn’t let out.

“Well, because mine is,” He let out with a chuckle, bringing a hand to his chest and pressing it into a fist when he felt his heart was going to jump out.

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to scream, both at the same time. The feeling of his eyes made you feel as if you two were dancing under a spotlight in a room full of darkness.

At first you thought it was his incomparable beauty that kept you hooked on the conversation, but it was actually him, his jokes, his teasing, who made you feel like you were in a fever dream.

And he was the one who was confessing to you that his heart was racing, he was the one who looked at you like if you were a tasty meal he craved, he was the one who you would allow to pin you down on the floor just because his jokes just hit different.

He scooched over to you, his free hand laying on the side of your thigh, his thumb caressing over the cloth of your dress, trying to steal your attention out of your thoughts. And when you did, you drove your eyes to him, although you felt unable to hold his gaze, his eyes softly sparked with his pupils dilated and his grin stretched, his head tilting afterward.

Your mouth was gaped half open, being interrupted by a shy beam spreading across your face, sinking at your sight. Your body moved closer to his and you giggled, after the nervous cute rant the man in front of you threw, now you couldn’t deny to yourself that he was genuinely interested in you. Unthought-of words were about to spill out of your mouth.

“Gojo!” Gojo?

A loud, rigid voice broke the moment, whisking away your low guard, walls starting to build up again. By inertia you removed your hand from his grip.

“Satoru Gojo!” Satoru? “You have erased any non-existent respect I had for you.”

The white-haired man paled, his expression twisted as he slowly turned towards the voice marching angrily towards your way.

“Nanamin- ouch!” The man in front of you standed, trying to defend himself two seconds before being flicked in the forehead. Your eyes went wide.

“You prick, do you know how important the man you promised to invite a drink is?” A stoic voice coming from a muscular body spoke. You knew him, blond hair, prominent cheekbones and deep eye bags due to overwork. “Y/n…” His hard expression faded when he noticed your presence.

Kento Nanami, you were colleagues in the same branch, he was transferred from the Japanese company no more than two months ago.

“Hey,” You greeted him with a sheepish smile, standing immediately when he addressed you.

His hazel eyes analyzed you and then the man in front of you, well, Satoru Gojo, now you knew his name.

“You know each other?” Satoru questioned, adding himself in the conversation, one eyebrow raised mistrustfully, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“I didn’t know you hung out with people of his kind.” The blonde man told you, straightening his tie, embarrassed that you saw the stiff demeanor he specifically saved for Gojo, who Nanami looked up and down.

“My kind?” The white-haired man whined, a hand on his chest exaggerating his offended feelings. “How do you know each other?” He pressed, masking a smile, trying to step closer to you but ineffectively succeeding through being pulled by the collar of his jacket by the other man.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, y/n.” Nanami turned to you, his friendly tone returning with a subtle smile. “But our flight back to Japan leaves in less than eight hours and we still have to apologize for ditching an executive and finish packing.”

“Wait-” Satoru called.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” The blond man apologized, pushing his companion away.

“No, Nanamin-” He was cut again.

Your gaze tried to pay attention to Nanami but Satoru's voice stole your attention, leaving your stomach in knots from the rush. The white-haired man who was constantly covered by his colleague tried to connect his gaze with yours, the urgency to find a way to contact you again grew in him.

“We shall go.” Nanami quickly said goodbye, pushing Satoru into the sea of people again, you tried to keep up with them. But you got stuck in a crowd of unknown people, you didn't even had the chance to stop them, to say goodbye to him.

A sudden, despondent weight fell upon you. That newly found harmony had been overwritten, you were left with a disjointed heartbeat and unfinished confessions. You felt as if you had been thrown into the driest and hottest desert, accompanied by a withered hope.

You sat down in the first seat you found, your legs feeling devastated not only by tiredness, but also by the fact that you actually got carried away by a conversation with someone whose name you didn't know. You never had experienced this, what should you do? You weren’t sure if you should even look into the matter further. You wanted to think that it was meant to end like this anyway, after all that was the agreement, just a quick chat over a drink.

Your stomach felt queasy, although that was probably due to the alcohol you had ingested.

What ifs came to your mind, what if even after all Satoru was actually playing? Nanami said ‘his kind’, what kind? A player? You didn’t believe that was the case, still, it wouldn’t surprise you if it was.

But, what if everything was truly heart-felt? What if the mesmerizing glimmer of his eyes when he soft-spoke to you was sincere? That damn drowning blue eyes, mocking pearly-white smirk, face carved by the gods and purring delirious voice.

You buried your head in your hands and lost count of the time you spent replaying the memories of the night in your head over and over again, every look, every touch, every breath taken.

You deep in thought scolding yourself at how ridiculously pathetic you were for giving so much importance to an interaction that you didn't know if your thoughts intensified the relevance when someone tapped your shoulder.

“Y/n.” Someone sweetly whispered.

When you raised your head you saw Akira in front of you, a pleased smile on her face. She didn't even knew the reason why you were melted in your seat alone but she could assume it was because you followed her advice.

“It’s time to go home.” She continued saying. You covered your eyes with one hand to block out the radiance of the lights, you didn't even notice when the place began to empty.

“Okay,” You accepted, getting up from your spot, the woman in front of you linked her arms with you to give you support, now the liquor had hit you properly. “My head hurts.” You complained.

“Wait ‘till tomorrow, it will get worse.” She laughed as you growled.

You both walked to the reception to pick up your jackets and bags and then went out to the entrance of the place, watching the cars passing by on the street, not taking long to find Akira's husband's car, who greeted you from the driver's seat.

Akira helped you get into the back seat and then climbed into the passenger seat, you quickly closed your eyes and leaned your head back. You heard her ask if you were okay and you just nodded, taking a sip of the water she offered you.

Your mind was no longer worried about giving the direction of your apartment because they already knew the way from the times you invited them to eat dinner, now you could agonize in peace of mind while you fell asleep.

The movement of the car against the street lulled you and the air conditioning leveled your temperature.

The movement of the car against the street lulled you and the air conditioning leveled your temperature, your consciousness was about to turn off when a 'ding' woke you up, you grimaced at it and tried to go back to sleep, since the ride to your house was long, but the same sound rang out again.

You turned on your phone screen and the notification bubble returned energy to your body.

Nanami (work):

Satoru Gojo

Create new contact / Add to existing contact

You scrolled down the messages and it was an attached photo, you clicked on it and zoomed it, it was a photo of Gojo asleep in the Uber, your lips curved up when you saw how angelic he looked when he wasn't acting like a jerk, his long eyelashes curled when they reached his high cheekbones and his hair looked more disheveled than when you met at the beginning of the night.

The photo had a description on the foot.

Nanami (work): I just send you his contact. If you're really going to give him a chance, do it soon because he whined until he fell asleep about how I sabotaged his chance with a ‘baddie’.

You couldn't help but laugh at Nanami's message and his sincerity. I made you question if he phrased it that way to help his friend or to boycott him. Even so, a relief began to drain your dreadful thoughts from your body, as if that revelation canceled all your personal issues to resolve.

And It did, a little, because deep down you knew that what you lived was real, that the way he saw you was how you supposed, that everytime he tastes cranberry juice he’ll think of you.

But what you didn't know was that you left quite an impression, and that you enchanted him and became the reason his heart pounds even if you're not around.

hi guys!!! I saw a tiktok of a girl who said she wanted to read something about satoru with sabrina’s song bed quem so I worked on it. please tell me if this funny or weird because wrote it in the lapse of 3 weeks and idk how to feel about it. share your thoughts pls, also, I kinda have planned a part 2 idk if you’ll be interested 😉😉

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lovelybotblog · 3 months ago

Text

— suguru geto x reader, college au, slight smut.

academic rival!geto who constantly gets a headache from the fact that you're not only a painfully know-it-all, but you're also a beloved campus sweatheart, and also a hotshot.

academic rival!geto whose eye twitch when he sees your name written on the book loan tracker in almost every book he has taken out from the library.

academic rival!geto who knows that if you two share a class, it will be a battle of who answers the most questions from the professors.

academic rival!geto who sits behind you so he doesn't see your face and yet every time he adjusts in his seat or he speaks up to ask a question, you turn around and stare at him with a piercing glare and furrowed eyebrows since the past one and a half year.

academic rival!geto with whom you often have obnoxious duels of intelligent and subtly offhand comments in front of the entire lecture hall.

academic rival!geto who rarely sees you without your groupies (friends of your sorority) surrounding you.

academic rival!geto who pretends not to notice the way your friends just happens to have something to do the moment a frat boy comes up to you ludicrously cocky, flexing his biceps with a cringy pick up line to ask for your socials.

nerd/academic rival!geto who knows you are way too smart to agree to the man’s offer, -wait, no way- why you’re laughing and slowly blinking and twisting your hair?!

academic rival!geto who doesn't care what you do but always stays long enough to eavesdrop when he hears someone mention your name.

academic rival!geto who gets dragged by his high school friend satoru to the party his fraternity is hosting.

academic rival!geto who is plopped on the living room couch of the fraternity, playing with the plastic cup of beer resting on his chest when his attention is stolen by the glorious way you make your entrance to the place, a shiny, golden aura around you.

academic rival!geto who tries not to look too much in your direction while you're talking to the monkey-man who asked for your number in the hallway a few days ago and wonders if your bar it that low.

academic rival!geto who gets nauseous from the way you dance close to the guy, his hands running along the sides of your body and his front hip stuck to your bum.

academic rival!geto who now can't take his eyes off your silhouette coiled around the boy's neck while you kiss him fervently, suddenly a tick in the back of his head begins to annoy him.

academic rival!geto who feels an immense heat grow and his soul leave his body when your gaze catches him staring at you.

academic rival!geto who throat’s go dry as you throw a mocking smirk his way with your chin resting on the frat boy's shoulders.

academic rival!geto with whom next monday of the party you get paired with to do the final presentation of the semester.

academic rival!geto who you invite to your sorority to do the work.

academic rival!geto whose calculator distant gloomy demeanor disappears when finds himself alone with you in your room and turns into a fidgety, easily blushed bag of flesh.

academic rival!geto who gets teased by you with double meaning sentences about the happenings in the party.

academic rival!geto who can’t get focused into the writing in his computer after he put on his reading glasses and your eyes got stick in him.

academic rival!geto who gives in to your bombardment of questions and explains that he doesn't wear his glasses in class because he doesn't like the way it makes his eyes smaller.

academic rival!geto who gets flushed when you steal his glasses and put them on you, asking him if you look nice, and he denies so you get closer to him and tell him to be honest, and he says yes just so you don’t get close again.

academic rival!geto who kinda starts liking his glasses when you smile pleased and put his glasses on him again, slightly brushing your soft fingers to his cheekbones and hair when you do it, telling him it looks good on him too.

academic rival!geto who after a couple of work sessions realizes how much stuff you have to put up with and carry because people think highly of your pretty, popular, intelligent self. Not forgetting how busy you must be for being the leader of your sorority and cheerleader for the university rugby team.

academic rival!geto who finally accepts his friends invitation to go to the rugby game where -oh surprise- you are cheering.

academic rival!geto who’s the one that catches your eye from the massive crowd while you are up in the air doing a torch motion.

academic rival!geto whose gaze constantly drifts from the field to the bench on the sides where you rest after you finish your set.

academic rival!geto who at the last meeting for the project invites you to his bedroom.

academic rival!geto who invites you to his bedroom to practice your presentation for the project.

academic rival!geto who tries not to think that you stood him up because of the rain when it was already more than forty minutes after the agreed time.

academic rival!geto who gets surprised by your soaking figure at his door.

academic rival!geto who lends you a t-shirt and sweatpants while he puts your clothes in the dryer.

academic rival!geto who feels like a creep when his eyes linger on your exposed collarbone because of how big his shirt suits you or the way your hips get exposed when you raise your arms to stretch.

academic rival!geto with whom you obviously succeed with the work and receive an exceptional grade.

academic rival!geto whom you invite to go get a coffee at the local cafe on campus to celebrate.

academic rival!geto who has you pinned into the cafe bathroom wall while making out with you.

academic rival!geto who finally went down and filled you with two of his fingers with his right hand while his left covered your mouth because you couldn't keep quiet.

academic rival!geto who you hear chuckle as your nails dug into his shoulders while his head is buried between your legs tasting you, hungry and messy.

academic rival!geto who you watch redo his bun after messing it up when you pulled him by his hair to bring him back into your mouth.

academic rival!geto who leaves the bathroom after you, smirking and strolling all-mighty as if he had just won a war when almost a month ago he was sat next to you on the verge of falling off the edge of the bed because his hands sweat if he got closer to you.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #suguru geto x female reader #suguru geto oneshot #suguru #geto #geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut

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