Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

-getou-

i'm so nervous right now, i can barely think straight.

this interview feels like my last chance to turn things around, and of course, it's already off to a bad start. stupid hookup from last night kept me up way too late, and then he had the audacity to mute my alarm. said he was doing me a favor because i looked "tired."

blocked him the moment he walked out my door. idiot.

now that dumbass might’ve cost me the most important interview of my life.

a secretary position at hiat studios. it’s not everyone’s dream job, sure, but for me? it’s everything. this could be my big break—a way out of the constant cycle of layoffs and odd jobs that’s been my reality for the past year.

shoko really came through with the referral. i owe her a drink—or ten—if this goes well. still, there’s a million ways this could go south.

i mutter to myself as i follow the hr assistant down the hallway, rehearsing my lines. “good afternoon, my name is getou suguru. i’ve worked as a secretary at cc studios for three years, i’ve—”

before i can finish, the assistant gestures to a sleek, double-door cabin.

“this is the ceo’s office. you can head in.”

wait. ceo? the ceo is interviewing me personally? my pulse kicks into overdrive. swallowing the lump in my throat, i push the door open, stepping into a room that looks more like something out of an architectural magazine than an office.

and there he is, sitting behind the desk, adjusting his glasses.

“getou suguru?”

and then i see him.

he’s tall—easily a few inches taller than me—and impossibly gorgeous. his messy, white hair looks like it shouldn’t work, but somehow it does, effortlessly tousled like he rolled out of bed looking that good. his sunglasses rest low on his nose, adding an air of casual arrogance to his sharp, angular features.

so. fucking. hot.

i need this job more than ever.

with those looks, he could be a model—or the face of some luxury brand. 

before i can dwell too long on it, his voice breaks through.

“you… do you recognize me?”

huh?

i blink, my brain scrambling to catch up. what is he talking about?

what should i say? what can i say? , i mutter internally, panic blooming in my chest.

“i—I’m so sorry,” i stammer, heat flooding my face. “i don’t—”

“remember a gojo from high school?”

the way he says it—his grin slightly lopsided, eyes sparkling behind his glasses, and voice carrying that familiar, slightly overexcited energy—makes my stomach drop to my knees.

oh no.

that gojo?

the class nerd with crooked braces and coke-bottle glasses, who used to hover in my peripheral vision, always staring but never brave enough to say a word. except for that one time… on valentine’s day, when he’d awkwardly shoved a rose at me, muttered something like “statistically, roses are a universal favorite,” and bolted faster than a track star.

pretty sure i laughed at him. come on, i was 16 alright?

my brain short-circuits as i take him in again. the absurdly styled hair, the expensive sunglasses now perched on the desk, the custom-tailored outfit hugging a body that definitely wasn’t there in high school.

this can’t be real.

is it really him?

gojo satoru?

the realization hits like a freight train, and i feel all the air rush out of my lungs.

oh fuck.

time to kiss this job goodbye.

“ah, yes, yes, how could i forget?” i force a grin, my voice a little shaky as i try to mask the sudden heat rising in my cheeks from embarrassment. “you were always so smart. i mean, really, you were the smartest one in the class.”

gojo’s eyes flicker for a moment, and i notice that familiar awkwardness creeping in. he pushes his glasses up his nose and rubs the back of his neck like he’s not sure if i’m being sarcastic or genuine.

“uh… i was?” his voice is soft, almost shy, like he can’t believe it. “i guess i spent a lot of time studying... but i wasn’t exactly popular, so i—”

it’s fascinating.

i catch myself thinking. it’s incredible how he’s glowed up—physically, he’s practically a walking fantasy. that hair, his flawless features, the tailored suit that hugs his body perfectly… and yet, his awkward, shy personality hasn’t changed at all.

he’s still that nerd, the one who used to get lost in the corners of the room, staring at everyone.

is it wrong that he just got even hotter because of that?

the thought makes my heart race, and i fight the urge to bite my lip, trying to stay focused on the interview.

i shake my head, pushing the thought aside. i can’t be fucking serious thinking like this in a job interview.

gojo’s voice breaks through my mental spiral again. “so, tell me, how do you handle... unexpected situations? like, when things get chaotic at work?”

i blink. that’s not the question i expected. “i guess i just deal with it, head on,” i say, trying to sound casual. “i’m really good at handling pressure, and i’ve dealt with... well, a lot of surprises. truth to be told, its been chaos this whole year in my professional but i'm still here”

he gives me that goofy, shy grin, and i almost lose my breath again. “oh, i love a little chaos. it’s like a puzzle to me. i’ve been known to… rearrange desks just to see if people notice.”

i let out a small laugh. rearrange desks? to see if they notice.

he’s so fucking cute.

“you… really like puzzles, huh?”

“i do!” his eyes light up, and for a second, i catch a glimpse of the old gojo—the nerd who used to get excited over the weirdest things. “i think life is just one big puzzle, and you solve it piece by piece. kind of like organizing everything perfectly. it’s… uh, it’s my thing.”

god, this is too much.

i struggle to keep my thoughts in check, but then he surprises me. “alright, suguru. you’re hired.”

just... like that?

i freeze, unsure if i heard him right. “wait, really? that’s it?”

gojo leans back in his chair with a lazy grin, clearly enjoying my confusion. “yes. no further explanation needed.”

i stare at him, blinking, trying to process the situation. “just like that?” i repeat, voice a little shaky.

“yep,” he shrugs. “i like to make decisions quickly. and you? you’ve got potential. you also have a lot of experience in other companies, you'd fit in great, here”

i bite my lip hard.

does he still have a thing for me? does he remember high school? the way he used to look at me... the way he awkwardly gave me that rose?

fuck, this is going to be a problem.

but a part of me wants to play with that tension. i can’t help but imagine it—just how fun it would be to mess with him now. he’s so different, but maybe i could make him nervous. or maybe i would be the one getting nervous.

i eye him.

this is going to be fun.

-gojo-

okay, i’m trying to keep it cool, but i can’t help but feel a little skeptical about getou’s compliments. back in high school, he barely acknowledged me. he wasn’t rude, just... indifferent. i guess i just wasn’t on his radar back then. 

but for me, it was a whole different story. i couldn’t help but admire him—he was like this perfect, elusive character out of one of those high school romance anime i used to binge-watch. my teenage self? a walking cliché, completely obsessed with him. black hair, those piercing slanted eyes, this effortless aura of coolness that radiated off him—I was basically living in a fanfic.

i mean, i had the whole “hero worship” thing down. i wanted to talk to him, but i never had the courage. too much of a dork, right? plus, what was i supposed to say?

“hey, do you watch that one anime? no? okay, cool.”

and now—now—he’s standing in front of me. in the flesh. the literal embodiment of everything i used to daydream about. i still catch myself looking at people who vaguely remind me of him. subconsciously, i guess i’m trying to recapture that feeling. but getou? he’s here. now.

"wait, really? that’s it?" he asks, interrupting my brain meltdown. the casual drawl of his voice sends a wave of nostalgia through me. it’s like he’s still that guy from high school, but now there’s... more. he’s more alive somehow. more real. and, you know, a hell of a lot more attractive.

of course, he's in. he's qualified for the job anyways, he's in even if he wasn't.

it’s like i’m caught in some weird isekai plot where i’m suddenly reliving my high school days but with way more emotional baggage and possibly a dash of cringe. god, i sound like a total nerd. but i can’t help it. my mind is swirling with ridiculous theories about multiverses and alternate timelines—okay, no, stop. this is why i never get laid.

but still, here he is. right here. with me. and i can’t deny that i’m struggling to keep my cool. i’m way too aware of him, of every little movement. i don’t know if i’m even saying anything coherent right now, but at least i have him around. i’m not about to mess this up.

probably.

the knock on the door pulls me out of my deep dive into self-inflicted embarrassment. i try to gather my composure as i glance at the clock. perfect timing. it’s getou.

i’d been half-expecting him, but still, i’m not entirely prepared for the way my heart beats a little faster when he walks in. he’s holding a few files, looking effortlessly cool as always, his black hair just messy enough to make it look deliberate. it's longer now. i didn’t think it was possible for him to get prettier.

"got the files," he says, his voice low, smooth. it's the kind of voice that makes everything sound a little more intense than it should be. i swear, even his casual tone has this... charm to it.

i nod and stand up, trying to act like i have my life together. but when he steps forward and hands me the stack of files, something happens.

he’s close now. really close. our hands brush as he passes the papers over. and i know—i know—that it wasn’t an accident. his fingers linger for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

"careful," getou adds with that playful grin, and it’s impossible to miss the teasing lilt in his voice. he steps back, but not far enough. he’s still close enough that i can feel the heat radiating off of him.

i try to ignore it. i really do. but then, as if he’s deliberately teasing me, he places a hand on the back of my chair as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. his fingers graze the fabric, brushing against my shoulder, just enough to make me tense. it’s so casual, so unassuming, but i’m not buying it. i can feel his gaze lingering on me, and it’s as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“hope i’m not interrupting anything important,” he says, his voice dropping slightly as he leans in over my desk just enough to make me shift in my seat.

i swear, his proximity is like a magnet, and i’m helpless against it. my mouth goes dry, and i find myself struggling to think of a response that doesn’t make me sound like a complete idiot.

all i can manage is a nervous laugh.

“um, nothing i can’t handle,” i say, but my voice is almost a little too high-pitched. i clear my throat, trying to regain some semblance of control.

getou doesn’t move away, his presence settling in like it’s supposed to be here. i can feel his fingers hover above my shoulder, almost grazing my skin again, and i can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just so comfortable with this whole situation that it doesn’t even occur to him.

but i know. i know he’s aware.

“seriously though,” he adds, and his voice has that casual drawl again, the one that’s way too smooth for my sanity. “if you need help with anything else, just let me know. happy to... assist.” his fingers circle on my forearm.

the way he says “assist” is way too loaded with meaning. his fingers tap on the edge of my chair, sending a wave of heat straight down my spine. i swear i can’t focus, and i’m trying—so hard—to keep it together.

“yeah, i—uh, i’ll let you know,” i manage, but it’s probably the least confident i’ve sounded in a long time. my mind is completely scrambled by the fact that he’s still standing here, this close. the way his presence wraps around me, the faint smell of his cologne mixing with the subtle heat of his body... i’m losing it.

and then, as if to seal the deal, getou smirks and steps back, but not before brushing his fingers along my shoulder in a slow, deliberate movement. my breath hitches, and i barely catch myself from reacting too obviously.

he’s flirting with me. there’s no question about it now. and i’m so completely not prepared for any of this.

i lean back in my chair, trying to make sense of what just happened, but honestly, i’m pretty sure i just got completely played.

-getou-

flirting with your boss? yeah, it’s risky or whatever. the worst part isn't even getting fired—it's the fact that no matter how obvious you make it, he doesn't get the fucking hint. okay, maybe i'm being dramatic.

he's so fucking cute and hot, oh my god. the stuttering when i handed him the files? i'm about to lose my mind.

should i give it another chance? be more forward? less forward?

today, i’ve dressed up well, slightly pushing the boundaries of what's inappropriate for work, but i think it’s safe… maybe.

it's just me and him on this floor anyway.

come on, i know you want me, gojo.

the door to the office swings open, and there he is. gojo.

i get up from my desk, casually walking toward him. i know exactly what i’m doing. the way i move, the way i stand, the way i lean just a little too much in his direction.

he stops in his tracks when he catches sight of me fully for the first time that day. his breath hitches.

target achieved.

"morning," he says casually—or tries to.

my heart skips a beat, and i force myself to snap out of it. 

"morning,sir" i manage to say back, my voice a little breathier than i’d like.

"um, sir, you have a meeting in five minutes," i say, my voice smooth as silk, slipping effortlessly into the space between us. there's a trace of teasing. it’s intentional, of course.

"yeah, just a minute," he mumbles, not even looking up, absorbed in his work. he’s too distracted, too lost in whatever he's doing.

he's so cute like that.

i take a step closer, watching the way his jaw tightens slightly as i move.

"sir? your tie is all messed up," i murmur, a soft smile curling at the corner of my lips. "let me fix it." my fingers brush against his tie, the fabric soft beneath my touch. i make sure my movements are slow, deliberate, grazing the side of his neck just slightly as i adjust it.

i can feel his body stiffen, but he doesn’t pull away. his eyes flicker up to meet mine—just a glance, but it’s enough to make my pulse quicken.i can see the way he’s trying to hold it together, how much he’s struggling to stay professional when all he wants to do is give in.

"is this better?" i ask, my voice lowered, barely above a whisper. i make sure to step even closer, letting the air between us thicken, becoming charged with something neither of us can ignore.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, his gaze drops to my lips, then back up to my eyes, and his breath hitches.

his lips part slightly, and i swear i can feel the desire crackling in the space between us. i’m so close now, i can practically taste the tension.

"uh..." he stammers, his fingers fidgeting, not knowing where to go with this newfound energy between us. "t-thank you." his voice is shaky, almost unsure, and it only makes him even more irresistible. 

i move in closer, my lips brushing against his collarbone, just for a second—just enough to leave a lingering kiss. he freezes.

i can feel the heat of his skin under my lips, and i smile against it, savoring the moment.

his eyes meet mine, dark and uncertain. he swallows hard. "c-can i kiss you?" his voice is soft, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid i’ll pull away.

he’s so fucking cute.

i’m gonna devour him.

Chapter Text

-gojo-

i’m kissing him. i’m actually kissing getou suguru.

i don’t know what came over me—what kind of reckless confidence filled me when i asked, “can i kiss you?” and when he just… smiled, that wicked, knowing smile, i knew i was done for.

and now, somehow, i have him on my desk.

his hands are everywhere—gripping my waist, sliding up my back, tangling in my hair—and his lips, oh god, his lips are so soft but so demanding. he kisses like he’s trying to consume me, like he’s been holding himself back for so long and now he’s finally letting go.

his tongue brushes against mine, coaxing me into a deeper kiss, and i can’t help the sound that escapes me, half gasp, half whimper. his teeth catch on my bottom lip, and he pulls back just slightly, his breath warm against my mouth.

"you’re a fast learner," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, sending a shiver down my spine.

he guides me, his hands firm but gentle as he tilts my head just right, and then he’s kissing me again—slower, deeper, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that has me gripping the edge of the desk for balance.

it’s overwhelming, the way he tastes, the way he feels pressed so close against me, and i’m losing myself in it, in him. his fingers brush against my jaw, tilting my face up further, as if he’s trying to devour me completely.

"can we cancel the meeting?" i ask between breaths, desperate for more of him.

"can we? you’re the boss," he replies.

"it seems you’re the boss here, right now," i mumble, my voice barely above a whisper.

he laughs softly, and it’s the most unfairly beautiful sound. his thumb traces along my lips, slow and deliberate, and it leaves me breathless.

"you should go," he says, but his tone is teasing, his dark eyes glinting with mischief.

i pout, my lips brushing against his as i protest.

"nooo, i don’t want to. i mean—" i pause, fumbling for words. "it’s just—those people don’t even get my vision for the game design. like, why would they want to add microtransactions to that kind of open-world RPG? it ruins immersion! i mean, imagine exploring a fully fleshed-out fantasy city, only to get hit with a pop-up asking you to buy gems to unlock the cool armor. the armor should be a reward for skill or exploration, not a cash grab. do they even play games?!"

getou watches me ramble, nodding with mock seriousness, biting his lip. but when he bites down too hard, his lip catches, and i swear it’s the most distracting thing i’ve ever seen. it breaks my train of thought entirely, leaving me staring at him, completely undone. with a boner.

then he pulls his phone from his pocket, still looking at me. "i’ve just postponed the meeting," he says casually.

"what? why?" i blink at him, confused and caught off guard.

"there seems to be an emergency," he replies, his voice sounds like he's planning something.

"what emergency?" i ask, dumbfounded.

his hand slides down, grabbing my crotch, "this one."

oh my fucking god.

-getou-

i was planning on stopping with just the kiss.  

just one kiss, and then we’d pretend it never happened, go back to our usual, somewhat-chaotic dynamic.  

but then he pouted.  

"nooo, i don’t want to. i mean—" he stumbled over his words, lips curling downward in the most ridiculous, unfairly adorable pout. "it’s just—those people—"  

he pouted.  

and at that point, all my rationality flew out the window.  

since when did i have the hots for a nerd rambling about game mechanics? i don’t know. i don’t care. all i know is that i need him now.  

"do you…" i lean in closer, "want to?"  

he blinks at me, wide-eyed and flustered, his lips parting like he’s about to say something intelligent—and then it’s gone.  

"w-what?" he stammers, "do i want this? y-yes! yes! i couldn’t have asked for anything—"  

i don’t let him finish.  

instead, i lower myself, keeping my eyes locked on his. slowly, deliberately, i grip the waistband of his pants, my teeth tugging at his zipper, dragging it down inch by inch.  

he gasps, his breath catching in his throat, and his hands grip the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.  

his gaze is frantic, flickering between my eyes and what i’m doing, and i can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.  

"oh my god," he mutters, half a whisper, half a prayer, looking up and covering his eyes with his hand.  

"eyes on me," i murmur, "mhm? why’d you stop? go on?" i tease, my voice dripping with mock innocence, though the smirk tugging at my lips betrays me. poor guy. but this is so, so fun.

"else," he stammers, barely holding it together, his voice shaky and desperate. "you… you’re so beautiful. down here."

"down here?" i echo, tilting my head as if I don’t already know exactly what he means. my hand slides over him, massaging through his boxers, slow and deliberate. "you mean you like me here—doing this?"

i give him the sweetest, most innocent look i can muster, wide doe eyes and a little pout, knowing full well it’s way too much for him to handle.

"nngh—n-no!" he chokes out, his voice a mix of panic and desire. "i mean, yes! i mean… of course you’re always beautiful, but—"

"but?" i press, my voice soft, leaning closer as my fingers continue their torturous rhythm.

he can’t finish his sentence. his head tilts back, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath, his hands gripping the edge of the desk like his life depends on it.

"but you’re… too much," he finally whispers, his words almost lost in the space between us.

"sir, are you free to talk right now?" someone knocks at the door.

shit. i forgot to close the door. shiiit.

i frantically signal him to keep quiet and get under the desk. gojo barely manages to tidy himself up, smoothing his hair and sitting up straight as he clears his throat. "yes, uhm, come in," he says, his voice surprisingly calm for someone who was about to lose it thirty seconds ago.

the door creaks open, and in comes the biggest cockblocker of the century. "sorry to disturb, sir. i couldn’t find your secretary outside, but this is quite important. it’s about—"

damn you. i’m under here, right now, and you decide to show up?! i was about to give the man the sloppiest head of his life. and now i’m crouched here, fuming, while this guy strolls in like he owns the place.

"-of course, have a seat. let’s discuss," gojo says smoothly.

of course?! are you serious? you have a pretty guy at your service on his knees right now . this is the problem with trying to hook up with your boss, folks. it’s always work, work, work.

as the guy sits down, oblivious to the chaos he’s caused, i try my best to stay still. i try to not focus on the situation. but my eyes betray me, glancing upward. and oh no.

holy shit, he’s huge.

"-so as i was saying," the person begins, completely oblivious to the chaos beneath the desk. i’m still staring, trying to process how this is supposed to fit anywhere. my brain short-circuits for a second, and I feel gojo shift slightly in his seat, trying desperately to keep a professional demeanor.

he clears his throat, voice strained but steady. "right, go on."

the conversation drones on above me, something about deadlines and presentations. i don’t care. i can't care. Not with this in my face, practically begging for my attention. jojo's hand drops to his side, brushing against my shoulder. wit’s intentional or not, it doesn’t matter. It sends a jolt through me.

i smirk to myself. If he thinks I’m just going to sit here quietly, he’s got another thing coming. slowly, i trail my fingers up his thigh, feeling the muscles tense under my touch. His breath hitches mid-sentence, and I almost laugh out loud at how he tries to cover it up with a cough.

"uou okay, sir?" the person asks, concerned.

"y-yeah! just, uh... dry throat," gojo stammers, shooting me a warning look under the desk. It only makes me bolder.

I lean in, pulling his boxers down.

this.. i fucking won the lottery..

i continue, lips ghosting over the tip of him, barely touching, just enough to tease. his hand grips the edge of the desk so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t crack.

the conversation above continues, but I’m not listening. 

i take him in my mouth, slow and deliberate, hollowing my cheeks just enough to make him squirm. His fingers curl into a fist, knuckles white as he tries not to react. The poor guy talking to him probably thinks gojo’s just stressed about work, but I know better.

"-and so, the proposal should be ready by now. does that work for you, sir?"

gojo's voice is tight, strained, barely masking that he isn't even listening, i'm sure. "y-yeah, that... that works."

i take him out of my mouth and tongue him around the tip, just enough to send him over the edge. The vibrations make his whole body jolt. he shoots me another pleading look, but it’s weak, barely a fight. he’s too far gone to really be mad.

"are you sure you’re okay, sir? you look a little... flustered," the person asks, their voice laced with suspicion.

gojo forces a laugh, though it comes out more like a choked gasp. "i’m fine! just, uh, a long morning. you know how it is."

before they can respond, another knock interrupts.

"sir, the marketing team is here for the presentation," another voice announces as the door creaks open slightly.

"wait—what?" gojo stammers, sweat forming on his brow.

yet another person peeks in. "and the tech team had some follow-up questions about the design revisions."

gojo looks like he’s about to combust. his eyes dart to the ever-growing crowd in his office. "not, not right now. after a while?"

the group collectively freezes, staring at him.

"leave." he blurts, his voice cracking slightly.

the confusion on their faces is almost comical, but they slowly shuffle out, murmuring amongst themselves about his sudden outburst.

the door finally closes, leaving us alone again. gojo slumps back in his chair, looking down at me with a mix of exasperation , something like a puppy would.

he gets up to close the door.

"that was hot" i pull him by his tie. "now where were we?"

Chapter Text

-getou-

i thought we were going to have crazy sex in the office. you know, with me bent over his desk, his tie loosened, his hands everywhere, and absolutely no sense of self-control.

instead, i’m in his car.

after what i just did under that desk—let’s not even get into the specifics of that—he had the audacity to look down at me, half-messy and entirely undone, and just take my hand. no words, no explanation. he just tugged me out of his office like we weren’t about to give every passing coworker a show and led me to his car.

and now we’re here. he’s driving, one hand resting on the wheel, the other on the gear shift, his sleeves rolled up just enough to show those veins on his forearms. don’t even get me started on those veins.

i watch them flex every time he turns the wheel, the muscles shifting under his skin. he’s concentrating on the road, jaw tight, eyes narrowed as if the traffic deserves his full attention. my brain is betraying me with every passing second, hyper-focusing on the details that make my stomach twist in knots. the way his fingers curl over the steering wheel, the slight bounce of his knee when he taps the brakes, the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

jesus, what’s wrong with me? i feel like a hormonal teenager.

the silence between us is suffocating, and i can’t take it anymore. “um,” i say, my voice cutting through the hum of the car. “where are we going, gojo?”

he doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even flinch. “my place.”

his tone is clipped, almost casual, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s barely keeping something in check.

i swallow hard, my heart skipping a beat. “y-your place? for what?”

of course, i know. i just want to hear him say it.

he glances at me for the briefest moment, and there’s something in his eyes that makes my stomach do flips. heat, frustration, maybe even a little nervousness—it’s all there, flashing across his face before he turns back to the road.

“you know why,” he says, voice low.

i bite my lip, trying to suppress the grin threatening to spread across my face. he’s trying so hard to act calm, but i can see the way his hands tighten on the wheel, the way his breathing isn’t as steady as it should be. he’s affected, and it’s intoxicating.

the rest of the drive is quiet, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. i don’t know whether to feel excited or terrified. probably both.

when we finally pull up to his place, i barely have time to take in the sleek, modern exterior before he’s out of the car, walking around to my side and opening the door for me. he holds out a hand, and i take it, letting him pull me to my feet.

his grip lingers for a moment too long before he lets go, leading me up the stairs to his front door. he unlocks it with a quick swipe of his keycard, and i follow him inside, my heart pounding in my chest.

the first thing i notice about gojo’s place is how gojo it is.

it’s modern, sleek, and oddly polished—like he’s trying to project an image of someone who has their life together. but then there are the shelves, and they give him away. rows upon rows of action figures, each meticulously arranged like they’re on display in a museum. some of them are characters i vaguely recognize, others are clearly part of series i have no clue about, but they all scream one thing: gojo’s a nerd through and through.

i can’t help but smile as i walk over to one of the shelves, my fingers brushing against the glass. “you really went all out, huh?” i say, glancing back at him.

he’s standing a few feet away, looking a little sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “yeah, well… they’re collectibles, okay? and before you say anything, they’re not toys.”

i raise an eyebrow, reaching out to pick up one of the figures. it’s a ridiculously detailed warrior with a massive sword, the kind of thing you’d expect a kid to play with, except this one probably costs more than my monthly rent. i turn it over in my hand, marveling at the craftsmanship.

“not toys,” i repeat, my tone teasing. “got it.”

he groans, covering his face with one hand. “i knew you were going to make fun of me.”

i don’t have much time to take in my surroundings before he’s turning to face me, his back against the closed door.

he stares at me for a moment, his blue eyes piercing, and i feel like he’s stripping me bare with just his gaze.

“do you know why i brought you here?” he says, his voice quiet but heavy with something i can’t quite place.

i raise an eyebrow, trying to play it cool even though my knees feel like jelly.

“getou,” he murmurs, and the way he says my name makes my heart stop. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

his thumb brushes against my cheekbone, and i can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath warm against my skin.

for a moment, i think he’s going to pull away, that he’s going to retreat back into that composed, buttoned-up version of himself. but then he tilts my head up, his lips crashing down on mine, and all my doubts evaporate.

it’s not a gentle kiss. it’s messy, desperate, like he’s been holding himself back for far too long and can’t do it anymore. his hands are everywhere, gripping my waist, tangling in my hair, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.

i gasp against his lips, my hands fisting in his shirt as i try to keep up with the intensity of it all. he tastes like coffee and something sweet, and it’s addictive, making my head spin.

"now that we've kissed-" i say taking his hand "i want to touch me some where else" 

-gojo-

it’s happening.

it’s finally happening.

for as long as i can remember, i’ve thought about this moment. dreamt about it, even. late at night, in the quiet loneliness of my too-white apartment, i’d let my mind wander to places it probably shouldn’t have gone.

getou—perfect, untouchable getou—would haunt my dreams in ways i’d never admit to anyone. he’s always been… more. more than a friend, more than just a passing thought. more than anything i should have ever let myself want.

and now he’s here, under me, lips swollen from my kiss, breath uneven, looking at me like he’s known all along.

his fingers are still curled around my collar, his body sprawled across my couch, the dim glow from the city skyline casting soft shadows over his skin. he should look disheveled, wrecked from how desperate that kiss had been, but somehow, he’s still the same getou—composed, teasing, watching me with that sharp, knowing glint in his eyes.

“you’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” he murmurs, dragging his thumb along my jaw.

i freeze.

“what?” i manage to squeak out. pathetic.

he tilts his head, slow and deliberate. “you heard me,” he says, voice low, almost lazy. “you’ve thought about this. about us.”

my mouth opens, ready to deny it, to say something—anything—to save myself. but the words won’t come, because he’s right.

i have thought about this. i’ve thought about what it would feel like to kiss him, to have his hands on me, to hear him say my name in that voice, low and teasing, like i’m something worth ruining.

i’ve thought about him too much. so much it’s embarrassing. and now that it’s real, now that he’s right here, smirking up at me like he owns me, i feel completely and utterly lost.

“i—maybe,” i mumble, voice barely above a whisper.

his smirk widens. “maybe?”

his thumb presses against my bottom lip, tracing the spot he just bit, and i have to fight the urge to chase his touch.

“okay, fine,” i blurt, heat crawling up my neck. “yes, i’ve thought about it. a lot. happy now?”

he hums, tilting his head like he’s considering it. “describe it.”

i stare at him.

describe it? he wants me to put years of frustration, of buried longing, of goddamn dreams into words?

something in me snaps.

before i can think, i move. one moment, he’s stretched out on my couch, smug as ever, and the next, i’m lifting him up—an arm under his back, the other hooking behind his knees.

his laughter is immediate, loud and delighted, his long hair spilling over my arm as he kicks his feet. “gojo, what the hell—”

“the bed would be better to explain,” i say, voice tight.

his laughter doesn’t stop, even as he loops his arms around my neck, even as i carry him down the hall like i’ve done this before, like this isn’t my first time touching him like this.

but then he leans in, close enough that his breath fans against my skin, and murmurs, “then hurry up.”

and yeah. yeah, i think i have dreamt about this. but nothing—not my imagination, not my late-night thoughts, not even the fantasies i’d been too ashamed to acknowledge—could have prepared me for the real thing.

he lets out a surprised gasp as i unexpectedly throw him onto the bed. he looks up at me with a mixture of disbelief, and anticipation, a hint of pleasure in his eyes.

"kinda only?" i kiss his feet

his breath hitches as my lips make contact with his feet, a sensation that he wasn't expecting but not unwelcome. he feels me slide his pants off, revealing more of his strong, toned legs. A low, pleasurable moan escapes his lips as your touch ignites a wave of desire within him.

now he's on top of me, unbuckling my pants.

his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the sight of my hardness straining against my boxers. he bites his lip, his own member twitching in response. with a hungry look, he hooks his fingers into the waistband and slowly pulls them down, freeing my erection.

-getou-

thank you to the dinosaur that died to become the fossil that fueled the car that took me to this job interview which gave me this opportunity. without you, i wouldn’t be here, standing in this sleek office, staring at a man who looks like he stepped out of a fever dream—nerdy, rich, and built like he was sculpted for sin.

and he's got a monster dick. thank you. i hope my lineage is proud of me.

"u-um? its not really not that big.. sorry to disappoint"

are you joking.

ARE YOU JOKING.

i blink up at him, completely stunned.

"are you joking," i repeat, my voice somewhere between disbelief and outrage.

because there's no way. no way he just said that with a straight face. not after what i felt—what i saw.

his ears go a little pink, and he has the audacity to scratch the back of his neck like he's actually shy. like he's not built like a damn greek god under that suit.

"i mean," he shrugs, avoiding my eyes. "i've never had any complaints, but—"

"oh my god," i cut him off, pressing my hands to my temples. "gojo, shut up. shut up."

"no , you shut up" he says and pulls me up, face to face with me, as he just stares.

“you’re beautiful,” Gojo murmurs, his voice soft, almost reverent

my breath catches, my heart pounding in my chest. “gojo—”

but gojo doesn’t give me a chance to respond, his mouth descending on my neck, lips and teeth working in tandem to leave marks that i know will be there for days. maybe it's intentional.

i can’t think, can’t breathe. every touch, every kiss, every word sends me spiraling further into a haze of pleasure, and i don’t know how much more i can take.

when gojo’s mouth finally reaches my chest, i arche into the touch, a low moan escaping my lips. gojo’s tongue flicks over a nipple, and my fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him closer.

“gojo,” i gasp, my voice trembling. “please—”

gojo doesn’t need to be told twice. his hands slide down my thighs, spreading them wider as he leans in closer, his breath warm against my skin.

my eyes flutter shut as gojo’s mouth finds my inner thigh, teeth grazing the sensitive skin before his tongue dips lower, teasing, tasting.

“wait,” i manage to choke out, my hands fisting in the sheets. “you don’t have to—”

but gojo doesn’t stop, his mouth moving lower, his tongue pressing against my entrance.

my back arches off the bed, a strangled noise escaping my throat as pleasure shoots through my body. my hands scramble for purchase, tangling in the sheets as gojo’s tongue presses inside me, slow and deliberate.

“fuck,” i gasps, my head falling back against the pillows. “gojo—”

gojo hums against my, the vibrations sending shivers down my spine. His tongue works my open, slow and steady, until i'm writhing beneath him, my body trembling with the need for more.

gojo pulls away, looking up at me with hooded eyes. “what do you want”

 "you,” i manage to choke out. “i want you.”

before i can say anything else, i'm being flipped onto my stomach, my hips lifted into the air.

my breath catches as Gojo’s hands grip my hips, his chest pressing against my back as he leans in close, his lips brushing against my ear.

“are you sure?”

“yes. please, gojo—”

his hands roam my body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down my spine as he prepares me, his fingers working me open until i'm gasping.

when gojo finally presses inside me, a low moan escaping my lips. i feel full, stretched, every inch of my body alight with pleasure as gojo begins to move, slow and steady at first, but quickly picking up speed.

“fuck,” i gasp, my hands fisting in the sheets as gojo’s hips snap against mine, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through his body.

gojo’s hands grip my hips, pulling me back onto his cock with each thrust, his breath hot against my neck.

“you feel so good,” gojo groans, his voice rough, filled with desire. “suguru—”

my name on his lips is all it takes to push me over the edge. my body clenches around gojo, a strangled moan escaping my lips as i come, my vision blurring as pleasure washes over me.

gojo isn’t far behind, his hips stuttering as he spills inside me, his breath hot against my neck as he rides out his own orgasm.

for a moment, we stay like that, our bodies pressed together, our breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

then gojo pulls out, collapsing onto the bed beside me, his arm slung over my waist as he pulls him close.

“so,” i say, my voice soft, teasing. “was it everything you imagined?”

gojo’s eyes meet mine, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“better,” he says, his voice rough, filled with emotion. “so much better.”

as he leans in to kiss me again, i know i'm in trouble—because this, whatever this is, isn’t something i'm ever going to be able to let go of.

my hookups are done. welcome, housewife-cum-secretary getou. the dick so good, you commit yourself to one person forever edition.

but—wait. are we dating?

we literally just hooked up within two days of knowing each other. is it a hookup? is he thinking it’s a hookup?

he hasn’t said a single thing about us. and now that i think about it, this might be how my other hookups felt.

should i say something? should i ask?

what if he doesn’t feel that way? what if this is just fun for him?

…what if i already want more?

-gojo-

when would it be the correct time to propose?

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