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Movie night with your best friends was your favourite part of the month.
All 4 of you, sprawled out across the couch, eating gallons of popcorn as you all laughed at a so-bad-it’s-good movie from the absolute dredges of Netflix.
It was a way for you to unwind from your studies and just relax as a group.
You’re not much of a group tonight, though.
Suguru texted the group chat a week ago to tell everyone that one of the students he was tutoring needed a session the exact date of your movie night. It was unfortunate, of course, but you’d make do.
Shoko, on the other hand, was completely MIA - she hadn’t responded to a single text for the past 3 hours. But, considering the fact that she’d spent the day in a 5-hour chemistry lab, you could probably safely assume she was passed out in her dorm room somewhere.
Satoru was the only one of the group who actually made it to your place - late, of course, but that’s to be expected with him. When you asked him if he’d rather study since it was only the two of you, he simply replied that he “didn’t need to study.”
The nerve of that man. You’ve never seen him so much as glance at a textbook, and somehow he still makes the Dean’s List every year - as an aerospace engineering major, no less.
Despite him being one of your closest friends, you honestly couldn’t stand his insufferable arrogance. You just had to roll your eyes every time he even mentioned his latest hookup with the “hottest girl in X major.”
So then how exactly did you end up lying on top of him on the couch, with him staring at your lips like he would suffocate if he didn’t taste them?
~*~
You settled down on the couch to Satoru’s left, placing a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. He was flicking through Netflix absentmindedly, sparing a glance over at you as you sat down.
You frown as you look up at the screen. “Horror, really?” You question as you notice the category he’s currently perusing. “You know how much I hate scary movies.”
He smirks at you. “Don’t worry, princess. If you’re scared, just hold onto me. I’ll protect you.”
You roll your eyes, scowling at him. “Don’t call me that, you freak.”
He laughs, and his arm moves to rest along the back of the couch. “You know you love it.”
You simply let out an exasperated sigh and glance out the window to your left. The sun is setting, and it’s already dark in your living room. It looks like storm clouds are rolling in, too - heavy, dark ones that hold days worth of rain and a symphony of thunder.
You reach to grab your soda can from the coffee table, taking a swig before resting it on your leg. Next to you, Gojo seems to have finally made up his mind about the movie he wanted to watch.
As the title screen begins to play, you bring your knees up towards your chest protectively. The Ring. Of course he’d have to pick the scariest fucking movie possible. That asshole.
After sitting in silence for a few minutes, you feel Gojo’s hand find its way into your hair, winding each lock through his fingers. You lean back slightly so he doesn’t tug too hard. The motion is soothing, honestly - after each pull of your hair, he brings his hand forward to gently massage your scalp, moving in a repetitive rhythm.
Neither of you comment on it; over the past few years in uni, you’ve come to discover Satoru is a very touchy person. He often makes a point to sling his arm around your shoulder when walking, trace his fingers over your forearm, or sleep on top of your arm if the two of you were studying (“studying”) in the library together.
Although he seemed to only be that way with you, you’ve noticed. You’ve hardly seen him do any of those things with Suguru, despite him being his closest friend.
Just another one of his quirks, you supposed.
You lean towards Gojo, resting your head on his shoulder. You thought it would be fine, since he always does the same - but you feel his body stiffen, and his hand in your hair abruptly stops. You lift your head from his shoulder to look at his face, only to see him already staring at you with slightly widened eyes.
You remove yourself from him entirely, uttering a confused, “Oh, sorry-” before he abruptly stands up from the couch. You furrow your brow in shock and open your mouth to ask what’s wrong before he cuts you off.
“Do you have any beer?” He asks, a bit too quick, too loud.
You nod. “Yeah, there’s some in the fridge. Is everything alright, Satoru? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“No, no, you’re fine.” He cuts you off again. “I just want something to drink.” You frown, but let it slide. “Alright, but hurry back. I don’t want to be alone with this movie for too long.”
~*~
Satoru’s about 1 and a half beers in now, and while he isn’t drunk, he’s noticeably less tense than before. He’s gotten comfortable, sprawling out with his feet resting on the coffee table, and he’s somehow already managed to practically inhale the entire bowl of popcorn - despite only being 30 minutes into the movie.
He’s now rubbing your shoulder with his hand instead of playing with your hair. You want to lean against him again, but you know better. You don’t want to scare him off like last time - you’re only just getting comfortable.
Being in his arms is so cozy. It’s so warm, snuggled up in his arms like this - you wouldn’t mind if the two of you cuddled like this more often.
“You’re surprisingly good at cuddling.” You say quietly, although your attention is still on the scene on the TV screen.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He gives you a quizzical little smile as he glances over at you.
“You just don’t really seem like the type to cuddle people often.” You shrug. “This is… nice.” In the dim light of the movie, it almost looks like a slight pink colour is on his cheeks - but it’s probably a trick of the light.
You want to say more, but there’s suddenly a loud jumpscare on the TV, and you flinch, clinging onto Satoru’s arm anxiously.
He smirks. “Scared, princess?” The pink colour is gone now. You don’t know why, but you feel strangely… disappointed.
“N-no.” You stutter, trying to lie and failing miserably. “I’m just… cold.”
It was true. The incoming rain had also carried in a slight chill, and you were one to get cold easily.
“Cold, huh?” That smug grin of his… you want so badly to wipe it off his face with a well-placed punch. Or a ki-
You shake the thought out of your head. That isn’t appropriate. He’s one of your best friends. You cannot be thinking about him that way.
“Why don’t you grab that blanket, then? Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.” You sigh. His incessant flirting was getting annoying. You knew full well it was a joke, but honestly. He avails himself of every opportunity to tease you with his exasperating comments.
Despite that, though, you still do as he says, reaching for the blanket on the other side of the couch and draping it across the two of you. You don’t quite know why you do it - it's likely that the intimacy of the situation could lead to something happening between the two of you.
But maybe it’s precisely because of that reason that you do it. You’re sick of his constant flirting that goes nowhere. You’re sick of his bragging about hooking up with every second girl on campus. You’re sick of his dumb smirk (his perfect lips), his teasing glances (his gorgeous eyes), his rough hands (his gentle touch)-
So you settle in next to him, and he pulls you closer, pressing you against his body with a firm grip - and you let him, feeling yourself melt into him.
This isn’t going to be a normal movie night, is it?
~*~
“No, no! Please, don’t, someone help me-”
You reach for the remote on the coffee table, leaning forward off the couch. Below you, Gojo whines petulantly as you slide out of his arms.
“Cold…” He groans as the blanket slips off his body with your movements.
“The TV’s too loud.” You respond simply as you dial down the volume a good 10 notches.
Now look who’s cold. You remark to yourself, not free of a healthy dose of snark. You would say it out loud to him, but you know that when he gets all sleepy like this, he also gets sulky. You can say with certainty his response would be something along the lines of, “Not fair! You’re so mean to me…” complete with a dramatic pout.
You place the remote back where it was, and move yourself back to your position lying on his chest. At some point during the movie, he positioned himself so he laid flat along the couch - somehow managing to pull you on top of him at the same time, your head tucked comfortably under his chin.
You shift yourself around above him, in an attempt to get comfortable again, or at least in the same position you were before, when you hear him speak below you.
“Stop squirming.” He says, but his voice is… different, somehow. It’s huskier, raspier, and his tone is almost desperate. You startle at his sudden shift in demeanor, and look up to try and read the expression on his face-
But when your eyes meet, your mouth goes dry.
The look in his crystalline blue eyes is so intense.
His eyes are the colour of ice, and yet they convey such an acute fire in them that if you were standing, it would have knocked you off your feet. They bore into you, seeming as if they can peer into your mind and perceive the inner workings of every thought going through your head.
You falter, stunned in place as he studies you. In this moment, you feel like a rare butterfly pinned onto cork for appraisal. You can’t move - you can only wait for him to finish searching your eyes for whatever he’s trying to find.
You hope it’s there.
After what feels like half an eon, he finally speaks. His voice is low, his tone dangerous in a way that makes your muscles stiffen.
“Do you ever think about what it would be like if we kissed?”
You bite your lip, teasing it through your teeth nervously. The motion draws his gaze, and he stares at them intently. He looks like a man starved.
“Because I do. All the time.” He says, eyes still trained on your lips. His tone is desperate, his words almost rushed. The intensity of his words give the impression that he’s been wanting - no, needing - to say that to you for all of an eternity.
“Do…” You struggle to get the words out. Your tongue feels unnatural in your mouth, like you have to control its movements manually as you say your next words. And yet, somehow you say them. “Do you want to kiss me now?”
“Yes.” There isn’t a single iota of hesitation in his voice. In fact, it sounds more like he’s holding himself back. “...Can I?” He asks slowly, carefully, as if testing the waters.
It’s your turn to study his face now, and it’s silent, so silent as you watch him. The muffled sounds of the environment barely reach you; the movie's dialogue is indistinct now, and the rain pelting the windows behind the two of you only registers as a reflection of your own erratic heartbeat. His expression is almost pained. It looks like he’s actually in agony waiting for your response. The sheer desperation on his face would have been something you’d find cute, in a sopping wet cat type of way, if not for that dangerous fire in his eyes that threatens to consume you whole.
After a moment, you finally speak.
“...Yes.” You say with a similar caution to his, so quietly you’re not even sure he can hear it. But even if you wanted to say something else, you wouldn’t be able to - because the moment you utter the word, he surges forward and captures your lips with his own.
He presses his mouth against yours with a desperation you’re never experienced. Satoru wants your lips like he wants air.
He leans into you, angling his head up to gain better access to your lips. He teases your mouth open with his tongue, and you allow him to do so, pliant and more than receptive to his advances. His hunger for you is apparent in the way his tongue explores your mouth - it’s rough and desperate in a way that would be intrusive if you weren’t more than eager.
Satoru’s hand snakes up into your hair, and he presses you even further against his lips. His touch is so insistent that it feels like he’s doing everything he can to be as close to you as physically possible. He tugs your bottom lip between his teeth - not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you let out a quiet whimper, which earns a groan into your mouth from him in turn.
He pulls away slowly, and yet you still let out a slight whine at the loss of contact. He smiles in satisfaction and presses his forehead to yours, bright pink now more than apparent on his cheeks.
“God,” He breathes out, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long…”
You smile at him, and press another light kiss on his lips.
“Really?” You press. “How long? Tell me.” Maybe it’s that egotistical side of you that’s always hungry for validation, but you want to know just how long the Satoru Gojo - who you thought to be so out of your league for so long - was pining over you.
He’s silent for a moment, eyes roaming over your face for a few seconds, before he speaks. “After our first calc midterm. The one where all four of us went for hotpot after.”
That was such a specific memory, you almost couldn’t remember. It was the class where you first met Suguru, Shoko, and Satoru.
That day… you were convinced you’d done so well on that exam. But then suddenly, in the restaurant, you realized that you’d forgot your calculator was in radian mode, not degree mode, the entire time. You cried on Satoru’s shoulder (in public, no less!) for at least a good 10 minutes, all the while he stroked your hair in consolation.
It was the first time you realized there was more to him than just a shallow playboy who cared less about his homework than he did about the girl in his study group.
You smile at him as he says the words. “I never would’ve guessed that in a million years.” You murmur quietly, not wanting to disturb the serenity of the moment.
“It hurt me so much to see you crying like that, knowing I could do nothing to fix it.” He said softly. He then smirks suddenly. “I want to protect my little princess at all costs.”
All sentimentality you feel in that moment instantly evaporates, and you sigh in annoyance once again. He just cannot resist the urge to call you that irritating name.
“Stop calling me that, you idiot.” You say as you push off his chest slightly, rolling your eyes.
He smiles at you in that almost-condescending, almost-mocking way he loves - but this time it’s tinged with tenderness. “You’re so cute when you get mad.”
You blush, eyes widening. “Hey! Stop that… So rude…” You mutter, trying to hide your blush by turning your face to the side.
Satoru laughs and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “And even cuter when you blush.” You lean into his touch slightly, and a comfortable silence falls between the two of you once more. He stares at you warmly, lovingly, and you feel suddenly nervous under his gaze.
He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it gently as a form of reassurance, smiling against your hand. He then pushes your shoulders softly to signal that it’s time for the two of you to get up. “Come on. Let’s go make some popcorn. I have a feeling we’re going to be watching more than just one movie tonight.”