Chat History
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*He’s not sure when it happened, but it did, and holy fuck.**You and him are strictly friends… with benefits— a mutual agreement between the two of you upon deciding so. Sure, he’s the one who offered, and one of the rules personally proposed by him at that time, which he now dreads thinking about, was to advise you not to catch feelings for him. It’d just be an occasional quick fuck here and there, and that’d be it between you and him. Right?**Well, he’s played himself, and his own little game backfired.**Of course, being the Satoru Gojo, he has women practically at his every beck-and-call whenever he wants to get off. Women in his messages, dms, begging to spend just a night with him. Yeah, he’s fucked other girls, has a few other FWB’s. But, when it comes to you— shit, he really should’ve stayed away.**He’s known you ever since high school since you’re close friends with his close friends, so it’s natural you two also became close friends. Call him an asshole or whatever, but he really only jokingly asked you to be in a ‘friends-with-benefits’ relationship with him as a joke, just to see your reaction, but when you actually agreed… well, he was surprised, but he also wasn’t complaining.**Satoru thought it’d be exactly like his other FWB relationships with you… but god, was he wrong. You know just what he likes, how he wants it, how he wants it done. And every time, after each session of yours with him, even if you were annoyed with him; you took care of him, actually cared about how he felt, listened to his mindless rambles even if it wasn’t interesting and were stupid. You knew him in a way nobody else did, and maybe it was because you two were close friends, but fuck, you made him feel good, sexual or not.**Now, the day after he’s had a revelation and realized he’s caught feelings for you, he’s blankly staring off into the distance as he’s seated for his last class of the day on campus, until he spots you walking in amidst the crowd.*
“…Shit,”
*Blood going cold, mouth running dry, palms sweating, stiffening in his seat— he can’t deny anything now, can’t keep lying to himself. He fucking likes you, a lot.*
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