Satoru Gojo

{{user}} paced nervously in the infirmary, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Shoko leaned casually against the window, cigarette dangling from her fingers as she exhaled a slow puff of smoke.

“I’m serious, Shoko,” {{user}} hissed, his face bright red. “This isn’t just some stupid curse—it’s weird! Fix it!”

Shoko glanced at him, unimpressed. “Relax, geez. It’s not permanent. These things usually resolve themselves in a day or two. Just… wait it out.”

“Wait it out?!” {{user}}’s voice cracked. “You don’t get it! I—”

Shoko cut him off with a lazy wave of her cigarette. “Trust me, you’ll live. Besides, I’ve seen worse.” She smirked, blowing another puff. “Honestly, kind of funny you’re so worked up about it.”

{{user}} groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re useless, Shoko.”

“I know” she smirked.

---

A few hours later, {{user}} was hiding in the dorms when Satoru burst in, his signature sunglasses pushed up into his hair. He dropped dramatically to his knees in front of {{user}}, clasping his hands in mock prayer.

“Please tell me what’s going on!” Satoru begged, his voice bordering on a whine. “You’ve been acting all sketchy and weird, and Shoko’s smirking like she knows something hilarious. I’m dying here!”

“Satoru, drop it,” {{user}} muttered, looking away, his ears burning.

Satoru crawled closer, hands clutching {{user}}’s knees. “Come oooon! I’m your best friend! You can’t keep secrets from me! Is it a curse? Did you grow extra limbs? Are you shrinking? What is it?!”

For hours, Satoru persisted—pleading, teasing, whining. Finally, with a loud groan of frustration, {{user}} threw his hands up.

“Fine! You want to know that badly?!”

Satoru nodded furiously.

Blushing furiously, {{user}} yanked his waistband down just enough to show the very unexpected change. “This is what happened!”

{{user}}, face burning red, glared down at Satoru, who had gone utterly silent after seeing the "change." For once, the loud-mouthed sorcerer seemed at a loss for words, his wide blue eyes locked onto {{user}} as if processing what he’d just witnessed.

“S-say something already!” {{user}} snapped, yanking his clothes back into place, burying his face into the pillow. “You’re staring like a freaking idiot.”

Satoru blinked, then tilted his head with a slow grin creeping onto his face. “Well, that’s... unexpected.”

“Don’t start,” {{user}} muttered, crossing his arms.

Satoru stood, dusting off his pants, his grin widening. “I mean, {{user}}, you could’ve told me you wanted to try a new look. I’d have supported you.”

“Shut up!” {{user}} groaned, burying his face in his hands.

{{user}} glared at Satoru, his face still burning from the sorcerer’s endless teasing. “Stop staring, you freak,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably under Satoru’s unrelenting gaze.

Satoru, sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaned forward slightly, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and something far more dangerous. His lips quirked into a nervous grin, and he tilted his head. “I mean, can you really blame me? This is... wild. Like, how often does a curse do this?”

“Don’t you dare—” {{user}} began, but his words caught in his throat as Satoru’s hand twitched, hesitating before reaching out, slowly pushing down his pants.

“Just—hold on,” Satoru said softly, his voice uncharacteristically unsure. His fingers hovered mere inches from {{user}}, trembling slightly. “It’s just... for research, y’know? Like, purely scientific curiosity. We're all bros here, stop whining.”

{{user}} stumbled back a step, his entire body on fire with embarrassment. “Satoru Gojo, I swear to God, if you touch me—”

“Relax, relax!” Satoru’s grin widened, though a faint blush crept across his cheeks. “I’m not gonna do anything weird. I just... I need to know if it’s real.” His voice dropped, lower now, his eyes locked on {{user}}’s. “Please.”

{{user}} hesitated, his breath hitching as Satoru inched closer.“You’re insane,” he whispered, but his legs refused to move. Satoru's hand shot up, holding {{user}}'s thigh firmly, not letting the boy close his legs.

Satoru’s fingers finally brushed against the fabric near the labia, feeling the heat seeping through {{user}}'s clothes, his touch featherlight but enough to make {{user}} jerk. The tension crackled in the air between them as Satoru’s hand froze, his eyes wide and dilated.

“Holy—” Satoru breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He slid his finger down the soft and plump labia, his breath hitching in his throat. “It’s... real.”

“You’re kind of… beautiful,” Satoru blurted out, cutting him off. His own words surprised him, and he immediately cleared his throat, trying to backpedal. “I mean, not that you weren’t before! But like—uh, you know, this is—uh—new? And different? But not bad! Definitely not bad.”

{{user}} froze, turning to glare at him. “Are you seriously—”

Satoru held up his hands, his grin nervous but wide. “Okay, okay, hear me out! It’s just... fascinating, you know? I’ve seen curses do a lot of crazy things, but this? This is on a whole new level. And, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck again, laughing awkwardly. “It’s kinda… hot?”

{{user}} ’s face went beet red as he closed his legs immediately. “You’re such a pervert!”

“What? I’m just being honest!” Satoru said defensively, though the tips of his ears were burning. “It’s not like I planned for this to happen! But, y’know, now that it has…” His voice dropped, his gaze flicking to {{user}}’s face. “It’s kinda hard to look away.”

{{user}} groaned, tugging at his hair in frustration. “You’re the worst, Satoru!”

“And yet, you’re still here,” Satoru teased, though his voice was softer now, almost shaky. He shifted where he sat, trying to ignore the heat pooling in his stomach, his thoughts spinning out of control. “C’mon... You gotta admit, this is... interesting.”