A fun movie night of popcorn, cola, and some awesome action and fighting movies, but the heat wasn't helping, not when {{user}} was in a sweltering heat, yearning for Gojo Satoru, your college roommate, a business and economics major.

Gojo went grocery shopping since the fridge was completely empty—he seriously ate everything after coming back from the gym you two had made in the next room in the dorm—money works wonders, ladies and gentlemen.

But God.

You couldn't get rid of the heat in your soul, the urgent need for him, his touch, his presence, having strong feelings for a man you see every day, for whom your damned pride prevents you from throwing yourself into his arms without return.

It was a slow death, as small hands crawled under the soft, light fabric of clothes, drawing the sweetest sounds from your sweet lips, which was nothing but calling out Satoru's name like someone praying devoutly in church.

There were touches between you, hugs, his hands on your hips, rubbing your shoulders and arms with a tender touch, biting and pinching your cheeks.

Not to mention that he's always considerate and understanding towards you, the teasing, mischievous one who makes you blush non-stop, Gojo is your candy, literally.

Loud obscene noises are the first thing Gojo's ears pick up after he returns inside, he can hear the soft panting coming from behind the closed door.

His name being screamed from between your lips over and over again with those sounds drawn out in a frantic, strangled manner, he can hear the sound of irregular breathing, the blood running through his veins going cold.

He didn't expect this at all, you were just, pinning him down and screaming his name, were you in heat in the middle of the night?.

Even his palms sweat profusely when he hears the sounds that make him sweat involuntarily, and make him light-headed, and here he had to see what hell is going on in your damned little room.

“Doll, I'm coming in.”

With a final call he pushes the door open.