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You know he'd tell you you're young, that it was this or that, but there's no denying the sense of feeling at home in Satoru's arms. Your eyes lock back together for the briefest of moments before he reluctantly steps back, hands in the pockets of his slacks, he looks far too good in them, in that dress shirt that has to stretch to fit over those muscles, that broad chest.

“You didn’t get any taller.”

“Psh,” you narrow your eyes, the playful demeanor you two have always had is right back. “And neither have you.”

“Didn’t stop growing at twelve.”

“You know what-”

“All right, all right,” Suguru wraps an arm around Satoru’s shoulders, chuckling a bit as he sticks his tongue out at you.

You can almost believe it, the ease in which he acts as if nothing happened, except you felt him tremble when he held you.

“Ready for this show?”

You throw on a bright smile.

“Ready!”

*****

“You killed that,” everyone around you is praising you at the after party that night, the adrenaline of that performance coursing through your veins.

“So proud of you!” Your grandparents are giving you kisses, your entire family has come, along with many others. You smile brightly at them all, now stretching your sore fingers out.

It wasn’t just your night.

There were many performances from Julliard’s elite students, many of whom you’re getting to know a lot more, though you tend to isolate a bit, to wallow in your own self pity. However, tonight as Satoru had watched your performance, fingers dancing across the keys elegantly, in something you wrote for him and only him, it felt so beautiful.

You were supposed to be doing this, you were supposed to compose and play music, and that should be making you feel fulfilled. In ways it does, but in others you’re so devastated to spend your nights alone, after remembering just how beautiful and fucking perfect being in Gojo’s arms were.

Being looked at like that, even how he looked at you in that fucking crowd, you could feel those intense eyes, the prideful grin, as if he truly knew you could do this, and was so happy to watch it unfold. In every single way, Satoru gave you motivation, he gave you this unconditionally loved feeling.

It was delusional.

He couldn’t be yours, and seeing him again was like ripping off a fucking brutal scap, letting it bleed all over again.

It hurt.

Your family, friends, and many of the Julliard performers own as well were gathered in this rented banquet hall for the night, drinks were being poured as music plays, Satoru can’t take his fucking eyes off you. You feel them like a physical touch, you can spot him across the crowded room like every corny y2k romcom you’ve ever seen.

It was just like that with him, the love at first memory, the connection was something most people would laugh at or dismiss, they wouldn’t believe it to be true, that you could love this deeply for this long and it just grew more with the distance. The pain grew, it didn’t lessen any, to desire tugging him against you, kissing him in front of the whole fucking ballroom.

He eyes you there, leaned against a white column, looking so beautiful underneath the chandeliers he can’t stand it, can’t stand not holding you in his arms, like you just physically belong there. He eyes his best friend since childhood, wishing more guilt would fill his fucking mind.

It’s all desire, ache and need…

And more.

Much more, shit that terrifies him, feelings that if he said them out loud they’d fully destroy him. You walk up to him, hips swaying ever so slightly, his eyes drift across your form thoroughly, not even trying to hide just what that body does to him, the way he can still feel those tits in his hands, that pretty cunt in his face - fuck he can still taste you on his tongue.

He hasn’t even looked at another woman since you, when you’re all he can see, desperate and pathetic after he watches you perform. He’d start looking at all your socials, pictures of your pretty face that he can’t help but stroke it to. Even now just having you this close, a mere few inches from him, he feels his body react.

You aren’t smiling brightly at him like earlier, your eyes are glassy and glittering with unshed tears, you’re taking shaky little breaths. Satoru’s hands clench into fists so as not to touch every part of you, so as not to lift you in his fucking arms and press you against the wall, fuck into you until you forgave him for not seeing you, until you knew that you’re it for him.

Foolish fucking dreams.

“You look so good,” you murmur to him then, he smirks a bit, feigning ease he doesn’t feel.

Isn’t that what he’s done his entire life until you?

“You look beautiful,” his words hit, you’re trembling as he watches you, studies you with eyes fringed by snowy white, surreal when they’ve been in your every fucking dream. “You played so beautifully too.”

“Thank you, really. You helped me.”

“Me?” He blinks in confusion. “How’d I help?”

“Those songs were… for you,” the words are out before you can hold them back whatsoever. “All of them.”

“Writing songs about me? About my pretty face?” he teases, but it doesn’t land, you glare up at him.

“Is this a joke to you, my feelings?” You go to turn and he grips your wrist, halting you then, his fingers feel so good wrapping your wrist you can’t take it. You look up at him then, breath caught at his gaze, at his touch. “They’re real to me.”

“They’re real to me, they’re torture.” His voice changes, the entire mood near him does, he’s holding you so tight it’s bruising, before letting it go, rubbing it gently as if to soothe the bruise.

“I’m the one tortured, you seem fine - perfect even.” Satoru scowls now.

“You think I don’t wanna rip this fuckin’ dress off you?” Satoru leans low, murmuring in your ear, breath tickling it and shooting shivers down your spine. Your eyes look up into his, pupils blown out, the roughness of his palm against the bare skin of your back. “I can’t think of anything else.”

“You don’t,” you shake your head, stepping closer, hidden just slightly by the crowd of people, he leans even lower, his fingers tightening. “You were in town and didn’t even tell me.”

“What good would it have done!?” His voice gets husky, broken, his own eyes narrowing. “Hurt us both?”

“I miss you so fucking much,” you blink back tears but fail, they slip out anyway, down your cheeks, sniffling as the emotions start hitting. “I can’t sleep at night without imagining you holding me.”

“Don’t say it,” he rests his forehead against yours, tugging you so close against his hard body, shaking his head. “You can’t say that shit to me.”

“It’s true,” your fists cling to his dress shirt, looking up at him with your glassy eyes breaking his heart. “I love you.”

“Don’t say that,” he pulls back, taking a breath, a hand entangling in your hair, pulling it at the base of your neck and making you tremble. “Don’t look like that.”

“Like what?”

“So beautiful,” he takes another breath, the sweetness ghosting your lips. “Nothing I can even do about it, how badly I need you.”

“Then take me.”

“Ruin me, you just ruin me, don’t you?” You shake your head, more tears falling, as the crowd disperses and he lets you go, taking a greedy breath.

Yet all he inhales is your scent.

“You are fighting this for what, for us to be miserable?”

“I deserve to be.” You glare at him then, he snatches up a glass of wine from one of the butler’s trays, throwing a drink down and looking away from you.

“Why do you deserve to be alone?”

“For wanting you, for doing what I did.”

“I wanted it, I want more.”

“Stop,” he glares now, breaking your heart. “Just forget it, forget me and everything that happened. It’s what we have to do.”

“I will never fucking forget you,” you snatch a drink up now, throwing it back in one gulp, tears burning your eyes. You grab another, glaring up at the tall, white haired man you have loved for as long as you can remember. “If you can forget me, then fine, but I can’t.”

His jaw locks, a hand on the wall above your head, barely holding himself back from slamming his lips against yours. “You know I can’t.”

You both stand there, eyes locked, chests rising with your heavy breaths, the room has faded to nothing but soft humming and quiet noise. “You want me to pretend then? Pretend there’s anyone for me?”

“There will be, young and stunning, talented, so smart you…” the words cause him so much pain his throat goes dry. “You’ll have everyone at your feet.”

“None of it matters,” he curses, every instinct telling him to press you against that wall, to tell you he loves you right back, just as much if not more than you could. “If I can’t have you then what’s it matter?”

“We can’t be, and you know it.” You shut your eyes then, tears slipping that he brushes away before he can stop himself. “Deep down you know what we did would be unforgivable.”

“Yeah, I know,” you peer over at your dad, beaming with pride and surrounded by so many family and friends, he’s well known with everyone at the school. You’re his world, and Satoru is his closest friend – closer than anyone.

He’d never forgive it.

You don’t want him to hate Satoru, you’d never live with yourself if you caused that.

“You know,” he murmurs, too close to you, achingly close. You take a shaky breath, nodding then. “I’ll never forget you, either. I told you that and I meant it, it would just be easier if you did. You think I want you hurting?”

“Not being with you hurts,” he curses, covering his face now. “I’ll give you exactly what you want, though.”

Those words make him sick.

“I’ll act like I forgot, like I’m happy, like I am not so in love it’s painful. I’ll let you believe I’m just young, like you want.” His brows draw together, when you slam back another drink, wiping your lips with a thumb. “Thanks for coming Satoru, it means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” he manages, teeth grinding damn near when you lean up and kiss his cheek with a brush of your lips, before walking away.

He leans back, cursing internally, grabbing another glass and watching as you get surrounded by several of the boys you go to Julliard with, they’re all gushing over you, one running to get you another drink. The other two go get you food, enamored by your pretty face, until you have several boys around you, and give him the saddest little look.

He’s furious.

This is what he asked of you, though, isn’t it? To go live your life, to be young and have fun, not sacrifice it all for him. Yet all he can think of as he makes small talk is dragging you to the bathroom and fucking you so good, making you watch yourself in the mirror while he did it. Fill you so good you’d never look at anyone.

What toxic, fucked thinking was that!?

He curses internally, he shouldn’t have come, he wanted to support you but all he did was hurt you more – hurt himself. Suguru comes up to him with his new wife all proud and happy, but Satoru’s thinking of bending his daughter over a counter, of spitting in her mouth and making her drool it back out.

Worse shit runs through his head, fucking you into his matress in the room he’s staying in right next to Suguru Geto, having you cry out while he cums inside you. He hopes you’re not even on anything, that he could put babies inside you and make sure you’re good and his, things he’s never even wanted in forty years he can’t help but picture.

He loves you too.

He can’t say it, and it makes him sick, watching you while Suguru is murmuring his praises, as he should. Thanking him for being there, which makes Satoru almost snort out his fucking drink, knowing he’d not thank him if he could hear his thoughts, no he’d put a bullet in Satoru’s forehead, and he wouldn’t blame him one bit.

He deserves it and worse, for giving in that weekend all those months ago, for holding you in his arms and kissing across your neck. Your scent cloying to him from your proximity, those dilated eyes staring right across the room at him, making him lost in your gaze, losing sight of all reason.

“Thank you for coming, really,” Suguru sips his own drink, patting Satoru’s back and laughing, just a little buzzed. “The kid loves you.”

She sure fucking does.

“Yeah, of course I’d be here,” Satoru plants a friendly smile, stomach turning while you’re dancing with one of those boys. “Look at her, all surrounded by these boys.”

“Right? Of course, she’s beautiful,” he sighs then, dark brows drawing together. “I wish she would date, I worry a bit about her.”

“She doesn’t?” Satoru manages to ask gruffly, it’s not something either of you really talked about during your sordid weekend in the suite.

“No, and I was very thankful for it in high school and college, but she’s so brilliant and bright, I want her to be happy and live her life. I thought maybe she was too worried about me, but I’ve found love now.”

“She’ll find it, she’s young.”

“No, I don’t want her to rush, just want her to not be all alone I guess, to give it a chance if it’s there. Like that kid,” he points to the boy dancing with you, his hands on your waist, a blush across his cheeks. “He’s such a good kid, and he adores her. I’m afraid she won't give him the time of day until now.”

“Well of course not, look at her,” Suguru narrows his eyes a bit, and Satoru sips on his drink once more. “She’s too good, out of his league.”

“Well of course she is, just I want her to have fun too, remember us at her age?”

“Well, you half had fun, half had to raise a baby,” he trails off, the words making the difference between you worse. “She’s an old soul.”

“She really is, you’re right. I just don’t want her worrying about me anymore, though part of me wondered if she was in love with you.”

Satoru chokes.

“Shit, you okay?” He pats his back, and Satoru barely manages a cough, nodding a bit. “Yeah like she was always so excited any time you came, and she’d talk about you for days after you left. Some little crush I’m sure, but I worried she really felt that way, but that’s nonsense.”

“It’s nonsense,” he agrees, watching you spin around the room. “Maybe she’s picky.”

“Which is good, I like seeing her happy and dancing though, every event this year she’s just sat with me instead of hanging out with anyone her age,” Suguru shakes his head a bit. “I'm just worried for her being alone here so often.”

Satoru looks at you again, thinking.

He’d never seen you with anyone, just playing your piano alone, briefly smiling at fellow students and heading out. You were isolating, and as long as he’s known you he can count maybe two boyfriends he’s heard of, were you really wasting your youth and opportunities for him all this time?

Why doesn’t he feel bad, why is he happy about it!?

You bring out the most toxic fucking things in him, ones that make him dive further into self loathing, and the more the wine filters through his blood stream, the more he wants you – wants to be inside you, on you, behind you. Wants to show you that all that waiting was worth something, all those losers weren’t worth your fucking time.

Yet he can’t, and he shouldn’t think like it.

How can he not want to snatch you up when you’re in someone else’s arms, though, when you belong in his?

“She seems to be having fun, and that makes me relieved. You coming tonight helped, she really loves you around.”

“Yeah, we got close I guess…” He shuts his eyes, internally cursing, his friend chuckles a bit.

“I love that I could trust you to take care of her while I was away, did I ever really get to thank you?”

Satoru wants the fucking ballroom floor to swallow him hole.

“You don’t need to.”

“You’re right, we’re family.”

Worse and worse.

He hates himself so much, but not enough for his cock to stop twitching looking at that back of yours in the dress you wear, just like the night at the suite where he saw you standing at that lobby, where everything changed. Vividly remembering running his fingertips down your spine, pressing you against the hotel door, burying his face between your thighs.

“Oh I have to go talk to them, I'll catch you in a bit Satoru. There should be a lot of people you recognize,” he nudges him then, head tilting in the direction of a pretty girl. “Remember her?”

“Yeah,” he barely acknowledges the little wave she gives, struggling to rip his eyes off your form. “Go ahead Suguru, I'm fine.”

He smiles and is back in the mix of things, leaving Satoru making small talk that almost kills him. He feels the effects of the drinks he threw back making it even harder not to rip you out of those men's arms, you're laughing as they all say something ‘oh so' funny.

Satoru is petty for you, he doesn't want to be, yet here he is, nudging his way closer in the crowd, drawn to you like a magnet, unable to stop himself. Every logical thing tells him to avoid you for the rest of the night, to ride out these feelings – maybe they'll get easier, maybe he will go back to how he was, fine with his work and regular hook ups.

He's lying to himself. 

He takes your hand on the next song, tugging you against his chest. He doesn't hold you too close. He plays a role, the role he played in your life before, smiling easily at you, yet the moment you're in his arms, you tremble. You can hardly stand being this close against him, that hand brushing your bare skin, a smile easy on his pretty face.

“When are you leaving?” You murmur softly, letting him spin you a bit, you throw on a fake smile when your dad looks over at you two.

Act like it doesn't hurt.

Satoru pulls you back against him once more, dipping you just a bit, his breath tickling your neck. He can practically see your pulse racing underneath your delicate skin, inhaling you deep like it's his last time.

Maybe it was.

“I'm leaving in a couple days, I am going to do a little business while I'm here," he lifts you back up, hand entwining and swallowing your own, leaning too low. “Did you like dancing with them? Boys your age?”

“Sure did,” you smile all brightly at him, letting him turn you so that your back is against him, dancing far too skilled. “That’s what you wanna hear, right?”

His jaw sets, blue eyes shimmering in a myriad of emotions that make them glow, how brilliant they are, how beautiful in that moment. You feel it, his desire, his pain, his longing - all emotions you feel just as vividly, just as deeply. You saw him with your dad, you know what he’s thinking, you understand it all.

It doesn’t make it hurt less.

“Yes, maybe I’ll actually date,” you say then. “I know dad worries.”

“He does worry,” he admits softly, but then his eyes light up. “But me?”

“You?”

He leans down. “I fucking love that you don’t, I love that you haven’t given any of these boys a fucking chance. Selfish, terrible thoughts that consume me about you,” he whispers, voice hoarse, cupping your face for the briefest moments before pulling away. “You’re better off without me.”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you hardly catch a breath, heart hammering in your fucking chest now. “Will you see me before you leave town?”

“I think Suguru wants us to have lunch,” you stand there, nodding then, before you turn and rush off, leaving him to curse internally.

All he’s doing is hurting you, hurting himself.

He looks around to see everyone dancing, laughing, not noticing the star of the night ran off in tears, that’s when he can’t stop himself from being stupid, so utterly fucking stupid. Instead of being a reasonable, mature man in his forties, he’s acting like a dumb fucking teenager, running after you, catching sight of your dress glimmering while you run to the ladies room.

He hears you crying through the door, pausing to talk himself out of this dumb shit for not clearly long enough, rushing in and seeing your tear streaked face, little trails of mascara dripping black on your cheeks. He just stares at you, while you lean against the marble counter, your hands gripping the surface tightly, chest heaving with your sobs.

“What? Can you just leave me alone? Stop making me think you could ever fucking feel the same!” He shakes his head, walking up to you, and you shove at his chest, breaths coming faster. “Just go!”

Satoru cups your face with his big hands, leaning low then, slamming his lips on yours, the release so good he moans into your lips, your little gasp lets his tongue slip past the seam, delving into your mouth in moments. You melt in his arms, hands stopping their shoving, gripping that starch dress shirt instead, crying out while he just devours you.

Satoru loses all his sense when he kisses you once more – he wondered at it, was it the earth shattering kiss he remembered, the one that made every other encounter feel like nothing? Was it more in his head, was it the taboo aspect of it, the hiding and the pining away?

No, it was just you.

You were everything.

“Fuck,” he pulls back, breathing heavy, his snowy lashes low over those eyes you can’t look away from, even while kissing you looked into them, afraid of the moment you never get to again. “Why do you have to feel like this, look like this? Taste like that?”

He kisses you again, hungrier now, lifting you and spreading your thighs on the counter behind you, fingers pressing in as you fall into him, cunt throbbing around nothing, your heat against his waist. Your thighs press on either side, whining out against his mouth, hands entangling in his white locks, before pulling back, desperately gasping.

“Don’t do this to me,” you whisper then, as he presses against your heat, one hand on your thigh, the other entangled in your hair. “Don’t make me think this could ever be.”

He pauses, hating the pain in your voice, resting his forehead on yours and closing his eyes. “How can it be, sweetheart? It doesn’t mean I don’t want this, it doesn’t mean I don’t want you, doesn’t mean I don’t fucking love you.”

You gasp, pulling back to stare at him in shock, and he realizes the words slipped from his lips, his own eyes glimmering with emotions. You kiss him again, this time putting every bit of your love into it, your desire, your anger and hurt, spilling it in the most desperate meeting of lips. Tongues pressing, teeth clicking, the movements more and more needy.

“You do?” You ask softly, between messy kisses, he moans softly, slipping a strap down your shoulder, kisses dancing across it, teeth sinking in.

“Yes I love you, god you don’t know how much,” he looks up then, a hand gripping your tit, making you arch your back for more. “I love you so fucking much it hurts, laying there in bed without you.”

“Satoru,” you tug him back up, hastily undoing his belt then, he groans as you work to release his cock, when it springs free he whimpers, his own hands shoving your dress up your hips. “In me, fuck… please.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmurs, as if it’ll stop him from sliding your panties to the side, from tugging your hips and spreading your thighs. “This is horrible of us.”

“I know,” you stroke his cock then, he leans back and spits right on your cunt, swirling it with his tip and making you scream out. “Ah!”

“Shh, fuck,” he’s lost then, kissing you so messy, tip pressing your soppy little entrance, so tight you grip his tip, earning his desperate moan. “Fuck, you’re too tight, god feel you. Is she all mine?”

“All yours,” he’s pressing deeper, stretching your cunt out, pulling back to spread the wetness across your folds with his tip, before sinking deeper. “Pussy belongs to you, Toru, just you.”

“Fuck,” he sinks in deeper, groaning into your mouth, cock filling you so full you hardly can take it, in one - two - three strokes he’s buried his cock fully, leaving you to whine out, a hand on your mouth. “Feel s’perfect, cunt was waiting f’me huh?”

You nod quickly, and Satoru fucks into you, wrapping one arm around your body to drag you on his cock. You whine out desperately at the stretch, the burn of your skin when he presses you against that counter, head almost slamming on the mirror if not for his palm catching it, protecting you even as he starts to move.

“Only mine,” he is lost, no good sense left when your cunt is just milking him, gripping him so tight it’s hard to even move, he lifts you higher, pulling back and slamming into you now, letting out a breathy little groan, a hand entangling in your hair at the nape. “Mine, please say it baby.”

“Y-yours, yours, w-wanna be yours… mnh!” He slams his lips on yours, moving his mouth as he fucks you, harder with each thrust, your name a desperate little cry that you drink up.

“You already are, f-fuck…” he’s slamming his cock into you - knowing anyone could walk in at any moment, cock throbbing deep inside your hole, leaky tip pressing your cervix. “Already mine, don’t want anyone’s hands on you, ever.”

“Then don’t let anyone t-touch me - ah!” He’s picking you up and turning you, so that you see your face, lifting one of your thighs on the counter, your other leg just dangling, and aligning his tip, slamming into you again.

Your head falls back against his chest, eyes fluttering to stay open, looking in a haze at the reflection of the tall man behind you, the one using you to milk his cock with his big fucking hands on your body. One wraps your waist, the other your hips, sinking himself deeper and deeper.

“Look who you belong to,” his words are husky, tickling your ear, your tummy clenching with need. “Should fill you s’good ya never forget.”

“Never did,” you lean back, a hand raised to cup his face, even as his cock sinks so deep. “Never forgot.”

“God I love you,” he’s fucking you to tears, to drool, to slick arousal making the wettest, lewdest noises – the slaps of skin, the gushing of your cunt, his fingers reach down and find your clit, rolling it just how you like. “That’s it, tighten up around it, lemme make you feel so good.”

“Missed you, m-missed you…” He kisses you through your tears, fingers running circles on your clit, cock thrusting over and over until you shatter, so loud he has to shove his hand on your mouth, watching you with lowered brows.

“That’s it,” he urges, talking you through it while he slows his thrusts, sensitive from the aftershocks of your pretty cunt wrapping his glistening cock. His fingers slip down, gripping gently under your chin. “You came so pretty, just look at you, you’re so good f’me.”

“Mnh!” You kiss him messy then, ass arched, not giving a fuck who would hear or see anymore, so lost in his fingers, the ones that slip to his lips hungrily.

“God your taste,” he kisses your lips with your sticky arousal, cock thickening now. “Wanna pump you so full, watch your tummy fuckin’ fill with me.”

“Do it,” he groans, shaking his head.

“Fucking ruined me…”

“You ruined me first,” he’s whimpering as he presses one more time, cock dragging against your spot before his milky seed spurts so deep, making him gasp out. “Toru!”

He pumps so much cum, like he’s just been waiting for this, waiting to fill your pussy until she’s dripping him all over. He exhales, easing you off the counter just to hold you there, shoving his cock deep. You’re in his arms being used so he can cum just a little longer, drag it out, holding you like a doll in his big ass arms, before gently easing out of you with a filthy sound.

“Fuck,” he hardly can control his own mind, kissing hungrily across your bare shoulder, fixing your dress as he zips himself up. “This can’t be it.”

You turn and look at him, all flushed pink in the cheeks, his usually perfectly slicked up hair falling boyishly over his brow. You cup his cheeks and lean up, as he leans down, holding you by your hips, the two of you trying to control your erratic breathing, trying to come down.

“We should go before it’s noticed, sweetheart,” he says reluctantly, you nod in agreement, a loss for words then.

What words could describe this? It was everything you remember and more.

You don’t just get over the love of your lifetime.

You both stumble out, adjusting yourselves a bit more and soon you’re kissing, over and over, how can you not after so long? Satoru is cupping your face, you’re wrapping your arms, like you can’t get enough, not after so long apart. It’s hungry and desperate even in the halls, he’s pushing you against the wall again, the two of you laughing, moaning, kissing.

“Ahem.”

That’s when a shiver runs over both of your bodies.

Fuck, you’ve both been so dumb.

You look to see him then, your dad, Suguru Geto, crossed arms and leaning against the wall in the highway, his eyes unreadable, jaw clenched so tightly a vein presses out of his skin.

“Dad…”

“Suguru…”

“Don’t,” he’s damn near hyperventilating, seeing his best friend with his precious daughter, the betrayal cutting so deep both of you can feel it, looking down and struggling to find anything to say to make it okay. “You wanna tell me how long you’ve been fucking my daughter?”

“Dad!”

“Honey, I’m not upset at you,” he says softly, before stepping up to Satoru Gojo, one of the only men at eye level, his fists ready to fly. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I can’t,” Satoru’s voice breaks, the hurt clear.

“Wanna take this outside, Satoru?” Suguru demands, scowling as you adjust your dress, and Satoru is carefully fixing your strap, his eyes full of emotions.

“Dad, please…” You walk up to him then, a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be mad at him, this was my idea.”

“Princess,” he shakes his head, cupping your cheek then. “I’ll never be mad at you for this, you’re young and in love. I’ve been there. But you,” he turns to Satoru, his body tensing. “I can’t believe you.”

Satoru says nothing, adjusting his jacket and sighing. “I’ll meet you out front.”

He walks quickly past, and you’re left doing nothing but following them out, holding your long dress up, heels clicking on the floor, just barely getting outside in the cool night air when your dad shoves Satoru to the ground. Your heart hurts when he throws him down like that, getting on top of him, hitting him square in the jaw with a sickening crack. 

“Dad!? No!” You run up and Satoru holds a hand up, looking at you with a bloody lip, shaking his head.

“Sweetheart, don’t.”

“Sweetheart?! You’re calling my fucking daughter sweeheart!?” Suguru punches him again, and Satoru sighs, just letting him.

“Dad!”

“Honey please,” He looks at you, his eyes furious. “Just stay over there, this is between me and him.”

“It’s about me!”

“You’re innocent, he is not,” Suguru grabs Satoru’s collar then, tugging him up and clenching his fist. “After all these years of being family, you’d do this to me? When I trusted you with my daughter?”

Your tears pour down your face, realizing how selfish you’d been, how horrible you were to upset your dad like this. But you loved Satoru, and that love blinded you to all good reason, all good sense. Satoru eyes you sadly from across the dark, grassy field in the night, quirking his lips up in a sad attempt at a reassuring smile.

“I deserve your hatred,” he says, touching his jaw. “I deserve all of it.”

“Why did you do it!? Why would you do this to me?”

“Dad, I wanted this! I love him!” Suguru looks at you, sadly then, shaking his head before hitting Satoru again. “Stop it!”

“You don’t love him, you’re young and sweet, he’s been married, engaged, fuck he’s twice your age! You think he doesn’t know what he does, his effects on women? And still he let you think he - “

“I love her.”

It’s quiet, Suguru lets him go, standing now, fists clenched. “Get the fuck up.”

He does, slowly, looking at you once more, before looking back at Suguru. “I do love her, I’m in love with her, fuck I’ve never met anyone like her… and I never will again.”

“Don’t say this shit, you’re gonna hurt her more,” he shoves Satoru, who just steps back a bit, not retaliating. “How long?”

It’s quiet for a moment.

“How long have you been sleeping with my daughter?”

“It was only that weekend at the suite, then nothing since then. I tried to stay away from her, it fucking killed me, but I did try,” Suguru’s quiet, shaking his head in disbelief, in disgust. “She is a grown woman, Suguru.”

“She’s my baby.” You are a mess at that, breaking down in tears, Suguru looks at you then, softening.

“Dad I’m not,” you step closer, legs shaking as you move. “I know you see me as a baby, but I’m an adult. I chose it, chose him. I’ve loved him for so long, I think some part of you knows.”

Suguru’s silent, scowling at Satoru again. “And how fucking long have you been in love with her?”

“I had feelings a couple years ago I hid very well,” Satoru murmurs softly, sighing and looking at you. “I avoided you because of them, but there was a moment…”

“I swear to god if you talk about being intimate I’ll fucking kill you.”

“No, it wasn’t that,” he coughs a bit, rubbing his sore jaw now, Suguru is fucking seething, but Satoru is staring at you. “It was when she told me I deserved to be loved, that no one ever really loved me enough before.”

Your tears fall even more, seeing the love of your life hurting, right next to your dad, the most important person in your life who you love. It hurts so terribly to see them like this, knowing their inseparable bond, so terrified you’ve singlehandedly ruined it forever, yet you’re lost when Satoru says those words.

You remember the moment.

“She saw that those women didn’t care for me,” he continues. “She knew more than I did, at that moment. I felt this connection I can’t describe, this soul connection that I’ve never had, that I never fucking felt. Something inexplicable, but I knew it then – I was in love with her. Not just her pretty face, not just how bright and beautiful a person she is, but all of her.”

Suguru says nothing, looking over at you for a moment now. “And you?”

“I’ve loved him since I can remember,” you say softly, coming closer, putting a hand on your dad’s shoulder. “Yet the way he takes care of me, the way he makes me feel so special, how he looks at me… there’s no way to explain it, but there is no one for me but him. Without him, it’s so empty.”

Satoru’s heart hurts at your words, aching to take you in his arms, but knowing he cannot, studying his best friend then. “I know she’s your little girl, I know you’re fucking furious, I don’t blame you. But I don’t want to just hook up, I would have never done that to her, been so selfish. I want to be with her Suguru. Take care of her, forever if she wants.”

You gasp, looking at him then. “You do?”

“Of course I do,” he cups your face, leaning close, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ll take care of you till my heart stops beating. And even after.”

“Satoru…”

“It’ll stop beating right fucking now,” Suguru shoves him off, he stumbles back, Suguru’s shoulders heaving up and down. “I trusted you with her, I thanked you for being with her, and you did that?”

Satoru looks down, knowing if Suguru had even a clue of just what you all had done that week, he’d never make it out alive. “I know.”

It’s all he says for a bit.

“I want to take care of her, I want you to trust me to do it,” Suguru laughs, shaking his head then. “I want to marry her, have a fucking family.”

“Your shit is nonsense.”

“I want that too,” Suguru looks at you with sadness in his eyes. “Dad, I know you’re mad, upset. I get it, I do. But please, if there was anyone in this world who would take care of me, isn’t it Satoru?”

Your dad says nothing, just looking between the two of you, his knuckles dusted with the splatters of Satoru’s blood.

“I can’t do this right now without just fucking murdering you,” he looks at you. “And it would hurt her if I killed you. So I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Satoru exhales, relief and shock, he was absolutely sure these were indeed his last moments of existence. Suguru touches your shoulder gently, hurt written all over his face. “Dad, I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize princess,” he brushes your hair affectionately, kissing your head and tugging you close. “I love you and I will never be mad at you, you’re everything to me. Okay?”

“I know dad,” he sighs as he looks at your face, swallowing then. “I love you too, so much.”

“I know,” he looks back at Satoru. “Are you coming back, or are you going… with him.”

“You’re giving me a choice?” You’re shocked, but he just nods.

“You are an adult, as much as I wanna fucking beat him into the ground, as much as I wanna protect you forever, I have to let you make your own choices, and I will respect them.” You hug him tightly, tears against his chest.

“I don’t want to choose between you both,” he pats your back, letting you cry against him, as Satoru watches, your little hands gripping Suguru’s jacket. “I want to go with him tonight, is that okay?”

“Anything you decide,” he reluctantly pulls away then, brushing your hair back and managing a smile. “Come see me in the morning, maybe I’ll go take a xanax so I don’t end up in prison.”

You laugh, emotions catching your throat, Suguru walks away but not before giving Satoru a death glare. You stand there in the night, the wind blowing your dress around your thighs, Satoru walks over then, wrapping you in his jacket carefully. You brush a drop of blood from his chin, frowning for a moment.

“You okay?”

“He hits hard, but he could have hit harder,” Satoru kisses you then, bloody lips and all, and you cling to him, letting him wrap you tightly in his embrace. “I meant every word I said.”

“You want to have a family?” You ask softly, eyes lighting up in the night.

“I will make sure you can pursue music all you want, I’ll buy you a fucking grand piano in every room,” you giggle then, shaking your head. “Think I’m playing? I’m filthy fucking rich baby.”

“I love you.” He picks you up then, kissing you over and over, your arms wrap his neck as he gently sits you down.

“I love you.” It’s easier with every time he says it, grin on his beat up, handsome face. “Could make you a mommy tonight.”

“You’re loopy from the head injury,” you lean close though. “But, you could show me how you will do that.”

Satoru’s got you in the back of his car, you’re grinding on his lap while he desperately sucks on your nipples, breasts in his big hands. It’s slow and sensuous, like the two of you are coming back together and savoring it this time, not the hurried and rushed nature in the bathroom that has you still leaking his milky seed against your panties.

No, it’s sensuous and sweet, his fingers exploring every area of your body, lifting you in his arms and carrying you like that to the elevator, pressing you against it, kissing every exposed inch. There are no words in their moments, but there are shared looks that linger, right into each other's eyes.

There are breaths, scattered ones and sweet sighs, murmurs incoherent but what sound like each other’s names, Satoru’s hands firmly turn you, unzipping your dress and groaning audibly. He runs his fingertips across your spine, where the zipper left its imprints in your perfect skin, kissing it down like a trail, letting the dress slip down your hips with a tug.

Your head falls back, ass arching out for more of his kisses, which he rewards by parting it, tongue slipping from your slit up to your hole, then further to your ass, tongue slipping in the tiny, untouched hole and making you scream out. He stands and carries you over to the bed, pressing you down and spreading your thighs, fingering his own sticky seed and your arousal, coating his fingers.

“God I missed you,” he whispers, kissing you as his fingers press into your hole, you bite your lip, brows drawing together, thighs shaking. “I missed your face, your body, your fucking energy.”

“Toru…” you’re gasping again as he pumps his fingers in and out, messy and loud, you slip off his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his muscles. “Let me see you, please.”

“My greedy little girl,” he taunts with a smirk, but he leans back, letting you slip it off, revealing the chiseled body, thick chest and bulging biceps. Your hand goes over his chest then, feeling his heart beat steadily under your palm. He puts a hand over yours, exhaling.

“I missed feeling this,” you blink heavy emotions then, caressing a face that’s cut and bruised carefully. “Are you hurting?”

“No, just my cock wanting to bury itself back inside you,” he kisses you, lips slightly covering your own in that metallic taste of blood, before kissing lower, leaving little trails of ruby across your skin. “All I can think of is filling you over and over, making up for every night I jerked it to the thought of you.”

“Toru!” He’s spreading your thighs, parting those folds and watching the creamy mix of him and you trickle from your abused hole, all pink inside from his roughness earlier.

“I watched you,” you gasp, barely registering words as he dives down, lapping at your hole hungrily, moaning. “Playing.”

“Y-you came to see me?” You tug at his hair, earning him looking right up at you. “You really did?”

“Of course I did, I would watch you play,” he kisses up a thigh then, nipping with his teeth, his fingers holding your hood up so he can ghost his breath over your twitchy little clit. “Watch you make that beautiful fucking music, god you’re so talented baby.”

You feel like you’re dreaming when he’s so devoted, burying his face now, uncaring of the lip that drips blood, he just swirls it around your cunt, moaning and sucking the red tint right off. “Toru!”

“God I love you saying that,” he says, long pink tongue sliding back up to your clit, pressing harder, making your toes curl and your body tighten. “I fucking promise, every drop of me that’s been wasted on my hand, it’s all yours now.”

“You came so much for me?” You ask, before crying out, tugging at his silvery white locks, his moans vibrating your clit, shooting waves of pleasure through your body in waves.

He pulls back with a pop, smiling. “Did you?”

You just manage a little nod, his fingers scissor in and out of those slick walls, quivering and pouring the last little remnants of his cum that he drinks greedily, groaning. “Been touching myself to you forever. First time I came was for-”

You’re cut off with a messy, desperate kiss now, sharing your taste - that sweetness just tinged with the metallic mix of his blood, messy and dripping with a mix of white and pink. Your nails press into the strong muscles of his back that bunch and roll, your name like honey on his lips.

“You played with this pretty cunt thinking of me?” He asks desperately, after one quick nod he groans, a hand entwining with yours over your head. “Fuck I need you, can you take me again?”

You nod once more, and he pushes inside you, achingly slow, so thick it’s like he thickened impossibly more, so much it feels like you might split in two. You moan into his mouth, feeling your greedy little cunt stretch around him, soaking his cock that’s just  pulsing with every movement, slow at first then he’s picking up the pace.

He lifts your hips now with just one arm slipping under them, dragging your cunt down his length, fucking you so deep you feel him fucking everywhere, screams echoing off the walls and filling his ears.

“Fuck, feel perfect, I’ll never get enough,” he whispers, you’re drolling with each thrust, cunt already sore from earlier, but you’re taking it. “Takin’ it s’good, cunt is slutty just for me, say it.”

“For you,” he whines out, picking up the pace. “Only you.”

“Gonna have you cum so much, feel you cum around me, till you milk every drop of that cum, it’s yours.” You’re clinging to him now, so eager, cunt taking more and more of every one of Satoru’s filthy thrusts and sweet kisses. “I can feel how much you want it, how much you’ve missed it.”

“Mmhmm! I d-did, f-fuck… I missed your cock filling me so deep,” he’s losing control, fucking into you harder and harder, every thrust pressing you ever so deeper into the soft mattress.

“I’m going to ruin you baby, just like you fucking ruined me,” he whispers, his hips moving, filling you inch by inch. “Want that?”

“Want it, f-fuckin’ ruin me - ah!” Satoru pulls out his cock, letting it drip you onto the mattress, flipping you on your stomach now, leaning low.

“I’ll make you remember why you’re mine, why you belong to me, why your pussy was made just for me to fill it up like this, yeah sweetheart?”

You can’t help but nod, his hand gripping your throat, cock shoving deep inside your hole, bottoming out, your eyes roll back in your skull.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes!” You nod eagerly, your nails scratching down his arms as he starts to fuck harder, fucking brutal strokes, his other hand cutting off your oxygen.

“Been waiting f’you, god so long,” the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room mixes with his hoarse breaths, his hips snapping, his cock driving deep, hitting that spot in your walls with that thick tip. “You’re mine, f-fucking say it.”

“I’m yours, I’m yours, S-Satoru… close!” He exhales, inhaling your scent with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

“Mine, all mine,” you’re getting stuffed so full while he cuts off your breaths, and you lose yourself completely, blacking out when that orgasm hits - and he juts his hips just so, causing you to convulse and shatter. “Lemme feel what’s mine. Feel her fuckin’ clamping down.”

You can’t answer, too fucked out to think, body warm and blood rushing, nodding as he squeezes harder. “Ngh!”

You feel dizzy, lost in every movement, sensation. Every thrust and messy kiss and hungry bite. “Cum for me, sweetheart, lemme feel you.”

You do just that, how can you not? When he rolls his hips and squeezes your throat even tighter, you shatter - your body convulsing around him, a hoarse little cry ripped from your throat underneath his hand. Satory keeps fucking you through it, slowly letting his thick cock hit every inch of your walls.

You start to come down, so dizzy that the room spins, and you feel like you’re floating, the pain of his choking hand mixing with pleasure so perfectly you can’t tell them apart anymore. His hand rests on your throat then, not squeezing, just a gentle reminder of it, all sore now as you swallow air greedily.

“Such a good girl,” you whine at that, still facing the after shocks of your orgasm. “You ready f’me?”

“Please, Satoru, please… wanna f-feel you…” He gives you just that, his hips moving faster, harder, his breathing turning ragged as he whispers your name. You know he’s close, and that sends another rush through you, making your pussy tighten around him like she’s ready.

“Gonna fill you so full of me,” he presses so deep, lips trailing messy up your ear. “Take it all, all of my cum huh?”

You just weakly nod, when he fills you, his cock pulsing inside you, hot cum spurting into your depths, filling you up so much it leaks out around his sticky, veiny cock. He doesn’t pull out, instead staying buried deep after, his hand moving to your stomach, pressing down like he’s willing the cum to actually make you pregnant like he taunted earlier.

“That’s it,” he cooes, exhaling and easing out, cock twitching and spurting cum that drips along your thigh. “Fuck, look at you… so beautiful.”

“I look a mess I bet,” you rub your neck gently, and he chuckles, shaking his head, caressing your throat where he’d left marks.

“You’re beautiful, and you’re all mine.”

You lean up, kissing him, dragging him down to lay his heavy weight on top of you then.

“All yours.”

*****

“Ready for this?” You ask Satoru the next morning, knocking on Suguru’s suite, Satoru sighs then, nodding.

“Remember me after my death.”

“Toru!”

“I’ll haunt you if you fuck someone.”

You laugh then, shaking your head, when Suguru opens that door, just staring at you both with his jaw locked.

“Dad,” you lean up and hug him as he opens the door, he wraps you close, scowling over your shoulder at Satoru. “Good morning.”

“Good morning princess… Satoru.” The way he says his name is chilling, deadpan, his fists clenching when he lets you both in the suite.

“Have a good night?” You manage to ask.

“Did you – wait, don’t answer, I’ll get sick again,” he grimaces, hand on his stomach while you all shut the door behind you. “Sit.”

Satoru listens damn near obediently, tugging you down to sit on his thigh, you gasp then, Suguru scowls. “What, we have to get him used to it?”

“I’m not opposed to cutting your dick off,” Suguru’s words have Satoru sitting you on the seat next to him instead. “Better.”

“Suguru,” he says then, a hand on your thigh, that you are sure your father wants to cut off. “I meant every word, that I will take care of her, forever.”

“I know,” you both look in surprise, Suguru slides a hand over his face, grimacing a bit. “Listen, I am fucking furious still at you, but I can tell you love her, I can tell you love each other. I won’t be so selfish that I take that away from my daughter.”

“Dad…” You lean forward, holding his hand over the table then, he squeezes yours and smiles.

“She is the most important thing in the world, more important than my urge to fucking murder you in various ways.”

“How many ways?”

“Every way you can imagine, and more,” Satoru grins, and Suguru glares. “Think I’m kidding, need a demonstration?”

“Dad! Please…” He melts when you look at him like that, just like Satoru does next to you.

“Satoru, I’ll trust you to take care of her, but don’t you ever, ever fucking hurt her, okay?” Satoru’s hand squeezes a bit, he nods quickly.

“Suguru, there's no world where I would hurt her, I want her to have everything,” he leans close, and you look up at him, smiling so pretty he aches to plant a kiss on your lips. “I’ll give her all of me.”

“I love you,” you say softly, earning a quick kiss and a sound of disgust from your father. “And I love you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he sighs and leans back. “I will not be an obstacle, it just may take time to get used to… whatever the fuck this is.”

“You’re the best dad in the world!” You stand and come over, hugging him tightly, Satoru smiles at the two of you.

“Better appreciate me,” he grumbles. “Also, you’ll not quit Julliard, that’s my main condition.”

“Of course I won’t!”

“I’ll move here,” you look back in surprise. “I have so much business here, it’ll be nothing. We’ll get a place close.”

“Yeah?” You ask, he just smirks, nodding, looking at you with those eyes you’ve loved forever.

“Anywhere you want.”

“Good, then I’ll support whatever you do,” your dad kisses your forehead then. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“I need tissues, ugh,” you go to the bathroom then, hearing them talk, your heart feeling the lightest it ever has, hearing them laugh even. “Perfect, fuck… everything ended up okay!?”

You say that to yourself like a crazy person in the mirror.

You got the love of your life and your dad didn’t kill him!

“So, will I call you dad now?” You freeze, rushing out of the bathroom quickly to see your dad hovering over Satoru, leaned across the table like he’s about to fucking flip it over.

“What!?”

“And what about when she has a baby, do we call you gramps?”

Punch.

Well, shit.

Dw Suguru ends up okay with it he just needs to hit Gojo a few more times!! <3 Ahhh I hope you all enjoyed the ending to this little one! Older Satoru really fucked me up!

Patreon for more exclusive fics - Kofi link if you wanna buy me a glass of wine 🍷

you'd been good friends with the twins ever since first year, although for a good two weeks, you lowkey thought they were the same guy.

you were in sato's lab and toru's math lecture, and it just so happened that you'd sat next to both of them in their respective classes. you'd just assumed he liked to switch up his style.

on mondays in the lab, he obviously liked to dress a little nerdier, with thick-rimmed glasses and graphic game tees hanging off his bulk. then, in maths, you'd assumed he decided to dress trendier to impress the multitudes of friends he hung with at the back of the hall.

the fact that they were, in fact, different people, only dawned on you when you saw them together at a party three weeks after meeting them. that was definitely an awkward conversation..

nevertheless, you'd gotten closer and closer as the years dragged on, sharing inside jokes and lighthearted banter other guys could only wish they had with you.

that was, until, you started dating sukuna.

he hated the twins. to be honest, they might have been a contributing factor to the inevitable break up (not undermining his disgusting mistreatment of you).

but now that you were free from the tatted man's year-long curse, the boys saw it as the perfect opportunity to weasel their way into your heart and get their best friend back.

"y'know, standing here getting all angry over it isn't gonna make it go away," sato states, leaning against the counter space to your left while toru mimics his motion on your right, both of them caging you between them.

"mhm, and acting like you care only feeds his fatass ego. come party with us, baby. we'll show you a good time." toru flirts, placing his palm over the back of your hand that rests on the bench.

you think on it. i mean, you're already a little bit tipsy, already a-lotta-bit upset. what was the harm in having a little fun?

you huff out a sigh, then let a small smile slip by. "mm, i guess.."

"perfect!" they say simultaneously.

you end up being dragged across the room to the beer pong tables, watching a few games play out amongst the competitive frat bros while the twins take turns holding you against them in some way, shape, or form.

sato would have your delicate hand weaved through his arm, then toru would get antsy and throw his bicep over your shoulder. it was an exhausting back and forth, to be honest.

but when the table clears out, toru is embarrassingly quick to claim the next game. “kay! we’re running teams,” he announces, clapping obnoxiously to get attention from onlookers. “th' winner plays on.”

a few people gather around, eager to see how this pans out. toru was pretty well known for being a monster at beer pong.

sato takes your wrist and pulls you over to the array of lined-up solo cups, propping you up at the opposite end to toru. his chest presses against your back, pushing you up against the edge of the table. on the other side, his brother paces back and forth ready to go.

"i'll help you out if you need," the nerdier twin suggests from behind you.

you glance back at his righteous expression. “oh yeah? are you actually good at this?”

his chin dips close to your ear. “i’m good at everything that involves angles and positions. y'know, the whole physics thing."

you snort. “that was the most virgin thing you’ve ever said, holy fuck."

toru cackles out a laugh from across the table, but sato squeezes your hips softly in warning. you did kinda miss how possessive he got before your life was ruined by sukuna, you are suddenly pleasantly aware of how boxed in you are, with this cocky geek behind you and his himbo brother ready to destroy you from across the table. yikes. or yay, however you decide to see it.

"you can do this, hun. i believe in you." toru winks, and you can only flush in response, taking your first shot.

after a few goes, it becomes very obvious that the beer pong gods have not blessed you, let alone touched you with their heavenly hand. you miss almost every shot.

toru groans after about the third time. “c'mon, baby. that was just tragic.”

“shut up,” you snap, and sato chuckles from his spot behind you.

"maybe bend your knees more?" he suggests with a smirk, pulling your hips back until your butt meets his crotch.

“don’t tell her to bend anything,” toru shoots back, and you flush before squirming out of sato's grip.

by the third game, you're slightly getting the hang of things. you haven't missed in a while, you're reaching flow state.

from their respective positions, the twins exchange a look, then peer out into the sea of people while you're distracted taking your turn, trying to see if they can spot sukuna gawking.

and, bingo. he is.

he’s near the dusty leather couch on the far right wall with his big arm slung over that girl’s shoulder. she’s laughing and talking into his neck all flirtily. it makes them both sick to their stomachs, but they notice how he barely reacts..? he used to react to you when you did that.

surely if they could see how badly he'd fucked up by losing you, he could too, right? they could only hope, because that would make their revenge scheme that much sweeter.

this clearly gets toru feeling some type of way, because he's got that special look of lust on his face that he only gets when showing other assholes that he is, in fact, better than them.

“hey,” he says suddenly, stepping closer to you while sato grabs the ball from a missed cup. “if i win this round, you owe me something, yeah?"

“oh my god,” you groan. “what.”

he tilts his head, blue eyes bright and oh so cocky. “a kiss.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re such a child.”

“nuh uh. not just any kiss,” he continues, ignoring you. “a good one. y'know, with lots of tongue.” he wiggles his eyebrows playfully, but the thought of pushing up against some wall and kissing you senseless in front of your ex has him feeling anything but playful.

a couple guys at the table howl in laughter, and toru eats it up with a taunting smile.

you don’t notice that sukuna has his eye keen on you, but the gods must of , because something in your heart, call it divine intervention, tells you to say yes.

“m'kay,” you say, lifting your chin. “but you actually have to win, y'know. no cheating or anything."

toru grins like you just handed him the keys to a car he’s been eyeing for years. “watch me.”

he doesn't miss a single shot that round.

not one.

he’s utterly ridiculous about it too, bouncing the ball off the table in an overly exaggerated fashion, blowing on it before he throws, winking at you after every cup dunks with a plonk. by the time the last one drops into the water, the table is chanting his name and you are flushed from more than just the alcohol.

“pay up,” he says immediately, stepping around the table. his cock's actively throbbing with anticipation.

by this point you're laughing and definitely tipsy enough that your thoughts aren't quite lining up properly. "mhmm." you sigh, pacing toward him with sato in tow.

he lifts your chin to stare you straight in the eye, then takes note of the bashfulness in your expression. “c’mon,” he murmurs. “don’t go shy on me now.”

as you smile shyly and inch in closer to seal the deal, sato suddenly pulls your shoulder back to stop you.

"what the hell, man?" toru protests, hands thrown up.

but sato, ever the observer, leans into his twin's ear to whisper something under his breath.

you try to make out what they're saying, but the frank ocean floating through the air was making that increasingly difficult. you watch as toru's once irritated expression morphs into a big grin, and you gulp.

"toji! c'mere." he shouts over the room toward the kitchen, where toji's manning the expensive alcohol. the buff boy sighs before pushing off the bench, stalking over to the twins.

"what d' you assholes want?"

then, three minutes later, the boys are dragging you back to the kitchen as toji stands on a nearby table. "body shots!" he announces to the nearby crowd, and the reaction is exactly what the twins wanted.

oh.

everyone's circling around the kitchen table, very eager for a little spice. the two boys gently guide you towards the crowd, keeping you close as they watch the people flock. toji lifts both hands for quiet, grinning when the noise barely dips.

“alright, listen up,” he calls out, pointing at the cleared table. “two people will come up. rock, paper, scissors, then the loser lays back right here.” he slaps the surface. “th' winner takes a shot from their neck.”

the crowd roars at that like a bunch of horny slags.

“first pair?” toji barks.

shoko and yuki, like the fine ass lesbians they are, push through to the front of the crowd with pretty smiles shrugging off their jackets, their cheeks flushed pink with whatever they'd been jointly sculling.

toji makes a big song and dance of them playing fairly, then the sea of people erupt when shoko throws scissors, and yuki, paper.

"oh no, i lost." yuki fake pouts, climbing up onto the table without shame, propping herself back on her elbows, and tipping her head to the side to bare her slender neck.

shoko smiles sweetly as she leans over her girl, rolling her shoulders once like she’s preparing for surgery, you couldn't deny that this was very attractive.

toji pours carefully into the hollowed out skin of yuki’s collarbone, the liquor catching in the dip of her skin. a few drops spill down into the cleavage of her breasts, and someone in the crowd groans at the sight. promptly followed by a middle finger thrown over shoko's shoulder.

the brunette doesn’t mess around, she bends down and takes the shot in one gulp, her hands braced beside yuki’s shoulder. the room goes mental with people howling and stomping as she draws it out by sucking seductively at her neck.

yuki grabs at shoko’s hair, laughing, and the cheering only gets louder when shoko finally stands up wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

you’re clapping with everyone else all tipsy with your thoughts slightly out of order.

but something keeps snagging at your mental.

toru never claimed his kiss, did he?

he won fair and square. he could have taken it right there in front of everyone, but instead, he let sato pull you away and gossip about starting this game up with toji.

your eyes drift between them now, watching the way they stand shoulder to shoulder, murmuring to each other with big grins while the next few volunteers shout to take their turn.

toji waves them off after another quick round. “alright, alright. next pair!”

but your brain clicks onto their mischievous looks a second too late.

because now the boys' hands are pushing at your waist then at your back as they steer you forward through the crowd.

sato's got a playful grip on your arm as he guides you toward the table lightly. conversations flatten as people notice the three of you stepping up to the table, and someone whistles when they get a proper look at you under the kitchen light. someone else nudges a friend and points, already stirring things up. "she's a looker." they exclaim.

toji clocks it and chuckles, he’s just been handed the best play toy in the house, after all. sukuna's cute little ex. now, as much as he liked the guy, even an asshole like toji knew ryomen needed a little wake up call, and he was more than happy to help those idiot twins show him up when they'd asked earlier.

“alright,” he calls out, waving his cup in the air, “we got a new round.”

you watch as the people push closer and become more intrigued, more commotion than before. normally this was done with two people, not three, so everyone's two cents was stacking up until there were dollars of noise filling the room.

sukuna’s head whips over from his spot on the outskirts, and his cocky laughter dies. he freezes so stiffly at the sight of you about to 'volunteer' it’s almost funny, his brain needs a second to catch up to what he’s seeing.

you. here. between the twins of all people?

your chest thumps with adrenaline, but you force yourself to keep your eyes from switching to that disgusting pest.

sato steps right in front of you for a second, his big, broad frame blocking your sight so you face him instead of the man burning a hole into you from across the kitchen, while toru laughs from your other side. "aww look who's watching, let's give him a show, yeah?"

two of sato’s fingers brush your chin, pushing so you're looking up at him with that beautiful expression. “trust us,” he smiles quietly so that only you and toru can hear it. “we’ll be gentle with you, sweetheart. promise.”

toru smiles, winking at you before quickly kissing your forehead.

"i'm assuming you're both throwing to see who takes the shot off her?" toji asks, and the twins nod eagerly in agreement.

toji shakes his head before barking out, “okay then, rock, paper, scissors."

the chant picks up around you, everyone watching as sato and toru hold out their hands, they throw at the same time, and.. they tie.

the crowd react accordingly, and they go again.

another tie.

toru laughs, “fuck it. we both win.”

a swell of noise piles up with people hollering and leaning in to see what happens next. neither twin looks bothered. in fact, they look like they planned it from the beginning with matching smirks slipping across their faces as they turn to you. yeah, they definitely wanted this. both of them on you like some reverse harem bs.

“come here,” sato teases.

they guide you toward the cleared section of the table and you lean back as they direct, hands braced behind you against the surface. you feel so exposed like this with your collarbones tipped toward the ceiling waiting for the liquor.

“tilt your chin up,” toru mutters leaning close so only you can hear him. “js' relax.”

toji trapses towards you with the 1.5L of absolut vodka. you smile when you notice he's being gentler with you than he was with the others, pouring ever so carefully into the hollow of one collarbone, then the other. the chilled liquor makes you jolt, but the twins steady you with their calming palms at your waist.

they both grin at the sight of the alcohol sitting there ready for them to drink. they have to bite their lips in unison to distract from the throbbing hard-ons in both of their pants. shit, you just look so pretty laid out all sweet and ready for them.

the nerdier twin slips his glasses off and shoves them into his jean pocket. sato leans down to your level first, and god if he didn't take his time about it. i mean, sukuna is watching after all. he needed this to be a spectacle.

he gives you the filthiest look before dipping down, and sucking the liquid from your chest. you gasp as he does so, the feeling of his tongue against your skin sends your hand flying into his riddled white locs.

the people are losing it, because sato never does this sort of thing. he’s usually acting better than everyone in the library or turning his nose up at jocks in the quad, not taking body shots off of hot girls in crowded kitchens at parties like these.

as sato's halfway through his very public little display, toru decides he's done waiting and that he'd like to join in on all the fun.

with his pretty eyes flicking up once to make sure sukuna is still staring, the playboy bends down to your other collarbone and drinks from you too, far, far slower than necessary. his big hand sliding from your waist to your hip to keep you in place.

sukuna looks absolutely fucking murderous.

he watches it all play out with the most feral, pathetic, jealous look on his once smug face.

and to add insult to injury, the twins go further.

they don’t pull off if you when they're done, oh no. sato’s hands push you down when you try to sit up, you giggle in reply while torus mouth sucks higher up your neck than necessary after the liquor is gone.

you did owe him a kiss, after all, and they made sure to make a big show of it.

sukuna sees nothing but red, fiery fury, and the twins know he’s watching.

they lift their heads so horribly slow, sato wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb while toru lets his tongue drag across his lower lip.

they look at you first, making sure you’re okay. hm, flushed as hell, but fine. they think in unison.

then, they both turn their heads,

and their eyes lock with sukuna’s.

and they give him the biggest, cockiest, shit eating smirks they'd ever given anyone in their entire lives.

ours now. they mouth.

A/N: i'm sorry i haven't posted in like a week and a half ik i suck throw tomatoes at meuhhhhh

that’s his way out. he just needs a smart partner who can carry his hopeless ass.

sukuna’s eyes sweep across the room, scanning for anyone who looks like they know what the hell they’re doing. most of the people he usually talks to in class are as useless as he is, too busy flirting or sleeping through lectures.

but then his gaze catches on someone sitting right up the front.

you.

the quiet girl with the tidy notes and the neat handwriting, the one who always answers when the professor asks a question no one else dares to.

you’re sitting there now, head slightly tilted as you jot something down, your pen gliding across the page with that easy confidence of someone who actually understands this shit.

you’ve always sat alone, tucked near the window. you never talk during lectures unless you have to, and even then your voice is small, hesitant. you wear oversized sweaters, keep your hair pinned up, and avoid eye contact with anyone who looks remotely like they belong to his world.

still, he’s noticed you before. everyone has. it’s hard not to. you’re the kind of girl that seems untouchable, not because you’re trying to be, but because you’re so far removed from everything he knows. soft, focused, real sweet.

and right now, you look like salvation.

he pushes up from his seat, ignoring the curious glances from a few classmates as he moves down the aisle. his tall frame blocks the light for a second when he stops beside your desk. you glance up, startled, your pen pausing mid-sentence.

"yo, my names sukuna. and you?"

"uh, hi? it's y/n." he smirks at your shy response, but continues.

“you’re like, a chem genius, right?” his tone is low, rough with disinterest, though his eyes linger on you a little too long.

you blink up at him, hesitant. “oh, um… i guess? why?”

“i need a partner, like, real bad,” he says, dropping the failed exam onto your desk with a dull slap. the red ink almost glows. “i'm gonna be honest, i completely fucked myself with this last exam. i can’t afford to fail again.”

you stare at the paper, then at him. up close, he’s intimidating. messy pink hair, dark eyes sharp and unreadable, tattoos trailing up his arms, his face, and peeking out from under his shirt collar.

he looks nothing like someone who’d ever ask for help, especially from you, and the fact that he’s doing it now makes your mind reel.

“i- look, don't take this the wrong way, but... theres a lot of people in this class,” you manage softly. “why pick me?”

he shrugs, leaning one hand on the desk beside your notes. “because you actually know what you’re doing. and i’m not looking to get stuck with some idiot who’ll drag me down, i'm already so fucking cooked."

you hesitate, glancing away. you’ve never really talked to him before. actually, you’ve barely even noticed him beyond the times you’ve seen him walking across campus with toji. that’s usually when your stomach does that stupid fluttering thing. watching toji laugh, his arm slung lazily around sukuna’s shoulders, both of them looking like they own the place.

it’s strange seeing one of them standing here now, asking you for help.

you fidget with your pen. “that's fine, sure. but… if we’re partners, wed have to split the workload.”

"yeah,” he says. “i can pull my weight, don't stress it, sweetheart. mostly just need someone to keep me from bombing it.”

it’s almost funny. he’s trying to sound casual, but something about the way he’s watching you feels uncharacteristically careful. like he’s actually waiting for your answer rather than being the overbearing dick he usually is.

maybe it’s because you’re cute. or maybe it’s because he knows you hold his fate in your small, nervous hands.

you chew your lip for a moment, then nod. “yeah, okay. i’ll help you out.”

his mouth tilts in a grin that’s half smug, half genuine relief. “good. 'preciate it, babe.”

you look down instantly, pretending to organize your papers so he doesn’t see the way your face warms. you weren't used to such casual name calling.

he drags a chair over from the next row and drops into it beside you, leaning back like he’s been sitting there all semester.

the professor’s voice fades into the background again as you stare straight ahead, trying to focus on anything but the fact that sukuna ryomen, the most notorious guy in beta tau, is now your project partner.

a few minutes pass in silence. the lecture drags on, your notes filling another page. but your mind’s racing the whole time. sukuna, meanwhile, can’t stop sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye.

he hadn’t expected you to actually agree. and he definitely hadn’t expected to find himself curious about you. you’re so… different. not the kind of girl who shows up to parties. not someone who flirts back when he smirks at her. just quiet and sweet, head buried in your work, the type that shouldn’t even be in his orbit.

and yet here you are.

when the professor dismisses the class, people start packing up. you hesitate, fingers tightening around your pen. then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you turn to him.

“hey… sukuna?”

he hums, eyes flicking toward you lazily. “yeah?”

you look nervous, the words almost tripping over themselves before they leave your mouth. cute. “i’ll help you pass. but… can you help me out with something too?”

his brow arches. “hmm. depends what it is.”

you take a quiet breath. “it’s about your friend. uh.. toji.”

that gets his attention. his posture stiffens a little. “what about him?”

you look down at your notebook, like it’s safer than looking at him. “i just… i think he’s really attractive. and he looks nice. i know it’s kind of stupid but i was wondering if maybe... you could help me get him to notice me.”

for a second, sukuna just stares at you.

out of all the things he expected you to say, that wasn’t it.

you, the shy little thing sitting up front, blushing and tripping over her own words, want toji fushiguro. one of the biggest assholes on campus. his best friend, sure, but a guy who barely remembers girls’ names after he sleeps with them.

he leans back slowly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “you’re serious?”

you nod, eyes still fixed on your notebook.

he studies you for a long moment. you’re fidgeting again, twisting your pen between your fingers, your voice so soft he almost misses it. “you don’t have to if it’s weird, i just thought… you two are close, so maybe…”

sukuna exhales through his nose. part of him wants to tell you it’s a bad idea. that toji doesn’t deserve someone like you. that you’d get hurt trying to chase a guy like that.

but he doesn’t.

instead, he tilts his head and says, “yeah, fine. i’ll help you out.”

your head snaps up, eyes wide. “huh? really?”

“yeah. but only because you’re saving my ass with this project,” he says, smirking a little. “guess we’ll call it even.”

you smile, small, bright, genuine, and something tightens in his chest.

you're so cute.

“thank you,” you say quietly.

he grins again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “don’t mention it, honey.”

and as you pack up your notes, he watches you go, already trying to ignore the strange feeling crawling up the back of his neck.

he tells himself it’s just a deal. a trade. nothing more.

but as you disappear out the door, he can’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, he’s gotten himself into more trouble than he realises.

~

music blasts through the frat, heavy bass shaking the walls, bodies moving in rhythm across the living room floor. someone’s yelling over the noise, someone else is laughing too loud.

the air smells like bad beer, smoke, and sweat, the classic friday night cocktail that means beta tau is alive and wild again.

sukuna leans against the kitchen counter, red solo cup in hand, watching a game of beer pong play out in front of him. the noise is deafening, but it’s a familiar kind of chaos. toji’s across the table, grin sharp as he sinks another ping-pong ball into the last cup.

“hell yeah,” toji shouts, hands raised. “that’s another win for me, baby!”

someone hands him another drink, and he downs it in one go, slamming the cup down as the room cheers. toji fushiguro lives for this kind of night, beer, bets, and easy company. sukuna’s used to it, the routine almost comforting.

he joins the next round, barely losing after a stupid bounce, then lets himself collapse onto the sagging couch beside toji. the music’s pounding through the walls, but the corner they’re in feels quieter, almost like the noise fades around them.

toji stretches out, arm slung over the back of the couch, shirt sticking to his skin. “you’re slipping, man,” he says, smirking at sukuna. “used to be able to hold your own in beer pong.”

“fuck up,” sukuna mutters, head tipped back, eyes half-lidded. “that last shot was rigged.”

“rigged?” toji laughs, deep and unrestrained. “you’re just rusty.”

sukuna grunts, tossing his empty cup onto the coffee table. his head’s buzzing, not from the alcohol, just from thoughts, mostly the image of you, the way you looked earlier in class, keeps floating up uninvited. you sitting at the front of the room, your careful handwriting, the little way you’d fidget with your pen when you were nervous.

he doesn’t even realize he’s been quiet until toji elbows him. “yo, what’s got you zoning out?”

sukuna runs his tongue over his teeth, deciding. screw it. “you ever heard of someone named y/n?”

toji raises a brow, blinking like he didn’t catch that over the noise. “who?”

“y/n,” sukuna repeats.

toji shakes his head, lips quirking. “nah. that some new chick you’re banging?”

sukuna sputters, choking on air. “what? no. i’m not-” he cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. great. smooth start.

toji’s smirk widens. “come on, man. don’t get shy on me. you’re stuttering like some freshman.”

“shut up,” sukuna mutters, glaring at him. “it’s not like that.”

“then what’s it like?”

he hesitates, watching the light flicker off the beer bottles on the table. there’s no way to explain it without sounding weird. he’s not even sure why he’s bringing you up at all, except that he made a promise, and now he’s gotta start somewhere.

“she’s just… in my chem class,” he finally says. “smart as hell. the kind that actually knows what she’s doing, y’know?”

toji snorts. “so, a nerd.”

“yeah,” sukuna says, ignoring the way toji says it like it’s an insult. “but, like… cute. shy, quiet, nice, i guess.”

toji’s grin widens. “bro. you’re seriously telling me about a crush right now? what the hell happened to you?”

“it’s not a crush,” sukuna says quickly, though his voice comes out sharper than he means. “she’s just..” he stops, running a hand through his hair. “she’s helping me with chem, okay? and i told her i’d help her with something too.”

“what, she want free alcs?” toji laughs.

“no.” sukuna exhales through his nose. “she wants you.”

that earns him a pause. toji tilts his head, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to decide if he misheard. “me?”

“yeah.”

“as in… she wants to, what, date me?”

“basically.”

toji’s silent for a moment, then he breaks into a bark of laughter so loud it turns a few heads. “you’re kidding, right? some shy nerdy girl wants me?” he grins, tapping his chest. “guess she’s got good taste.”

sukuna grits his teeth. “don’t be an ass about it.”

“what? i’m not being an ass,” toji says, still smirking. “just saying, that’s not really my type, man. i like girls who can actually keep up, y’know?”

“yeah, i know,” sukuna mutters. “that’s kinda the problem.”

“problem?”

sukuna leans forward, elbows on his knees, voice dropping low. “look, she’s… she’s sweet. like, actually sweet. the kind of girl that probably still says ‘sorry’ even when someone bumps into her first. you’d break her in half.”

toji shrugs, unbothered. “then maybe she shouldn’t be into me.”

“she doesn’t even know you,” sukuna says, frustration creeping into his tone. “she just saw you around. thinks you’re… i don’t know. hot and nice.”

“ha,” toji barks out a laugh, finishing his drink. “then she’s definitely got the wrong idea.”

sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. this was going nowhere.

he tries again, his tone careful. “i just figured maybe you could give her a chance. she’s not like the other girls you mess with. she’s…” he hesitates, searching for the right word. “different. the kind you’d actually like if you gave her five minutes.”

toji side-eyes him, clearly amused. “you trying to sell me a girlfriend or something? what’s in it for you?”

sukuna’s jaw tightens. “nothing. i told her i’d help her out, that’s all.”

toji grins, eyes glinting. “you sure about that? you sound kinda like you wanna keep her for yourself.”

sukuna’s silent for a beat, his pulse ticking faster than it should. “i don’t.”

“right. and i’m the pope.” toji laughs, leaning back. “are you high? tellin’ me about how cute and shy she is… just fuck her and move on, bro. no need for all this emotional shit.”

sukuna drags a hand down his face, groaning. “i wish i was fucking high. jesus, you’re impossible.”

the music gets louder again, another chant rising from the kitchen as someone calls for shots. toji stands, stretching, grinning down at him. “come on, man. stop thinking so hard. let’s go get wasted.”

sukuna waves him off. “nah, i’m good. go ahead.”

toji shrugs and disappears into the crowd. sukuna sinks further into the couch, head tipping back, letting the noise drown out the frustration burning in his chest.

this was going to be a nightmare.

.

the next morning, the fluorescent lights of the lecture hall feel like punishment. the air smells like stale coffee and paper, and the chatter around the room grates on his nerves. sukuna slouches into his seat, sunglasses hiding the exhaustion clinging to him.

you’re already there, of course. neat stack of papers beside your laptop, pen in hand, posture perfect. you glance up as he approaches, offering a small smile.

“morning,” you say softly.

“hey,” he mutters, sliding into the seat next to you.

the teacher doesn’t waste time, telling everyone to start working on their projects. pairs scatter across the room, some staying behind, others leaving for the library. you glance at sukuna, uncertain.

“should we…?”

“yeah, library,” he says before you can finish. “less noise.”

you nod quickly, tucking your notes under your arm as you follow him out.

the walk’s quiet. you keep close but not too close, fingers gripping the strap of your bag. sukuna glances at you once or twice as you walk, the sunlight catching the edge of your hair. there’s something weirdly calming about you, like your presence forces the chaos in his head to settle for a bit.

when you reach the campus library, you pick a small table near the back, away from the groups of whispering students. the morning light filters through tall windows, catching dust motes in the air. it’s quiet enough that every turn of a page feels loud.

you sit across from him, pulling your laptop from your bag. “um, before we start, maybe we should exchange contact info?”

he nods, pulling out his phone. “yeah. what's ya' number?”

you rattle it off, and he types it in. his phone pings a second later when you text him, and he adds your contact with a lazy swipe. then you both exchange social media.

you open your instagram to show him, but he’s already found it. your account’s small. cozy, soft colors, pictures of coffee cups, notes, and the occasional selfie that looks like you were trying not to take one.

then you look at his. thousands of followers, stories from parties, shirtless gym photos, snapshots of him and toji grinning like idiots with red cups in hand.

you blink, then smile politely. “ours are… really different.”

he huffs out a quiet laugh. “yeah. just a little.”

he doesn’t tell you that he finds it kind of adorable, how small and peaceful your corner of the internet looks compared to his chaos.

you both settle in to start discussing the project, papers spread between you. you talk about ideas, your voice growing steadier as you get into the topic. you explain concepts easily, your hands moving as you describe how you could structure the research, how to divide the work.

he listens. or tries to. mostly, he’s just watching the way you light up when you talk about something you love.

after a while, you pause, glancing at him with a small, hopeful look. “did you… talk to toji?”

he freezes for a fraction of a second, mind flashing back to last night. the laughter, the teasing, the absolute disaster of that conversation.

“yeah,” he says after a moment, forcing a smile. “i did.”

your eyes widen, curious. “what’d he say?”

he hesitates. you’re looking at him so earnestly, waiting for an answer, and he can’t bring himself to tell you that toji laughed it off, that he’d said something crude about just sleeping with you and moving on.

so he lies.

“he seemed interested,” sukuna says smoothly. “asked who you were. said you sounded cute.”

you go still for a moment, then your cheeks flush, and you duck your head. “really?”

“yeah,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “told him you were smart, nice. he said that’s rare.”

your shy smile makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t understand.

“that’s… really nice of you, sukuna,” you say softly. “thanks.”

he shrugs, forcing a grin. “told you i’d help.”

but as you turn back to your notes, still smiling faintly to yourself, he can’t look away. he doesn’t know what’s worse, the way lying to you actually hurts his heart, or the way part of him’s starting to wish that toji never finds out who you are.

because the thought of you smiling like that at anyone else makes his stomach twist.

~

the frat house is quieter than usual when sukuna pushes the door open.

no bass pounding through the walls, no laughter echoing down the hallway, no beer pong table clattering in the kitchen. just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant muffled sound of someone’s tv from another room.

it’s strange. unsettling, almost. he’s gotten used to the constant noise, the never ending roar of people that filled the house from dusk till dawn.

he kicks off his shoes at the door, shoulders rolling back as he heads for the stairs. his head still feels heavy from the long day, the faint scent of your shampoo stuck in his memory.

it’s weird? he’s been around a thousand girls, maybe more. girls who practically threw themselves at him, who laughed too loud at his jokes and leaned in too close.

but somehow, you, sitting across from him with that shy smile and your soft voice explaining inter molecular relationship, manage to stick in his head longer than any of them ever have.

his room’s dark when he steps inside, save for the light bleeding in from the street through the blinds. he tosses his keys onto the desk and falls back onto his bed, exhaling. the ceiling stares back blankly.

he doesn’t even mean to grab his phone, but his hand moves before he can think. he unlocks it, thumb hovering over instagram.

just checking something, he tells himself.

his fingers type your username into the search bar without hesitation.

your profile opens instantly.

the same cozy layout he remembered. a few new story highlights. your bio, something simple, maybe a quote or a flower emoji. his thumb scrolls down slowly, eyes following the grid of neatly arranged photos. you, a few landscapes, coffee cups, snippets of sunlight through your window, a cat that might not even be yours.

he stops when he sees a picture from about a month ago.

you’re holding a tiny puppy in your arms, your face caught mid laugh, like someone had said something funny right before snapping the picture. the puppy’s paw rests against your chest, nose tucked near your chin. in your other hand, you’re holding a paper cup of coffee, a little swirl of foam peeking through the lid.

he stares at it for longer than he should.

it’s just a photo, nothing special, but something about it hits him hard . the little details, the way your fingers hold gently under the puppy’s paw, the sunlight catching on the curve of your cheek, the way your smile looks completely unposed.

he catches himself wondering stupid things.

was that your dog? probably not. maybe a friend’s. or some random one you met at a cafe.

was the coffee yours? it looks like something you’d order, something simple. maybe vanilla, maybe something with caramel.

where was that taken? some small corner cafe? a weekend morning somewhere quiet?

he doesn’t know. and that bothers him more than it should.

his thumb hovers over the photo for a second before he double taps it. the little red heart fills in on the corner of the screen.

great. now you’re going to see that he liked a post from a month ago. real smooth.

he tosses his phone onto the bed beside him, covering his face with his hands.

“what the fuck am i doing,” he mutters.

he’s never been that guy. the one who scrolls through a girl’s profile like he’s studying for an exam. the one who cares enough to wonder what her favorite coffee order is, or if she likes dogs or cats more. he doesn’t ask those questions. he doesn’t want to ask those questions.

but he can’t stop himself.

he scrolls again, back up to your most recent post, another candid shot, you’re wearing one of those oversized sweaters you always seem to wear to class, sleeves pulled over your wrists.

you look peaceful. and sweet. and so painfully far from the world he lives in.

his throat tightens unexpectedly, he looks deeper, really looks at you.

you’re really fucking pretty.

he’d always known that. he’d noticed, sure, he’s not blind. the first day you’d agreed to work with him, he’d thought you were cute. adorable, even. but now, staring at your pictures, seeing the small glimpses of your life beyond those chemistry notes and shy smiles, he realizes it’s more than that.

you’re beautiful.

and that realization sits heavy in his chest, thick and uncomfortable.

because he knows exactly where this is supposed to go.

he still owes you. he still promised you something.

toji.

the thought of his friend’s name makes him exhale hard through his nose.

he can already picture it. if he brings you up again, toji will laugh the same way he always does. say something crude. maybe shrug and agree to meet you, just for the hell of it. and maybe you’d smile that soft, nervous smile at him, and maybe you’d fall for him harder than you already have.

and that image, that thought? makes sukuna’s jaw clench.

he shakes his head, forcing the phone screen off.

“get a grip,” he mutters, rolling onto his side.

but it’s no use. even as he closes his eyes, the image of you laughing with that puppy burns into the back of his mind.

~

two weeks pass withf lectures and late-night text exchanges about project deadlines.

you’ve met up three times since that first day at the library. each time, sukuna’s noticed small things. how you seem to relax around him more, how you’ve started teasing him lightly when he messes up an equation, how your laugh sounds quiet but genuine when he actually manages to make you smile.

and now, on the fourth meeting, he finds himself heading to the library again, trying to ignore the way his stomach feels weirdly tight.

you’re already there when he walks in.

same table. same corner near the back.

but this time, something’s different.

you’re standing by your seat, waving slightly when you see him. and in your hands, you’re holding two cups of coffee.

“hey,” you say, your voice bright and clear in a way that makes him pause.

he blinks, momentarily thrown off by how cheerful you sound. “hey,” he replies, trying to sound as casual as usual.

you hold out one of the cups toward him. “i, um, got this for you. black coffee, right?”

for a second, he just stares.

it’s stupid. it’s a coffee cup. but his mind stutters anyway.

“yeah,” he says, voice quieter than he means it to be. “yeah, that’s right.”

“i wasn’t sure how you take it,” you admit with a small laugh. “you seem like the kind of person who drinks it straight. no sugar, no milk.”

he huffs out a small laugh, taking the cup from you. “you got that right.”

“lucky guess.”

you sit down, cheeks faintly pink. he watches you for a second longer than necessary before clearing his throat and dropping into the chair across from you.

“thanks,” he says finally, lifting the cup slightly. “for the coffee.”

you smile, soft and genuine. “you’ve been helping me a lot with this, so i thought it was the least i could do.”

he wants to tell you that you’ve got it backwards, that you’re the one keeping him afloat, not the other way around, but he bites his tongue.

instead, he takes a sip, the bitter taste grounding him.

“you didn’t have to, y'know.”

“i wanted to,” you say, eyes flicking down to your notes.

and for a brief second, he feels his pulse skip.

you wanted to.

he tries to shake the feeling, pulling out his own notes. “alright, so. what’s the plan for today?”

you talk about the experiment data, what needs to be written up, the references you still have to gather. he listens, but part of him’s distracted.

it’s the way you’re talking now, louder, lighter. you’re not tripping over your words anymore. you’re not afraid to meet his eyes. the shy girl who could barely look at him two weeks ago is now smiling at him between sentences.

and fuck if that doesn’t make something twist in his chest.

as the minutes pass, the project talk starts to blur into something else. he’s the one who changes the subject first.

“so,” he says, leaning back slightly. “what’s with you and coffee? every time i see you, you’ve got one.”

you look up from your laptop, blinking. “i just like it, i guess. i go to this little place near campus almost every morning before class.”

“the one with the green sign?”

“yeah, that one.”

“figured.”

you laugh quietly. “you go there too?”

“sometimes,” he says. “after workouts. they’ve got good espresso.”

you tilt your head. “you work out every morning?”

“almost,” he says, smirking faintly. “gotta keep my sexy frat guy aura in tact.”

“oh, right,” you tease, eyes glinting a little. “wouldn’t want to disappoint your fans.”

he blinks, caught off guard. “fans?”

“your instagram,” you say, trying not to laugh. “you’ve got, like, a thousand girls following you. i saw.”

he groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “don’t remind me.”

“why?”

“because half of them don’t even go to this school,” he says, grinning a little. “they just… show up.”

you laugh, the sound soft but real, and he finds himself smiling before he can stop it.

after that, the conversation drifts. you talk about random things. your classes, your favorite kind of music, the dog from your photo (“that’s my friend’s puppy,” you explain. “he’s named mochi.”).

sukuna finds himself asking questions, more than he’s ever asked anyone before. not just because he wants to fill the silence, but because he genuinely wants to know.

you tell him about your hobbies, your part tme job at the campus bookstore, how you’re saving up for a trip after graduation.

he listens. really listens.

and for every small thing you share, he feels himself drawn in deeper.

when the session finally ends, the clock showing that two hours have slipped by without either of you noticing, you start packing up your things.

“same time next week?” you ask, glancing up.

“yeah,” he says. “same spot.”

you smile again, that soft, shy one that makes his chest ache.

and as you wave goodbye and walk out of the library, sukuna stays seated for a moment, staring at the empty chair across from him.

he should be thinking about the project. about grades. about keeping his promise to you.

but all he can think about is how the smell of coffee still lingers faintly on his fingers and how, somehow, that’s become his favorite part of the day.

~

the frat house always feels heavy on monday mornings. air thick with the smell of stale beer and cheap cologne, empty red cups scattered on tables like small grave markers from the weekend before. sukuna drags himself through the hallway, towel hanging around his neck, hair still damp from a quick shower.

toji’s already waiting in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a protein shake in one hand and his phone in the other. he looks up when sukuna walks in, flashing that familiar cocky grin.

“yo, you down to hit the gym?”

sukuna doesn’t even hesitate. “for sure.”

mondays are brutal, but skipping a session isn’t an option. not when you’ve got someone like toji keeping score. they finish off their drinks, grab their bags, and head out.

the campus is still quiet. early morning sun stretches across the pavement, birds chirping somewhere above. their sneakers hit the concrete in sync.

“bro, did you see the game last night?” toji asks, tossing a smirk his way.

“yeah,” sukuna mutters. “you owe me twenty.”

toji groans. “bullshit. that last call was garbage.”

“still counts.”

they go back and forth for a while typical talk. girls, workouts, who pulled who at the last party. toji’s loud, animated, the kind of guy who fills silence with his own voice. sukuna listens, laughs when he should, but half his mind’s somewhere else.

they’re cutting across the main quad when he spots you.

you’re walking toward one of the lecture halls, tote bag slung over your shoulder, hair catching the light in a way that makes his breath hitch.

you’re wearing something simple. a cute shirt and nice jeans, your hands wrapped around a coffee cup, but somehow it makes you stand out more than anyone else on the path.

you don’t see him, too focused on your phone, but his chest tightens anyway.

for a second, it’s like the rest of the campus fades away.

then he remembers who’s walking beside him.

toji’s still talking about some girl he hooked up with over the weekend, words fading into the background as sukuna’s jaw tightens. he forces his eyes away, tells himself to stop being weird. this is stupid. you’re just his lab partner.

except he’s not supposed to be thinking about how good you look in the morning light. he’s supposed to be thinking about the deal.

the one with toji.

his throat feels dry as he forces himself to speak.

“hey,” he says suddenly. “you remember that girl i was talking about the other night?”

toji glances over, raising a brow. “the chem one?”

“yeah. that’s her.”

he nods toward you before he can second-guess it.

toji slows immediately, his attention shifting in your direction. you’re still walking across the path, the sunlight brushing over your face as you look up for a moment, squinting.

sukuna watches as toji literally stops in his tracks.

“no way,” toji says, eyes widening. “that’s her?”

“yeah,” sukuna mutters.

“holy shit.” toji’s grin spreads, sharp and impressed. “you didn’t tell me she was that cute.”

sukuna doesn’t respond. he just keeps walking, pretending to be unfazed, but every word toji says feels like it’s digging deeper under his skin.

“seriously, bro,” toji continues, still staring after you even as you disappear into the building. “you made her sound like some dorky little nerd. i was picturing ugly glasses, messy bun, the whole thing. but she’s, damn. she’s adorable.”

sukuna’s stomach twists. he forces a smirk, because that’s what’s expected. “yeah, she’s not bad.”

“not bad?” toji laughs, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “she’s gorgeous. you holding out on me, man?”

“nah,” sukuna says quickly. “just didn’t think you’d be into that type.”

“what type?”

“the smart, quiet type,” he says, voice flat. “thought you liked girls who could ‘keep up,’ remember?”

toji scoffs. “yeah, well, she’s too cute to pass up. shit, you should let me tag along next time you’re studying with her. see what she’s like up close.”

sukuna forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. “yeah, sure. whatever.”

inside, he’s cringing so hard he feels sick.

they head into the gym, the sound of clanging weights filling the space. he tries to focus on the burn in his muscles, the rhythm of his breathing but his thoughts won’t shut up. toji’s words keep echoing. she’s adorable. she’s gorgeous. you holding out on me?

this was what he was supposed to do. this was the plan. introduce you to toji, let things fall into place, make good on his end of the deal.

so why does it feel so wrong?

~

the next study session comes faster than he expects.

the day’s overcast, the library quiet except for the soft hush of the air conditioning. you’re already there when he walks in, sitting in your usual spot by the window, books neatly stacked, pen tapping absently against your notebook.

you look up when you hear his voice.

“hey,” he says, slipping through the aisles toward you.

your face brightens instantly, that small, warm smile tugging at your lips.

“hi,” you say, already starting to greet him.

then your voice falters.

because right behind him, towering and broad-shouldered, is toji.

your words die halfway out of your throat, eyes going wide. he’s impossible to ignore, dark hair, sharp grin, that easy confidence that radiates from him like static.

sukuna can see the exact moment you freeze. your fingers grip your pen a little too tightly, your posture going stiff.

“this is toji,” sukuna says, trying to sound casual. “he wanted to tag along today.”

“hey,” toji says smoothly, pulling up a chair without asking. “nice to meet you, y/n.”

you nod, cheeks pink. “h-hi.”

it’s awkward from the start. painfully so.

sukuna tries to start things off, opening his notebook and asking about the data you collected last week, but toji’s already jumping in with his own questions, none of them relevant.

“so,” toji leans forward, elbows on the table. “you’re really good at this chem stuff, huh? always been a little nerd?”

you laugh nervously, eyes flicking between the two of them. “i… guess so?”

“yeah, i could never,” he says, shaking his head. “i barely passed last year. too many parties, you know how it is.”

you nod politely, but the look on your face says it all, you have no idea what to say.

sukuna grits his teeth.

toji keeps going, oblivious. he talks about the last frat party, about the time he benched two hundred in front of half the football team, about some girl who texted him last night. you just sit there, smiling faintly, giving small nods and quiet hums of agreement.

it’s brutal.

every word toji says feels like a slow car crash sukuna can’t stop. he knows he should’ve expected this. this was always how toji was but now that it’s happening in front of you, he can’t stand it.

you’re sitting there, trying so hard to be polite, cheeks flushed, fingers fidgeting with your sleeve. and for the first time, sukuna hates how loud the other guy is. hates how he’s filling the space that’s always felt quiet and easy with you.

after what feels like forever, toji’s phone buzzes. he glances down, reads the message, and stands up.

“gotta head out,” he says, smirking. “good luck with your project, sweetheart. maybe i’ll swing by next time, yeah?”

before you can respond, he gives you a wink.

you freeze again, murmuring something that barely sounds like a goodbye.

he leaves, whistling under his breath, completely unaware of how painfully awkward that was.

the second he’s out of sight, sukuna exhales hard and runs a hand through his hair.

“fuck,” he mutters. “sorry about that.”

your eyes widen a little. “oh, um, it’s fine.”

“no, seriously,” he says, glancing at you. “i should’ve told you i was bringing him.”

you hesitate, then smile, shy but real. “it’s okay. i was just… nervous, i guess.”

he tilts his head. “why?”

you look down at your notes. “he’s just… kind of intense. i didn’t expect that.”

“yeah,” he says quietly. “he’s like that.”

the silence that follows isn’t awkward, though. it’s calm. steady.

you’re visibly more relaxed now, shoulders no longer so tight, your voice softer when you start talking again. sukuna listens, his chest loosening with every word.

you don’t mention toji again.

and he doesn’t either.

for the rest of the session, it’s just the two of you again. back to the easy rhythm he didn’t realize he’d missed until it was gone. you explain a reaction mechanism, he teases you about your handwriting, you roll your eyes and laugh.

when it’s time to leave, you pack up your things slowly, almost like you don’t want the moment to end.

“see you next week?” you ask.

“yeah,” he says, smiling faintly. “next week.”

you give a small wave, and as you walk out, sukuna watches you disappear between the shelves, that same quiet warmth settling in his chest.

he should feel relieved, he did what he was supposed to. he introduced you to toji. he followed through.

but instead, he just feels like he’s made a mistake.

because the whole walk back to the frat, the only thing running through his head isn’t how toji couldn’t shut up or how awkward the whole thing was.

it’s how your voice had softened when you told him it was fine. how your eyes met his, even for a second, and he felt that stupid little spark again.

he doesn’t know what to call it. doesn’t want to.

but deep down, he knows one thing for sure.

the next time you two meet, he’s showing up alone, keeping you to himself.

~

music pounds through sukuna's chest, pulsing out of the open doors of the sorority like a heartbeat on overdrive. laughter spills down the steps, mixed with the sharp scent of alcohol and perfume and that sticky-sweet haze that always clings to these kinds of parties.

banners hang crooked above the door, fairy lights tangled like spiderwebs. the sorority girls really went all out.

it’s a mixer. one of those invite only things, where every girl in greek row tries to get noticed by the “right” house. and sukuna’s frat, their house, was always the right one. full of grade A hotties like sukuna and toji and successful athletes like gojo and geto.

he spots toji near the entrance, already in his element. white t-shirt, chain glinting at his throat, grin carved sharp enough to cut through the noise. every few seconds, someone calls his name. girls from different sororities, guys from the rugby team, even one of the organizers waving him over.

toji was built for this. sukuna knew it. hell, everyone did.

“about time, man,” toji says when sukuna steps up beside him. “thought you’d bailed.”

“nah,” sukuna mutters. “just took my time.”

“yeah, well, tonight’s supposed to be wild. let’s make the most of it.”

they shoulder their way through the crowd, music pounding overhead, the smell of beer and sweat and too much perfume thick in the air. sticking together like usual.

a few girls call out sukuna’s name as they pass, and he just flashes that lazy grin he’s perfected, the one that says he’s not interested, but he might be later.

it’s all automatic now. the smirk, the eye contact, the way his shoulders roll when he laughs. it’s all muscle memory.

but tonight, something feels off.

maybe it’s the way every laugh sounds fake. maybe it’s the way the lights flash too bright, painting everyone in the same plastic color.

maybe it’s because all he can think about is you.

they end up in the kitchen, where the music’s still loud but not deafening. beer pong’s already set up on the long dining table, cups half-filled, ping-pong balls scattered across the sticky surface.

toji grabs a ball and grins. “let’s go. loser does a shot.”

sukuna smirks, rolling up his sleeves. “you’re on.”

they start playing, drawing a small crowd of girls who cheer and giggle at every throw. toji’s competitive as always, talking shit between shots, while sukuna plays quiet and steady. the rhythm feels familiar, the weight of the ball, the sound of it hitting the cup, the way everyone leans in to watch.

after two rounds, they’re tied. toji wins one, sukuna the other. the girls watching don’t seem to care who’s winning they’re too focused on the way the two of them look, the easy confidence that comes with knowing the room revolves around them.

and then they descend.

a blonde slides up beside toji, pressing herself against his arm. another girl, brunette this time, drapes herself over sukuna, laughter dripping from her lips like honey.

“you guys are, like, scary good at this,” she says, voice high and flirty.

“practice,” sukuna says automatically. his smirk looks real enough. it always does.

her nails trace the edge of his sleeve, and she leans closer. “bet you’re real good at other things too.”

normally, this is the part where he’d lean in, let the moment pull him under. he knows how this goes, shots, dancing, slipping upstairs when the music gets too loud. normally he'd do anything for a quick fuck.

but tonight, it doesn’t land.

he looks down at her, at the perfect makeup and glitter around her eyes, and all he can think is how different she is from you.

how you’d never lean on someone like this. how you’d never grab at someone you just met. how when you talked, you actually meant what you said.

his jaw tightens.

toji’s already got two girls around him, laughing loudly, drink in one hand, the other at someone’s waist. he looks like he’s having the time of his life. and for the first time, sukuna feels nothing but exhaustion watching it.

the brunette keeps talking something about the psych department, something about a pool party next weekend but her words fade into static.

god, he can’t stop thinking about you.

he pictures your small smile, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous. the way your voice lifts just slightly when you talk about something you love. the way your eyes meet his only for a second before darting away again.

then he thinks about how you’d react if you saw this.

if you saw toji right now, grinning, drunk, hands everywhere.

you’d look crushed. maybe not outwardly, but he knows you’d feel it. he can see that tiny flicker of hurt in his head, your lips pressing together, pretending not to care.

and for some reason, that thought hits him like a punch.

you’d be heartbroken over a guy like toji. and he hates that. hates it enough that his fake smirk starts to slip.

because toji’s the one you wanted. and toji’s right there, laughing with some random girl like you never even existed.

it makes his stomach twist.

the brunette leans in closer, her perfume cloying and too strong. she presses her lips against his neck, and something cold floods through him instead of the usual heat.

he stiffens.

she pulls back, confused, maybe even offended, but he just steps away, shaking his head.

“you good?” she asks, pouting a little.

“yeah,” he mutters. “just need a smoke.”

he grabs a beer from the counter and makes his way outside.

the air’s cooler out here, cleaner. it hits his lungs in a way that almost feels like relief. he digs into his pocket, finds his pack, and lights up. the first drag burns his throat, grounding him a little. he thinks back to the time you'd seen a flash of the packet in his pocket, the look of concern plastering your cute face.

"you smoke cigarettes? y'know that pretty bad for you, sukuna..."

he sighs and takes another drag, he knew you were right, hell, he even cut down after that little statement.

inside, the party’s still raging. someone shouts, laughter echoing off the walls. he hears toji’s voice above the rest, loud and easy and so damn sure of himself.

sukuna exhales a long stream of smoke and stares out at the street.

why’s he even thinking about you like this?

you're just a girl. just a project partner. you needed his help, he needed yours. that’s all it was supposed to be.

but then he remembers how you'd smiled when he showed up on time for once, how you’d brought him that stupid cup of coffee just because you thought he’d like it. how careful you’d been, shy but trying.

and now he’s here, surrounded by everything he used to want, feeling nothing but restless.

he thinks about the library tomorrow morning.

you’d be there early. you always are. waiting at the same table, your notebook open, your pen tapping as you concentrate. you’d look up when he walks in, offer that small, quiet smile like you’re genuinely happy to see him.

the thought of showing up hungover makes his stomach knot.

he can’t let you see him like that. not reeking of beer, not bleary eyed and dead from a night he didn’t even enjoy.

he flicks the ash off his cigarette, curses under his breath.

“what the fuck am i doing?”

he looks back toward the house. the windows are glowing with golden light, silhouettes moving inside. laughter spills out again, shrill and wild.

that used to feel like home.

now it just feels loud.

he takes another drag, the ember lighting up in the dark.

this isn’t him. at least, it’s not the version of him you’ve seen. the one who actually listens, who tries, who stays sober enough to remember what you said about catalysts and reactions. the one you’ve somehow turned him into without even knowing.

he huffs out a quiet laugh, bitter and low.

you’d probably never believe it if someone told you sukuna ryomen left a mixer early because of a girl.

but here he is.

he stubs out the cigarette, tosses the butt into the gutter, and pulls his jacket tighter around him.

he steps back inside just long enough to find toji at the beer pong table, a girl perched on his lap now, and rolls his eyes.

“yo,” toji calls over. “where the hell’d you go?”

“m' heading out,” sukuna says. “got shit to do tomorrow.”

toji raises a brow. “it’s friday, man.”

“yeah. i know.”

“whatever,” toji laughs. “your loss.”

sukuna just shrugs, already turning toward the door.

the music fades behind him as he walks out again. the night air hits him, cool against his skin. campus is mostly empty now, streetlights flickering.

he lights another cigarette as he walks, the smoke curling up into the cold.

his mind won’t stop racing.

he thinks about you again, about how small you look sitting behind your laptop, about the way you focus so hard you don’t notice him staring sometimes. about how quiet the world feels when it’s just the two of you in that corner of the library.

you’d laugh if you saw him now. the guy everyone calls a monster, walking home early from a party just because he wants to look sober in front of some shy chemistry nerd.

but it’s not just that anymore.

he doesn’t want to look sober. he wants to look good for you.

he wants you to think he’s better than this. better than what everyone thinks he's like.

he blows out smoke and watches it fade into the dark.

when he gets back to the frat, the house is nearly empty—most of the guys are still at the mixer. it’s quiet for once. he climbs the stairs, every step heavy, and stops at his door.

he stares at the handle for a second before going in.

the room smells like cologne and laundry detergent. his desk’s still a mess, papers and dumbbells scattered everywhere. he drops onto the bed and stares at the ceiling, cigarette burning low between his fingers.

he should sleep. he should forget tonight.

but all he can see is you.

your smile. your voice. your eyes when they meet his and flick away just a second too fast.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

he ashes the cigarette in the tray, lets his head fall back, and closes his eyes.

the thought of you lingers like smoke in his lungs. intoxicating, slow, impossible to shake.

and for the first time in a long time, the idea of tomorrow doesn’t feel like just another day. it feels like something he’s waiting for.

~

the sun crawls through the blinds too early for a saturday.

pale light drags itself across the room, landing on the mess of clothes and empty bottles scattered over the frat floor. everyone’s still passed out.

bodies everywhere. some sprawled across couches, others snoring in corners, heads tipped back with half-empty beer cans slipping from their hands.

but not sukuna.

he’s awake.

he’s the only one who doesn’t feel like he got hit by a truck. no pounding head, no sour stomach. just the faint trace of smoke on his tongue and the quiet buzz in his chest that’s been there since last night.

he sits up, rakes a hand through his hair, and exhales. the air smells like sweat and cheap vodka. he looks around at the disaster that was his frat house, sticky floors, someone’s shoe on the counter, a guy in nothing but boxers drooling into the carpet, and shakes his head.

he’s not sticking around for the aftermath.

there’s something about this morning, something clean, light, strange. he grabs his hoodie, slings his bag over his shoulder, and checks his phone. too early for most people. not too early for you.

he smiles a little at that.

when he walks into the hallway, a few guys groan from the couch.

“yo,” one of them croaks. “where the hell are you going? it’s like… eight?”

“got plans,” sukuna says, slipping on his sneakers.

“plans?” another mumbles, half-asleep. “with who?”

“no one,” sukuna says quickly. “don’t worry about it.”

he’s already halfway out the door before they can start asking more questions. the last thing he needs is toj or anyone, really catching wind of this and deciding to tag along like last time.

the air outside hits him cold and fresh. campus is quiet, only the occasional sound of birds or a bike rolling past. everything’s washed in soft gold light, the kind that makes the world look cleaner than it really is.

he starts walking.

there’s a bounce in his step that he tries to ignore. it feels stupid to feel this way. giddy. like he’s got something worth looking forward to. he tells himself it’s just because he didn’t drink last night. he’s clear-headed. alert. that’s all.

but he knows it’s a lie.

the café comes into view just down the block. it’s the one you always go to, the one with the green sign. he remembers the first time he saw you there, hunched over your laptop with a coffee that had already gone cold, scribbling in your notebook like the world might end if you looked up.

the memory makes his chest feel weird.

he pushes open the door, the little bell chiming. the barista greets him with a sleepy smile. he glances over the glass case, scanning the pastries. croissants, muffins, a few danishes. then he spots the one he remembers you ordering once, faky and soft, sugar dusted over the top.

“one of those,” he says, pointing.

the barista wraps it up neatly in paper. sukuna hands over the cash, then hesitates when she asks if he wants a drink.

he almost says yes. almost orders a sweet coffee for you.

but then he remembers.

you’ll already have one right now, you always do.

“nah,” he says, shaking his head. “js' the pastry.”

he walks out with the small paper bag in hand, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.

he feels ridiculous. it’s a fucking pastry. but somehow it feels like more than that. like he’s carrying a confession.

when the library comes into view, he spots you right away.

you’re there, in your usual spot. that back table near the window, the one you’ve claimed without ever really saying so. your coffee’s beside your laptop, steam curling up faintly. you’re biting your lip, eyes narrowed in concentration as you read through something.

and god, you’re cute.

it slaps him all over again.

the way your hair falls forward, the soft sweater you’re wearing, the tiny crease between your brows. you’re not trying to be anything. you’re just there, focused, quiet, real.

he stands there for a second, just watching.

then he remembers himself and walks over.

“g'morning,” he says.

you look up, startled, then your whole face softens when you see him. “oh, hi! you’re early.”

“yeah,” he says, dropping his bag into the chair across from you. “didn't wanna sleep in today.”

you laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “fair.”

he pulls the paper bag from his hoodie pocket and slides it across the table.

he holds it out to you. “for you. figured you might want breakfast.”

you blink, startled. “wait, really?”

“yeah. it’s from that cafe you like.”

your mouth falls open slightly, and your cheeks go pink in that way he’s starting to adore. “you... remembered that?”

“guess so.”

you take the bag from him carefully, like it’s something fragile. when you peek inside and see what it is, your expression softens even more.

“oh my god,” you whisper, smiling so hard your eyes crinkle at the corners. “this is my favorite one.”

he watches, almost helpless, as you keep talking, thanking him over and over. your voice stumbles with embarrassment, your fingers fidget with the bag, and the more flustered you get, the more something warm spreads through his chest.

“you didn’t have to! really, that’s so sweet of you.”

“it’s nothing,” he says, but his voice is rougher than he means it to be. “just figured you might be hungry.” he softens.

you look down, still smiling. “thank you.”

and it hits him, how long it’s been since a girl said that to him and meant it.

you break the silence first, switching to the assignment, pulling up your notes and explaining something about the next section. he nods along, but he’s not really listening. he’s watching the way you push your hair behind your ear, the way your brows furrow when you focus.

he forces himself to pay attention. still, the moment feels easy.

you talk for a while about the project, comparing notes, trading small jokes. he feels himself relax into the rhythm of it, like it’s become a routine.

and then, without warning, you bring up toji.

you clear your throat first, eyes flicking down to your notes. “so, um... toji.”

he stills, one brow lifting, you were finally gonna talk about him since that awful run in last time. “hmm?”

“he’s… very…” you trail off, searching for the word. “loud.”

he snorts. “that’s one way to put it.”

“and, um, big. like, physically. and personality-wise. very… confident.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “yeah. sorry about that. he’s… a lot. again, i didn’t mean to unleash him on you like that.” he was apologising again, so out of character for him but he couldn't help it. not with you.

“no, no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “he’s just… different than i expected.”

“different how?”

you hesitate, chewing your lip. “i guess i thought he’d be more like you.”

the words hang between you for a second. his pulse stutters.

“like me, huh?” he says, teasing, leaning back in his chair, spread wide as he looks you up and down. “what’s that supposed to mean, hm?”

you go red instantly, trying to drag your eyes away from his man spread legs. “i just meant- you’re, um, thoughtful. more focused. not overbearing, you're nice...”

he grins. "nice, huh?"

you hide your mouth behind your hand and look off to the side. "nicer than toji, yeah."

he laughs, "that's not a very high bar to clear."

you giggled in response, letting him continue.

“so you like my type better?”

“that’s not what i said,” you mumble, covering your face with your hand again.

“didn’t have to.”

you peek at him through your fingers, and he has to bite back a laugh. your cheeks are so pink it hurts to look at you.

“you’re bullying me,” you say, your voice small.

“maybe.”

you shake your head, still smiling, and reach for your coffee. he watches the way you hold it, the delicate tilt of your wrist, the little sigh you make after a sip.

then, quieter, he asks, “so… you still interested in him? toji, i mean.”

you freeze.

“i.. uh.” your voice falters. “i guess so? i... i don’t know.”

“you don’t sound sure.”

“he’s just, not what i thought he’d be. i thought he’d be a little calmer.”

“he’s not really the type to surprise you in a good way,” sukuna says.

you smile faintly, eyes on your cup. “yeah. maybe not.”

the way you say it, soft, thoughtful, uncertain, it makes his chest ache.

you’re too sweet for this. too genuine. you deserve someone who actually listens, who doesn’t treat you like background noise. and for some reason, he hates that the person you’re hung up on is his best friend.

he sighs, rubbing his jaw.

you look up, curious. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” he says, forcing a smile. “just tired.”

you nod, and the two of you fall back into quiet work. it’s peaceful again, the only sounds the soft click of your keyboard and the scratching of his pen. time blurs.

when you finally close your laptop, stretching your arms, he realizes two hours have passed.

“we got a lot done,” you say, smiling.

“yeah,” he says, though he can’t remember a thing you just studied.

you start packing your things, tucking the empty pastry bag into your bag. before you can leave, you hesitate. then, shyly, you step closer and wrap one arm around him in a little side hug.

“thank you,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “for breakfast. and for helping me.”

for a second, he forgets how to breathe.

you smell like coffee and sugar and something faintly floral. your hand rests briefly against his side, and he swears every nerve in his body lights up.

then you pull away, smiling up at him, oblivious to the chaos you’ve just caused.

“see you tomorrow?”

“yeah!” he says quickly, way too excited. “d-definitely.”

you wave and head out, the door swinging shut behind you.

he stands there for a full minute, still staring at the spot you’d been standing, until he realises his hands are clenched and his pulse is hammering.

he grabs his bag, mutters something under his breath, and heads outside.

the moment he’s in the open air again, he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

the breeze does nothing to cool the heat crawling under his skin.

he walks fast, head down, eyes on the pavement.

every step feels heavy with restraint.

because all he can think about is how soft you felt, how small your hand was against him, how much he wanted to pull you in, bury his face in your neck, keep you there for hours.

he curses under his breath, tugging his hoodie lower, hoping it hides the problem growing in his jeans.

“get it together,” he mutters.

he tries to think about anything else the assignment, the game tomorrow, the half finished paper on his desk but his mind keeps circling back to you. your laugh. your blush. your hug.

by the time he reaches the frat, his heartbeat’s finally starting to slow, but the feeling stays. that dizzy mix of guilt and want.

he steps inside quietly, the house still a mess of hangovers, and slips upstairs to his room.

the first thing he does is sit on his bed, elbows on his knees, and let out a long, shaky exhale.

he’s in trouble.

he knows it.

because he can’t stop smiling.

~

the gym in the frat house isn’t much. it’s a dim room tucked behind the kitchen, with cracked mirrors and rusted weights, the air always heavy with the stale scent of sweat and cheap deodorant.

the guys call it a “home gym,” but it’s really just a collection of mismatched dumbbells, an old bench press, and a speaker that always buzzes when the bass hits too hard. its nothing like the fancy campus one him and toji visit, still, it works for sukuna.

he’s halfway through a set, sweat sliding down the back of his neck, when his thoughts start slipping away from the burn in his muscles and land right where they always seem to go lately.

he tries to ignore it, focusing on the motion, the rhythm, the push and pull of the bar in his hands.

but the harder he tries not to think about you, the more vivid you become. your voice, soft but steady, your shy little smiles whenever he cracks a joke, the way you always tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re trying not to blush.

it’s infuriating, how easily you creep into his head.

he exhales sharply, finishing the set with a grunt, letting the bar clang down harder than he means to. it rattles against the frame, echoing in the small room.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, sitting up and grabbing the towel draped over his shoulders.

he wipes his face, breathing hard, his reflection in the mirror smudged with fingerprints and dust. he looks exhausted, not just from the workout but from everything sitting in his head.

you and toji.

you and that stupid, innocent crush you’d confessed to him like it was nothing.

he leans forward, elbows on his knees, towel hanging loosely around his neck. he can’t keep fucking around pretending like this is going to work anymore.

he can’t sit through another study session with you knowing that toji knows you're into him.

toji doesn’t even remember half the girls he flirts with, so why should he get to occupy that sweet spot in your brain.

that thought alone makes his blood boil.

you’re too good for that. too damn good.

he picks up the dumbbell again, trying to lift through the frustration, but his mind keeps racing. toji’s face flashes in his mind—the obnoxiousness, his interest in you only after finding out what you looked like.

the memory makes his jaw clench.

toji doesn’t deserve to know you exist, let alone be someone you lose sleep over.

his grip tightens around the handle. he lifts again, but it feels pointless now, his muscles burning for a different reason entirely.

finally, he slams the weight down and stands up, chest heaving.

he’s done.

done thinking he can stomach this, done keeping that deal, done lying to himself.

without even thinking about it, he walks out of the gym, towel still slung over his shoulder. his feet move on instinct, carrying him through the hall, up the grand stairs, straight to toji’s room.

the door’s half-shut, light spilling from the gap, and he doesn’t bother knocking. he pushes it open, the wood hitting the wall with a dull thud.

toji’s sprawled across his bed, shirtless, scrolling through his phone. there’s a protein shake on the desk, a game controller tangled in the sheets. he looks up lazily when sukuna appears.

“yo,” he says, grinning. “you look pissed. what, satoru stealing your shirts n' shit again?”

sukuna doesn’t answer. he stands there for half a second, jaw tight, and then the words just fall out before he can stop them.

“y/n has a boyfriend,” he blurts. “so you can forget the whole crush on you thing.”

toji blinks, confused. “uhm?”

“what,” sukuna says, crossing his arms. “shes got a guy.”

toji sits up slightly, eyebrows furrowing. “who’s y/n again?”

the silence that follows is deafening.

sukuna stares at him, the vein in his temple twitching.

“are you actually deadass right now?”

toji shrugs. “bro, i talk to a lot of girls, you gotta be more specific.”

that’s it.

sukuna drags a hand down his face, muttering something that sounds halfway between a growl and a groan. he doesn’t even bother explaining. it’s not worth it.

“don't worry, man,” he snaps, spinning on his heel.

he slams the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame.

by the time he gets back to his room, his chest is tight, the frustration boiling over into something heavier. he paces once, twice, then finally drops onto his bed, letting his head fall back against the wall.

“who’s y/n again?”

the words echo in his mind like a bad joke.

he can’t believe it. he can’t believe he ever thought this was a good idea, trying to set you up with that idiot.

it’s not even about the deal anymore. it’s about you.

because now he knows what it feels like to be around you, to hear you laugh, to see the way your eyes light up when he remembers the smallest things. he knows what it feels like to walk beside you through campus at night, the air cool and soft, your voice quiet but steady.

he likes you.

really, really likes you.

and it’s not just because you’re pretty, though god, you are. it’s because you’re kind. because you make him feel human again, in a way that nothing else ever does. because you talk to him like he’s worth something more than the reputation that follows him.

he doesn’t know when it happened, but it’s there now, and it’s not going away.

.

the weeks that follow move in a blur. the two of you keep meeting for study sessions, but they’ve shifted. so subtly that neither of you seems to notice.

you’re more relaxed now. you smile more, laugh easier. you’ve started showing up with little things for him too. chocolates, protein bars, a can of cold brew. every time, he teases you about it, but inside, he’s having a spaz out.

and every time he brings you something in return, you light up like he’s handed you the world.

you’ve started talking about more than the project. now, it’s everything. random things. favorite youtuber, weird scandals, childhood fuck ups, "yeah, i used to be one of those devious lick kids in middle school, me and gojo stole an entire sink".

sometimes, you talk so much you forget the assignment altogether, and he never stops you.

he lives for these moments.

sometimes, when you’re sitting side by side at the library, your knees brush under the table. it’s barely a touch, accidental every time, but it makes his pulse stutter.

you’ve started giving him hugs too, real ones. not just quick, polite ones, actual, full-bodied hugs that make him want to forget how to breathe. all he wants to do is bundle you up and take you back home, lock you away where no one could possibly taint that beautiful smile.

he pretends to be chill and nonchalant, but inside, he’s crashing out so hard.

one afternoon, it’s raining outside, and you show up in a damp tank top, hair slightly damp. he nearly forgets how to speak. you hand him a hot chocolate and giggle when he stares at it like he’s never seen one before.

“it’s not that weird,” you say, smiling. “i thought you might want something warm and sweet for this type of weather.”

he looks at you for a long moment trying not to stare at your see through chest, then takes the cup. “thanks,” he murmurs, and it sounds like something heavier than gratitude.

you shrug, shy but pleased, then sit down beside him, close enough that your shoulders almost touch.

when the session ends that day, he walks you home like he always does. it’s become a quiet habit between you. no one suggested it, but neither of you questions it either. you live just off campus, in a small apartment with ivy creeping up the walls, and every time you reach your door, you both hesitate.

he wants to ask if he can come inside, just once.

you always look like you might invite him, too.

but neither of you ever says it.

instead, you smile, soft and warm, and tell him goodnight. he always watches until you disappear inside, until the light flicks on and frank ocean starts softly pouring from the window.

and every time, he walks back to the frat with that same ache in his chest, the one that’s half longing and half fear.

he knows he’s in wayyy too deep.

but he can't stop.

you’ve started coming out of your shell in little bursts. you tease him now, gently. you call him out when he’s being lazy, roll your eyes when he tries to act too chill. and he eats it the fuck up. every second of it.

you’re different with him now. freer. you trust him.

and that makes everything both better and worse.

because every time you look at him with that open, honest expression, he has to remind himself of the lie he built this on, th e deal, the fake promise to get you closer to toji.

it barely comes up anymore. sometimes you mention toji in passing, usually as a joke, and you both laugh it off. it’s like neither of you really care about it anymore.

and maybe that’s the truth. maybe it stopped mattering the moment you started looking at him like that.

one evening, when the sun’s setting, you’re sitting across from him at the library, talking about nothing in particular. you’re smiling, head tilted, your voice soft. and he catches himself staring, not hearing a single word.

you stop mid way through your sentence, blinking. “what?”

he shakes his head quickly. “nothing.”

“you’re staring,” you say, cheeks pink.

“you’re imagining things, honey."

you laugh, hiding your face in your hands.

he smiles too, but there’s something behind it something he doesn’t let you see.

because in that moment, it hits him all over again, stronger than before.

he’s seriously can't do this shit any longer.

he doesn’t want to help you get to toji anymore.

he doesn’t want to stand by while you talk about someone else, even in passing.

he wants you. all of you.

the quiet smiles, the shy blushes, the little quirks he’s learned by heart.

he wants to be the one who gets to see every part of you, every version of that soft, sweet girl who’s been slowly unraveling in front of him.

and he knows, deep down, that if he ever let himself say it out loud, he’d never be able to take it back.

so he keeps it buried, just for now, as he walks you home again that night. the streetlights stretch long shadows across the pavement, and your arm brushes his once, twice, and each time, he swears of he doesn't concentrate he'll trip over his jordans.

when you reach your door, you turn to him with that same bright smile, the one that always knocks the air from his lungs.

“thanks again,” you say softly.

he nods. “anytime.”

you linger for a second, like you want to say something more, then wave goodnight and disappear inside.

he stands there for a long moment, staring at the door, listening to the faint hum of music from your apartment.

then, finally, he exhales, a small, helpless laugh slipping out.

he’s ruined. completely.

and for once in his life, he doesn’t even mind.

~

the classroom is thick with the sound of quiet chatter, chairs scraping against tile, pens clicking as people jot down reminders before leaving. the fluorescent lights flicker slightly, casting everything in a washed-out glow that makes it feel like time’s been stretched too thin. the chemistry teacher’s voice cuts through it all, cheerful but distant.

“alright, everyone, just a quick reminder that your paired assignment is due at the end of this week. make sure you’ve got everything finalized. i’ll be checking submissions on friday.”

the words hang in the air like a quiet ending bell.

you look up from your notes at the same time sukuna does, and for a moment, your eyes meet across the shared lab table. he’s already watching you, elbows resting on the counter, twirling his pen between his fingers.

he gives you this crooked half-smile, something between fond and nervous, and you return it, though yours falters just a little at the edges.

it hits both of you at once. this thing between you, this rhythm you’ve fallen into, the study sessions, the walks home, the quiet coffees before class? it’s been built around this assignment. and when the assignment ends, what happens then?

he taps his pen against his notebook, looking away first. “guess we’re almost done, huh?”

you try to sound light. “yeah… crazy how fast it went.”

but it doesn’t feel fast. it feels full. it feels like a lifetime compressed into a few short weeks, every minute threaded with something unspoken.

he hums in agreement, glancing at you again. “we should probably go over everything one more time. make sure it’s perfect.”

you nod, pretending to check the notes in front of you. “mhm, library after class?”

“yeah,” he says. “one last session.”

one last. the words make your stomach twist.

.

sukuna drops his bag on the chair across from you, stretching his arms as he sits down. his hair’s a little messy from the wind, and he smells faintly of the sexy cologne he always wears, something clean and manly that clings to his skin.

you open your laptop, trying to focus on the document in front of you. it’s almost done, just small edits, formatting, double-checking citations, but the words keep blurring. you can feel his presence across the table, solid and steady, and it’s impossible to think about chemistry when he’s right there.

he’s quieter than usual too. his knee bounces under the table, a restless rhythm, and every now and then you catch him glancing up, like he’s about to say something but decides against it.

the silence stretches between you, thick and loaded. you can’t stand it anymore.

“so…” you start, voice softer than you mean it to be.

he looks up instantly, like he’s been waiting for you to speak. “yeah?”

you open your mouth, close it again, glance at your hands. “never mind. it’s nothing.”

he frowns slightly. “come on. what is it?”

you shake your head, forcing a small smile. “seriously, it’s nothing. just focus.”

he watches you for a second longer, then sighs and leans back, crossing his arms. “fine. but you’re acting weird.”

you let out a soft laugh that sounds too nervous. “i could say the same about you.”

that gets a real smile out of him, crooked and teasing, but it fades quickly.

you both go quiet again, typing half heartedly, neither of you really working. the tension builds, unspoken and unbearable.

you can feel the words sitting on your tongue, begging to be let out. you want to tell him everything. how the crush on toji fizzled out weeks ago, how stupid it feels now, how you can’t stop thinking about him instead. how every time he looks at you, your whole chest feels like it’s about to give out.

you glance up. he’s staring at his screen, jaw tight, eyes unfocused. and somehow, you can tell he’s holding something back too.

finally, you both move at the same time.

“i have to tell you something,” you say, right as he says, “there’s something i should tell you.”

you both stop, eyes locking.

you laugh softly. “you first.”

he shakes his head. “nuh uh, you first.”

“no way,” you say, smiling now despite the nerves. “you looked like you were about to explode. go ahead.”

“ladies first,” he shoots back, that teasing lilt returning to his voice, though his eyes are still serious.

you roll your eyes, but your heart’s hammering. “fine,” you breathe.

he leans forward, forearms on the table, watching you carefully.

you swallow, your fingers twisting the edge of your sleeve. “okay. so, um… this is kind of embarrassing, but.."

you stop, take a breath, try again. “it's about toji.”

his expression flickers for a second, something unreadable crossing his face. “yeah,” he says slowly. “what about him?”

you toy with a pen to keep your hands busy. “i don’t really… feel that way anymore. about him.”

his brow lifts just slightly, his voice careful. “ts' that so?”

you nod, cheeks warm. “yeah. i mean, it was kind of silly, wasn’t it? i barely knew him. i think i just liked the idea of him. and then when you brought him to that one session, i realised he’s… kinda clapped, nothing like what i imagined.”

he lets out a small sound, something close to a laugh, but it’s quiet, almost nervous. “yeah, that sounds like him.”

you smile faintly, tracing a finger along the edge of your notebook. “the truth is, i think i was just projecting. when we started hanging out, i didn’t know you that well, and i guess i thought maybe toji was like you. you know? confident, funny, easy to talk to.” you pause, your gaze flicking up to his. “but he’s not you. not even remotely close.”

his breath catches slightly, and for a moment, he forgets how to speak.

“i don’t know,” you go on, voice softer now, almost trembling. “i kept thinking i wanted someone like toji, but… the whole time, i was really just wishing he’d be more like you, sukuna.”

you meet his eyes fully now, and the world seems to narrow around you both. “and then i realised maybe i don’t want someone like you. maybe i just, you know, want you.”

the silence that follows feels endless.

he’s staring at you, completely still. you can see the realization hit him. the tension in his shoulders easing, his expression softening in disbelief and relief all at once.

you bite your lip, instantly flustered. “that sounded so stupid, didn’t it?”

he shakes his head quickly. “no. no, not at all.”

he leans back in his chair, letting out a long, shaky exhale. it’s the biggest breath of relief you’ve ever seen someone take. he runs a hand through his hair, laughing under his breath, a sound that’s half disbelieving, half overwhelmed.

“holy shit,” he murmurs, still smiling. “you have no idea how good it is to hear that.”

you blink. “uhm, what?”

he laughs again, softer this time, his hand still pressed to the back of his neck. “that’s what i was gonna tell you. i’ve been losing my fucking mind these past few weeks because i’ve been trying so hard not to say it.”

you stare at him, your heart pounding. “say what?”

he meets your gaze again, eyes warm and honest. “that i like you. like, really like you. i’ve had this massive crush on you for a while now, and it’s been killing me trying to act normal.”

you can’t help the little laugh that escapes you, part disbelief, part giddy joy. “you’re deadass?”

he nods. “one hundred percent.”

“but… the deal,” you say quietly. “you were supposed to help me with toji.”

“yeah, about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “i kinda… just didn’t.”

you tilt your head. “uhhm, what?”

he laughs again, nervously this time. “i told him you had a boyfriend.”

your eyes widen. “you did?"

he winces. “yeah. i told him that weeks ago. i just... i couldn’t do it anymore. couldn’t keep pretending i was helping you get with him when all i wanted was to keep you all to myself.”

you blink once, twice, then cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. “you told him i had a boyfriend?”

“yep.” he grins now, a little cocky, a little embarrassed. “guess that’s me sabotaging the deal.”

you drop your hand, still smiling. “that’s so stupid.”

“i know.”

“but…” you pause, your smile turning softer. “it’s kind of sweet.”

he leans forward again, elbows on the table, eyes never leaving yours. “you’re not mad?”

“mad?” you repeat, shaking your head. “no. that’s… exactly what i wanted, actually.”

he blinks. “really?”

you nod, heart in your throat. “yeah. i didn’t want you helping me with toji. not anymore. i just didn’t know how to tell you.”

he stares at you for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “so what now?”

you smile. “i don’t know. maybe we just… stop pretending.”

he exhales, leaning back with a grin that could light up the whole room. “i can do that.”

for a moment, neither of you says anything. you just sit there, the quiet hum of the library around you, the sun slipping lower through the windows, painting his skin in gold.

finally, he breaks the silence, voice low. “for the record, i was terrified you were about to tell me you had a new man for real.”

you laugh softly. “no chance.”

“good,” he says, and the way he looks at you soft, sure, a little possessive, makes your pulse race.

you don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you’re both leaning across the table, closer than you’ve ever been. the distance between you shrinks until you can feel his breath on your lips, his hand brushing lightly against yours.

neither of you say anything. you don’t need to.

the moment stretches, slow and sweet, full of everything you’ve both been holding back.

~

the second you get back to your apartment, your face ignites with the kind of fire only a really nice fireplace could match, the ones in those fancy houses you see on the block.

the guy you'd been crushing on for a total of four weeks now had just told you he felt the same. and ever more, he'd been so obsessed he'd told your ex-crush you'd had a boyfriend in hopes of bagging you himself.

for a girl not used to being in the spotlight, having such a loud, well known frat guy like ryomen sukuna become vulnerable, just for you? it was like the world came crashing and burning down at your feet. he made your stomach swim with love and passion, a feeling you'd only ever gotten from receiving higher grades than everyone else, a feeling so much better than finding a new delicious pastry you couldn't help but order again.

ryomen sukuna was it. he was the kinda guy you'd been dreaming of ever since you'd started college. he was the perfect man, and he was as into you as you were him.

you settled into your living room with an adorably large smile painted on your lips, the sensation of fulfilment taking over your ever thought as you dreamt of what was to happen next.

~

the week after the submission crawls by. you think about both sukuna and the possible grade you'll both get every day. every time you pass the lab, every time you open your laptop, every time you catch sight of sukuna across the courtyard, leaning against the wall with his friends.

you can tell he’s thinking about it too. the way he catches your eye during class and offers a small, crooked smile says everything. neither of you can really stop wondering what the final mark will be, as well as what life has in store for the both of you.

friday finally rolls around, the classroom feels weird. students trickle in with tired faces and restless energy, everyone buzzing quietly with the same anticipation. the teacher walks in, holding a stack of papers in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other.

she sets everything down at the front desk, claps her hands together, and gives a small, approving smile.

“alright, everyone,” she says, her tone almost teasing. “i’ve marked your projects. you’ll get the official grades through the online portal, but since i know you’re all impatient,” her gaze sweeps the room, landing briefly on you and sukuna, “i’ll let you know this much: some of you really impressed me.”

a ripple of chatter runs through the class. sukuna shoots you a look from across the room, eyebrows raised. you smile nervously and shrug.

after class, the two of you linger by the doorway, waiting for the crowd to clear out. you’re clutching your phone, refreshing the student portal again and again even though the grades still aren’t visible. sukuna leans close, peering at your screen.

“nothing yet?” he asks.

“no,” you sigh. “probably another hour.”

he tilts his head, thinking for a moment. “want to check it together later? at that little cafe with the green sign?”

you blink. “awe, my favourite. sure!”

“of course,” he says, smirking lightly. “how good am i remembering your favourite things n' shit.”

you laugh, cheeks warming. “what a man. how about we meet there at five?”

“five it is.” he gives a small wave as he heads down the hall. “see you then, partner.”

the cafe smells like roasted coffee beans and sugar, the air humming with quiet conversation and the clinking of ceramic cups. it’s early evening, and the place is wrapped in that warm, lazy glow that makes everything feel softer. the green sign outside flickers faintly through the window, the letters worn from years of weather and sunlight.

you spot him immediately sitting near the counter, wearing a black hoodie and tapping his thumb against his phone screen. his hair’s pulled back, a few loose strands falling into his eyes. he looks up the moment the door chimes, and that grin spreads across his face like it’s second nature.

“hey,” he says as you approach.

“hey,” you echo, sliding into the seat across from him.

he gestures toward the counter. “i already ordered for us. black coffee for me, that thing you like for you, and...” he grins, “...a pastry, because apparently you can’t sit in this place without one.”

you laugh softly, trying to ignore the way your heart flutters. “you know me too well, we needa' hang out less.”

“noo,” he teases, leaning back. “i'm just an observer.”

the drinks come quickly, steam curling from the cups. you take yours with both hands, staring at the little swirl of foam, trying to calm your nerves. sukuna pulls out his phone again, refreshes the student portal, and freezes.

his eyes widen. “holy shit,” he mutters.

you look up sharply. “what?”

he turns the screen toward you. there it is, your names side by side, and next to them, the number that makes your breath catch.

98%.

you stare at it for a second, then look at him, and the two of you just burst out laughing.

“oh my-” you say, grinning from ear to ear. “ninety-eight?”

he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “holy shit- holy shit! can’t believe it,” he says, half-laughing, half-sighing in disbelief. “i actually passed. i can stay in the frat. holy shit.”

you laugh again, the sound bubbling out of you uncontrollably. “i told you you’d do fine!”

he stands up suddenly, still laughing, and before you can react he pulls you into his arms. it’s a full, tight hug, so warm, so big. his chest rumbles with laughter, and you can feel how much this means to him, how much the stress and pressure have finally melted away.

“thank you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low, almost breathless. “thank you so much for helping me. i would’ve completely fucking tanked without you.”

you laugh against his shoulder, feeling your own face heat up. “you’re welcome,” you mumble, your words muffled by his hoodie. “you did so good, really.”

when he finally lets go, you can still feel the warmth lingering where he’d held you. he looks just as flustered, rubbing the back of his neck as he sits back down.

“sorry,” he says, half-smiling. “got a little carried away.”

“it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel. “it was… nice.”

his grin widens at that.

you both take a moment to calm down, sipping your drinks in the cozy corner. the sound of the coffee machine hums faintly in the background, and sunlight filters through the leaves outside, dappled across the table. it feels like the whole world’s slowed down just for the two of you.

“so,” he says eventually, voice softer now, “ninety-eight percent. that's so peak."

“yeah, we did that,” you reply, smiling. “you’ll probably get a compliment from the teacher next class.”

“you too,” he says. “you carried me, you're actually so clutch.”

“you helped too,” you insist. “you actually tried, sukuna. that’s what mattered.”

he chuckles, shaking his head. “yeah, but even if i hadn’t passed…” he pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “i don’t think i’d be too upset.”

you tilt your head, smiling faintly. “no?”

“nah.” he leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “because i got to spend all that time with you. and honestly? that made it worth it.”

your chest tightens, a flutter rising under your ribs. you look down quickly, pretending to focus on your coffee. “you’re just saying that.”

“i’m not,” he says firmly. “you made studying actually fun. no one’s ever done that shit before.”

you look up again, and his expression is so genuine, so open, that you forget how to breathe for a second.

“well,” you say softly, “i liked spending time with you too.”

your cups sit forgotten on the table, the croissant half-eaten, and all you can hear is the chatter of other uni kids and the soft clatter of dishes.

you stare into his eyes, and there’s a question there, unspoken but clear.

he smiles, almost shyly, a rare thing for him. “so… what now?”

you shrug lightly, but your smile mirrors his. “i don’t know. i guess we don’t have to stop hanging out just because the project’s done.”

his grin grows wider, and you can see the faintest pink dusting his ears. “good,” he says. “because i was kinda hoping you’d say that.”

he hesitates for a moment, then sits up a little straighter, as if gathering courage.

“actually,” he says, rubbing his thumb against the edge of his cup, “there’s something i wanted to ask.”

you tilt your head. “hmm? and what’s that?”

he exhales slowly, eyes locked on yours. “i know this is probably cheesy as hell, but… i’d really like to take you out. like, properly. dinner, movie, whatever you want. an actual date.”

the words sink in, soft and certain. you blink, surprised but instantly smiling, your cheeks growing hot.

“you mean… like, a date date?” you ask, teasing just a little.

he laughs under his breath. “yeah. a date date.”

you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “i’d love that.”

his expression softens into something that almost makes your heart ache. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

for a moment, you just sit there, both grinning like idiots. it feels unreal, like something out of a quiet, sunlit dream.

he leans back in his chair, relief washing over him in waves. “good,” he says. “i was worried you’d say no.”

you shake your head, still smiling. “never.”

the light outside shifts slowly, spilling gold through the window, painting his skin in soft warmth. he looks at you like he’s memorising the moment, the coffee, the laughter, the way you keep tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

and as he sits across from you, grinning like he can’t quite believe his luck, you know that whatever comes next, it’s going to be something worth waiting for.

~

months slide by, slow but lovely. what once was a study partnership built on awkward exchanges and quiet glances has become something sooo much more. somewhere between library stops, coffee stops, and tight hugs, it shifted. you shifted. sukuna shifted. the line between school and romance blurred until it disappeared completely.

now, you’re his. officially his. and he’s yours.

the first time sukuna brings you to the frat house as his girlfriend, it feels like stepping into a completely different world. the place is loud, music spilling from bluetooth speakers, guys shouting from the kitchen about who’s out of beer, the smell of cheap cologne and pizza hanging in the air.

you pause in the doorway, clutching sukuna’s hand like it’s an anchor. he glances down at you with that little smirk that never fails to make your heart stutter.

“don’t stress it baby,” he murmurs, leaning close enough that his breath grazes your ear. “they’ll love you.”

and they do.

weather or not that's because he threatened to beat them unconscious if they made you feel uncomfortable before you came over is irrelevant.

satoru’s the first to notice you, perched on the couch with a controller in hand. he looks up mid game, grins wide, and immediately calls out, “holy shit, sukuna actually brought a girl here voluntarily?”

“shut up,” sukuna grumbles, tightening his grip on your hand. “this one’s permanent.”

that earns a chorus of oohs and whistles from the guys nearby. your face burns, but when you glance up at sukuna, he’s smiling,not his usual cocky grin, but something softer. proud.

“hey,” you mumble under your breath, “it smells so bad in here, ryo.”

he chuckles quietly. “you’ll get used to it.”

before you can even respond, toji appears from the kitchen, a beer in hand and a knowing grin on his face. “well, if it isn’t the little chem genius.”

you blink. “you… remember me?”

“of course,” toji laughs, setting his drink down and stretching out a hand. “heard you saved this idiot’s academic career.”

“hey,” sukuna cuts in, rolling his eyes. “i wasn’t that bad.”

“you had an eight percent, bro.”

the whole room bursts into laughter. sukuna just grumbles and flips toji off while you try not to giggle too loudly. it’s strange, seeing them all like this. so loud, so chaotic, so different from the quiet rhythm you’re used to, but somehow, it feels okay. you feel okay.

by the end of the night, you’re sitting between sukuna’s legs on the couch, his arms draped loosely around your waist, your back against his chest. someone puts on an old movie in the background, and the chatter slowly fades into easy quiet. for the first time, the frat doesn’t feel intimidating. it feels warm. welcoming.

satoru catches your eye from across the room, giving a thumbs up before mouthing, she’s a keeper. sukuna just smirks.

later that night, when everyone else has gone to bed and the house has fallen quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the faint creak of floorboards, sukuna presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“told you they’d love you,” he whispers.

“yeah, you were right,” you murmur, smiling softly. “they’re so nice.”

“you’re even nicer,” he says, his voice barely audible. “that’s why they love ya'.”

and you can hear the truth in his tone. you know he means it.

after that, everything starts to fall into blissful routine. you help him study, drilling formulas and reactions into his head late into the night. he’s surprisingly good at it now, his grades climbing steadily, proof that maybe he was capable all along, he just needed someone to push him in the right direction.

and in return, he helps you come out of your shell.

he brings you to tiny cafes you’ve never been to before, teaches you how to play pool (terribly, but he doesn’t care), and pulls you into spontaneous late-night walks through campus when the air is cool and the stars are bright.

sometimes, you end up sitting on the hood of his car, his jacket wrapped around your shoulders, your fingers tangled with his as he talks about everything and nothing.

he tells you things he’s never told anyone else—about his parents, about the pressure to be someone bigger, stronger, louder. about how he never really cared about anything before he met you.

“you made me start giving a shit,” he says one night, his voice low as he traces lazy circles against your palm. “about school, about the future. about being a better guy.”

you glance up at him, smiling faintly. “you're the bestest guy, kuna.”

he looks at you for a long time, his chest squeezing with the urge to squish you until you pop. then, with a soft exhale, he leans down and kisses you. gentle, slow, like the world could end and he’d still be happy just holding you against his muscular chest.

word gets around campus fast. whispers follow you sometimes. half disbelief, half awe. people don’t really understand how you ended up with him. the shy, quiet girl who sits at the front of every lecture, always polite, always prepared… dating one of the loudest, most notorious frat boys on campus.

but the thing is, neither of you care.

you’ve seen the way people look at you two when you walk hand in hand across campus, his tall frame towering beside yours. you’ve heard the murmurs, 'how long do you think it’ll last, she’s too good for him, he’ll get bored'. but then he catches your hand, presses a kiss to your knuckles, and all of it melts away.

"don't listen to those clowns."

because you know him now. the real him.

the boy who wakes up early to get your favorite pastry from the cafe before class. the one who drapes his hoodie over your shoulders when it’s too crisp. the one who never forgets to text you goodnight, even when he’s exhausted.

the one who stopped showing up to most frat partys because, as he put it, “none of it’s fun without you anyway.”

you see it in the way he’s changed. not because you asked him to, but because he wants to.

he doesn’t flirt with girls anymore. he doesn’t even seem to notice when they do. his focus is all on you. your laughter, your voice, your little quirks that no one else ever bothered to notice.

and it’s not just the big things that show it. it’s the way he always walks on the side of the road closest to the cars. the way he remembers all your orders without ever asking. the way he’ll pull you closer when you’re out together, even if it’s just to rest his big hand on your hip.

he doesn’t talk about feelings much, not directly. but in every gesture, every glance, it’s there.

you’re his world now, and everyone can see it.

his room at the frat house has changed, too. gone are the stacks of solo cups and random gym gear scattered across the floor. in their place are little pieces of you. a throw blanket you brought one day, a mug you left on his desk, your notebook tucked on the shelf next to his textbooks.

he keeps a photo of the two of you pinned on his bulletin board. it’s a candid, one of those moments you didn’t even know he was taking. a shot of you sitting cross-legged on the couch, wearing his hoodie, laughing with a half-eaten cookie in your hand. he swears it’s his favorite picture in the world.

“you look so fucking cute, and happy,” he tells you when you catch him staring at it one night.

“i am happy,” you reply softly.

“better be,” he says. “that’s all i ever want for you, y/n.”

some nights, he stays over at your apartment instead of the frat. he always claims it’s because it’s quieter, easier to focus on studying. but you both know it’s just because he sleeps better when you’re beside him.

you cook together sometimes, though “cook” might be a really shitty out of touch excuse for the disaster you two create. he burns half the things he touches, laughs through every fuck up, and still insists on taste-testing everything like he’s on master chef. you can’t stay mad when he grins at you with flour on his cheek, his dimples showing as he holds up a misshapen cookie.

“hey, we’re improvin',” he says.

“barely,” you reply, giggling.

he just leans down, presses a quick kiss to your nose, and murmurs, “yeah, but you’re still here, so i must be doing somethin' right.”

there are still parties, of course, he’s still in the frat, and sometimes showing up is expected. but it’s much different. when he does go, he stays by your side the whole night, a protective hand on your back or wrapped around your waist.

he barely drinks anymore, claiming he doesn’t need to. when people flirt or make comments, he just laughs them off and pulls you a little closer.

and when it gets late, when the music’s too loud and the air too heavy with alcohol and perfume, he’ll lean down and whisper, “wanna get out of here?”

you always nod. and the two of you slip away, walking through quiet streets until you reach your place, where everything feels calm again.

people still whisper, still wonder how it works. how a shy, soft-spoken girl could tame someone like ryomen sukuna. but you know the truth.

you didn’t tame him, you just saw him. really saw him. beneath the tattoos, the reputation, the arrogance. you saw the boy who just needed someone to care, and he saw the girl who needed someone to make her feel brave.

and together, you found something that feels a lot like forever.

months pass, the seasons shifting from late autumn to the first chill of winter. the air turns crisp, the sky pale and bright. the two of you walk through campus hand in hand, your breath forming little clouds in the cold.

“remember when we first started that project?” you ask one day, laughing softly. “you barely knew what a periodic table was.”

“hey,” he says, pretending to be offended. “i knew what it was. i just didn’t give a shit.”

“hmm, and now you’re pulling straight a’s.”

he grins. “guess i had a real good tutor. she's real sexy, too..”

you bump his shoulder lightly. “awe i bet she'd be real flattered to hear that.”

he stops walking for a moment, looking down at you with that same warm, unguarded look that still makes your stomach flip.

“you know something?” he says quietly.

“hmm?”

“i still think that fuckass project was the best thing that's ever happened to lil' ol' me.”

you smile, reaching up to fix the collar of his jacket. “yeah?”

“hell yeah,” he murmurs, leaning down until his forehead rests against yours. “because it led me to you.”

the world fades for a moment, the cold, the noise, the people around you, and it’s just him. just you.

when he kisses you, it’s slow, steady, full of all the fuzzy romantic fire that’s been culminating between you since the day he walked up to your desk with a failed test and a hidden nervous smile.

you remember that moment so clearly now, and you can’t help but think how far you’ve both come. from shy glances and awkward silences to this. a love that feels like home.

and as his hand tightens around yours, you realize something simple, something certain.

you’ve both found exactly where you’re meant to be, with each other.

“I do too, it's as if I haven't had a lot of time even though I see him every day.” You frown at that, the thought that even close friends couldn’t actually be close with Satoru because of her.

“I am worried I hurt him, saying we couldn’t be friends anymore,” Suguru frowns at that. “He probably needs us now more than ever and I can’t put myself there, it just hurts too badly.”

“Do you feel things for him?” You look down at your hand on Suguru’s chest. “You can tell me.”

“Yes, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m thinking of him when we kiss or anything, it’s just you.” He smiles slightly, tilting your chin up.

“You’re not hopelessly in love?”

“I..” You trail off now, sighing. “Why are you asking me?”

“Curious is all, if I’ve read it all wrong,” you bite down on your lower lip to stop it from trembling. “I think he is too.”

“Oh no,” you can’t think like that, not at all, and ever hope to move on. “I definitely had a crush on him of course, I mentioned that at the dinner.”

“A crush,” you’re a cute, flushed little mess when you nod. “I see, was it just a little puppy love?”

“Um,” you can’t lie to Suguru’s face, not when he’s looking at you like he already knows. “What makes you curious?”

“Just wondering where you stand with that,” just trying to not leak precum and be a good fucking friend. Shit was hard – literally.

“Even if I was,” Suguru smiles. “It doesn’t matter because he’ll never be with me, even before Sarah was in the picture.”

“No? Don’t think so?”

“I know so,” you toy with Suguru’s collar, letting him hold you against his side. “I’m not his type, you know? The glamorous, preppy type, so beautiful and so popular, even though I don’t like her, I can admit she’s things I could never be.”

“What’s wrong with how you are?”

“A band geek who can’t dress for a date?”

Suguru frowns now. “You looked adorable on our date.”

“You’re just sweet,” you kiss him tentatively again, smiling against his mouth as he glares. “You are!”

“Mhm, I don’t think Satoru has ‘a type’ I think his parents shove shit on him more than anything,” Suguru knows damn well Satoru’s type is you. Yet with the way Satoru was going, he was terrified his friend was missing an opportunity here.

How long would you wait for his friend to get it together?

“So I’ll see you tomorrow for some studying,” Suguru says after a bit, tilting your chin up and pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Sounds good! In the morning?”

“I’ll bring coffee over.” You smile all cute and Suguru leaves before he forgets his goal – but he almost wonders if you could use two boyfriends. Even Shoko says the same thing when he reports back.

“We could just be a throuple if he doesn’t get it together,” she hands him a cigarette when they meet up. “I would get her first though.”

“You first, hmm?” She licks her lips and grins.

“Are you all talking about derailing the plan?” Utahime and Nanami come up now, Shoko and Suguru sigh. “You all know Satoru would pout forever if you did.”

“Well ultimately we can’t make them be together,” Nanami frowns when Shoko offers a cigarette. “No.”

“You love them,” he rolls his eyes. “Suguru said she was enjoying the makeout sesh, but I informed him that she liked kissing me more.”

“You kissed her?” Utahime giggles when she nods, Nanami is bright fucking red, clearing his throat. “Hot.”

“I wish I could have seen,” Suguru sighs at the thought.

“Don’t be so uncouth, Suguru,” Nanami’s ears are red, Shoko laughs, a throaty little sound, poking his chest.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t love to see it.”

“Indeed no,” he swats her hand away. “Focus on getting her with Satoru, not on kissing her, you two.”

“Yes sir,” Suguru and Shoko say it at the same time, laughing at their poor friend Nanami, all while you’re in bed, utterly clueless.

You’re a mess, too, laying there and thinking too damn much – wondering how Satoru was, if he was okay, if she was hurting him. Just because you backed off the friendship didn’t mean you didn’t care.

You care too much.

*****

Sarah is sucking Satoru like her money depends on the shit – he supposes for her it does, the way she bobs and swallows, but he just can’t for the life of him get hard. Not when his mind is on your heartbroken face, not when everything from Sarah feels fucking hollow, when he’s devastated at the loss of his best friend, the one he’d just gotten back in his life.

He hasn’t even gotten to talk to you, to have a moment, to know how your life has been. Was your dad all right? Was your mom still being super strict on you about things? Fuck, what were you majoring in? Pursuing the music dream you loved, or did you end up with something more practical?

That’s his thoughts – your college major – when Sarah pulls up and straddles Satoru, he supposes he got hard enough, she’s trying to put it in when he halts her, frowning. “Condom.”

“I don’t have any here,” she leans forward and kisses him again. “We don’t always have to use one, right? I told you I’m on the pill.”

“Doesn’t matter, I don’t wanna risk that,” she scowls when he eases her off his lap, his cock is not even half way but it’s so big she could probably still cum, yet he sure the fuck didn’t want that.

How can he want someone who has made his life so miserable?

“You know…” She trails off now, brushing his hair back, coming to straddle him again so he feels her heat, his hands remain on the bed rather than wrapping around her waist. “My parents were asking when you were gonna make things a little more official.”

“Official how?” He raises a brow, she’s giggling behind her hand, tossing her hair to the side and then licking a trail up his neck.

“You know, pop the question, I know we’ll marry anyway for our families – but a ring on it? Ah, a huge ring too, one that everyone hates me over. Jealous bitches eyes when they see that rock? Oh Satoru I want that so bad!”

Satoru blinks now, eyes narrowing. “What? Engagement?”

“Well of course!”

“We’re twenty two, you want marriage and kids?”

“Mhm! I wanna be the Mrs. Satoru Gojo!” Satoru’s face gives her pause. “Don’t you wanna start having kids soon? I’m gonna have em at twenty three if we start now, but if we wait-”

“I do not want children yet,” she gasps, Satoru shakes his head. “I do one day absolutely, but I want more time in college before I take over the family shit.”

“What?” He raises a brow. “Why? You’ll be a billionaire! And have me by your side at every party.”

“Sarah… it’s like you never listen to shit I say, how many times have I said I want to get my doctorate? To soak up every bit of science I can before I-”

“I don’t want to wait that long!”

“Who said shit about marriage and kids anyway?”

“You don’t want to!?” Satoru disentangles himself, shoving his boxers up as she frantically fumbles to stand. “Do you want me to go have babies with someone else then!?”

“Go for it,” she scoffs, he’s slipping on his pants and she fucking unbuckles them, his fingers itch to smack her hands off but he’d never smack a girl – even Sarah. “Don’t touch my clothes, I want to leave.”

“Fine do your dumb science shit for a year or two, okay!? God you’re just so selfish!”

“Me?” He laughs then, without humor, before scowling right down at her. “Are you fucking kidding?”

“No, you are selfish, but I love you, so I endure it all. Don’t you know I could have anyone I want?”

Satoru’s jaw sets. “Then go fucking have them.”

“Satoru!”

He’s yanking on his shirt when she’s trying to tug him down to her. “I said get off me, it’s like you don’t let me breathe.”

“Because I love-”

“Enough!” He shoves her off him, tugging on his jacket, finally stepping close to her, her breath coming quick, the tears that seem practiced slipping down her cheeks. “What’s my dream, Sarah?”

“To be my husband.”

“No,” he snorts then. “Try to form an answer.”

She rolls her eyes. “This is boring.”

“Me? I’m boring?”

“No!? Just… ugh you wanna play pro!”

“Wrong,” Satoru bends down, slipping on his boots, hands shaking as he realizes what he’s already known deep down.

Sarah is with him for the Gojo name.

“You do wanna be pro! I know you do, and god imagine being a football wife? But maybe your parents will be okay with that for a few years,” she bats her lashes, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’ll support a few years off, before we start having babies.”

“I want to be an astrophysicist," she blinks again. “I wanna watch the damn stars, don’t you know I do that every night?”

“To be romantic with me!”

“No, I’ve done it since…” He trails off now, remembering all those nights laying on his roof next to you, when you’d sneak out your window and climb up with him, giggling all breathless.

Your eyes reflecting all the stars, glittering, so beautiful…

You loved learning everything he taught you, pointing them out yourself and feeling so proud, the memories flood his mind then, of how in those moments you made him feel more special and seen than anyone has. Satoru can hardly hold back his emotions as it rushes through his mind.

“So we peek at the stars, cool? You wanna be a broke ass scientest?” 

“I want to discover new –” he pauses, she already looks bored. “I am not gonna bother to go on about it.”

“Good. I mean!?” Satoru’s walking towards the door. “Where are you going!? Not to that dumb little whore!”

“Don’t you ever fucking call her that,” Satoru turns his head and scowls, she’s laughing now, this cruel, evil sound that makes him sick. “Ever think you’re the fucking problem?”

“Me? How on earth?”

“No one likes you,” she laughs again. “Suguru hates you, Nanami, Shoko, fuck Hime hates you too. You have no friends but your minions, you’ve made sure to ruin all of mine too, now her?”

“She’s ruined everything!”

“No,” Satoru sighs now. “She just enhanced the shit I couldn’t ever admit to myself, that you only want me for what I have.”

He goes to leave and she stops him, dragging him back and trying to kiss him, only for him to grip her wrists. “Don’t leave me, do you want me with other men? Is that it?”

“Fuck who you want, i’ve heard you already do,” Sarah slaps him as hard as she can, and that’s when Satoru loses it, gripping her wrist and leaning down. “Don’t you put your goddamn hands on me.”

“I… you…” She trails off then, scowling. “You made me that mad! All you do is hurt me, won’t even be serious! Maybe you are the player everyone fucking said, huh?”

“I’m done,” he sighs, a tired sound, letting her go. “Move out of my way and let me leave, and don’t come near me again.”

“You don’t get to leave me, you’re not shit without me,” Satoru closes his eyes for a moment. “You’re popular because of me, before you were just a nerd.”

“Good,” he pushes her out of his way. “I want to be a nerd again.”

“You want that little-”

“Let me go,” she’s yanking on his arm. “You suffocate me.”

“I swear if you be with her I’ll ruin her fucking life-”

“Don’t threaten my friends,” Satoru cuts her off with a look, shrugging his shoulder out of her death grip. “We are done, go get those men you say you can get, let them fucking have you.”

“Satoru!”

“I don’t want you,” she goes to smack him again and he grips her wrist. “You won’t land another, I’m tired of your abuse, mental and now physical? Guess what, I was something before I met you – and I will be after you. I am done.”

“Please I-”

“Go fucking ruin someone else’s life,” Satoru rushes out and takes a breath, leaning his head against the door for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

All he wants is to see his best friend.

*****

You clutch the letter you wrote Satoru, the one you can never give him, sobbing after Suguru left. You really, really like him, but he was right – you’re hopelessly in love with Satoru Gojo, it’s just so painful to admit it to yourself, to try to not hurt Suguru or anyone in the process.

Satoru would never be yours.

Knock knock knock.

“Please, leave me alone,” you mumble, crying into the softness of your pillow, not loud enough for anyone to hear.

Knock knock knock.

“I don’t want company I’m sorry,” you shout just a bit, but the voice behind the door makes you falter.

“Please… it’s me.”

Satoru.

You don’t move for a moment, just curled in your little ball on the bed, heart racing. “Satoru?”

“I know you probably don’t want to see me,” his voice is cracking in the middle, you sit up, feeling your heart pounding out of your chest. “I know I have no right to come here, okay? I know you don’t want to be friends.”

“That’s not…”

“Please let me apologize,” you swipe at your swollen eyes, your hands trembling, sitting up and feeling your heart ache.

“It’ll make her mad at you.”

“I left,” you’re frozen in place then. “I left her and I just wanna fucking give you a goddamn hug, please. Just one.”

You rush to the door, pulling it open quickly, your heart broken when you see your best friend. Satoru was a wreck, something that doesn’t happen often – his snowy hair disheveled, those blue eyes have bags underneath them, there’s a redness to one of his cheeks.

“Toru,” your old nickname ruins him then, a tear escaping, tracing down a glittery path on that red cheek. Your thumb brushes it carefully. “What happened?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes unreadable as he steps inside, you shut the door behind him, when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug so tight you swear your ribs creak underneath the strength. “Fuck… I’m so sorry…”

“Shh,” he buries his face in your hair, bent over and letting go, you hate how he’s crying, the boy always so bright and happy, now he’s devastated, and you can’t help but want to take the pain away. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I did,” Satoru sniffles and leans up, cupping your face, and suddenly it’s too intimate, it’s too much, the way he looks at you, the way his fingers feel on your skin, overheated from how flustered you are. “I let her ruin this friendship, ruin us. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I am so, so sorry.”

“You didn’t,” he’s just hugging you again, your lips press his cheek. “You don’t need to apologize, you were just hurt by her. It pained me too much, to feel your pain, so I wanted to run away. I should-”

“Don’t you dare,” he tilts your chin up, swallowing and studying your precious face, seeing you’re crying right with him. “Don’t apologize for caring. For knowing me and…”

“Did she hit you?” He sighs and looks down. “I swear to god I’ll learn how to fight if she laid a hand on you.”

“Her hitting me is the least of my problem with her,” you lead him to your little couch, and he tugs you to sit on his thigh, burying his face again. “God I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you get a little shaky in his hold, feeling his hard body – knowing earlier you’d been straddling Suguru, it made you question so much.

A girl who never kissed, and now has kissed two of his friends, but nothing made you feel like his lips against your neck, his pretty blue eyes when he looks up at you, but what if he got back with her? What if like the past couple of fights, Sarah did something to win him back, and you’re left hurt?

He just wanted a friend, and even this was hard, when your throat is dry, when your body reacts to him. You hug him tightly back, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his brow, Satoru sighs. “I don’t deserve this.”

“You deserve so much,” he shakes his head, the guilt wracking through him, feeling your warmth when he tugs you closer, nuzzling your neck. “You do, deserve to discover your own galaxy, your own planets, find that earth like goldilocks one you swear is out there.”

Satoru pauses now, emotions rushing through him, taking a breath as you run your fingers through his hair. “You remember?”

“How couldn’t I? You should get to look at the stars every single night,” you catch yourself sobbing, body shaking as he holds you tightly. “You are such a sweet, good hearted person, Toru.”

“I’m not, not with what I did.”

“Yes,” you tug his face up. “You are still a good person, so what if you were… a little confused by her. I know you dated a long time, and it’s understandable you couldn’t be a friend like that to me anymore. I was never mad about that, just hurt.”

“I don’t want to ever fucking lose you again.” His words are soft but they’re deep, forehead resting on yours. “I missed you so much, sweetheart. Every moment we had together, from the first memory I have – you.”

“Oh,” you’re crying with him, when you pull back to catch a breath, getting off him and sitting on the couch, tapping your thigh. “Remember I used to play with your hair when you got upset?”

“Yeah,” Satoru leans down now, laying on his back with half his damn long legs off the arm of the couch, looking up at your face as you swipe his tears. “Do I deserve such good treatment?”

“Don’t speak this way,” you whisper, pressing a kiss on his brow, before brushing his hair back. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“But-”

“No,” you cut him off a little more firmly now, watching his eyes flutter closed, his nostrils flaring just a bit with his breaths. “Are you sure you’re really done?”

“So fucking done, I hate it took this long,” he opens his eyes again. “I haven’t even asked about Suguru and… will this upset him?”

“Oh we aren’t together just um…” You blush now. “We are talking I guess? We did kiss, though.”

“You kissed him again?” You nod, clearing your throat, his hands press into fists as he tries to calm himself. It’s irrational to be upset about this, he can have you in his life again, why be so fucking mad? “You like it?”

“Yeah,” you admit softly. “I had never kissed until this week, isn’t that crazy? I’m almost twenty two.”

“Never?” He asks, he knew you were innocent but… that much? You shake your head now. “Your first kiss was Suguru?”

“Shoko,” Satoru laughs then, swiping more tears. “What?”

“Damn, you kissed two of my best friends,” you giggle at that, he glares just a bit though. “I’m jealous.”

“Of me? No way,” he frowns then, realizing you really don’t think so, it’s a shake of your head, a set of your face. “Shoko was teaching me and Suguru… well I think he’s just being sweet to me.”

“Sweet?” He raises a brow at that, you just nod. “You don’t think that maybe they just find you beautiful? Fun? Smart?”

“I um…” You’re clearing your throat, hands just a little trembly as you work your way through his locks. “You don’t have to say all that.”

“Have to say?” You look away now, nodding.

“I know you feel bad about everything, but you don’t need to try to make me feel better, I’m okay with being me.”

“I just-”

“Shh,” you brush his hair back, yawning now, studying his face carefully in the dark room. “Stop feeling guilty about things she said to me. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Satoru shuts his eyes again, unsure how to even tell you – that you’re beautiful, that he feels so much it hurts, rips his goddamn heart from his chest, but you’re stroking his head so good he’s sleepy. He’s comfortable on your lap, in your little dorm room, nuzzling against your tummy as he turns to his side, wrapping his arms around your waist.

Satoru Gojo has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, but tonight he crashes before he can speak, waking up and drooling on your damn pajama shorts. Your head is fallen back on the couch, snoring lightly, when he eases off you and looks at the time – three in the morning.

“Shit,” he sits and see how uncomfortable you look, before picking you up in his arms, cradling you to his chest. You blink and snuggle him, lips almost brushing his neck, as he carries you over to your bed and gently lays you down.

“Toru?” You whisper, he smiles now, brushing your hair back.

“I’m here, but I should let you-”

“No,” you sleepily grumble.

“No?”

“No leave,” he laughs softly at your sleepy request, when you tug at his hand. “Don’t leave me again.”

His soul hurts at how you say it, how you cling to him.

Fuck he hates that he hurt you.

Satoru slides into the bed next to you, letting you snuggle right up to him. “Okay,” he murmurs, kissing your hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

*****

The bright rays of morning sunlight filter through the slats of your blinds when you wake up, an arm draped heavy across your waist, a long leg tangled with yours, pressing just between your thighs. You blink a bit, flushed when you realize you’re soaked against his bare thigh, he must have gotten into his boxers to get more comfortable.

Satoru Gojo was in your bed.

Something you would have dreamed of once, you were tucked firmly into Satoru’s warm embrace, his face buried in the crook of your neck, ass against his hard body. Your pulse races, blood rushing through your veins – entire body sensitive to his gentle movements, his breaths soft and even against your skin, making a mix of affection and desire pour.

Pour it does too – you’d gotten wet when you were on Suguru, you’ve been wet before, but you’ve never really done anything, never cum before, or done more than tease your own clit and then jerk back. It’s not like you don’t want to, you were painfully shy about that sort of thing.

Yet you’ve never felt this, the way he makes you feel, you allow yourself just a moment to drink it in, the way his scent fills your nostrils, how his soft little mumble of your name makes you ache, how perfect it feels. Not awkward or weird, it’s as if he’s always been here, holding you.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, over and over as if breaking the spell – you turn and lean up to try to grab it without waking him. The movement was clumsy, you just end up climbing over the tall man in your bed, trying not to put weight on him, just fucking hovering all awkward, your knee sliding over his hips as you brace a hand on his chest to reach for it.

Shit, shit, shit.

You feel him then – hard and thick underneath the black satin of his boxer briefs, as he tugs you down, earning a gasp, he’s insistently pressing against your inner thigh through the thin layer of your shorts, humming a bit in his sleep. You’re achingly wet, gasping as you flick off the phone, stirring underneath you, his eyes fluttering open.

Satoru’s eyes in the morning – god they’re beautiful, this glittering blue still hazy with sleep, but they quickly focus in on your face, before drifting down to where you were pressed intimately together, his hands slipping up your thighs ever so softly. Goosebumps rise in a trail his gaze follows, thumb brushing a little bit of slick around.

“Am I dreaming?”

“Are you…” You blush furiously, his voice is all gravelly and rough, doing more things to your needy cunt already.

“M’not,” he tilts his head, sighing. “Am I?”

“Satoru, I…” You look down and see the way you’re soaking him then, gasping out. “I’m so sorry!”

“Shh,” he shifts his hips slightly, a subtle pressure that makes you gasp out loud, the way you feel how huge he is. “It’s natural, sweetheart. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Um but,” you’re shaking, thighs on either side of him pressing in. “I haven’t… Toru I’m…”

“I know you’re a virgin, I figured when you mentioned the kiss,” Satoru sighs then, looking at you underneath his snowy lashes. “I would never take anything further than you’d want.”

“I know just,” you rock your hips again, leaning low, your hair falling to one side as you move, and he lets out this little whimper. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay,” he exhales now, he’s experienced sure, but about to bust in his boxers from a little dry humping? He halts your movements for a moment, closing his eyes and trying to gather himself. “Y-yeah I’m fine sweetheart.”

“You just broke up and I’m… I feel so…” You’re trying to get up and he halts you, just pinning you there. “Toru I’m being so disrespectful!”

“You are not, that’s the last thing you’re being,” Satoru takes several breaths, trying to keep himself together when you feel like that, when your nipples are pressed up and begging for his touch. “You’re just really wet.”

“Ugh!” You cover your face in embarrassment, Satoru gently lowers your wrists, looking at your pretty face, god he aches to be inside you, so warm, so wet – he just bets you’re the tightest fit too. Imagine your pretty face when you cum, when you squirt all over his cock, his fingers, his mouth.

“Ever touch that pretty cunt?” You suck in a breath, your pupils blown out at his question.

“No,” you admit softly. “I uh, never learned what to do.”

“No?” You shake your head and move again, making his cock twitch, a soft whine escaping his lips once more. “I could show you.”

“Show me as what, a friend?” Satoru opens his mouth to say – no, more than that, when a knock hits the door, and you fall off him and careen to the floor.

Satoru’s not proud that he laughs at it.

“Sorry, sorry,” he’s trying not to laugh when he picks you up and you glare at him. “It was cute!”

“Rude,” you shove past, and then open the door, Suguru eyes Satoru and then you curiously. “Suguru!? Shit, studying!”

“Studying?” Satoru asks, covering his cock up with a pillow, Suguru just snorts at him, seeing your flushed face and glittery eyes.

“Mhm, are you two…”

“He came over because he was upset and I uh…”

“I came over because I wanted to see her and I uh…”

Suguru sighs, looking at you two idiots, Satoru holding a pillow on his lap, you chewing your nails, glasses all askew, your shorts visibly soaked. “Are you two like… together or…”

“I uh,” you rub the back of your neck now. “He um…”

“I well,” Satoru doesn’t wanna say shit too fast and you were just liking Suguru, would he be stepping on your toes? Would you feel like a rebound if he asked so damn fast? “I guess I really, am just, I –”

“Hmm,” Suguru sets the coffees down on your side table, shutting your door and walking over to you. “Then you won’t mind if I kiss her?”

Satoru glares, Suguru cups your face and bends down, lips pressing against your own, you get a little weak in the knees, feeling Satoru’s angry look at the both of you, before you feel him behind you, turning your chin. Suguru’s eyes meet Satoru’s, amused expression on his face.

“What’s wrong Satoru? Can’t give her a kiss?”

“I hear you and Shoko have,” Satoru’s thumbs brush over your lips as he stands behind you so tall, Suguru against your front, Satoru on your back, your hands grip Suguru’s shirt tightly, breaths coming faster. “You leavin’ me out, sweetheart?”

“You were taken,” you whisper, when Suguru kisses down your neck, humming a bit and making your lashes flutter. “Do you want to kiss me too?”

Satoru’s answer is slamming his lips down on yours, Suguru’s smiling against your neck then, as the two men press you between them. Suguru was languid, sweet, took his time – Satoru is all tongue and teeth, moaning and letting you feel how hard he is against the small of your back, you get lost in the sensations of both of them, arching for more.

Satoru pulls back and leaves you breathless, his eyes darting to your lips, glossy from him. “How’d I do, sweetheart? Better than Suguru?”

“Should ask if you’re better than Shoko,” Suguru teases, chuckling when he kisses your lips again, sighing. “So, who is the best out of us three?”

this was NOT on the schedule yet but I had this vision eating up my brain, now to get to my damn comms lol, the angst is NOT over and Sarah is not gone, but Gojo is finally done with her yayyyyy <3