My Tools are a cups of tears

You tried to ignore the noise for as long as you could, but eventually your interest was peeked by the commotion. It's not like you could avoid the group you chose to come on this vacation with forever, after all.

So you opened your door, leading straight to the open patio of the villa you and your friends had rented for a quiet summer getaway. Maybe it was your fault for ever believing that was a real possibility.

You were promised cocktails by the pool, sunbathing on the grass, and wholesome bonfire nights. Knowing this group, you had expected a little bit of chaos, sure – but why the hell was Gojo grinning like a maniac, with a water gun pointed directly at a drenched, and, not at all amused Sukuna at 7 in the fucking morning?!

“You have 3 seconds...” the pink haired one murmured under his breath, his voice a promise of a million ways he could and would kill Satoru.

You wondered how long Gojo had even been planted outside the other man's door to perform this ambush, considering Sukuna had barely stepped outside of his room before being attacked. From Gojo's wide smile, he was clearly pleased with how the plan went.

"One…" he started counting, but Satoru didn't move. Considering even this far away Sukuna made your blood run cold, you did respect Satoru for standing his ground.

"Two…" Sukuna snarled, and, to his dismay, was met with another splash right on his already soaked face.

He wouldn't bother counting to three.

Your white haired best friend ran backwards as fast as he could, still facing Sukuna to continue his unrelenting water gun assault. A loud "Worth it!" escaped his lips, but the sound was cut off half way when Sukuna began his chase.

Unlucky for him, it seemed it was all a trap – Suguru was already joining in the fray, jumping in from behind one of the deck chairs.

Well… it was nice to know them.

“Can we not start the day with murder...” groaned a voice coming from the door next to yours, and your brain immediately forgot about the war raging on a few feet away.

Choso stood there. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, torso in full display with nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low from his hips. It was rude to stare, but… come on, it was impossible not to.

I mean, looking like that should be illegal.

Choso's muscles were curved in all the right places, perfectly toned from his shoulder's to his abs and everywhere in between. Damn the universe for making your crush be this ridiculously hot – at least if he wasn't you'd have some hope of getting over it.

You had had a crush on Choso ever since his little brother Yuuji introduced him to the friend group. It was love at first sight, or, well, lust at first sight. The love thing came later. Not that you'd ever admit it to yourself or anyone else, of course.

Even though you went to bed thinking of him most nights, and could barely stand in his proximity without feeling the heat pooling around your cheeks. You kept telling yourself he was just a man, just attractive, you had crushed before and everything turned out fine. It just took time, but you could get over it.

I mean, remember how you had a crush on Gojo when you had just met? Looking at the idiot being tackled by Sukuna now, you could barely remember what that even felt like.

It would be fine. There was still hope.

But then Choso turned to you – his posture immediately straightened, and you could have sworn you saw the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Oh...morning” he said, smiling softly at you.

Damn that stupid smile.

You opened your mouth to reply, but another mess of pink hair suddenly peeked out from over his shoulder, way too excited for this hour. “Water gun fight?!” Yuuji yelled, running back into the room to find his own weapon.

Choso stepped out of the way with a sigh, watching his little brother run into the grass to join in Gojo's and Geto's bullying of Sukuna. You half expected him to join in just to protect him, but… he didn't.

He just stayed right there, dark eyes shifting from your face, to the floor, then back to your face. He almost seemed nervous, or maybe you were reading too much into it.

“Did you sleep well? I hope they didn’t wake you” he asked finally, that deep voice that made your knees weak.

You just nodded and smiled gratefully, always struggling to find words around him. It was really sweet of him to ask. But it didn't mean anything, Choso was sweet, everyone knew that, it's not like you were special or anything. He looked back at you with those careful eyes you loved so much, his mouth opening up to say something when–

He immediately got splashed with water.

“They made me” said a very guilty Megumi, on the other end of a water gun that was still pointing at Choso.

You brought a hand to your mouth to stifle a laugh at Choso's surprised expression, trying to keep your eyes from the way the water dragged along his muscles and dripped on the floor.

“Come on bro!” yelled Yuuji, still running along the grass. “Revenge!”

Choso let out a small chuckle that definitely said it’s too damn early for this, but went inside to find his water gun anyway. Just like you expected – he'd always rush to his little brothers side.

You actually really liked that about him.

So you stood by your door, taking in the scene as it evolved in front of you.

Sukuna had now seized Gojo’s weapon and split it in half, turning his attention to Suguru, who was running to refill his ammo with the water from the pool. From the way Satoru looked pleased, you guessed he was definitely hiding a spare water gun somewhere.

Yuuji and Megumi were running circles around the pool and trying to splash each other, the dark haired one definitely more invested than he let on. You watched Choso run to his brother's defense, aiming perfectly at the other one's back, before Yuuji betrayed him and splashed his neat twintails.

But Choso didn't mind, laughing along with it.

It's just a crush, you repeated to yourself like a mantra. Be cool.

Finally, you spotted the girls. They watched the scene from the bean bags on the other side of the grass, Shoko smiling with a cigarette already dangling from her lips, and Nobara wildly waving in your direction.

You couldn't help your smile at the way the morning had unfolded.

The sun was shining bright above your perfect little circle of chaos, and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Idiots, all of them” Nobara groaned as you sat down on the bright green bean bag next to hers. She had a hat on to protect from the sun, and the most stylish pajama set you think you had ever seen.“Who has that much energy at this hour?!”

"It's better for them to let it out early" Shoko hummed, blowing smoke into the breeze.

"I haven't even had coffee yet" Nobara complained, throwing her had back and covering it with the hat.

"I think it's kinda cute" you said, watching as they all ran around.

"Yeah, yeah" Nobara mocked. "We all know who you think is cute"

"What are you–"

Before you could complete the question, a jet of water hit you square across the face, splashing everywhere from your chest to the girls sitting next to you.

“What the hell?!" you groaned, casting a very mean stare at the white haired menace in front of you. Of course it would be him.

“Oops” Gojo hummed, a litte guilty. As expected, a fresh water gun was already in hand. “I missed?”

“Who exactly were you trying to hit?” you growled at your best friend, motioned to the others still splashing each other on the other side of the patio. If this was his attempt at getting you to join in the fun, it wasn't working.

The girls stared at him too, soaked and annoyed, but suddenly Nobara's eyes widened and she passed you her hat, motioning to cover your chest with it. Only then had you noticed.

For fucks sake. You were wearing white.

“You pervert!” you yelled, throwing a sandal at your best friend, though he caught it with ease.

“Just a happy coincidence, princess!” Gojo retorted, ducking from the sandals Nobara and Shoko threw his way too. "Ow! I'm sorry! I'll give you my shirt, here, I'm not even looking–"

The commotion easily caught everyone else's attention.

“I swear to God, Satoru–” you growled, but as he promised, Satoru had already thrown his soaking shirt for you to shield yourself with, a chorus of apologies still leaving his lips. "I really didn't realise–"

“What’s going on?” Choso cut in. Water dripped from his dark strands, and his breathing was a little heavily from rushing over so fast. But he suddenly stopped, dark eyes immediately narrowing at Satoru's half naked body standing over your group, and his wet dark shirt clinging on to your body.

His eyebrow twitched slightly and his jaw clenched, but he still looked at you with kindness. “Are you ok?” he asked you directly, completely ignoring everything else.

Nobara pointed at Gojo, whose mouth fell open in a silent gasp. “Satoru was being a pervert” she deadpanned, as Shoko nodded solemnly.

“I said I’m sorry!” Satoru yelled, putting both his hands up in surrender. "We all make mistakes!"

“You’re an idiot” Choso rolled his eyes at his friend, holding out his hand to help you stand up.

“And you’re too obvious” Gojo retorted with a wink, running off before he could catch the way Choso snarled at his comment.

But whatever grimace Choso threw in Gojo's direction, it was all gone when you accepted his hand. Suddenly, his focus was completely locked on you.

"I'm ok" you smiled, the touch lingering for a little longer than necessary. “Needed to get changed anyway”

Physically, your body was going through your luggage, looking for something to change into, but your mind was gone – the butterflies still danced in your stomach, reminding you of how quickly Choso had come to your rescue just now. At the way his hand fit so perfectly around yours. And God he looked so good in those–

“Am I interrupting your spiral?” Nobara clapped her hands to get your attention. You had completely forgotten her and Shoko had come in after you. “Are you gonna answer the question or not?”

You pursed your lips, exploring your memories but coming out empty handed. “Sorry, what was the question?” you asked awkwardly.

"We lost her" Shoko sighed.

“I swear to God...” Nobara exhaled, standing up to join you by the suitcase. She looked over the mess with a hand on her hip and another under her chin, analyzing the options like this was extremely important. Finally, she seemed to have made her choice, raising a swimming costume up near your head.

"If you want impress him, this one”

You blinked up at her, opening your mouth to ask who, but everything about the way she glared at you screamed don't play dumb with me.

So you snapped the swimwear from her hands, throwing yourself on the bed next to Shoko. “What was your question?” you sighed, staring at the ceiling so your friends couldn't read the embarrassment in your face.

“I asked if you’ve fucked him yet” she declared, matter of fact.

“Nobara! No!” you sat up so fast the blood rushed to your head, putting your hands forward to motion her to be quiet. But the other two just stared at you, waiting. “He’s not like that" you completed with a surrendering exhale.

"You guys are not together?" Shoko raised an eyebrow.

You just shook your head side to side, biting the inside of your cheek. "We haven’t even kissed" you admitted.

The two gasped at this very unexpected new information.

“You’re joking” Nobara crossed her arms. “He looks at you like you’ve been married for decades already”

“Well, he hasn’t said anything to me and I...I don’t know!" you stood up, pacing across the room, finally able to get these feelings off your chest. "What if we’re wrong and he doesn’t even like me?"

“Don’t be an idiot. Everyone knows" Nobara huffed out.

"You’re the only one who’s questioning it” Shoko agreed.

That made you stop pacing.

“Everyone?” you asked.

“Everyone” Nobara repeated. “It’s disgusting”

That at least got a laugh out of you. “Thanks” you murmured, looking down at your hands. You didn't even know if this realisation made you feel happy or anxious – the stakes were just too high.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever” Nobara waved it off, walking towards the door. “But seriously, that one” she completed, pointing at the swimming costume in your hand.

It was a little more… bold than you would normally wear, but hey – maybe it was about time you took your friends advice. They were the ones witnessing you fall apart over this crush for years already anyway.

Maybe it was time to be a little more bold.

You stepped out of your room a few minutes later. Hair fixed with a pair of sunglasses on top, and the swimming costume Nobara had chosen expertly hugging your figure.

Every head snapped to you as you walked towards the group.

Nobara looked proud. Shoko nodded in encouragement. Satoru let out a wolf whistle, and Choso… looked very much not ok.

In fact, he looked like something had short circuited in his brain.

“She broke him” Gojo whispered, earning a laugh from Suguru next to him.

“Pathetic” Sukuna just rolled his eyes.

“Over here!” Nobara waved with a wicked smile of approval.

Most of the group seemed to be half asleep already, all sunbathing by the pool after a busy morning with all the running around and death threats. You could swear Yuuji was snoring softly, distracting Megumi from his book every few seconds, who looked over at him with an annoyed sigh every time.

"Nice of you to join us" Satoru grinned, moving over to the side to open up space for you.

Right next to Choso.

Had the girls been right about everyone knowing?

"You all look half asleep" you rolled your eyes, sitting next to the dark haired man, but trying to avoid eye contact at all costs. If they all knew…

Did Choso know too?

Did he think you were an idiot?

"We're recharging" Suguru nodded, that casual smile of his.

"Tch. Weak" Sukuna muttered from the side, resting his hand on two bent elbows as he relaxed on the grass.

"You were asleep ten minutes ago" Suguru retorted.

"I wasn't" he growled. He probably was. "The only one asleep is Itadori"

That seemed to wake him up like a spell. "I'm awake!" he said, standing up so fast Megumi almost dropped his book on the pool. "Is it time for another water gun fight?" he asked eagerly.

"I don't have any more guns left" Satoru pouted, while Sukuna opened an evil grin.

Yuuji started listing off different games you could all play, and little by little, everyone seemed to regain the energy. Gojo barely let the man speak, cutting in every half second to offer his own suggestions or agree excitedly with what he was already proposing.

Everyone was joining in the conversation, apart from… you and Choso. Who looked at you like he definitely wanted to say something, but wasn't quite sure on how.

"You look beautiful” he said finally, when your eyes happened to meet. You didn't even mean to, but it seemed neither of you could keep avoiding this dance for too long. “That’s a great colour on you” he completed, cheeks growing an adorable shade of red.

You hoped he couldn't see in your face the way your heart was leaping out of your chest.

“Thank you, Choso” you smiled, biting the inside of your cheek.

“So it’s settled!” Gojo snapped your attention back to the group, clapping his hands dramatically. “The first game is chicken fight – the winning team gets control over the speaker for a full 2 hours!”

Shoko and Suguru immediately exchanged a conspiratorial nod. Megumi let out an exasperated sigh, but didn't argue. Nobara rolled her eyes and asked if Gojo was thirteen. Yuuji fist bumped the air, excited like a golden retriever, and Sukuna seemed too enticed by the reward to object.

Choso, in a moment of courage, turned to you, swallowing hard. “Do you want to–”

“You’re with me, princess!” Gojo scooped you up before Choso could finish his sentence. “Let's talk strategy!”

The sun shone bright up above where the four teams met in the middle of the swimming pool, ready for the first brawl.

Nobara announced there was no way in hell she was getting on anyone’s shoulders, so she lunged in the shade as the self appointed referee. "Remember, no fowl play" she instructed. "Did you hear that, Sukuna?"

The pink haired man only rolled his eyes, the only indicator that he was listening.

Team number one was you and Gojo: Team The Honoured Ones. You sat tall on his shoulders, as Satoru held you down with firm hands on your thighs, pretending not to notice the way Choso looked murderously at him.

Team number two was Yuuji and Megumi – the latter looking like he'd rather be anyone else. Their team name was Black Flash, which Megumi only agreed to so Yuuji would stop talking.

Team number three was Shoko and Suguru, who looked far too ready for this. Shoko barely waved where she sat atop Suguru's shoulders, the two the very image of serene confidence. Their team name was Uzumaki, suggested by Suguru.

Team number four was Choso and Sukuna: The Cursed Duo. After a long argument, Choso relented and agreed to sit on Sukuna’s shoulders. He had a bit of a pout on his face, you suspected because Yuuji had gone straight to Megumi, but when he saw you – it changed into a smile.

You were halfway through waving at him before Satoru tapped your thigh incessantly. "Focus, princess" he complained. "You're on my team"

If only you weren't resting atop his shoulders, you would have noticed a little pout in Satoru's handsome face. It wasn't like him to be this possessive over you, but it's not like you weren't used to his taunting and teasing.

"I was just assessing the competition" you quickly recovered yourself. "Who are we going for first?"

Satoru hummed underneath you, pondering the question. "I doubt Choso will go against Yuuji, so I can only assume they'll come for us or Suguru" he started, like a professional tactician. "I say we go for Yuuji and Megumin to avoid Sukuna and your boyfriend"

"My wha–"

"I don't trust Suguru and Shoko, look at them" he immediately cut in, bringing your attention to the other two, still calmly waiting for the brawl too start, not even exchanging a word, like they could speak telepathically. "They're too calm" Satoru squinted, suspicion all over his voice.

"You're right" you hummed, started to feel a little nervous. "But what if they come for us?"

"True" Satoru sighed. "We should be ready for anything"

You nodded, swallowing thickly as you prepared mentally.

"Ready?" Nobara yelled from her reclining chair, laying back to enjoy the sun. "Go!"

The word had barely left her lips before Sukuna was lunging towards Satoru. Clearly someone still wanted to take revenge on the water gun attack from earlier.

And to your complete dismay, Team Uzumaki was quickly moving towards you too.

"Satoru!" you yelled, but his hands were strong where he held you down.

"Fight, princess!" he urged, and the sound of someone sinking was enough to snap your attention back to the game.

Team Black Flash hadn't survived the first charge, with Megumi collapsing from on top of Yuuji before they had barely moved an inch.

At least that left you with only two other teams to worry about. But Yuuji sinking had caught Choso's attention, distracting him.

This was a perfect opportunity.

But before you could extend your hands to try a shy push at Choso's shoulders, Suguru had already reached your team.

"You're getting slow, Satoru" he taunted, Shoko immediately grabbing you by the shoulder's with a non chalant "sorry".

You managed to interlock your hands with hers, the two of you laughing and not trying all that hard to push the other off. Suddenly, though, your body sank deeper, and Shoko's face twisted in surprise as she plummeted off Suguru.

"Fault!" Nobara yelled. "You're not supposed to kick the opposing teams, Satoru"

"That was never a rule!" he yelled, as Suguru and Shoko emerged, scowling at their white haired friend and his cheese eating grin.

Following a quick discussion where Sukuna agreed brute force from the base players should be allowed, Team The Honoured Ones were named the victors of the first round.

Naturally, Shoko and Suguru decided they'd rather have a smoke in the sun instead, and withdrew from the competition, calling fowl play.

"They're just bad losers" Satoru sighed, already helping you up on his shoulders again.

This meant there were only three teams standing this time.

Megumi and Yuuji had decided to switch positions, with Yuuji now standing proud on poor Megumi's shoulders. You and Gojo exchanged a glance, knowing very well what this meant – Sukuna and Choso were definitely coming towards you first.

"Ready!" Nobara called again. "Go!"

As expected, Sukuna and Choso rushed towards you – and Satoru rushed towards them.

“You’re going down!” Gojo yelled at the other team, wide smile all over his face.

“Try it” Sukuna retorted with an evil grin.

While you and Choso looked very much terrified on top of the other two.

Your hands snapped forwards, trying to reach for your crush even while your whole body felt as if electrocuted from the sheer anticipation of being that close to him.

The fact that Satoru kept waving you around frantically didn't help – every time you thought you had an opening, you were somehow swerved in the other direction.

What the hell were he and Sukuna doing down there?!

You finally managed to reach your hands towards Choso, but he blocked your attack with a loud "I'm sorry! Did I hurt you? I–"

“You have to push her” Sukuna growled from beneath him, clearly growing angrier and angrier at his teammates inability to harm you.

But just as he opened his mouth to complain again, his pink head disappeared into the water, taking your crush with him.

And thus, Team Cursed Duo was defeated.

"No complaining, Sukuna" Nobara clicked her tongue as the latter reemerged and immediately went for Gojo's throat. "You're the one who agreed to it"

The three teams regrouped for the third and final round.

The rules were clear this time: any attacks coming from the base players would result in immediate disqualification, and bluetooth speaker rights would be revoked for the time being. It seemed his defeat had changed Sukuna's mind fairly quickly.

"Don't worry, we got this" Satoru reassured from under you, and you offered another proud nod.

Your heart still beat fast from last brawl, and more so from how close you and Choso had been.

It was ridiculous, you felt ridiculous – but somehow, you thought you might not be the only one.

Because Choso himself seemed very preoccupied with looking anywhere else but at you, his gaze firmly fixed on the water and the sky and his brother like the whole world was far too interesting.

You tried to catch his gaze, give him a thumbs up that indicated he didn't hurt you, but every time you happened to catch his eyes he averted them straight away. And you could swear the tips of his ears were turning pink.

"Choso is acting weird" you said to Satoru, keeping your voice low.

You noticed the mess of white hair move from between your thighs, before he let out a low chuckle. "Someone's jealous" he hummed, amused.

"Jealous?" you questioned, tilting your head. It was true Choso didn't have his usual calm expression, and his arms were firmly crossed over his middle while Sukuna tried to argue some strategy. His jaw was locked tight, face turning into a tiny grimace.

It was adorable how he seemed to have no control over his facial expressions.

But…jealous?

"Of what?" you asked again, and you heard Satoru scoff.

"I'm pretty handsome, you know" you could feel him roll his eyes without even having to see it.

"Sure, but" you retorted. "Why would he be jealous of you? We're friends"

To your surprise, Satoru didn't argue again. You expected a tease, for him to say something along the lines of you're not my type anyway. But… it didn't come. If anything, you could have sworn you heard him sigh.

"Of course" he agreed, a few seconds too late. "Now focus, princess"

Nobara was already raising a hand, and motioning the beginning of the third brawl.

Team Black Flash were steadier this time, completely ignoring you and heading to Team Cursed Duo instead. "Come on bro, show me what you got!” Yuuji yelled, putting his hands up to reach for his brother.

Choso's hands locked with his as he tilted his body to the side. He was trying his hardest to not hurt Yuuji, of course, but the pressure was too much for poor Megumi to handle, and he ended up sinking after putting up a fair fight. Later, everyone agreed it was a honourable defeat.

"Yuuji? You ok?" while Choso was distracted by scanning the water for his brother, Team Honoured Ones attempted a sneak attack.

Satoru tried his best to be quiet, though that wasn't really his forte. Right as you were getting ready to push Choso, Sukuna turned around in the blink of an eye – and your hands ended up finding your opponent's chest instead of his broad shoulders.

Choso’s body jolted straight like the sudden contact had electrocuted him. He instinctively reached for your wrists, closing his large palms around them when you welcomed it with a laugh. Encouraged by your playful smile, he began trying to tip you over, but you were stronger than you looked.

Sukuna wasn't as amused, though. With a hinge of his hips, he tipped his weight forwards – and before you knew it, Choso was falling into you and you were falling backwards, losing all balance.

Gojo tried his best to hold on to your legs and stabilise you, but was quickly overpowered by the weight of both you and Choso falling fast, and soon he was submerged too.

The water filled your open mouth as you sunk slowly, your hands desperately reaching forwards, until it found his. Choso had already locked your hands together, his other hand finding your waist to pull you out of the water as fast as possible.

"I'm sorry" he panted, completely drenched himself, helping you hold on to the edge of the pool.

Despite the coughing from the sudden water you had inhaled, you still managed to laugh. "Don't worry about it" you waved it off.

“Team Cursed Duo wins” Sukuna announced, but Choso didn't seem that interested in celebrating.

Despite the enduring sunlight, night time eventually came, bringing with it a more forgiving breeze to squelch the heat.

Because of the changing rules during chicken fight, no one could decide who had the rights over the speaker. Sukuna and Satoru had spent a good thirty minutes complaining, all the while Suguru took control of the music.

Nobara and Shoko were busy making everyone cocktails, but after you had been the test subject to a few too many failed attempts, you decided to excuse yourself to the furthest bean bag, and just let the summer breeze tickle your skin before your friends could get you too drunk.

Right now, you were in a perfect state, somewhere between tipsy and just high on the day's excitement.

Choso had been gone for a while, along with Megumi and Yuuji. It was sweet how close he was to his brother and his brother's best friend, but you couldn't deny you found yourself just…looking for him.

Every time you heard a shuffle of feet or a noise far ahead, you wondered if it was him. Looking for his presence somewhere up in the clouds and also in the nearby voices, your mind conjuring up a million scenarios and things you could talk to him about, despite being too shy to just tell him how you feel.

Was this even normal?

Did everyone with a crush just forget to function when the object of their admiration was near?

You groaned a little, sinking deeper into the chair and just staring at the stars above. They were so bright over here. So much more so than in the city.

It was only the first day, but you already didn't want to ever leave.

“Can I sit here?” a voice finally came, and you had to blink your eyes repeatedly to make sure you weren't day dreaming again, lost in one of your wild scenarios that would never come true.

No, Choso was actually standing there. Handsome and tall against the moonlight, his distracting abs now concealed in a compression shirt that was too tight for your own good.

And he was smiling.

He always smiled around you.

"Sure" you nodded, and he took a seat in the beanbag in front of you. He was clearly too large for it, and you laughed a little at seeing him awkwardly try to fit, but his adorable pout only made you laugh more.

"These aren't very comfortable" he sighed, extending his legs to try and regain some balance. They were so close to yours they almost touched – almost.

"We can move to the chairs, if you like" you suggested, though that would mean going closer to the group.

You didn't want that, but part of you also wanted to know if he did.

As much as everyone teased, you were still not that convinced he had a crush on you too. It would simply be too good to be true.

When was reality ever that kind?

Choso turned around, looking for where the other chairs were scattered. "I'm alright here" he said, despite his clear discomfort. "…If you are?" he added then, bringing his dark eyes to you.

"I'm alright here, too" you smiled.

"Good" Choso nodded awkwardly, his gaze moving from his hands, to where your legs almost touched, and then back to your face. The silence between you was a little awkward, sure, but it was far from quiet – at least on your end, the sound of your heart was loud enough to fill the whole space.

"Are you enjoying the holiday?" you asked.

"Yes" he nodded. "I'm glad Yuuji convinced me to come"

So were you.

"How did he convince you?" you asked lightheartedly, but from Choso's reaction you would have thought you just asked him something deeply personal.

"He, uh–" his hand came to rub the back of his neck, the curve of his bicep immediately catching your attention. Was this a plan to distract you again?!

Surely not. Choso wasn't one to play games – all his endearing awkwardness was exactly who he was.

"He said you were coming" he finally admitted, with a sigh.

You felt your brows furrow close, mouth opening before you even knew what to say. "You came because of me?"

"Um…yeah, I did" he confirmed, staring at his hands.

"So you weren't excited to hang out with Sukuna and Gojo?" you tried to tease, and he finally looked at you with that grimace you loved.

"Definitely not" he said, and you both laughed.

It was a gorgeous sound.

On the other side of the patio, your friends were all lost in casual conversation. Megumi and Yuuji had now rejoined the group, playing some kind of card game on the grass with Nobara. Shoko and Sukuna were talking about something, or, Sukuna was talking about something, but she seemed happy enough to listen. Satoru and Suguru were the ones standing a little further away, talking about something that seemed serious, but who could guess with those two.

"Did you hurt your hand?"

Your head snapped back to Choso, and you noticed it was only you who was distracted looking at your friends. He was focused on your wrist, and how you rubbed it softly with your other hand, flexing your fingers open and close.

You hadn't even noticed you were doing it.

"Oh" you tried to wave it off. “I think I fell at a weird angle during chicken fight” you admitted with an awkward laugh.

Choso didn't laugh, though.

“Let me see” he squinted his eyes, opening his palm for you to take.

You placed your hand on top of his, holding in your breath as Choso inspected your skin. He closed both hands around yours, focused on looking for any sign of bruising or broken skin. It didn't even hurt that much, but you weren't saying no to an excuse to have him look at you like that.

And you watched him – how beautiful he looked with his hair down, falling all messy around his handsome face; still a bit wet from the pool and clinging on to his forehead. His skin felt soft and warm against yours, the perfect contrast to the cool night breeze.

Choso's eyes darted to yours quickly, shyly, but you didn't avert yours. And so he didn't either.

How odd that this was the most tender moment the two of you had exchanged so far, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to be fully present. It felt like a dream, like you were floating high above the clouds – if it was the alcohol's doing, or the adrenaline from the day, or simply the way Choso's eyes looked at yours, you weren't sure.

But everything about this felt… magical.

Slowly, carefully, Choso closed your hand, satisfied that you weren't actually hurt. But then, he brought it close to him, as you watched with wide open eyes – as he left the tiniest kiss on your knuckles.

His face went all red, finally breaking the eye contact, and you could swear you heard his heart beat just as loud as yours.

Maybe all your friends had been right, after all.

“If you do it again, I might forget it hurts" you teased, earning a warm smile from him.

“Good" Choso hummed. "Then I’ll keep going”

Your breathing hitched as Choso touched his lips against your knuckles again, firmer this time. You instinctively opened your palm, an invitation, and Choso interlaced your fingers together, looking at you under his dark eyelashes.

“Do you… want to go somewhere else?” he whispered, and you nodded yes.

You opened the door to your room, hoping no one else from the group had noticed the two of you sneaking away. If you had only looked back you might have noticed Shoko's approving smile and Nobara's whispered "finally", as well as Satoru's puzzling stare. But you weren't exactly paying attention to them right now.

Right now, it was just you and Choso.

"Sorry it's a bit messy" you said awkwardly, noticing you hadn't had the time to clear away all the clothes you had left on the bed, in your haste to find an appropriate swimming costume. You quickly shifted your attention to it, anything to get you away from how nervous you felt, and started putting everything away again.

Refusing to look at how Choso stood awkwardly in the middle of your room, unsure of what to do. "It's fine" he tried to say, though you were hard at work. "You should see Yuuji's room"

You smiled, finishing up and placing the suitcase back on the floor. Now you really had to turn back to him.

"Do you want to get some fresh air, maybe?" you asked, again trying to calm your beating heart. There was a little private balcony at the back, with a loveseat that would do just fine. Some air would definitely help your nerves.

"Yeah" Choso agreed, following you out into the night again.

As predicted, the breeze did help you breathe easier. You sat on the loveseat right by the back wall, shuffling your feet nervously on the ground; but Choso didn't join you.

"I've been meaning to talk to you" he said, putting his hands inside his pockets. Were his trembling like yours were?

"About what?" you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible, hoping he couldn't hear the anticipation in your voice.

"I just…" he started, clearly unsure of what he even wanted to say. "I've been meaning to say something, and I'm not sure if it's the best time, but–"

"You can tell me" you cut in, hands clasped together and sweating embarrassingly.

Choso's eyes narrowed at you, clearly having noticed how odd you were acting. But then he smiled. And then his smile turned into a chuckle that you joined into.

Two idiots, weren't you?

"Do you remember that one time we went to the movies?" Choso started, a little more confident than before. "The first time, maybe a couple weeks after Yuuji introduced me to your group?"

"I remember" you nodded, turning your head at the memory. You were surprised Choso even recalled it, considering how long ago it had been.

"It was some horror movie Yuuji picked" he laughed, shuffling a little. "He was so excited, but I… I could barely look at the screen. When he asked me about my favourite scene later I had to lie, and I felt terrible. I never lie to my brother"

You were a little confused, but listened to what he was telling you with a focused expression. "Why weren't you paying attention?" you asked.

Choso finally looked at you. Breathing in, and out. Taking his time.

"Because you were sitting next to me" he admitted finally. "And all I could think about was how pretty you looked"

Your mouth fell open in complete surprise, but Choso kept going.

“You... you’re incredible, you know” he exhaled. “I’ve always thought that. Every time. And the way you smiled today…"

He took a breath to steady himself, his eyes closing as if lost in memory, and the sweetest smile on his lips.

“Seeing how you smiled today made me wish I could be around to watch you smile like that every time” he continued. “It made me wish I could be the one making you smile that way”

Oh.

Oh.

You were sure your hands were still trembling, but you couldn't really feel them. It was like time itself… had just stopped.

“You are” you heard yourself say though your throat was squeezed tight, and then the dip of the loveseat as Choso settled next to you.

"Hey" he said softly, one hand finding yours where it rested nervously on your lap, the other cupping your cheek. "Don't cry" he begged you, using the pad of his thumb to dry the tears threatening to fall.

"I didn't realise I was" you laughed at yourself, leaning into his hand. "I think I'm just happy"

"Really?" Choso was the one whose voice sounded a little strained this time, but his face had a smile to match yours.

"Really" you nodded. "I didn't think you felt it too"

Choso's bottom lip pushed forward a little in a small pout hearing you say that. "How could I not?" he asked.

How could you not?

Right then, you weren't sure if you felt like an idiot for dismissing all your friends claims and waiting this long, or if the surprise just outweighed anything else.

Why did you automatically expect good things wouldn't happen to you?

Because right now, the best person you could have dreamed of was staring at you with stars in his eyes. And he wasn't pulling back.

Neither were you.

"I like you too" you finally admitted, the words you struggled with for so long finally leaving your lips. In your worse nightmares, Choso turned away or mocked you – but in reality, he didn't do any of that.

If anything, you didn't think you had ever seen him this happy.

"You do?" he repeated, like he just wanted to hear you say it a million more times.

"Yes, you idiot" you laughed at yourself. "Apparently everyone knows" you added, hoping to share some of the shame you felt.

"Yuuji said that too" he sighed, embarrassed. So that's why he had disappeared with his brother for so long.

Despite being mortified by the prospect, the two of you shared an easy laugh. One that was like a weight off your shoulders.

"I wasn't sure if I should do it here, I mean–" he started to say, interlacing your hands together. "I didn't want to make the trip awkward"

"I'm happy you did" you reassured. There was no way you would have survived this trip otherwise… not with Choso constantly half naked around you.

"You are?" he swallowed thickly, shocked at how this had gone better than expected. You wondered what his expectations were, if he also had nightmares as bad as yours.

Instead of answering, you shifted forwards a little forwards, resting your forehead on his as you let the tears flow as they needed to. Choso was right there to catch each one, with his lips this time – kissing every inch of your cheeks as the two of you breathed together like a question waiting for an answer.

When you opened your eyes and smiled at him again, Choso closed the gap.

His lips found yours tentatively at first, nothing but a soft brush as the two of you held your breath. It was when you finally exhaled deeply that he pressed against you more firmly, and your lips parted to invite him in.

You were finally doing this.

Not even your most wonderful dreams could have been better than this.

Choso explored your mouth like he was dying to learn the shape of you, your taste, every smooth curve of your lips. His hands stayed on your cheeks, enjoying how warm and soft you were, still dragging each tear away.

"Cho…" you whispered his name, pulling him into you, all the invitation he needed to deepen the kiss.

You wrapped both your hands around his neck, leaning so far back you almost fell from the loveseat, but Choso was right there to pull you back. His hands hovered, a little unsure before landing on your waist, steadying you, digging into your skin with sweet reverence and desire.

"You're so beautiful" he hummed again, like he couldn't believe the two of you were finally here. The kiss was a little messy, but between each awkward bump of your noses the two of you laughed, remembering the years of affection that had led to this moment.

You pulled back a little, bringing your hands to caress his cheeks instead. "I really like your tattoo" you laughed a little, brushing your thumb over the dark stripe right above his nose. "Is now a good time to tell you that?"

Choso laughed, leaning his forehead on yours. "You could have told me anytime" he said, rocking his head side to side and enjoying where it touched yours.

"I think I was embarrassed" you admitted, biting your lower lip.

"Why?" he asked, tilting your head up so he could look in your eyes again.

How were you supposed to think of anything else when he kept looking at you like that?

"I didn't think you felt the same" you admitted, nose scrunching at how silly it all felt now.

Choso's response was to press your lips together, firmly now, a promise. "I always did" he whispered against you, making all the hairs in the back of your neck stand up.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you taunted, playfully pushing his chest back, and enjoying how that only made him pull you in more.

"I thought you might be… with someone else" he admitted, digging his hands just a little further into your waist.

"It was always you" you confessed this time, a little shy.

Choso blinked at you like that was the last thing he expected you to say.

He kissed you again – deeper, more passionate. Before you knew it, he was on top of you, your two bodies far too big for the small two-seater, but he was very careful to not crush you with his weight.

"Is this ok?" he pulled back a little, giving you space to readjust underneath him.

You nodded with a smile, wrapping both legs around his waist and pulling him back into you. The poor man blushed from his neck to the tips of his ears, but he eagerly sank into you, rocking his hips against yours in a way you did not expect from sweet Choso.

Still, his touch was respectful, careful not to touch anywhere that could be too much too soon. His hands remained steady on your waist – but the growing bulge where his hips pressed pressed into you was getting harder and harder to ignore.

If he wanted you just as much as you wanted him… it was only right to be a little more forward, right?

So you bit his lip playfully, not enough to hurt but enough that his dark eyes snapped open in surprise. Your legs closed around his waist again and your hand moved down to where his was, still resting on your middle, gently encouraging it even further down.

His breathing completely stopped, but Choso allowed you to move it for him, slowly dragging his palm from your waist to your hips and, finally, settling on your thigh. Like a match had just been struck, Choso let out a guttural, deep grunt as he squeezed your flesh, lowering himself down to kiss you again.

His hips kept dragging into you with barely contained desire, all sense out the window now that you gave him permission to touch you in that way. You matched his rhythm, breath growing more and more shallow as you felt the heat pooling between your thighs.

"Fuck, Cho" you moaned, nails digging deep into his shoulders that you used to stabilize yourself. "Feels good"

"Y-yeah?" he moaned, almost a desperate whimper with how bad he wanted this.

You didn't bother responding – your body was already moving on its on, urged by this primal need you had for him. Your hands moved to remove his shirt, not caring at all that the little clothes you had on were askew, revealing far more of you than Choso thought he'd see this early on.

And you noticed the way Choso looked embarrassingly away, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by staring. You looked down at your swimming costume, then back up at him with a wicked smile.

“You can take it off if you want” you suggested, perching yourself up on your elbows.

Choso wasted no time – he swallowed hard, and with a hypnotized nod, moved to undo the swimming costume you still had on.

The fabric fell down, revealing your bare chest to him. Choso looked somewhere between drunk and completely awestruck, with the way he softly gasped at you, like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Can I?" he asked, a small drop of sweat trickling from his temple.

You smiled, tangling your hand onto his dark strands to urge him forwards. Choso relinquished with no push back, sinking his face into your breasts and closing both hands on them.

"Cho…" you moaned out his name, encouraging him further, all restraint out the window.

The sound of his name from your lips drove Choso absolutely insane, his large hands roughly palming your mounds as his mouth tried to give similar attention to each side, sucking and licking every inch of you. "Fuck, baby…" he whimpered between them, making you moan at the affectionate nickname.

Your hand tightened on his head, pulling his hair slightly, though it only seemed to turn him on even more. Your back arched against the love seat and Choso took the opportunity to slide a forearm behind you, making you arch into him further.

He sucked on your already hard nipples, playing and rolling it with his tongue as his eyes moved to your face, so beautiful and needy for him.

Your thighs were still squeezing his hips, his rhythm against your clothed cunt never faltering. It felt good, really good, but you wanted more.

"Cho" you called, biting your lips at him.

"Yeah, pretty?" he asked, face all flushed and eyes dilated with pure desire. Even when addressing you, he refused to stop his worship of your body.

"You can take it off" you repeated your words from earlier, hoping he'd understand what you meant. "All of it" you completed, with a roll of your hips, making a point to press against his bulge.

Choso swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath in. "You…want me to?" he asked.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea – your friends were somewhere outside, probably too drunk to care, but surely someone would notice your absence soon enough.

At least, that's what your brain would have thought if you weren't in the exact position you had been dreaming about for years.

You wanted Choso. Needed him. For far longer than you cared to admit.

So you were ok with being greedy.

"I want you to" you rolled your hips again, and that was all Choso needed.

He nodded, immediately bringing his hands to finish removing your clothes. He was clearly nervous, but when he finally began to pull the fabric down, he did it so slow it felt like torture.

Was Choso also trying to seize the moment? The thought alone made you giggle. To want someone who wanted you just as bad… it was more than you ever thought you could get.

And there was no denying Choso wanted you bad.

“You’re going to kill me...” he sighed when he revealed all of you, laying beautifully onto the loveseat, eager for him. He pushed himself back on his knees, taking his time to admire you like a painting.

His defined abs glistened in the moonlight, distracting, stealing all your focus. Choso was built so beautifully, like he had been sculpted by the gods themselves.

And it seemed he thought the same of you.

"Fuck…" he muttered as one hand dragged from your cheek, to your collarbone, to your navel. Choso took his time exploring every inch of you, letting his warm touch ghost over your skin before he took things further, like he knew he was already addicted and wanted to savour each moment.

When his hand finally reached between your thighs, he found you dripping.

"You're–" his words cut out as his fingers played with your heat, coating himself in your slick, your legs parting eagerly. His head dripped forwards, bangs covering his eyes, trying as best as he could to control himself.

Until he couldn't anymore.

Carefully, he slid one thick digit inside of you. It found no resistance, sinking into you so eager and wet, earning a loud moan that had his head snapping back to yours.

“Like this, baby?” he asked so sweetly, despite how he was already adding another finger inside to stretch you further. His fingers moved slowly at first, but soon they pumped into you faster, and faster, and you had to bring your hands to his thick forearm to brace yourself.

“Mmmh yea” you moaned, squeezing the veins that protruded from his skin, his dark eyes completely locked on where your bodies met.

"You're taking it so well" he praised, groaning when it made you clench around him. "Fuck–You like that?"

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt his movements become rougher, faster. "So beautiful like this" he praised you again.

Your back arched off the seat, and Choso again used the opportunity to snake his other arm around you, pulling you close into him. In this position, you could feel his rock hard erection against your thigh, and you were desperate to know what it felt like inside of you.

One of your hands moved to his bulge, pressing into it as Choso curled his fingers just right inside you. Choso let out a surprised breath, but didn't pull back – instead, he shifted so you could feel all of him.

Your hand found its way past his swimming trunks, your mouth immediately hanging open in shock at the sheer size of him. You moved your hand up and down, exploring, noticing how he was just as long as he was thick, the thought of taking all of him already making you drool.

"Ah" he panted, head falling to your collarbone as you continued to stroke him. Despite his closed eyes and fucked out expression, Choso never stopped the motion of his fingers inside of you, completely focused on your pleasure.

You could feel yourself getting close from his fingers alone, but you didn't want it to stop there.

“I want you” you whispered into his ear, and instantly felt his whole body jolt on top of you.

The movement of his fingers stilled for just a second, before he resumed them like clockwork. "Are you sure?" he asked you, pulling back to look in your eyes again.

How could he be so handsome and sweet at the same time.

“I'm sure” you nodded, bringing one hand to cradle his beautiful face, while the other kept stroking his cock.

Choso pressed a kiss to your lips as he slowly removed himself from you. He stood up slowly as not to hurt you, and finally began to remove the rest of his clothes.

Just as you expected, Choso was beautiful. Every inch of him. And seeing him like that, naked and towering over you with affection in his eyes, only made you need him more.

You sat up fast, your mouth opening around his cock before Choso even realised what you were about to do. You held it with one hand, giving it a shy lick first, tasting the saltiness of his precum on your tongue.

"Baby…" he moaned, placing one hand on your head. He didn't push, just felt the movement with you; the way you started to open up around him, taking him in your mouth inch by inch. "You're–ngh, really good at that" he groaned.

Your mouth kept the back and forwards motion, struggling with his length as it started to hit the back of your throat. Choso moaned at how it constricted around him, seconds away from coming in your mouth if he didn't pull himself back.

"You're gonna make me–" his voice shook a little, his hips chasing you already.

"What?" you asked, knowing exactly what he meant, but unable to resist seeing his lustful face.

His adams apple bobbed up and down when you playfully licked him again, the hand on your hair pulling your strands just a little bit more. Choso was close to losing control, and you loved every bit of it.

"You want me to–ngh" he tried to speak, bringing his eyes to your beautiful face. "You want me to come down your throat?"

You nodded yes, eager, salty tears starting to streak down your face. You were desperate to make him feel good, to know what he tasted like, to keep hearing those delicious noises he kept making.

But then, he pulled away again. Fast, just at the last second when he really couldn't hold it in anymore, and moved to tower on top of you, laying you back down on the loveseat. "I want to feel you first" he panted, his tip already touching your entrance while you opened your legs wide for him.

"Please" you moaned, and Choso swallowed the end of the word with a kiss. His mouth sank into you, and his cock sank into your heat, stretching you fully as you whimpered into his mouth.

He was big. Too big. And Choso was aware of it.

“Slowly” he reassured you, brushing your hair away from your face. “I’ll be gentle” he said with a kiss to the top of your head, and you had no reason to believe otherwise.

You let yourself sink into him, closing your arms around his shoulders as you began to relax. To further help, his hand moved to circle your clit, gently massaging the bundle of nerves that made you clench around him.

"Does it feel good?" he asked, starting to move his hips into you, in and out, in and out.

"So good" you whimpered, chasing his lips for a kiss again. "You're so big, Cho"

He smiled at the compliment, but didn't let the praise distract him. His touch was careful and precise, helping you relax around him and take him inch by inch, until he finally bottomed out.

"You're doing so well, pretty" he kissed the top of your head, fully sheathed into you now.

Your body clenched as it tried to adjust, and Choso was already struggling to keep his composure. But when your nails dug into his back, and you bit your lips at him, Choso knew he was done for.

He let himself pick up the pace, stretching you so deliciously all else faded to the background. All you could think about was Choso Choso Choso, and how good he felt, how warm his hands were all over your body, how delicious his tongue tasted.

"You have to be more quiet, baby" he whispered against your mouth, muffling your moans with a rough kiss.

“Fuck, Cho, you-” you tried to say, but his hips angled just right and his pace grew even faster, all your words meshing together into a whimper of pleasure instead.

“You’re so beautiful” he groaned against your lips. “So fucking beautiful like this”

Your nails were drawing blood from his shoulders, but neither of you cared. It felt too good to stop. You had wanted this for too long to stop.

Despite his earlier words, Choso was also struggling to control his sounds. His moans of pleasure filled your ears like music as he panted on top of you, kissing every inch of your face and neck he could find.

"I'm close" he said, head falling forwards as his eyes shut tight, face contorting in pleasure.

You wanted to see him like this forever.

Completely drunk in you.

“Cho” you muttered, pulling him even deeper with your legs, nails leaving marks all over his body. “Cum inside of me” you asked.

He huffed out all the breath from his lungs, struggling to believe what you had just said.

“Fuck” he grunted, hips going faster and faster. “Are you sure, baby?” he checked again.

“Yeah” you moaned in pleasure, the sounds mixing in with his as you both approached your climax.

“Not before you” he said instead, taking your clit between his thumb and index, rolling the bud carefully, knowing exactly how to drive you insane.

Your body began to shake as the heat started pooling upwards, and just as you were about to tip over the edge, Choso closed your lips with his, drinking up all your moans.

Your body was shaking, pulling him in and milking him desperately, but it was the sounds you were making that made him reach his peak.

"Take it" he grunted, slamming his hips into you as his seed began to spill. You felt the heat filling you up, and your whole body begged for more, but the only words you could get out were his name.

"Choso…" you whispered once more, and he let himself relax on top of you.

His arms closed around your waist, pulling you into his chest as he readjusted to your side, slowly removing himself from you. It was a little awkward in the two-seater, but you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Being nestled into Choso's chest was everything you needed right now.

He slowly caressed your thigh, hand brushing the sweat away from your forehead and tucking your hair behind your ear. Even after all of this, he looked at you like something precious, something he needed to protect.

“Thank you” Choso whispered against your hair, leaving a kiss to your temple.

How the hell was he so sweet?

“…Thank you?” you echoed with a laugh, trying to tilt your head towards him, but Choso didn't let you – choosing to leave another kiss to your forehead, then another, and another, until you went back to resting on his chest.

“I guess...” he started, all shy. "For being you” he completed, dropping his head to the crook of your neck.

"You're really sweet" you murmured, unsure if you wanted to cry or laugh. All you knew is you just wanted to be right here.

Choso didn't reply to that, his face turning into a small pout, but he was too happy to pretend to be self conscious. "I'm sorry I took so long" he said instead.

"I'm sorry too" you nuzzled into him, hand finding his. “I’ve wanted this for a while, you know” you muttered, your face warm against his chest while Choso softly caressed your hair.

“Really?” he asked, enjoying how your words made him feel. "Me too" he admitted.

“Since when?” you asked, curious.

But Choso only let out a small chuckle. “I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you” he admitted, looking up at the sky instead of you, letting you in on a secret he had never dared utter out loud.

You followed his gaze, turning your head around to look up at the stars. It was a beautiful night. "Why today?” you asked again.

“I couldn’t hold it in anymore” he replied, resting his cheek against your head.

“Was it because I was on Gojo’s team for chicken fight?” you teased, remembering how your friend had said Choso was jealous earlier.

“No” Choso answered too quick, though his arms held you tighter. “But I can’t say I was a fan of that” he murmured shyly, earning a chuckle out of you.

"You're cute" you laughed, sinking into him.

"How's your wrist?" he asked, hand brushing over the skin that felt tender earlier.

"Doesn't hurt anymore" you noted. "Guess the kissing really did work"

Choso laughed, bringing your hand to his lips again. "As many as you need" he said against your knuckles.

"I might not ever want you to stop" you muttered, a little shy.

"I hope so" he exhaled, bringing you in closer.

You both stayed like that, holding each other in the hot summer night. You didn't speak much, but you didn't need to – so much of what you felt rested in the in between, in the space the two of you effortlessly shared. Choso just made you feel so incredibly comfortable, so perfectly safe.

You could hear some faint laughter coming from the other side of the villa, the signs of a party raging on without you, but neither of you rushed to join the group just yet.

Shoko really had been right, after all. You really needed this holiday.

You let the weight of the day wash over you, as Choso cradled your body close under the stars. All the fun and laughter and confessions, and the promises of much more to come.

And as you held each other close, you both knew – this would be a summer to remember. 

i hope you enjoyed <3 this won the poll for my 1 year anniversary here on tumblr, thank you to everyone who voted and for all my readers too! hope you all have the most wonderful day/night. mwah!

taglist @septembermoonchild @plaguecxlt @nanamitiddiechomper @kekeanna266 @amazedfor @dogggggggblog-kaye @literallyadarling @dawnsoblivion @chewiebee @iquitfindingausername @valberryboos @pwd54gr54 @raendarkfaerie @bbfawns @itimisu @sapph22 @bornafairy @sukunahs @hatchus2 @sukubusss @pawwwginaaa @b-bitter @vampyric-puppy

“you look a little flushed baby.” you sat back on your knees and took his face in your hands, cupping his warm cheeks— your frown deepening at the look of his blown pupils.

“i—”

you lifted his face a tad to examine.

“you’re worrying me yu… you feel warm like— really warm… you coming on with a fever?”

your voice was so soft and caring, and yuji couldn’t help but imagine that same honeyed tone edging him on to dump his cum all over your face—

shut the fuck up shut the fuck up—

“no! i’m— i’m okay angel! honestly heh…” he gently took your hands from his cheeks and lowered them, watching as you pursed your cute lips to the side in dissatisfaction, and his limbs twitching— feeling his stupid dick gush out a bit of precum in his pants at the sight.

“it’s just—” he swallowed, shakily breathing through his nose. “m’just a little achy is all.”

you tilted your head in confusion.

“achy?” you placed your hands on his shoulders, squeezing carefully before sliding your palms down his arms, yuji’s breathing picking up then, chest ragged as you kept dragging your hands further, inspecting over him to see what was wrong. 

“from what yu? tell me where—”

god why was he like this?

you were innocently just trying to figure it out and help him… it was him that was being a sick foul pervert that was potentially about to pounce on you and scare you off.

“it’s nothing baby i swear—”

your palms slid down to his lower abdomen and he sprang up from the couch, you jumping back in alarm— drawing your hands to your chest as your eyes stretched wide.

“the gym! the gym! i’m aching from the gym the—”

yuji looked at you and a guilty pang shot through his heart once he realized he fucking startled you, you staring up at him with a shaken expression— breaths quick, and him feeling his soul actively burning off his body because of it.

stupid stupid idiot stupid—

“fuck i’m sorry baby jesus.” his big hands came down to cup the sides of your head, you slowly easing a little at his reassurance. “i didn’t mean to scare you like that i’m sorry… i’m just being dumb—”

he paused.

from— from the way you were positioned, and  from the way he was— holding your face…

your pretty plump lips were perfectly aligned with his bulging freaking dick.

yuji instantly went to rip himself away from you when you reached for his hips and stopped him midway, a choke tumbling from his throat as you firmly held him in place.

he could practically feel your breath through his jeans dear god—

“what hurts yu?” you sweetly asked, soft and airy and yuji could only frantically shake his head no.

you pouted.

“please.” you leaned the side of your cheek on his thigh, and he just about saw the heavens himself. “i— i wanna help yu… i don’t care what it is. i promise.”

yuji’s skin was tingling and itchy all over, a giant lump in his throat that he couldn’t pass no matter how many times he swallowed, his clammy hands then returning to your cheeks— lifting your head so he’d get a proper look at you.  

he couldn’t take it anymore.

yuji was about to look like a vile fucking freak.

“my… my dick baby…” he softly explained, voice shaky as he used his thumbs to caress your cheeks, trying to bite down the embarrassment that rose up his system at the way your cheeks went red. “it’s just— a little tight but— it’s— it’s okay! i’ll deal with it la—”

“can i help..?”

his pupils blew out and he stopped breathing.

“please.” you finished off with a little timid smile, your kind glimmering eyes not once breaking from his. “i want to… if that’s okay.”

it was more than fucking okay.

“you wanna— help me baby?” he gave your cheeks a loving squeeze before letting your face go, taking your eager nod as a sign to keep going.

“okay…” yuji took a step back. “can— can you get on your knees for me angel..?”

you nodded once more, shuffling a bit to get down on your knees, your skin padded against the soft fur rug of your carpet.

slowly… he shakily popped open his jeans and unzipped them, willing and begging his cock and mind to relax or else he was going to cum just by how gorgeous you looked on your knees for him…

“just—”

his dick literally jumped out from the confinements of his pants and you blushed, his own neck growing uncomfortably hot as he stared down at you with wobbly lips.

“just… suck for me a little?” yuji gave his length a languid pump, his tip already swelled up and irritatingly glistening. “you don’t have to do all of it baby… i don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

you parted your lips then and carefully took him into your mouth, suckling on the sticky tip and yuji having to inhale a sharp breath at how warm your tongue felt— fluttering and gliding along his slit before you sunk your lips a little further down his cock bit by bit.

“fuuuckk yes baby just like that—”

yuji shuddered and gripped tighter at the hem of his shirt, keeping it in place just above his abs to keep it out of your way, groaning at your mouth bobbing up and down his veiny dick, tiny bubbly suds of spit coating his base.

“god please don’t stop please—” he threw his head back and heaved, placing a trembling palm to the back of your head— gently guiding you through your wet mouthful slops that filled his ears so deliciously, your cheeks hollowing as you took it upon yourself to suck harder, you moaning through it and the vibrations making him that much more sensitive.

“shit!—”

he snapped his head back down and went lightheaded, your pretty little swollen lips wrapped around him so good and slurping him up so insanely messily, drool trickling down your chin as you made it your mission to help him feel better and relieve the ache he felt moments prior.

to be good for him.

“angel if you keep— sucking me like that m’gonna cum already— hic!— holy shit please slow down please—”

but you only went faster, bobbing your head without stopping even when you chocked on his cock through particularly deep swallows, him struggling to catch his breath and keep his balls from exploding and draining down your throat, jaw hardening in restraint as his abdomen stiffened up.

because that’s not where he wanted it.

jerking his hips back, yuji slipped his dick off your mouth in one swift motion with a pop!, you plopping down on your ankles and gasping for air at the sudden action, hands quickly coming up to wipe at your saliva coated lips.

“did i— do something wrong?” you panted, your doe eyes sincerely so uneasy that he nearly fell to his knees at how cute you were.

“i’m— i’m sorry yu—”

“god no baby you were fuckin’ perfect.” he breathed out, licking over his lips— half lidded ditzy eyes looking down at you as he pumped his cock over your face. “always so so perfect for me…”

and you beamed, a sweet smile spreading across your cheeks that made his balls twitch and stiffen, jerking himself faster.

“can i just—” he struggled on a moan, small tiny strained whimpers rumbling through him as he pumped, sticky obscene shlicks! echoing through the room that only made your face grow pinker in need. 

“can i please please cum on your face angel?” yuji panted. “i won’t— shlick shlick shlick— make a mess i promise you i just— you’re so so pretty and you’d look so good with my cum on your face—”

without hesitation you nodded, and he wildly grinned at your permission, feeling fucking floored that his dream was coming true and he’d finally get to unload all over you like he’d nastily wanted for so long.

“thank you thank you!—”

yuji cupped a hand under your chin and gently brought your face up to keep you in place, his fist gripping his cock so hard and suffocating it as he jack hammered, babbling utter nonsense with his fogged horny brain entirely focused on you.

“stay just like this for me okay?” he was sweating, a tingling sensation twisting through his limbs that started manifesting from his pulsing tip. “can you— can you stick your tongue out baby? please? fuck m’gonna cum m’gonna cum—”

you quickly stuck your tongue out and laid it flat, the way you were so obedient absolutely ruining him from where he stood, moans grumbling through him that only grew louder and louder the closer he tipped over the edge.

“you’re so fuckin’ good to me baby—”

the grip he had on your jaw was subconsciously tightening, so much so that your cheeks were now mushed up between his fingers and making you look sluttier than before, his feral eyes brightening at the sight.

“you’ll let me do this again right?” he gulped, thin stringy lines of cum seeping from his slit and dangling lightly over your face. “you’ll let me cum on you? on— on your tummy maybe?”

“uh huh!” you spoke through your open mouth, and he basically cried— breathing erratic and the pacing jerk he had going on so insanely fast that it was borderline animalistic, endless strings of high pitched whimpers slipping from his lips.

“fuuuuccckkk! fuck fuck i love you i love you—”

his rhythm was relentless, sticky slicks sliding and pulling over his wet cock, until a white flash blurred his vision and yuji’s entire body locked up, a cold prickle washing over him then as he shot hot spurts of his load over your stunning awaiting face, gooey and thick— dripping over your flushed cheeks as you took it with one eye blinking shut.

yuji moaned so loudly, his gaze stuck watching you like glue and refusing to look away as he painted you, squeezing everything he had out of his cock to drown you in his release, up until the very last dribbling drop.

he swallowed and tried to catch his breath, speaking up after a few panting moments, letting his softened cock rest against the side of your cheek.

“you— you okay baby?” yuji wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, a tired smile breaking out once he heard you giggle.

“mhm! i am yu.”

you licked up cum from your lips and his balls almost swelled in size again, his gaze still permanently trained on you.

“you look so pretty like this angel…” he murmured, and your heart fluttered, him collecting some of his white cum from the corner of your mouth— thumbing it through your suckling lips. “so so pretty…”

just like he’d imagined.

maybe next time he could do it on your tits!

Sukuna frowned, slipping his box of cigarettes in his back pocket. "Hell nah. It was like a dollar extra." 

"It's whatever," Choso interrupted. The last he needed was his two bandmates getting into an argument. "People are starting to come."  Soon enough, a crowd began to form around the quad, students visiting the booths of interest. 

You walked around with you low heels clicking on the ground. Definitely not the best choice of attire but it was you.  A vintage Von Dutch purse was sat right on your shoulder, swinging with every step. 

"Whatever happened to the fashion club?" You asked between chewing your bubble gum. Shoko lifted her head from her phone, confused at your question. "Girl, you made them disband. Remember?" 

You let out an 'ohhh' as if you found out mind blowing news. 

"Not my fault they were so poorly uneducated on Vivienne Westwood. Did they seriously have the audacity to ignore the fact that she was punk? What the hell were they on about saying that the brand was for clean girlies? Ummm hellooooo?" You raised a brow that was recently threaded.

"Right.. anyways." Shoko looked around, eyes setting on the medical club. "I'll be right back, I have to go sign up." 

You nodded, blowing a goodbye kiss. 

There weren't any new organizations this year that you know of other than the one your ex boyfriend was apart of. The sight of him just made you want to role your eyes. 

The asshole had broken up with you over text and is going around saying you were the one who broke up with him. 

Like, who the hell even does that? 

You pushed yourself deeper into the crowd, making your way towards the heart of the quad. 

"Music club is over here guys!" Choso yelled out as he handed people flyers. "We will be meeting on the second Monday of every month. Feel free to recommend us to your friends!"

Usually, you'd ignore anything that has to do with music. Not your forte. 

But the washed out print on his shirt caught your eye. 

A Fever You Can't Sweat Out. 

That's the album you listened to non stop in your high school years. Your iPod was full with every version of it. The original, the demos, and even Live in Denver. 

You listened to it so ofter that it burned onto the screen. 

"Cool shirt." The words slipped from your mouth, surprising both you and Choso. 

Because no way was a girl like you complimenting a boy like him. And over his shirt out of all things. "Uh, thanks." He stuttered, a crooked smile creeping on his lips. 

He darted down to the papers in his hands, offering one to you. 

You hesitated before accepting it. "Music club?" 

Choso nodded. "Yeah, we mostly focus on emo music to be honest but we're always open to do other genres." God was he sweating? It felt like he was. Have you noticed? "You a Panic fan?" 

You hummed, skimming through the small summary of the club. "Not really, just of that album. Well not anymore but high school me." 

"No way. I mean, um, you have a favorite song?" 

"I guess I liked Camisado." 

"Oh shit, I love that one." Choso's eyes brightened. "You know the story behind it?" 

You snorted. "Duh." 

The way you spoke was soft and pretty to him, it made his heart beat like a teenagers. 

"I'm Choso.." He mumbled. 

"Hi Choso." You smiled up at him, exchanging your name as well. "I'll try and come." 

He nodded, gulping. "We'll see you then.."  His eyes stayed on your frame as you disappeared almost in a trance at the sway of your hips. "Suguru." He hit his friends' chest. "Fuck did you see that?" 

"See what?"

"The goddess that just came up to me." 

"Is the heat getting to you man?" Suguru pressed his hand on Choso's forehead, feeling the thin layer of sweat before hurling away in disgust. 

"Surprised you didn't scare her away." 

Choso smacked his shoulder playfully, returning back to distributing the flyers like the local newspaper. That dorky smile still evident on his face. 

That was yesterday though. 

And Choso hasn't shut up about you since. 

"Do you think she'll actually show up to the meetings?" He ran the brush through his hair, undoing any knots made while sleeping. His broad chest was bare, showcasing all his tattoos. And not to mention the nipple piercings. 

Sukuna groaned along with Suguru. "Bro, let it go already. Just cause she spoke to you for less than a minute-" 

"It was over a minute, actually." Choso corrected. 

"It doesn't matter. No offense man, but you're not her type. She dated Toji and they recently broke up. Doubt that she's already trying to get into another relationship." 

Suguru yawned, standing up to grab another beer from the mini fridge. 

"But ay, maybe you can change her." 

A sigh fell from Choso's lips, feeling all of a sudden unmotivated. "She's so pretty." 

"What would you even do if she did end up showing up? Woo her with your guitar skills?"

Choso paused. 

"I mean.. yeah?" 

Another collective groan escaped from the other two. 

this series is a re-upload from pillsatoru , aka me. © https-iso 26'. I do not condone the use of ai. do not make c.ai bots from my fics, translate, repost, or copy any of my works. including theme.

“you can just—just hand it over. i can carry it the rest of the way,” you stammered.

he didn’t even look back. “not unless you want your shoulder fucked up by the time you hit bio lab.”

“i don’t—i don’t want to take up your time or anything.”

“what, like i was busy?” he scoffed, glancing over his shoulder. “don’t stress it, princess.”

and maybe it was the way he said it—but your stomach turned. and then the words fell out before you could stop them.

“are you… gonna expect something from me?”

he stopped. dead in his tracks. right there on the sidewalk. the breeze rustled the corner of your printout, the one he was still holding.

he turned to you, brow furrowed, face unreadable. “expect what?”

you looked down, suddenly wishing you’d kept your mouth shut. “i mean—i don’t know. people say you only help girls if you think you’re gonna get something out of it. i didn’t mean to—sorry, forget it, that was stupid—”

“sex?”

your eyes snapped up. he didn’t look angry. not even annoyed. just… confused.

“you think i’d carry your shit and walk you across campus because i expect to fuck you for it?”

you opened your mouth, then closed it again. he huffed out a laugh, but it wasn’t mean. more like disbelief. like he was realizing something for the first time.

“jesus,” he muttered, glancing away. “i’m not a fuckin’ creep.”

“i didn’t think you were,” you said quickly. “it’s just… that’s how people talk.”

he stared at you a second longer. then he handed you your books, all perfectly stacked. his fingers brushed yours.

“what’s your name?”

you told him and he nodded. “well, now i know who to look for when i need to fix my reputation.”

you blinked.

“you can tell people,” he added with a smirk. “the ryomen sukuna walked you to class and didn’t try to fuck you. crazy, right?”

you smiled. just a little. and that was enough. he saw it. and from that moment on, he always made sure you saw him.

after that first day, things changed.

not in any explosive, movie-scene way. more like soft glitches in the matrix—small, strange patterns that started popping up in your everyday life. like the way sukuna always seemed to be where you were, without ever making it seem intentional.

you’d show up to the dining hall, and he’d already be there, feet kicked up on a chair, nodding for you to sit even before you got your tray. at first you hesitated, standing awkward and clutching your drink, but he’d just pat the seat beside him and go, “you can sit, y’know. i don’t bite. unless you ask.”

you never really responded to those comments. just dropped your gaze, your cheeks warm, and quietly unwrapped your sandwich. he didn’t push. he just talked—about how shit his chem class was, how hungover he still was from friday, how satoru threatened to kick him out of the frat groupchat if he sent one more drunk gym mirror selfie.

he didn’t flirt the way people warned you he would. not really. he teased, sure. but it was light, casual. never serious enough to scare you off. just enough to make your heart kick a little harder when he looked at you.

he called you “shy girl.” like a nickname. like it was endearing.

“shy girl’s got a dark academia playlist,” he’d grin, seeing your phone light up with your study timer. “you gonna let me listen to that while i pretend to do my essay?”

you weren’t even sure when you started spending hours with him. it started in public—shared tables at the library, post-class walks, sitting together on the frat house porch during the golden hour when the boys were too loud inside and you were too overstimulated to focus anywhere else.

then it shifted.

it became nights. not overnight at first. just late. sitting in his room while he scrolled through music and showed you unreleased rap tracks from his friend who “might’ve gotten kicked out but has insane beats.” you’d stay curled on the edge of his bed, hoodie too big, knees tucked up, pretending not to be nervous while he passed you a cold bottle of yerba mate and insisted you had to try it.

you never drank the whole thing. he never let you throw it out. he always finished it with a smirk, like it meant something.

you didn’t remember when you started sleeping over.

maybe it was after midterms, when you accidentally dozed off beside him during an anime rerun, your head slipping onto his shoulder. you woke up with a blanket tucked around you and his arm slung behind you on the couch.

he didn’t mention it. just said “you snore a little,” like it was no big deal.

then it happened again. and again.

somewhere in the blur, his room started feeling like a second home. you kept a lip balm in his desk drawer. your charger was always plugged into the wall. his frat brothers started nodding at you when you walked in like you weren’t just some girl anymore. like you were his girl. even if no one said it.

and sukuna—god, sukuna was soft with you.

but sukuna was still... sukuna. loud and reckless and a little bit of a dick. he still left his empty red bulls on the counter, still got into dumb arguments with toji about which protein powder brand was superior, still acted like he owned the sidewalk when you two were walking somewhere and wouldn’t move for anyone. he still flirted shamelessly with the waitress even when you were sitting right there, not because he meant it—but because it was muscle memory. frat boy habits that died hard.

and sometimes, he’d say shit that stung. not always intentional. sometimes it was just him being careless, a throwaway comment or teasing jab that landed wrong.

but you were shy. sensitive. you’d laugh it off at first, but then you’d go quiet. your shoulders would tense. your eyes would shift down and away, and you’d nod along too much, trying to pretend it didn’t bother you.

he noticed. the second it happened—he noticed.

“wait. hey. fuck, no—i didn’t mean that like that,” he’d say, voice dropping, frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he reached for your hand. “you know i didn’t, right?”

you’d just shrug.

sometimes he’d catch the glassy look in your eyes before you turned away and it made his stomach twist in this awful, unfamiliar way. because he’d seen girls cry before. but never because of him. not like this. not someone he gave a shit about.

and for the first time in his life, sukuna didn’t just apologize.

he adjusted.

he stopped making those comments. stopped brushing things off with humor when you got overwhelmed. stopped calling you “woman” in that joking, condescending tone when you corrected him about something. stopped turning everything into a bit just to avoid the quiet.

because the quiet wasn’t empty with you. it was sacred.

he started pulling back. not from you, but from the rest of it. the chaos. the lifestyle. the late-night parties and girls grinding on him at kickbacks and the endless cycle of beer pong and blackouts and shallow distractions. not because you asked. you never did. in fact, you never brought any of it up.

he just… didn’t want it anymore.

not when he could be with you instead. in his room. on the couch. watching you fall asleep on his shoulder while some old movie hummed in the background. he started ghosting the groupchat more, started saying “nah, i’m chilling tonight” when they invited him out. the first time he missed a themed party, toji asked if he was sick. satoru texted “who is she?” with twenty eye emojis.

sukuna left him on read.

he still teased you. still made stupid jokes and wrestled you into headlocks when you were fighting over what to watch. still took dumb shirtless mirror selfies and asked if he looked “academically hot.” he didn’t lose himself.

but he was learning how to be soft with you.

how to be patient.

how to earn the way you looked at him when you smiled, like maybe he wasn’t some campus legend or cocky asshole or party boy with a body count in the triple digits.

just a boy who liked being around you more than anything else.

and more than anything, he didn’t want to fuck it up.

they didn’t get it at first.

his frat brothers.

they saw you once—curled up in sukuna’s hoodie, hands wrapped around a matcha latte, barely making eye contact with anyone—and the whispers started.

“she doesn’t look like his type,” one muttered under her breath, eyebrow raised.

“thought he liked wild girls,” toji added, squinting toward you from across the common room.

satoru, smug as ever, just grinned. “maybe he’s tryna wife up a sweetheart for once.”

but it was naoya who really crossed the line.

you were sitting on the back porch with sukuna’s jacket draped around your shoulders, talking quietly to shoko. sukuna was only a few feet away, half-listening while pretending to be focused on his vape, when naoya sauntered up beside him.

“shy girls give the best head,” he said, elbowing sukuna like it was funny. “bet she lets you do anything you want. doesn’t even talk back, huh?”

and sukuna didn’t say anything. he just decked him.

no warning. no slow boil. just one clean punch across the jaw that dropped naoya to the grass, stunned and sputtering.

“say some shit like that again,” sukuna growled, standing over him, “and you’ll be spitting out teeth next time.”

toji laughed. satoru was hollering like it was the best show he’d seen all week.

but sukuna didn’t care about any of them.

he turned back toward the house, jaw tense, chest heaving. you were standing by the door now, eyes wide. you’d clearly seen it happen. he didn’t know how much. didn’t know if you heard what naoya said. didn’t want to explain himself with some clumsy, half-assed excuse.

so he just walked up to you, ran a hand through his hair, and muttered low, “you’re exactly my type.”

the words weren’t for you. not entirely. but the way you looked at him—like you’d just seen something real—it stuck.

after that, things shifted.

but truth is, sukuna had no fucking clue how to ask you out.

he knew how to start a fight. how to roll a blunt. how to get a girl in his bed if he wanted to—but this? this was different. he wasn’t trying to just get lucky. he wasn’t trying to play it cool. not with you.

so he did what any hopeless, tattooed, secretly-soft frat boy would do when faced with a problem.

he went on tiktok.

typed into the search bar with an annoyed sigh—“how to ask out a shy girl without scaring her”—and scrolled. and scrolled. and scrolled. most of it was bullshit. some of it was too corny, even for him. but one video made him pause: “bake her something. get her a treat. keep it simple. don’t make her overthink it. just show her you thought about her.”

cue the next scene: sukuna, standing at the front of baskin robbins, absolutely dead-eyed, arms crossed as the teenage employee nervously read back his order.

“you want the message to say… can i be your boufriend?”

“yeah,” sukuna grunted.

“you mean boyfriend?”

“no. boufriend. like, y’know. ‘boyfriend’ but wrong. cute and shit.”

the employee blinked. nodded. “...got it.”

that night, he showed up outside your dorm with the tiny ice cream cake in both hands, a sheepish little smirk tugging at his mouth, like he knew it was dumb but was trying to play it off.

“don’t laugh,” he muttered, cheeks a little red. “it’s cold. like you. so it reminded me of you.”

you blinked. stared at the cake. then stared at him. then blinked again.

“...boufriend?” you whispered, covering your mouth as you giggled.

“it was a choice,” he defended, but the sound of your laugh made it all worth it.

you didn’t answer right away.

instead, you leaned against the doorframe, all shy and flustered and pink-cheeked, then whispered: “do i get to keep the cake and the boy?”

he grinned.

“you get whatever you want, sweetheart.”

and that was it.

you kissed him on the cheek that night—just a quick press of lips—but he looked at you like it wrecked him. like you’d just broken the toughest part of him open.

and by the time he walked back to the frat house, empty cake box under his arm, phone lighting up with toji’s texts asking where the hell he was, sukuna just smiled to himself and thought:

Gunshots echoed, bullets ricocheting, and in the midst of this circus of a firework show, there Yuji was—dodging clattering cans, cartons, and cereal boxes he was trying to save.

“Okay, think, think—don’t die, don’t die.”

The robber, in his ridiculous ski mask, barreled through the aisles in his frantic craze with his crowbar. 

“Out of my way!” he shouted, knocking over another pyramid of canned chickpeas.

Yuji smirked.

Suddenly, a web shot out from his wrist, and the robber yelped as the strand snagged his ankle, tripping him into innocent chips. It’s almost pitiful as his arms flailed helplessly, packs crashing at the spectacle. With a grin, Yuji shot another string of white around the man’s torso.

“Relax! I’m the friendly neighbourhood jock—wait, superhero! Friendly neighbourhood superhero!”

Though the robber still spun in place, tumbling like a washing machine on spin cycle, “You little—”

Yuji fired again, webbing his arms and yanking him upright, “Ohhh, you like being dramatic? We can do dramatic.”

Another around the legs, another around the torso, and suddenly the man found himself dangling midair like a piñata—arms pinned to his sides, legs stiff as broomsticks. A jar of olives bounced off his head for emphasis.

“PUT ME DOWN! WHAT IS THIS—?!”

With a swing from the shelf, Yuji landed with flair, crouching on a layered stack of cereal boxes as he grinned in amusement. “Relax, dude. You’re… uh… artfully suspended. Also, please stop moving, you’re making me dizzy.”

To his dismay, the robber still gyrated, knocking over carts and cans skittering across like tiny rockets. Thankfully, Yuji ducked just in time. With a sigh, he simply shot another web again.

“Hold still! Or I swear, I’ll—wait, nope, I’m not threatening you. I’m… just trying to help! With style!”

So, fast-forward to now, and really, it’s just another Tuesday in 2010s New York.

“The main cultural differences shape America in—”

“Hey! Can you let me down already?!”

Yuji, eyes squinted, snaps his head toward the man, coins jingling from his pockets. But he isn’t frowning at the robber… He just can’t read his notebook properly, especially with the thin fabric over his eyes. Each word is blurred into hazy smudges of grey.

Sometimes, Yuji Itadori doesn’t mind being the centre of attention.

Not when he's wearing the tight red-and-blue jumpsuit Nobara had stitched for him, seams puckered in all her nagging perfection.

Not when Megumi’s tech—definitely not borrowed, not stolen from his lab—glimmers faintly at his wrists.

And not when local news crews are scrambling to post grainy cellphone footage online, captions labelled with ridiculous, corny hashtags like #NYCSpidey, #OvercaffeinatedAcrobat, and #UnmaskThisGuy.

As soon as his last lecture of the day ends, he pulls down the mask, slips into the famous suit, and swings through the empire city that never sleeps.

He’s not Yuji Itadori anymore. He’s Spider-Man.

But tonight, though, he has an even greater problem than petty robberies and saving cats in trees. He has college.

“Dude, can you keep it down? I have an assignment due tomorrow, and I’m stuck here babysitting you—" Police sirens wail in the distance, cutting him off. And underneath his mask, he simply smirks, snapping his notebook shut as red and blue sweep across the graffiti‑scrawled walls. “Aaand that’s my cue.”

With a flick of his wrist, the man is left gaping, flailing uselessly as Yuji leaps from the ledge. 

The moon hangs low and full tonight. In the midst of its glow, he arcs over streets, headlights glinting like glass, weaving in between scaffolding poles. Trash swirls in the gusts around him, while faint damp concrete lingers as he glides past flickering streetlamps. The grids of blocks lie dark, the breeze sharp, yet every window glimmers with golden light; they’re constellations scattered across the city that guide him home.

Even if what he does is nowhere near world-changing, he’s always reminded that the city is full of life and narratives. Every window, every golden light that spills through each pane of glass, hides a story—a heartbeat—and that fact alone is enough to lessen the weight of his double life just a bit.

As always, while swinging past, his gaze skims the streets, searching through the blur of headlights and shadows. He finds you like clockwork. Trudging home, arms full of groceries: a paper bag with lettuce, a baguette tucked under your arm, and vegetables brimming atop. You’re humming a song from your dangling earbuds, oblivious to the world around you.

He doesn’t mean to stare, but when you live in the same flat, coming home at the same time he clocks out from patrol… well, it’s only natural he makes sure his crush roommate gets home safe, too, right?

“I wonder what she’s making tonight…” he mutters.

With one soft push, he slips his window open and dives back inside.

The wooden floor doesn’t even creak under his landing, and the globe lamp atop his desk glows like a dim moon over scattered paper. He passes sticky notes plastered across his wall, zipping out his suit and tossing his book onto the bed. Stepping out, he flicks on the hallway lights—and it isn’t long before he hears the usual. 

Your keys, the gentle click of the lock, and the first step you take inside, wrapped in the flat’s cosy warmth.

“Welcome back!” Yuji beams, hair tousled.

You nod back with a smile, shutting the door behind as you toe off your shoes. As you set the bag of groceries onto the kitchen island, you give him a smug smirk. “Did you just wake up?”

His eyes dart away, guilty, all while he rubs the back of his neck. A sheepish chuckle escapes. “...Maybe?”

You raise an eyebrow, sighing as he pulls a chair from the island. 

Ever since you moved in together with your childhood friend, you’ve learned three things about him: he eats terribly, naps like a cat, and will stare at you from the corner of the room with glassy, desperate eyes if he ever smells food.

And whether he admits it or not, you know when to drag him by the wrist, plop him down in front of a bowl, and pour him something warm. You’ve done it since high school. You’re still doing it now.

Sure, he’s stubborn, but so are you, and tonight is no different.

“I’m just making some simple tomato soup,” you say, spreading the groceries across the counter.

The city skyline glitters faintly from behind him, setting aglow the twinkling fascination in his golden eyes.

“Because you—” you tap his forehead with a finger, nudging him back, “are finishing your presentation script tonight. And I’m helping you with it.”

His eyes widen. “What?! How do you know about that?”

“If I have to hear Megumi complain one more time about you cramming your share of the load,” you groan, washing the vegetables, “I might start seeing both of you in my dreams.”

“Oops…” Yuji whistles, caught red-handed.

In the corner of your eye, you see him drift over as you slice the tomatoes.

“Can I help you cook then? Y’know… as repayment?” 

You nearly slice the tip of your finger at the audacity, but his hands, as usual, catch your wrist before anything disastrous happens. “You?”

You turn to look at him, his smile as bright as ever. “The last time you offered, everything tasted bland.”

He pouts under your gaze—lips pursed, brows scrunched. “I’ll never learn if I don’t try...”

A beat passes.

You sigh in resignation, and that’s all he needs. Yuji’s already pumping his fists triumphantly in the air, snatching the spare apron hanging off the oven handle.

“Let’s goooo!” he cheers.

On the other hand, you giggle at his flippant victory cry, but you don’t notice how his gaze lingers on you in the soft golden kitchen light—the curve of your eyes, the bloom of your cheeks. He’s taller than you, so it goes unnoticed, hidden in the shadow between you.

“And this time, don’t forget the salt,” you tease, stepping toward the pot.

“Yeah, yeah—oh! Put on that Cowboy Bebop opening. It’s been stuck in my head all day.”

You frown, eyeing the tiny apron stretched ridiculously over his frame. Your thumb’s already swiping across your battered iPhone 4, searching. When the first chord blasts, Yuji just stares.

“Based on how you’re holding that knife,” you chortle, “this feels more fitting.”

“…You think I’m gonna break into kung-fu fighting?!”

You shrug mockingly, moving to boil the water as he sputters just beside you. And it isn’t long before the kitchen settles into a cosy rhythm—the chop of vegetables, the hiss of butter, the soft swirl of simmering broth—and of course, your constant two-minute interval scoldings.

“Why are the tomatoes diced like… that?”

“I-I swear someone did this on Hell’s Kitchen last night—”

“I told you a little oil. Why is the pan half full?!”

“Uh…”

“I’m monitoring what kind of weird cooking shows you’re watching from now on.”

Soon enough, all that’s left is the soup’s fragrance wafting throughout the room—sun-ripe tomatoes, roasted garlic, and basil blooming bright with butter. It smells like warmth, like home, and the little life you’ve carved out together. Even Yuji stops mid-chop, knife still hovering in the air, just to inhale.

“Here you go,” you say, sliding the bowl toward him. On cue, he drops into his chair—shoulders rolling, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips. He thinks you don’t notice, but his fingers are still faintly red around the knuckles. The moment his eyes land on the bowl, something bright flickers in him.

The soup glows a deep orange-red, thick and velvety, droplets of olive oil shimmering across its sheen like tiny flecks of gold. Steam curls upward, brushing his cheeks, and in the dead of winter, the warmth blooms against him like late summer. Softening the night sky, brightening it like morning light.

When he takes the first spoonful, his eyes go wide.

Silence hangs in the room, but he just sets the spoon down gently, shoulders dropping another inch. He takes another bite, slower, and holds it in on his tongue. Under the table, his foot taps out its usual restless beat to a steady rhythm.

You have no idea what kind of day he’s had to be this hungry.

You don’t see the scuff on the side of his shoe, from where he landed too fast on the rooftop across the street. Or the tiny tear at the hem of his sleeve, where something sharp grazed him. Or the way he’d winced when you turned away earlier, instantly straightening as if nothing had happened.

All you see is Yuji—sunshine, sweetness—devouring the soup as if it’s literally saving him. You quietly rest your chin in your hands, grinning while he inhales spoonful after spoonful, like it’s the single greatest thing he’s tasted all week.

“Is it good?” you coo, and he nods so fast his hair bounces.

With all his enthusiasm, a smear of soup somehow ends up on the corner of his lip. He doesn’t notice, but you do, and you’re giggling before you can stop yourself.

You turn toward the window, watching the city smear into streaks of gold and red, and in that split second, he lifts his gaze, eyes catching on you. His spoon pauses halfway to his mouth, suspended in midair, forgotten for the still of a heartbeat as his own breath stumbles, chest rising too quickly in the quiet. Goosebumps prick along his arms, and this time, it isn’t from the danger his sixth sense is warning him of. It’s from the way the skyline burns in your eyes, as if every light in New York decided to gather just to admire you with him.

He catches the soft amber strokes on your cheeks as your small smile curls like cotton-soft warmth—and underneath the dim neon glow, you look too gentle for the shadows, too bright for the night. For a breathless moment, he wants to steal you away.

To borrow you from the world, and keep this evening tucked somewhere only for the two of you.

“...Let’s go see something.” The words slip out before he can catch them.

You blink up at him, and the room instantly falls away, softened to all but a hush of the world. “What?”

He’s already getting up from his seat, draping his jacket over your shoulders as he takes your bowl. Without a word, he just reaches out for your hand, urging you to take his lead. Following him to the window, you watch as he pushes it open to the rushing cold air.

“What are you—”

“Trust me.”

He steps onto the fire escape’s metal platform. You hesitate for only a heartbeat, then follow, fingertips brushing the cold iron railing. Halfway up, he glances back at you, and his smile spills across the dim rooftop glow. Brighter than Manhattan’s windows, brighter than the neon signs, and even more so than the giddiness in your chest.

Your heart stutters for a bit.

The hum of traffic drifts up from below, weaving through the gaps in the grating, and when you reach the rooftop, the wind tugs at your clothes, ruffling hair and jacket alike. Stretched beneath you is the entire glitter of New York ahead, a glowing chaos of gold veins and shadows.

You suck in a breath, clutching Yuji’s jacket tighter around your shoulders.

“...It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

He doesn’t look at the shimmering skyline, but only at you. The spark in your eyes catching the glint of distant lights. Sitting down, he pats away the dust beside him, pulling you down to follow him. You plop yourself down, knees brushing.

“Right? When things are heavy, I like to sit and just watch the lights from above.”

Giggling, you take the warm bowl from his hands, the heat spreading through your fingers and mingling with the steam curling like tiny ghosts between you. “I didn’t know you were also a rooftop climber.”

He flinches slightly, but you don’t notice, lost as you are in the flickering tapestry of lights and the comforting weight of his jacket draped around your shoulders.

“...Thanks,” you murmur.

He tilts his head to your voice, and his smile blooms like a lantern in the cold fluorescent glow of the city. He notices the dark circles under your eyes, the slump of your shoulders while cooking, and the faint, heavy sighs. Time hangs between you, quiet. 

“Is it because of your mother?” He doesn’t mean to pry. He simply waits, patient and quiet.

Years ago, when he was eleven and the weight of the world had abandoned him to debt and despair, it was you who had pulled him into the light.

You, who had brought him home, were pleading with your parents to let him stay, working alongside him through three jobs, shielding him from bullies, and carving out space for him in a world that had none.

And it wasn't because of pity—it was simply because it was right.

That small, steady truth had been more than enough for him to realise, walking home together one evening at fourteen, that life without you was unthinkable. Impossible.

But ever since that incident, Yuji spends his nights differently now, wondering if he even still has the right to be sitting next to you. Perhaps that’s why he’s swinging across buildings now, a distraction to the ache he can’t name. The tugging knot of fear that writhes from his core.

“Mm… same old,” you murmur, eyes drifting to the golden veins of streets below, lids heavy.

“You know I’m always here for you, right?” 

You shift your gaze toward him. His brows crease, jaw tight, lips parted, as if he’s waiting for a question you’ve buried too deep to speak. Yet your hands move betrayingly, fingers brushing against his, seeking him out over the coarse, cold brick beneath you.

He threads his fingers through yours with an ease so natural, it terrifies you. A knot coils low in your stomach, tightening with every heartbeat, your hand trembling beneath the gentle heat of his.

The wind tugs at your hair, lights flickering beyond the skyline like tiny stars. Amidst the faint hum of traffic and the electric scent of the city, each glow pulses, just like the racing of your heart.

You can feel it, the quiet certainty in his touch. You know he means it. You really do.

But even so, your lips betray you. They tremble against a single word, from the weight of too many nights spent replaying every thought, every fear.

“...Thanks.” A fragile whisper, soft as paper, heavy as stone.

Somewhere far below, a taxi honks. Somewhere far above, a neon sign blinks. But in between both, it’s just the two of you. And even with all the uncertainty, the nights, and the unspoken truths that linger between breaths, you settle.

This litany of quiet is enough.

It’s eleven o'clock out, the sun is stupidly bright, and you want to die. Like—crawl six feet under and stay burrowed in there—die. 

“See you tomorrow!” the woman calls as you leave, a paper bag of tangerines digging into your fingers.

You flash her a beaming smile, hiding your soul-rotting exhaustion. The door’s jingle follows you onto the bustling sidewalk.

New York is already in full chaos mode. Yellow cabs are barking at each other, crowds are shoving downstream like human traffic jams, and tourists are wrestling with crumpled city maps like they’re cursed.

When you glance up, you see the usual pigeons parading shop awnings, lined like entitled landlords. Scaffolding poles crisscross above you, towering between skyscrapers, and your earphones dangle uselessly around your neck.

No song is strong enough to fight the throbbing migraine pulsing behind your eyes, and it’s probably because you were up until 5:00 a.m. helping Yuji.

The memory punches you in the brain.

“Why the hell is it blank?” you’d blurted—because how else were you supposed to react to that monstrosity? You were both on the living room carpet, his laptop glowing tragically atop the coffee table.

Yuji jerked his head toward you, scandalised. “Um, no? There’s the title slide, the body slide, and the bullet points. It’s got everything it needs.”

You didn’t need a degree to see all the ways that was a crime, and maybe you’re just a saint—that’s what he thinks—but you were already storming into your room, grabbing your laptop.

“Okay, you—” you pointed at him, “write your script. I’m fixing your slides.”

His eyes widened, watching as you flipped open your laptop, copied the link, and sent it over.

“We’ll revise the whole thing on four, and—”

Bla bla bla… your words were already blurring into the mindless static of Yuji’s head. In that deserted hollowness of a brain, there was just awe.

The way your focus sharpened, the way your brows pinched, the way you sank into a task like the world around you melted away… it was the same look you’d had four years prior.

When both of you still worked for some cramped, greasy kitchen in Queens—and then, he’d been elbow‑deep in suds, wrist aching, sweat sticking his bangs to his forehead.

Suddenly, you burst through the door.

“What the—” Yuji had jumped, nearly dropping a plate. But you didn’t even flinch at his shock. You were already rolling up your sleeves, sweeping half his stack of dirty dishes into your arms.

“No wonder you’re coming home late every day,” you muttered, scrubbing. “I asked the manager how many extra shifts you took. Care to explain?”

Yuji immediately paused. Your eyes still stayed focused on your side of the sink, though. The plate in his hand, the steam, and the music drifting faintly from the restaurant’s old radio all seemed to stop.

“We need the money,” he said gently, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a hopeful smile. He reached to take the plate from you, “Come on—hand it back. It’s my responsibility.”

Your grip didn’t budge. You just glared at him from under your lashes. “We promised not to keep secrets from each other,” you murmured.

Silence fell. Only the muted hum of jazz seeped in from the dining area, trembling throughout the fragile string in the air.

Then you whispered, almost too quietly for him to hear. “...It's not like I want to stay home either."

His stomach tightened.

You weren’t supposed to say—even, feel that kind of hurt. Hell, he didn't want you to think of uttering those words... At least when he was by your side.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. But after a few moments of still silence, he dug his fingers into his palms. His chest paused mid-rise. “We’re moving out as soon as I get paid.”

Your head snapped toward him. And there it was—that boyish grin. The same one he’d given you at six years old on the playground, when he offered you half his juice box just after you scraped your knee.

“I checked our savings,” he said softly. “We’ll have enough by this month.”

Your lips parted. Your eyes widened. And when the realisation hit you, Yuji quickly stripped off his gloves and ruffled your hair with a warm, shaking laugh. “New York, angel. New life.”

Your throat tightened. Your heart stopped.

And before you knew it, your vision was blurring up like fog. His hair still spun rose-gold, soft and shimmering through the garble—and somehow, even through the haze, he was still the brightest thing in the room.

He had prayed to every God he knew to do anything, to never see you cry again. That if sadness ever had to choose, it would pick him, and not you.

So when your tears finally spilt under the cheap fluorescent lights, he didn’t hesitate. He pulled you in, firm arms wrapping around you as you clung to the back of his hoodie, shoulders shaking.

You choked on your own soft sniffles, finally surrendering to the dam of emotions you’d bottled all these years. All the while, he quietly kept his hold on you, whispering it again, breath warm against your ear.

New York. New life.

Flash forward four years—after the spider bite, after the powers, after the secrets that clawed at his nights—and some things never changed.

“Angel…” he murmured, stunned all over again. Because sure, he saved cats, strangers and entire banks on his better days, but it came at the cost of everything else.

His friends all think he’s unreliable, a dud, and weirdly bad at showing up—college deadlines slipped, plans fell apart, and every time the hairs on his arms stood up, that electric buzz tingling in his bones—he had to go. He just had to.

He knew what happened when he ignored it, and even in the darkest of nights, he still hears the crackle of fire from the apartment next door.

But you stayed.

You always stayed.

He wanted to hug you.

To kiss you.

To press his forehead to yours and promise that he’d protect you from everything—even himself.

But he swallowed it down, locked it away where it couldn’t slip out too easily.

And he just… smiled.

That boyish, earnest smile he never realises has the power to crumble all your walls.

Enough to also keep your whole world from collapsing. Enough to make you brave. Enough to make you trust him even when everything else in your life feels like it’s slipping between your fingers.

For as long as you can remember, it’s always felt like you and him against the world.

You know how he disappears every night, how he’s never on time for anything, how he comes back scraped or breathless or exhausted—but you never ask. You don’t pry. You don’t push.

Because Yuji is the one person you’d bend your whole life around if it meant easing his burdens. You trust him—you trust him in a way that terrifies you. You’ve known him long enough to understand the softness of his heart, the way he tries to carry everything alone, the way he refuses to let people worry for him.

And you know, deep down, that he’d never hurt anyone.

He’d never hurt you.

So you keep your silence with that one line he’s unknowingly drawn between you. 

Even when you feel his gaze lingering on you longer than it should.

Even when goosebumps rise along your arms in the soft, living warmth of the room.

Even when you ache to reach out, to cup his face, to ask him why it feels like something is always slipping away.

Neither of you speaks. Neither of you steps forward.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, all while his clench slightly at his thighs.

Even when this fragile string you’re threading so carefully on is the very thing hurting you both.

You’re slipping through the afternoon crowd like a loose page torn from a book, shoving past another tourist whose camera strap is swinging wildly. The air today smells faintly of burnt bagels, exhaust, and wet asphalt from last night’s rain, the earth’s sigh as it drinks the sky’s frigid tears. Metal trash cans clatter in the wind, lids rattling against their rims, and somewhere above, the faint screech of the subway reverberates from the tracks below.

Footsteps echo around you, tyres hiss against the wet asphalt, yet even in this city that never sleeps, your thoughts drift as you shuffle through the bustle.

I wonder how Yuji’s presentation went?

Hopefully well. Otherwise, you’ll have to suffer through the hell of Megumi’s complaints for at least another month. God, anything but that.

You yawn, squinting as your vision blurs slightly against the harsh reflection of the rising sun on glass skyscrapers. The traffic light clicks, the pedestrians’ signal flipping to red, but suddenly, your eyes catch something else entirely.

Something small, trembling, utterly out of place in the chaos. A golden-furred bundle curled in the middle of the crossing. 

A puppy.

Your heart stutters.

Everyone sees it, yet no one moves. Cars keep rolling, and the pup curls in on itself, shaking so violently you can feel it even from the curb.

What the hell?

Your mind scatters in ten directions at once, tripping over every worst-case scenario. Logic screams, “don’t run into traffic”, so you're forced to stand there—foot tapping, throat tight, breath trapped—waiting. As soon as the pedestrian light turns green, your legs run before you can even think.

You sprint.

Your sneakers slap against the asphalt, the city blurring around you in a rush of horns and exhaust. With a quick drop of a crouch, breath heaving, you slowly stick out a hand for it to sniff, but it shrinks back, paws skittering against the cold pavement. 

It’s terrified. Of everything. The honks, the stomps, the chatter—New York’s roar is swallowing the tiny thing whole.

The pedestrian countdown crackles overhead, each tick like a punch to your ribs, and your heartbeat syncs with it—frantic, stuttering, racing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” you whisper.

But it’s not. Not even close.

You glance up.

Ten seconds left.

Fuck it.

You drop the paper bag. Tangerines scatter across the crosswalk, bumping under shoes, rolling into gutters as you sweep the trembling puppy into your arms. Its ribs flutter against your palms frantically. You whisper whatever calming nonsense you can manage—

HOOOONK.

The blare is so loud it splits your thoughts in half.

Before you even fully straighten, the world explodes into white behind your eyes. You snap your head toward the sound.

A truck is barreling toward you.

Too close.

Too fast.

Your entire body locks. There’s no time to run, no time to scream. The world narrows to the shadow swallowing you—

An arm suddenly clamps around your waist.

The ground vanishes, wind knifes past your ears. In the blink of an eye, you’re off the asphalt and slammed into the blur of motion. 

The city snaps back into focus just as your feet touch down on solid pavement, and right behind you, “Whoa there—careful!”

You freeze, heart slamming into your ribs. You know that voice. You’d know it in a thunderstorm, a blackout, a dream.

“Yu—” But when you whirl around, ready to scream at him, you freeze. The person holding you isn’t Yuji.

It’s Spider-Man.

The spandex, the mask, and the red and blue in all its stupid glory—standing right in front of you, fingers still trembling slightly where they had been gripping your waist. He slowly lets go of it, watching as you spin to face him, face shaken. 

As more and more people start to crowd the two of you, they’re lifting phones, shouting.

It’s his voice. You know it.

But there’s also absolutely no way that Yuji Itadori—your perpetually late, starving, ghost of a roommate—is the same Spider-Man plastered all over the Daily Bugle every day, busy saving lives.

You swallow hard. “…Thank you.”

He glances down, raising his knuckle for the shaking pup—and after a few sniffs, he boops its nose, its tail giving a tiny, shy wag. 

“What a cutie,” he says softly. “Is this yours?”

He knows the answer. He shouldn’t even be talking this much. But when you look up at him—stunned, scared, and shocked—he stays.

You pause for a moment, brain short-circuiting before shaking your head. He gestures gently. “I can take him to a local shelter, if you want.”

What?

Your arms instinctively tighten around the pup, but after a few beats, the tension in your shoulders eases. With a hesitant nod, you slowly pass it over—and to your surprise, he holds the little thing way too gently, cradling it close to his chest.

Then, he asks, “Do you want to come with us?”

Your head instantly perks up to him. 

He wants you… to come with him.

You feel your own heart thudding against your ribs, the cluster of crowds sending your brain into cartwheels now. Your fists are still against his chest, clenched. Finally, after a few seconds, you nod once.

“...Please?” you add, voice barely above a whisper.

Something in him melts.

“Alright,” he murmurs, hooking an arm around your waist with the pup. “No tall skyscrapers this time, though. Gotta make sure I don’t scare the pup.”

Before you can even process what he’s saying, a white web shoots out from his wrist—

And you’re fucking airborne.

“AAAAAAAAA—!!” You’re screaming as the wind whips across your face, the ground blurring beneath your feet.

One awning leads to another, gilding just above the traffic—and somehow, that makes it even more terrifying; you can see the cars, the flashing lights, the stunned pedestrians filming you as you pass.

You cling to him like your life depends on it, (because really, it does) your yell trembling amidst the racing wind as your arms stay wrapped tight around his neck. Meanwhile, this idiot is laughing. Laughing. And even the puppy is having fun, tail wagging like a metronome of betrayal.

You swear you can even see his tail wagging as well, burrowing your face even deeper into his neck as you shut your eyes.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” you shout, voice cracking. The idiot of a vigilante only laughs harder, grip still strong on your waist.

He doesn’t know how his heart nearly stopped when he saw you kneeling in front of the barreling truck. He doesn’t know how close he came to losing his mind. And he doesn’t know how many Gods he’d prayed for the shortest split second.

Every God, to reach you in time.

But he knows one thing:

You’re here, screaming—scared shitless, sure—but alive.

“Put me down, put me down, put me down!” You’re sobbing into his neck, eyes glued shut as the wind smacks the hair into your face. 

Finally, the world slows to a stop. He lands softly on the asphalt, and everything stills—all but your trembling breaths. Shallow, shaky, and way too embarrassingly loud in your own ears.

He leans in, voice low enough that only you can hear it through the muffled city noise.

“We’re here,” he whispers.

You refuse to move. Absolutely not.

Your face stays buried in the crook of his neck, arms locked tight, fingers curled stubbornly. He chuckles softly.

Cute.

The pup wiggles out from between you two, popping its head out. It yaps once, twice, and you slowly crack open one eye, hands weakly releasing their grip on his suit. A shaky breath leaves your lips as you finally peel yourself off him, stumbling back—only for him to catch you again by the elbow.

“And we haven’t even reached forty feet yet,” he teases, head tilted.

You glare weakly, voice hoarse. “I am never doing that again.”

He doesn’t even need to say anything; you can feel the smug grin through the mask. 

With a soft spin on his heel, he steps past you toward a storefront wedged between two towering brick buildings. The sign above it is faded, chipped around the edges, and the door’s chime jingles as he slips inside with the puppy nestled in one arm.

You stand there in the midst of the pavement, though, heart still thundering, sneakers planted on solid ground, and even if you’ve touched the ground for at least a few minutes now, it feels like you’re still up there mid-swing.

The city moves like normal around you. Horns, footsteps, conversations—it all feels muted, stuffed cotton in your ears. You’re floating.

Absolutely floating.

A few moments later, the chime rings again. He steps out… with the same puppy still in his arms. You blink as he gives a tiny shrug.

“Sooo… turns out they’re totally out of vacant spots right now," he glances at the pup, the critter innocently tilting its head. “I can swing to another one, maybe—”

“I’ll take him.” The words leave your mouth before you even think them through, cutting through the fragile string of silence.

He looks at you, stunned. You’re taking it in?

Before he can say anything, you crouch immediately, scratching the puppy under the chin as it whines into your palm, tail flailing like a fuzzy little helicopter.

Sure, why not? Maybe Yuji will finally start showing up more often. Maybe he’ll actually help take care of it. Maybe—

“Uh—you sure?”

All the while, Yuji, as mentioned above, is panicking to death in his head. He’s not even there for half the night, how the hell is he gonna take care of it? But there’s you, of course, so it can’t be that bad, right?

“Mhm,” you nod, scooping the warm ball of golden fluff against your chest. “Look, it loves me already!”

You giggle as it barks happily, tiny paws scrambling at your collar as it leans up to lick your jaw. Warm little breaths puff against your skin, sunlight breaking through the thinning clouds overhead, catching on its fur and turning it into a tiny halo of honey-gold—soft enough to melt winter, blithe enough to quiet the city. 

He goes still. 

Of course, it loves you.

The breeze rolls by, threading through the loose strands of your hair, and he watches the sunlight kiss them the same way it kisses the dog’s fur, as if the two of you were made of the same warmth.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to. The tilt of his head, the stillness of his hands, the way he forgets about the crowd, the noise, the city—all of it betrays him.

You’re shining underneath the bleeding sun, laughing even with the trembling puppy in your arms, and for one still second, the weight of what almost happened hits him harder than any fall he’s taken tonight.

Harder than any punch, any rooftop landing, any sprint through the freezing wind.

And he knows it. He knows exactly what that ache is.

“Where do you live?” he asks, voice lower than before, too casual even to be casual.

Your gaze snaps to him. And the second you see the curve of his masked grin—smug, obvious, and entirely too proud of himself—your stomach sinks.

“So…” he drawls, head tilting. “Round two?”

You groan, clutching the dog a little tighter like it might suddenly save you. “God, save me.”

“Roger that, Ma’am.”

You smack his arm. He laughs. 

And the sun, traitorous as ever, lights you up like something worth falling for.

The metal railing trembles as he steps onto your balcony, but unlike it, you don’t steady—not even after your sneakers touch the concrete. Your knees are still jelly, your stomach is still somewhere midair, and you’re pretty sure you’ll never get used to this.

Frankly, you’re praying you won’t ever have to.

Behind you, the sun melts into winter’s edge, streaking the clouds with bleeding crimson.

“Welcome home!”

“Thank you,” you breathe.

The golden pup squirms in your arms, and the moment you crack open the balcony door, it launches inside. You can’t help but laugh as it bounds across the living room, sniffing corners, trotting in frantic circles, all while its tail wags with a delirious joy only pure innocence can have. 

You’re tired—he can see it. The slope of your shoulders, the soft drag of your steps, the yawns you pretend are subtle. Even your laughter sounds like it’s holding up the walls of a crumbling day.

He leans against the railing behind you, watching with a chuckle, and he knows he shouldn’t linger, shouldn’t risk even this much, but it’s you. And tonight, for reasons he can’t name out loud, he wants to show you something special.

“Hey,” he calls softly, “ever wondered what it’s like sixty feet up?”

You turn. He stands there with his arms crossed, head tilted, grin smug enough to see even beneath the mask.

“You’re kidding.”

He shrugs. “You look like you need a pick‑me‑up. And I think I know just the thing.”

Before you can argue, his hands are slipped around your waist already, like he’s done this a million times before. And somehow, like your body recognises him from somewhere you can’t name, you don’t pull away. You only lift a brow, smirking. “Literally?”

He huffs a boyish laugh and reaches past you to slide the balcony door shut. His gaze flickers to the puppy already curled on a cushion, drifting into a soft nap after its chaotic afternoon.

“The vet said he’s trained and vaccinated. So…” His voice dips, playful. “It wouldn’t hurt if I steal you for a few minutes, right?”

You pretend to think about it. “Maybe.”

Maybe.

Damn, if he didn’t have his stupid mask on, you’d see the way his whole face breaks into the most hopeless grin ever. God really does send his hardest missions to his strongest soldiers.

“Hang on tight.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. Your arms loop around his neck, and just as quickly as you can breathe, you’re suddenly up in the air—you still can’t help but scream at the sudden jump in height.

A strangled cry rips out of your throat as the city drops away beneath your feet. He’s still laughing at the ridiculousness of your reaction, and for once in both your lives, you’re screaming with the sort of freedom that only comes with the wish of a shooting star.

You definitely feel like one, too. 

Skyscrapers streak past, wind clawing at your clothes. Your face is buried in his shoulder—because looking down might as well kill you—but even through your terror, a traitorous warmth swells in your chest.

He hears every sound you make, every breathless scream, and he’s stupidly amused. Even when your eyes are screwed shut from how fucking terrifying this is.

Finally, he lands on what sounds like concrete with a soft thud, steadying you before your knees can give out. Your fingers are still clutched to his suit, but he pries them off gently, turning you around. 

You crack open one eye.

Then both.

And instantly, your breath catches.

The horizon is on fire.

The wild, bright yellow flame burns in the centre of the molten gold, every skyscraper splinting it in fractured sheets of amber and rose. And as it dips right across the water, your heart skips a beat, the sky bleeding with streaks of orange and bruised violet. Light scatters from the heavens, a gorgeous shower that shimmers just across the horizon’s sea—a ramp of falling stars just for the two of you. 

“…It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

The same words you told him the first time he brought you to the rooftop. He remembers. God, he remembers everything. He turns his head.

The horizon is burning in the distance, but he doesn’t glance up. His gaze lingers on you, tracing the way the light brushes your hair, the tilt of your jaw, the slow inhale of your awe—and in that moment, the city, the sunset, the wind, nothing else exists.

You outshine every single drop of light in the bleeding sky, and he hates that he can’t even tell you.

Something in your chest loosens, then gives. For one strange, impossible moment, the pressure of everything—your deadlines, your rent, your exhaustion, the heaviness of simply existing—feels lighter.

You turn to him, smiling. “Thank you.”

The sun flares behind you, painting you in gold, and he thinks helplessly that even this sunset pales beside you.

His heart punches against his ribs, hammering hard enough to bruise.

He keeps his hands in fists so you won’t see them shake, nails digging into his palms, trying to anchor himself.

Because if he doesn’t, he’ll do something reckless.

…Like pull his mask up and kiss you under a dying sun.

He jabs a gloved knuckle against the glass of Nobara’s bedroom window—once, twice, thrice—fast. Even muffled behind the mask, Nobara can recognise it anywhere. Especially when it’s coming from her window on the tenth fucking floor.

“Knock, knock! House of fabulous engineers and fashion icons! Hellooooo?”

A muffled groan leaks from the glass.

The window slides open with a wet creak, and Nobara leans out—hair damp from a shower, hoodie half-zipped, face frowning. She’s literally one inconvenience away from shutting it on his fingers.

“What,” she deadpans, “the hell do you want?”

Yuji straightens proudly, chest puffing out. “Guess who just saved someone from a truck, carried them to a view that’d make Van Gogh rise from the grave, and completely turned their day around! And they don’t even know it was me!”

His words are tumbling over like runaway marbles, tripping out of his mouth in the sudden rush of excitement. Each breath fogs the inside of his mask, tiny clouds drifting up as he gestures wildly, eyes sparkling even behind the webbed veil.

From behind her, Megumi’s voice drifts, monotonous as ever. “You look like a five-year-old who drank too much espresso.”

Yuji spins halfway, giving him a thumbs-up. “And you built the tech that made that possible! So technically, I am a caffeinated genius who saves people, sooooo—you’re the genius behind the genius!”

“Obviously it’s about her,” Nobara says, arms crossed, one brow arched. “Why else knock on my window like some homicidal pigeon?”

Yuji grins boyishly beneath the mask, tilting his head. “Because someone had to tell the people who made me this awesome that I did something awesome!”

He hops back onto the slick rooftop, landing with barely a splash. Rain glazes over the red and blue of his suit, gloves leaving faint smudges of rain, but he doesn’t care. He crouches—knees loose, fingers tapping, eyes flicking between Nobara and Megumi—and he rambles.

“You’d be so proud. I got her out of danger—like, barely-saw-my-life-flash-before-my-eyes danger—and she held onto me and we just… we ended up on this roof where the whole skyline looked like it was melting gold. And she laughed! And I—”

His hand stills over his heart.

Nobara squints at him, expression softening for half a second before she ruins it deliberately. “You’re ridiculous. Just confess already.”

Yuji crouches lower, fists on his knees, eyes practically sparkling. The rain slides off his mask in thin streams, glossing over like small scattered stars. All the while, the skyline stretches behind him, windows blinking like constellations.

He’s glowing too, like he can’t hold all his giddiness inside. 

Behind her, Megumi doesn’t move, but there’s a faint, reluctant curve tugging at the corner of his mouth. They’ve both seen this a million times.

Yuji, hopelessly in love. Yuji, trying not to be obvious. Yuji, failing.

But then, he thinks of you, back in your apartment, probably waiting for him with that puppy curled on your lap—probably wondering why he’s coming back late again.

His heart kicks.

Without warning, he shoots a web to the edge of the rooftop. “Okay—gotta go—BYE!”

Before Nobara can yell, he launches himself into the storm-soaked night, flipping once, twice, and vanishing into the wind.

“YOU’LL HEAR ABOUT THIS TOMORROW, I SWEAR!” he hollers back, voice bouncing between the buildings.

Nobara sighs dramatically and shuts the window, all the while Megumi’s smirk survives exactly three seconds before he wipes it off.

As he disappears into the glittering darkness, the city continues to shine. But it’s obvious who he’s rushing home for, and somewhere below, the night hums with the secret only three people know:

Spider-Man Yuji Itadori is swinging through New York like a boy in love.

When Yuji comes back, he’s yelping in surprise when the little rascal of a pup rushes over to him. Its paws are already scattered across the wooden floor for a launched attack. “What the—?!” 

He picks up the pup in his arms, snuggling into it as you appear from the corner of the hallway, snickering at the scene. “Kiniro likes you already.”

It takes everything in him to bite back his laughter and act surprised. After all, he can’t quite literally tell you he was the one saving you both just earlier today, right?

“I didn’t know you brought back this little pup,” he giggles, letting it lick his face. “You even named him?”

You sigh, plopping yourself onto the carpet. “He was in the middle of a pedestrian street. Thankfully, Spider-Man saved him.”

You pat your lap, Kiniro eagerly running straight back to you, “The animal shelter was full, though, but I think we’re stable enough to afford just another pet, don’t you think?” 

Yuji’s already walking over to you, slinging his bag across the couch as he ruffles your hair. “I can just pick up another job if you really want to.”

He doesn’t miss that you don’t include yourself in being saved, but he doesn’t nag. All that matters is you’re safe and sound, and with the arrival of little Kiniro, your grin seems just a tiny bit wider. 

“Ugh, you’re not even home half the time,” you groan, tugging him down to sit next to you. “Don’t.”

He smirks at your comment, simply shrugging. “You would not believe my day, though,” he starts, running a hand through his hair.

“Coach made us do sprints at 8 a.m. Eight. A. M. The sun was barely awake. I was barely awake,” he plops himself down beside you. “Then I had to do that boring presentation for Anthropology.”

You snort. “What about it? Did you actually, I don’t know—not screw it up?”

“Ohhh, the presentation? Killed it. Destroyed it. Megumi totally knew you helped, too.”

You shake your head, smiling as he continues. With a soft sigh, you raise both hands behind you as you stretch out your sore arms. “Thank God. We still need to go grocery shopping, though… We don’t have food for either him or us.”

“Do you want me to go?” 

You’re already getting up, though. “Nah, let’s go together, like usual.”

He smiles. Yeah. Like usual.

So flash forward now, one hour later—

He’s tossing all sorts of odd combinations into your trolley, and when he’s the one pushing it, that means you’re going to be barely stopping him from picking yet another pack of chips in the aisle beside.

Because, seriously, what kind of trolley has fruits, meat, chips and dog food all at once? Any other college student, he says. Well, you don’t complain further, because you’re already busy thinking about what to cook for dinner.

Metal shelves press together like metro train commuters, all the while humming coolers whisper across aisles—stacked with the classic 99¢ ramen, chips, and plastic-wrapped bagels. The overhead fluorescent lights buzz faintly amidst the static hiss of the radio’s pop song, always a little too bright, and it cuts through the shuffle of tired locals grabbing dinner after work.

Both of you pass each aisle, and when he reaches up just one more time, he says, for the latest bag of chips, you slap his hands away. He gives you a pout, but you shoot it back down, eyes still peeled ahead, while the trolley miserably follows behind now.

“So what’s on the menu, Chef?” Yuji asks, arms on the handle. 

“Japanese curry,” you hum back, already tossing the small sticks of chives into the trolley behind.

His eyes glisten at the thought of it, his mouth watering already. “You always make the best dinners.”

With a mere huff and the slightest curl of your lips, you refuse to turn back to face him. You can already feel the piercing stare of awe on your back, but it does little to keep the budding brim of pride at bay.

Because honestly speaking, that’s all you need.

When the tiny 2010s New York apartment smells like onions sizzling in butter—warm, sweet, it seeps both into the walls and your mind that you’re actually home.

The window above the stove rattles a little every time a subway roars somewhere underground, but inside, it’s just the two of you, moving around the cramped kitchen like you both have a hundred times.

“You’re cutting them too big,” you tease, nudging his elbow as he chops another carrot chunk.

“They’ll shrink in the pot!” he fires back, puffing his cheeks. “Plus, big pieces are funner to chew.”

“That’s not how carrots work.”

“Sure it is.”

You break into laughter, and he falters into the same grin behind his ever-so-bravado. 

Before you can turn back to the stove, his hands slip around your waist from behind, pulling you just close enough that your back warms against his chest. It’s second nature to him by now—but somehow, this time, his touch reminds you of someone else just earlier this afternoon.

“Hey—hey,” you giggle, trying to stir the pot while he sways you side to side, “I’m gonna spill the roux.”

“That’s the plan,” he murmurs, chin gently resting on your shoulder as he watches the stew bubble. 

“Teamwork, right? I’m moral support.”

“Moral support doesn’t usually involve hugging me every five seconds.”

He gives a soft, guilty hum. “Hmm. Guess I’m extra supportive.”

Outside the window, the streetlights of early-night Manhattan cast a warm orange glow across the counter, mixing with the flicker of your old fluorescent kitchen light, and somewhere below, a taxi honks, someone yells. Your radio’s playing the classic pop songs on repeat rotation this week, and inside, tucked within the mellow warmth, there’s just the soft simmer of curry and the occasional clatter of utensils. Yuji leans forward to peek into the pot, arms tightening around you as if he can’t help it.

“That smells so good,” he says, voice a little softer now.

You feel your cheeks warm more than the stove ever could, but you still shove him with your hip anyway. “Then set the table, you sap.”

He laughs boyishly before finally letting go. Grabbing bowls, he’s humming off-key to the radio, and when you glance back at him, his sleeves are already rolled up. He plates the curry bubbling behind you, and the two of you settle snuggishly into the couch, blanket tossed over both of your legs.

As usual, Yuji sits close, stretching his arm along the backrest so that he can tug you closer whenever he feels like it. He’s already rambling off into the darkness, and long before you know it, you’re both talking over the show more than actually watching it.

“But, uh… lunch was good,” he adds quietly. “Ate outside. The weather felt nice. I kinda wished you were there, though.” He doesn’t look at you when he says it; Yuji seldom does things like this. He just rubs the back of his neck, cheeks burning pink.

“Y’know… campus stuff is better when you’re around,” he murmurs. “Feels less like I’m just running around all day and more like…” He pauses, searching for the word. “…I’m just living day-to-day.”

You snort. “You’re such a dork.”

“A dork who had a rough day,” he huffs, nudging your knee with his. 

You card your fingers through his soft pink hair despite yourself, and he melts instantly, like he’s been waiting all day for this. At some point, the warmth of the curry settles into your stomach, the weight of his arm drapes heavier against your shoulders, and your eyelids grow heavier with each second.

His heartbeat is steady, right under your ear, and beneath the warmth, you don’t even notice when your bowls slide onto the coffee table. You just fall asleep tucked into his side, wrapped in his hoodie and the low hum of the city outside the window.

He simply watches, and somewhere, underneath the warmth of the quiet, his hand stops just a beat from tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You don’t know how long you’ve slept, but when the sudden, distant siren of an ambulance cuts through the silence, you wake. The apartment’s dark except for the TV’s dim blue, and your head’s still snuggled against the couch cushion, but Yuji isn’t there.

His spot is still warm, yet the empty bowls are already in the sink.

“Yuji?” you whisper, sitting up as the floor creaks softly beneath your bare feet. Silence echoes, and only the faint late-night wail follows through the room, the ticking of your clock.

It's dead midnight.

Outside your window, a breeze seeps softly from the fire escape. The curtains shift, and you turn to read the single sticky note pasted on the coffee table, scribbled in his ever-so messy handwriting:

“Sorry. Something came up. Didn’t wanna wake you.

Be back soon :)”

You run your thumb over the smiley face, feeling the echo of warmth where he’d been.

You don’t know why he disappears every night.

But for now, all you know is the apartment still smells like curry and him—and the couch feels just a little too big without his arms around your waist.

Dawn breaks as gold washes over the pavement, daylight spilling into the still-waking streets. You’re shuffling along beside Yuji, shoulders brushing now and then. In both your hands are cups of cocoa from the corner cart, each crowned with a swirl of whipped cream he swears is just “the best in the city.”

Steam lifts from the paper cup, curling into the damp morning air, all the while streets still glisten from last night’s rain, passing headlights shimmering in fractured streaks. Inhaling, the air smells of salt and roasted peanuts, tinged with the sweet bite of chestnuts toasting somewhere behind you.

“You’re going to burn your tongue if you sip that too fast,” you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

He sticks his tongue out at you, laughing even harder when you snort back at him. You simply shake your head as he bumps your shoulder, grinning.

The crowd hums around you, a river of people rushing with purpose, but you walk slower than usual, matching his pace. His hair catches the sunlight in golden highlights, and as he turns to glance over at you, the corners of his mouth tilt when he notices you staring.

“And you’re gonna spill your drink if you keep staring,” he laughs, holding out his hand. 

You giggle, letting him grab your wrist gently, tugging you just slightly forward as you step over a puddle. His warmth lingers a second too long, and as the sun rises a little higher, he watches you sip from your cup—eyes soft and warm.

Kiniro’s barking as well, his leash wrapped just around Yuji’s knuckles. The boy gives it a little tug, but for a split second, his shoulders tense. He’s distracted for a moment, silent. 

There’s a siren somewhere uptown. A horn blast. Something sharp flickers across his expression before he smooths it away.

You pretend not to notice. Instead, you just nudge your shoulder into his again. “You okay?”

He grins. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

But his fingers tighten just slightly around your wrist.

You tilt your cocoa toward him. “Trade?”

He huffs a relieved laugh. “Fine, but only because I know mine has more whipped cream.”

You swap cups, and his shoulders loosen, the tension in his jaw melting away. Somehow, the warmth of the moment softens the city around you—right up until your phone buzzes. You glance down, frowning.

“Did you eat yet?” “Are you really out with him again?”

Your chest tightens. No matter how far you’ve moved, her messages still slice like winter wind. Instead, you shove the phone deeper into your pocket, just as Yuji starts rambling about some comic he swears he didn’t dream up. 

“Everything okay?” It’s his turn this time, unaware of the text buzzing under your coat.

You nod in response, though, forcing a smile. “Yeah… just distracted.”

He doesn’t probe, and you just follow him down a narrow side street, fire escapes shadowing over cracked sidewalks. The city hums with distant trains, honking taxis, and the usual rumble of early traffic. He twirls you once in the crosswalk, and for a brief moment, your worries fade. Laughter bubbles up easily, sunlight spilling through breaks in the buildings.

Everything is gold.

You don’t even pass five blocks before you hear the sudden strum of a guitar, faint from a musician tucked just beside a subway entrance, tin cup right at his feet. 

Yuji’s eyes sparkle instantly like a kid spotting magic.

“Dance battle?” he asks, grin stretching mischievously.

You nearly choke on your cocoa. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He’s already bending his knees, taking a fighting stance. “You. Me. Right here. Winner gets bragging rights for life.”

You groan, trying to pull him away, but the way he bounces on the balls of his feet, the laughter in his voice, makes it impossible to resist.

And before you know it, both your cups are set on the window ledge just beside, and he’s twirling you gently in the middle of the sidewalk, weaving through the small cluster of pedestrians staring in a mix of confusion and amusement.

“Yuji! Stop, I’ll—” you squeal, laughing so hard your stomach hurts.

He only snorts harder, spinning you until your hair whips across your face and you bury your head against his shoulder. “You’ve got moves,” he teases, voice softening. “Better than I thought.”

When the music shifts to a slower melody, he doesn’t let go. His grip on your waist pulls you closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours, eyes half-closed. The rest of the city fades, and in the midst of it, there’s only the pulse of your laughter, the warmth, and the soft brush of his breath against your cheek.

For a second, it feels like the world stopped just to let him hold you. Everything melts away, and time stills.

Then… he freezes. The sparkle in his eyes dims.

“I—I gotta—” he starts, pulling back slightly, fingers brushing yours.

You frown, confused. This isn’t the first time he’s bailing midway, and suddenly, the warmth’s twisting with the usual tension.

“What?” Your voice cracks. “Where are you going?”

He bites his lip, hesitating. “Something came up… I’ll be back as soon as I can. Promise.”

Before you can argue, he’s already turning, weaving through the crowd and quickly disappearing like he’s done so a hundred times. You watch, heart sinking, as the tide of bodies swallows him.

Your phone buzzes then—again—in your pocket.

Your stomach knots, all the while the sweetness of the morning is turning brittle at the edges. 

You frown at the screen, fingers trembling slightly… another message. 

This time, you take a deep breath, lukewarm cocoa in your hand, and look back down the street where Yuji vanished.

For a heartbeat, the world was quiet.

Almost enough to drown out the buzzing phone. The crawling ache.

Almost.

The campus is loud as usual, and your bag is slung lazily over your shoulder. It’s field day, and Nobara’s perched by your side like a hawk.

Field day always turns the campus into a festive frenzy—music blasting, banners everywhere, and the smell of grass and sunscreen wafting with the crispy fry of food from student stalls. The sun’s golden light is just enough to dust everything with a warm edge, shedding the tiniest bit of warmth amidst the early winter, but your chest still feels tight, and every cheer from the bleachers is merely another headache pulsing beneath the last.

Your fingers curl around your bag strap. 

“You better scream your lungs out for him,” she says, flipping her hair as the two of you shuffle through clusters of crazed students. “He made me promise I’d drag you here even if you tried to run.”

You roll your eyes with a huff of disbelief, but still, your chest warms at the mention of him. In the midst of it, Nobara pauses.

“Hey, you okay, though?” she asks, nudging your side. “You’re quieter than usual.”

“I’m fine,” you say, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat. 

The football field is already swarmed by the time you reach it. Voices rise and fall like crashing waves, bleachers trembling under stampeding students trying to get good seats. You spot Megumi standing near the edge in all his emo glory, stretching like he’s prepping for a battlefield instead of just another friendly match.

He sighs when he spots you and Nobara, but you don’t miss how the corner of his mouth twitches just a bit upward.

“Told you she’d come,” Nobara smirks.

He mutters something along the lines of “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” but his eyes flick briefly toward the locker tunnel—where Yuji should be…

And right on cue, the man himself bursts out.

Yuji comes sprinting with his helmet in hand, hair ruffled, grin stretched wide enough to split galaxies. His jersey clings to his shoulders, the number glowing against the sunlight. He’s sprinting across the grass like his body was built for this—shining, bright, unstoppable. His hair catches the morning light like rose-gold flames, the soft pink of it glowing warm against his skin.

But he’s late again, and not just a little—ten minutes behind schedule. Yet no one seems to mind except you.

Your chest twists. The familiar pang rises again. 

The moment he notices you, he practically trips over his own feet from how fast his attention snaps your way.

“There you are!” he calls, waving the helmet wildly above his head.

Nobara snorts. “Lord, he’s so lovesick it physically hurts.”

You pretend not to hear her.

Yuji jogs up to the fence separating players from spectators, leaning against it with both forearms as if he can’t stop himself from getting closer. His breath comes out quickly from the run, but his grin is wide and bright.

“You made it,” he says too eagerly.

“We always make it,” you scoff, nudging your bag up your shoulder. “Don’t disappoint us.”

“Yes—yes, Ma’am,” he salutes, cheeks pink. “I’m gonna win extra hard now.”

Behind him, the team captain shouts his name. Megumi barks at him, “If you miss the huddle again, I’m making you run laps.”

Yuji jumps, jolting upright. “Coming!”

But before he turns, he reaches out—fingers brushing yours through the fence. Just a fleeting drag of warmth, but enough to leave your pulse scrambling.

“I’ll look for you after every play,” he says sheepishly. “So… don’t leave, okay?”

Nobara rolls her eyes so dramatically that she might strain something. “He’s going to combust.”

You’re definitely not telling her you just might too.

But even then, Yuji still runs back to his team, helmet tucked under his arm, shouting something stupidly upbeat that gets the whole bench laughing. The field hums with energy, sunlight bouncing off jerseys, the grass almost glittering.

Finally, the game commences.

And Yuji—it’s like he was born for this.

He’s fast. Focused. And ridiculously competent.

Every time he steals the ball, the crowd roars. Every time he dodges someone twice his size, Nobara shrieks. And when he scores—an impossible curve just inside the goalpost—he swings both arms up, searching the stands until he locks eyes with you.

He beams like you just handed him the universe.

And the whole world feels golden—sunlight, victory, thrill. Megumi is yelling instructions, Nobara’s screaming insults at the opponents, and Yuji’s just there in all of his radiant glory—shining without even trying.

It’s warm. It’s bright. It’s alive.

You’re cheering too, but your smile still falters, tight around the edges. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your bag strap.

But for now… Yuji wins.

And he looks at you like you’re the reason he did. Truly, he does. He barely hears the final whistle over the roar of the crowd. One second, he’s sprinting across the field, cleats kicking up dust, teammates shouting his name—

And the next, he’s tearing off his helmet and running straight for you.

You barely get a sound out before he crashes into you, arms around your waist, lifting you clean off the ground in a dizzying spin. His laugh bursts warm against your neck, almost boyish in how free it is.

“You saw that, right? You saw that, right?” he breathes, grin blinding, forehead pressed to yours as if he needs proof—needs you—to make it real.

Nobara’s whooping behind you. Megumi’s pretending not to stare, and he’s shoving his hands in his pockets like he didn’t just sabotage two passes solely so Yuji could score. The field is a riot of noise—whistles, cheers, the brass band warming up again—but all of it blurs around him.

Yuji’s still holding you there, thumbs brushing your ribs. The pink of his hair, the warm brown of his eyes, the soft grin that always pulls at the corner of his mouth. His hair brushes your forehead when he leans in.

A voice cuts through the crowd. “Congratulations, you all! What a play!”

It’s a senior guy from another team—someone charming, loud, the type Yuji knows people tend to gravitate to. He jogs past, tossing you a quick smile like it’s nothing.

“You were cheering SO loud,” he tells you, laughing. “Honestly, I think you were louder than the team.”

Yuji’s smile twitches.

The guy just continues, leaning in a bit too close, “You coming to the afterparty? Nobara said you might—”

Yuji steps in without thinking, placing a hand on your back.

“Oh,” the guy says, blinking. “Hey, Itadori. Great game, man.”

“Thanks,” Yuji answers—but something in his eyes dims.

Nobara simply smirks with a cross of her arms.

His eyes flick back to you. Quick. Searching.

Did you smile back? Did you think the guy was cool? Did you—

Suddenly, the team crowds around him—slapping his back, grabbing his shoulders, shouting over each other, and you’re both separated from the wave of intrusion.

“You’re coming with us tonight, right?”

“Yo, we’re buying you dinner!”

“We’re gonna replay that touchdown like a hundred times—”

Yuji’s flustered, overwhelmed. His chest is heaving, and sweat trickles down his forehead. He doesn’t like the sudden attention, and he keeps looking back at you over their heads—checking, making sure you haven’t drifted away in the crowd, but he loses you just as quickly as they came.

Megumi sighs, nudging him. “Go,” he mutters. “We’ll catch up.”

And that’s all he needs.

He practically breaks out of the huddle just to run over to you—soft murmurs of apologies as he bumps into someone else’s shoulder. 

Everything else is noise to him, and it isn’t long until he catches the familiar sight of the back of your head again.

He settles beside you, still breathless. His fingers hover, then hook lightly around your wrist, tugging you closer.

“You’re walking with me, right?” His voice drops. “Please?”

Nobara wiggles her eyebrows. “You two are disgusting,” she groans, then pats your shoulder. “I’m getting drinks. Don’t do anything gross while I’m gone.”

She disappears. Megumi drifts off too, yelling something at a teammate.

And suddenly, it’s just you and him again.

The air is warm from the sun, the grass glittering with confetti. His hand is still curled around yours. “I’m really glad you came, y’know.”

You smile softly. “Of course I did.”

“And… that guy earlier,” he adds too casually, “Do you… know him?”

There it is—the tiny crack in his voice.

And something sinks in your stomach. You’re exhausted—raw beneath the skin. And you’re way too tired to explain the history he’s scarred you. Not today. Not after this win. Not when he’s glowing like a sun you don’t want to dim.

So you answer gently, “Not really. Don’t worry about it.”

Yuji’s silent.

But you can feel the tension humming beneath his ribs as he tries to read your face. After a few steps, he murmurs, barely audible underneath his breath. “Hey, so… did you really cheer that loud?”

You grin. “Yeah. For you.”

“Then why do you look so tired?” he asks.

Your steps falter. “I’m fine.”

His brows pinch. He looks at you closely.

“You don’t have to say ‘fine’ just because you think it’s easier,” he says. “I can handle it. Whatever it is.”

But your mind is still tangled from the morning, from the noise, from everything you haven’t wanted to burden anyone with. You look away.

It should’ve been easy—Yuji’s arms around you, the campus buzzing with leftover cheers, Megumi shouting something smug in the distance, Nobara somewhere in the corner of your eye. Everything is loud, and warm, and safe.

But Yuji doesn’t see the phone screen still lighting up in your pocket.

He doesn’t notice how your fingers have been curling in on themselves, and suddenly, the sunlight feels too bright. Your pulse crawls up the back of your throat. Softly, without meaning to, you’re muttering under your breath.

“You’re not even here half the time. How are you gonna ‘handle it’?”

He catches it too, but he doesn’t say anything. You don’t even know he heard it… because you aren’t entirely wrong. He’s been either late or disappeared midway through the last three times you hung out. Last weekend, he ditched you mid-dance, and you told him it was fine—of course it was fine—it just stung more than you want to admit, and today, he barely made it to field day on time.

Something about helping someone, getting caught up, you weren’t even sure.

He’s always trying, always running. Always tired.

You don’t want to be another thing that drags him down.

“It’s nothing. You don’t have to worry about me today. You’ve got more important people to celebrate with.”

Yuji stops walking altogether. The shift is small—barely a misstep on the pavement—but it feels like the ground trembles.

“What?” he asks quietly.

“Everyone’s congratulating you. You should enjoy it. You don’t need to be glued to me.”

His face falls in slow motion. “Is that… what you think? That I’m only here because I feel like I should be?”

You don’t answer fast enough, and your silence hurts him more than any shouted insult could have. The tension that holds in the air now is unbearable.

His face contorts into a frown.

“Seriously?” he murmurs. “I just ran straight to you after the biggest game of the semester, and you think I wouldn’t choose you?”

His voice wavers, and you quickly shake your head, tilting your head to look at him. “Yuji, that’s not—”

“No, it’s okay,” he says, stepping back, eyes darting everywhere except your face. 

“Yuji—” His expression ruins you, and now, you wish more than anything but to take back your words.

He swallows hard. “I get it."

There it is.

The crack in the glass. The place where he breaks. You reach out for him, but all he does is step away.

“You know I didn’t mean that, I was just tired—”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and the cheering behind you erupts, but the world between you stills.

The stadium burst into cheers for the next round of the competition, and his teammates are shouting his name, waving him over for the afterparty. “Yuji! Let’s go!”

He hesitates.

Because he wants to stay. You can see that. But still, he pulls his hand back.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, smiling the way he always does—the one that makes your chest warm and ache and twist all at once. “Promise.”

You just… nod. It’s easier than saying you’re not sure you believe it anymore.

And even in the blinding afternoon sun, the warmth he leaves you with still feels cold.

The bleachers, the crowd, the pats on his back—they all drift into nothing.

Nothing matters.

Not when guilt claws at him with each step he takes further from you. He can’t stop himself, though.

He doesn’t deserve you, and even when he sees the faltering pain in your eyes, when it seems like he’s ripped your whole heart out, even when he didn’t mean to—

He should walk away from you.

You deserve better.

But when the hair on his skin stands, the jolt of every nerve in his system sparking up, the dread of what he’s always feared crawls back up into him.

He runs straight back to you.

You slowly step away from the crowd, letting the chatter fade into the background. The noise of the campus stadium and cheering grows distant, muffled, yet every step feels heavier than the last. Your bag drags against your shoulder, but truthfully, that’s not even what’s weighing you down.

Each breath catches in your chest as you walk through the shortcut through the science wing. Home. You just want to go home now.

The afternoon sun glares against the metal supports of the demo tents. You barely notice them. Instead, your mind is wrapped up in everything, and you hate that you even feel this way. Hate that even until now, every time you think you’ve grown to be logical enough, your heart always gets the better of you.

Your steps echo softly within the hollow of your mind, seconds stretching into minutes, minutes into hours. You don’t even know how long you’ve been walking. How far you’ve wandered. All you know is that you’re all alone—both literally and in your head.

A loud metallic groan rips through the air.

Suddenly, the metal pole just above the building snaps. There’s no thought, and only the sudden, sickening realisation that it’s coming down.

Oh.

You just stand there, memories flashing through your eyes in replay.

Yuji flashes through your eyes.

This is it—

But suddenly… in the blink of an eye, all you see is a blur of red and blue.

Your chest slams against a familiar chest, and the world flips upside down for a heartbeat. Air screams past your ears. The pole crashes behind you, scattering debris, a deafening clatter that reverberates in your bones.

You gasp, clutching him, every nerve ending on fire. Pain lances through your arm where the pole grazed you, and your knee scrapes against the pavement as he manoeuvres you away. 

The wind tears at your hair, and even in the chaos, your mind reels. 

“You… you okay?” His voice is low, urgent, but behind the mask, it trembles.

It’s Spider-Man.

But you can’t answer. Your body shakes, each blink glowing hotter and hotter as the weight of everything finally crashes.

“I—I—” You can’t finish.

Your throat tightens, and you simply break in his arms. His grip tightens, swinging you back toward a safer alleyway, ignoring the chatter, the noise, and everything else.

“It’s okay… you’re okay. I’ve got you,” he whispers, and somewhere in the midst of it, his voice cracks.

“Hey, look at me. Just—just look at me,” he lowers himself beside you, knees hitting the cold concrete, his hands closing around yours with a trembling gentleness. 

You choke on a breath, shaking your head furiously, face buried in your arms. “I can’t… I can’t—”

His voice softens, frays at the edges. “Please. Breathe. Just breathe.”

The tears spill faster, hot and relentless. You’re folding in on yourself, small and shaken, and the words slip out in pieces you can’t hold back.

“I—Yuji… I can’t… I just…” Your voice quivers. “I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to—”

“You’re not!” he almost shouts, but it cracks, breaking down into a whisper.

“Do you hear me? Your life matters. It matters.” His breath trembles. His hands cup your face now, fingers digging into the sides of your jaw as he kneels beside you. “And if no one else can keep you safe, then I will. I will. So don’t ever—ever say that again.”

Your sobs shake all the way through you, and he pulls you into him, arms banding around your body, holding you. Even then, the panic still claws at your ribs. He presses his forehead to yours, his voice barely holding itself together. “I’ve got you. Just… just trust me. Do you want to go home?”

You’re sobbing into his chest now. Your ribs are aching, your shoulders throbbing, and you’re stuttering in shallow gasps, yet somehow, with the last tiniest bit of strength left in you, you manage a nod.

His arms wrap around you again, lifting you gently. The wind roars past as he swings, your body cradled against his chest. The city blurs into streaks of silver and orange, but none of it grounds you. Everything still bites.

By the time he lands on your balcony, your legs buckle, and he sets you down with a quick turn away. Like he thinks he should leave. Like he thinks he’s the problem.

Your chest caves in.

“I can’t… I don’t—” you whisper, and then, with trembling fingers, you grasp his wrists.

He freezes, panic flashing behind the mask.

You tug him down to your level, breath shaky, heart ricocheting against your ribs.

You look up at him, heart pounding so loudly you can barely hear the storm around you—and for the first time, Yuji wants nothing more than to rip off his mask. Right here. Right now.

Because trust has always felt like something he wasn’t allowed to have… yet here you are, the one constant in the chaos of his double life, holding onto him like he’s the only steady thing in your world.

The home he was never sure Yuji Itadori deserves, not when Spider-Man’s saving lives, all the while Yuji is running late for another hangout somewhere else.

The slope of his jaw beneath the mask, the shape of his shoulders beneath the soaked suit, the faint scent of detergent he always uses at home. You’re exhausted—tired of the uncertainty, tired of the guessing—everything about him feels almost too familiar.

It breaks something loose inside you. “Yuji…?” 

Your voice is barely more than a breath, but to him, it lands even harder than lightning.

He freezes.

He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even move a muscle.

Not even when your fingers slide to the edge of his mask, and in a heartbeat of terror and clarity, you pull it up. 

Your world stops.

The way his voice cracks in the exact shape of Yuji’s kindness, the way he whispers comfort with words only Yuji has ever spoken to you. The way he knows exactly how to hold you, just like Yuji did when you both danced in that one street.

And now, seeing him—wet-faced, trembling, eyes glassy with fear and relief—it hits you like a punch straight through the ribs.

“Y–You…” His voice breaks. “I’m sorry—I was going to tell you, I swear, I just—”

You don’t let him finish.

You just lean in and kiss him. Desperate, shaking. Relief, anger, and love all at once. Fear—that you could’ve lost him before you ever got to say any of it.

It’s right there and then he goes stiff with shock… before he finally melts with a shaky exhale, pulling you so close your feet practically leave the ground.

“You… you’re alive,” he whispers into your hair as he pulls back slightly, forehead resting against yours.

“I thought—God, I thought I lost you.” His voice cracks as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, arms still locked around you.

Your fingers curl into the back of his suit. “...Don’t go.”

He lifts his head, tears dripping down his cheeks. His forehead presses to yours, his breath shuddering.

“Stay. Please.”

You’re whispering, shaking. He looks at you for a second—and it doesn’t take another until his lips crash into yours again.

The floorboards creak. The air is heavy. Kiniro’s sleeping somewhere in the kitchen, but your legs are wrapped tight around Yuji’s waist now. He’s holding you up, fingers digging into your thighs.

“Wait—” He cuts you off with another kiss as he stumbles into the living room, lights still off.

Your hands gently clutch the back of his suit even tighter. Your kisses are sloppy, frantic, and desperate. He quickly yanks his mask off, throwing it straight at the couch while he lifts you like nothing with one hand.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, but he’s already back to nibbling your bottom lip, working his way up to your breathless gasps.

“Mm… Yuji,” Your fingers lace through the pink threads of his hair, ruffling through them as something pools just beneath your stomach. 

The door rattles behind you as he pushes it open with your back against it, a creak rattling across, and when he does pull away, a drool lingers just between the two of you, and he looks up at you, lifted, like the most gorgeous angel ever. You pant, hand grasping his clothed bicep, as he presses a thumb under your chin, tipping your head further back. 

He’s wanted this for the last five years of his life, and now here you are—lost in it and in his arms—he just might explode into a million pieces.

“I love you,” he peppers even more kisses, agonisingly dragging a trail from your chin, all the way up to your drooped eyelids, hazy, muzzy even as your breath heaves with each gasp. “So fucking much.”

Your heart’s also pounding loudly, and even when he plops you down on his bed, you refuse to let go. You watch as he fumbles the unbuttoning of your clothes, and you tilt your head back as he trails even more wet kisses on your face. His knee slides right between your legs.

Goosebumps trail each time his lips meet your skin, and his fingers are still gripped tight onto the flesh of your thighs. His bed, his taste, your head is so intoxicated with him, it’s driving you insane. Even inhaling the fresh lemon detergent of his sheets makes you nuzzle against it, whining as he plants yet another kiss on your neck.

“Slow down,” you sigh, threading your fingers through his hair as he trails down to your stomach, nails scratching his scalp as he nuzzles into your touch, kissing the thin fabric separating you from his desperate mouth.

But as drunk as he is, lost in the whirlwind of your moans driving him insanely, unbearably hot amidst the cold air, he pauses for a second.

Just above your stomach, he slowly turns to look up at you. “...Are you okay with this?”

He looks up at you like he’s worshipping a goddess, because even in all your dazedness, you’re drop-dead gorgeous—eyes glossy, lips curled, breath panting.

“Mhm…” He instantly snuggles his face into your stomach, making you giggle, “What the—Yuji!”

Every kiss feels like worship, his mouth tracing shakingly down the insides of your thighs until he reaches the heat between them. With a gentle press of his hands, he nudges your legs apart and slips your pants down your hips, letting them fall away completely.

He goes utterly still.

God, he thinks, it’s so fucking pretty. And even though he’s never done this before, not really, he’s seen enough, learned enough, to know what to do.

His thumbs glide through your slickness and gently spread you open, baring every trembling part of you to his stare. The cold whisper of air makes you shift and whimper, embarrassment warming your cheeks. You don’t see it, though—the way his gaze drops, dark with want, his breath nearly catching at the sight of you.

Slowly, he leans in, breath warm against you before his tongue draws a long, deliberate lick through your folds. He can’t help but utter a low, hungry groan rumbling from his chest.

“Fuck… taste so sweet,” he mutters against you, hips pressing hard into the mattress as if he can’t help himself.

“Yuji—” Your back bows off the sheets in an instant, a startled cry slipping out as your thighs snap around his head.

But he only growls softly in response, arms locking around your legs to hold you open for him. He doesn’t stop—not for a second—as he devours you, messy yet greedy, drinking down every drop of your sweet slick.

His throaty groan vibrates straight through you, sending shivers up your spine. Your jaw falls open, eyes fluttering shut as you melt back into the mattress. "You're so beautiful— so..."

He can’t help it—can’t help melting into your taste.

His mouth grows sloppier, jaw loosening so he can slurp louder, tongue moving with sprouting confidence. He circles your clit again and again, then dips lower, pushing his tongue clumsily but tenderly into your heat. His lashes brush his cheeks as he moves, muddled and klutzy—yet careful, and worshipping you with every greedy stroke.

Your fingers glide down your stomach, trembling as you reach for him, burying your hand in his hair. At the same time, your nails drag lightly across the nape of his neck as you tug him closer, guiding him deeper between your thighs. He groans into you, then pulls back only long enough to slick his fingers with his tongue before rubbing your clit in slow, deliberate circles. Silently, he watches your slick drip down, following the trail with dark, dilated eyes.

Your tongue slips out, thumb brushing your lower lip as you look down at him. The sight alone makes him shudder.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs.

Heat flares over your cheeks, but you nod with a soft, breathy hum, lips parted as he lowers his mouth again. He laps at your folds slowly, savouring you, sweet warmth spilling over his tongue while he keeps his gaze on you.

“Mhm… Yu…” you breathe, a small moan escaping as your lids grow heavy again.

Something warm blooms in his chest at the sight of you weakly squirming, voice all soft and sweet, and he dives back to your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive bud until your moans climb higher, your hips jerking. He’s rutting subtly into the mattress.

“Yu—ahh, I’m gonna—gonna cum—” Your legs tremble, thighs trying to snap shut on instinct, but he only tightens his arms around them, holding you open as his mouth works you through it—pushing you right to the edge.

And then you’re falling.

Your jaw drops slack, tongue lolling slightly as stars burst behind your eyelids. You gasp out a broken “Haagh—” all the while, soft, desperate moans spill from your lips.

The sound you make has him tensing all over again, breath catching as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your inner thigh. His eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, watching the way your lashes flutter, and how your body trembles with the aftershocks he pulled out of you.

He stares like he’s mesmerised.

And in the heat of it, he just can’t stop himself.

His thumb finds your clit again, pressing lightly, and your words dissolve into breathy whines. He's talking you through it. Watching as your pretty lashes kiss your cheeks as your hips lift, chasing more, and he gives it to you—sliding a finger inside with a low, desperate sound.

“Your voice… fuck—” he groans, the sound almost a plea.

You yelp, grip tightening—one hand buried in his hair, the other fisting the sheets.

Then he adds a second finger, humming as your walls stretch around him, giving you barely a heartbeat before he’s thrusting them in and out, building pace. Your eyes go wide, back arching sharply, nails sinking into his bicep as he peppers kisses up your neck.

“I—Y-Yuji—ahh, please—I just came—” Your voice breaks so sweetly it nearly kills him, and maybe he should give you a second to breathe—but he’s already kissing down your chest, already pulling your top up without you noticing, clumsily unclasping your bra with unsteady fingers.

He’s dreamed of tasting you like this for years. God, you can’t even imagine.

His tongue drags over your nipple, lips closing around it as his fingers keep working you open, and all he can think—watching you squeeze his arm, bury your face in his shoulder, thighs trembling around his wrist—is how heartbreakingly cute you are, and how intoxicatingly soft your breasts feel.

Your legs shake as he finally pulls his fingers out, and he pops them into his mouth, sucking them clean while staring right at you in all his dazed hunger. You feel yourself grow embarrassed at the obscene sight, your lips part in silent awe, chest rising and falling as you watch him.

Finally, after what seems like forever, he reaches for his suit, unzipping it and letting it fall to the floor. His hands fumble with his boxers—slow, torturous—and you can’t tear your gaze from the dark shape straining against the fabric.

When it slips free, your breath catches. Your heart lurches into your throat.

It’s fucking huge. Your pupils blow wide, a tiny sound catching in your throat. He gathers the pre-cum on his thumb, spreading it over the swollen head before settling beside you on the bed.

“'Kay, angel…” he exhales, voice shaking, “think we’re… good…”

Your face burns, dizzy with need. His lips find yours again as he rocks his cock through your slick folds, coating himself, teasing you both. You grind up instinctively, but he pulls back with sudden panic in his eyes. “Shit—condom—”

You cut him off. “I’m safe.”

He freezes. Looks at you once, and his fingers tremble. Both of you are flushed, breathless, then he kisses you again—harder, desperate. 

“I fuckin—“ he’s gasping through each clumsy kiss, “fuck—I love you—so fuckin’ much.”

The words—messy, breathless, dripping with sincerity—turn your mind to nothing but mush. By the time he settles back between your thighs, lifting your legs high around his waist, you’re already trembling. A slow, burning stretch blossoms inside you as he presses just the head of his cock in.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he murmurs.

“Ngh—Yuj—” you start, but he kisses you before the rest can leave your lips, fingers threading through your hair with such tenderness it makes your chest ache.

“You’re, urgh, doing so well… Yeah…” He watches in fascination at the lewd scene of your cunt taking in his cock. “Fuck—so fuckin’ good—“

He's panting, eyes fixed on where your body’s parting around him. He’s only seen stuff like this on his phone, but it doesn’t compare to the real thing, and the sight alone makes him choke on a groan.

Your moan breaks loose, higher and needier as he rocks his hips, inching in deeper. You’re tight—so tight—and the mix of pressure and pleasure has you clinging to him, whining when his hand squeezes your thigh.

“I-It’s okay, angel—fuck, b-breathe,” he huffs, eyes squeezing shut as a low groan rumbles out of him. “I’m not gonna last like this, baby.”

The name hits you like a spark—your body involuntarily clenches around him, and he notices instantly. He lifts his head despite the sweat trailing down his temple, a breathless, smug little smile tugging at his lips.

“You l-like that, baby?” he teases, voice cracked and warm. His hand cups your chin, guiding your gaze back to him as he pants through the ache.

“Y-Yuj…” you whisper, gasping as he sinks in deeper. You nuzzle instinctively into his palm, stroking your cheek.

And fuck—you can’t expect him to hold back when you’re kissing the rough heel of his hand like that.

He can’t doesn’t wait for you to adjust fully. His mouth crashes onto yours, tongue greedy and eager as he kisses you like he’s drowning. Because really, he is, with how his knees shake as he digs into the mattress, all before he slowly thrusts forward—each controlled drag burying more of his thick length deeper inside you.

You cling to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders, into the hard cut of muscle beneath his skin, and he grunts at the sting, hips rutting deeper, each movement slow and heavy enough to make your breath stutter.

You feel everything—every ridge, every pulse, every maddening inch of him, and your moans twist into soft, breathy cries, mixing with his low, guttural groans against your lips.

You don’t even hear how the room’s engulfed with nothing but the lewd squelches echoing through the quiet now, his hips softly plapping against you, grunting in your ear whenever you unintentionally clench around him.

Your soft whines turn into sweet cries, and his eyes dilate in awe, cheeks flushed as your vision blurs. Your wet lips part, crying his name over and over, and with each cry, you can feel him somehow grow even larger as he kisses your cervix like he’s addicted.

“Angh—wait!” you whine, grasping his nape, back arching as he continues his torturous pace, the burning yet filling stretch leaving you breathless.

Your mind is scrambled, completely lost to the pleasure as you try to adjust, but he’s already slowly picking up his pace. And it didn’t matter how pathetic your whines got, or how much you came, because he's just kissing you with worship, peppering every part of you like you’re heaven itself, tongue peeking into your mouth again.

And he’s hooked. Hooked with how every time he tries to pull, you’re sucking him back in.

“It’s too much—Yuj—Please—“ and he’s also whimpering right above you.

“Haah—Fuck, fuck, I’m close, baby—“ his lips part, groaning when you instinctually clench around him again.

He swallows each pathetic whine of yours and vice versa, grunting into you with every thrust, both of you panting against each other.

Your mouth’s dangling open with trails of drool, and each time he whispers sweet praises of how gorgeous you are, you can’t help but string out moans and whimpers, filling the thick air of his bedroom. “You’re taking me… so well… ”

You can hardly squeeze any comprehensible thoughts out of you, and your head falls back against him, strength slipping away, hips quivering as quiet whimpers escape you. “Hnngh, Y-Yujiii..."

“Can I cum inside?”

“M-Mhmm,” you agree instantly, breath catching as your body betrays you. You’ve forgotten long ago, anyway, how to resist him.

A certain shiver ripples through you, and Yuji’s pace picks up even more, breath even heavier for the release he's been saving just for you, his whole life.

“Baby,” He pleads. “Fuck, baby, please—Look at me,”

The same strong hand on your jaw softly tilts your head to turn, and your eyes meet his dilated pupils. “Can you feel that? Feel what you do to me? What you’ve been doing to me, baby? Ngh—”

You feel him rolling the rest of his cock deeper inside you while he’s whimpering, and all at once, the air seems to leave your lungs as he slides his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. Before you can even register what’s happening, he’s standing with you in his arms, the weight and closeness leaving your heart racing.

"Does this feel better for you?”

As if. Your legs go weak in his arms, trembling as your body twitches now with every subtle movement he makes. You’re completely at his mercy, breath catching and chest rising and falling faster than you can control. Tiny, messy traces fall from your lips, dripping out onto the floor with soft splatters down below.

He spreads you out wider, aims sliding beneath your thighs, and fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. You feel like you’re simply floating, all whilst he hauls you up and down his cock, leaving you helpless as you sink back into everything he’s sliding desperately into you.

“N-Ngh, Yuj—!” Your voice catches, eyes misting as he burrows closer into the crook of your neck.

A deep, almost dizzying warmth pulses through you, and suddenly, it all bursts. Your hands claw at his back, squirming and desperate for the grounding presence of him. He huffs against your skin as well, breath ragged. His voice drops eager, and you feel it shiver straight through you. “Haah… I’m so close.”

All you can do is tremble around him, giving a slow, lazy nod, lost in the crazed intensity between you.

He’s spilling every rope of cum inside you, and even through it, he doesn’t stop. He keeps a slower, gentler pace, thrusts kissing your cervix even more like he’s thanking you, same as how he’s peppering your face with kisses now.

"Yuji…"

He pants softly in your ear, plopping his cock out tiredly from your hole and onto your bed below. Both of you are still heaving; your bodies stay pressed tightly together.

You murmur from underneath his weight, voice muffled against his shoulder, and it makes him melt as he still holds you close.

“I love you so much... Fuck, I’m sorry I acted like a jerk,” he whispers, gazing into your tired, adoring eyes. “I’ll jump off a cliff if I ever make you cry again.”

You laugh, playfully punching his arm. With a quick peck to his nose, you’re already readjusting so you can straddle him again.

He traces a finger gently along your lips, a little grin on his face.

You raise a brow. “What?”

“Can we um—“ he leans in for a quick kiss, “Can we try doggy style now?”

Okay, cross his weird cooking shows—you’re monitoring his weird porn stash too.

Everything aches when you wake up.

Your arms are stiff, and your legs are all sore, peppered with bite marks and faint crescents from last night. Sunlight filters through the peeping blinds, painting golden stripes across the bed, but that’s not the only weight you’re feeling on top of you.

Yuji’s arm is draped over yours now, warm and comfortably heavy. He’s sprawled on his stomach beside you, hair a chaotic mess, eyelids shut, face practically buried in the pillow. You shift slightly, wincing at the soreness, and his eyes snap open like he’s sensed you awake.

Under his breath, a groan escapes him, followed by a tilt of the head as he glances at you, face squished adorably into the pillow. The memories of last night hit you like a freight train, and your face instantly blooms scarlet.

“Good morning,” he whispers, lips curling into a smile.

“…Morning,” you croak, voice hoarse.

He instantly breaks into laughter, rolling lazily onto his back beside you while you frown at him, still too self-conscious.

Your gaze drifts over him unconsciously, eyes tracing over last night’s scratches on his broad back. The little ridges where his elbows pressed into you, his chest rising and falling from sleep and… other marks. His ears are pink, warm under the sunlight, and he buries his face into your hair, all snuggled with you. Both of you stay like that for a few heartbeats, breathing each other in, disbelief lingering like the soft haze after fireworks.

Eventually, you reach for your phone, which you’d carelessly tossed on the bedside table yesterday. But when the lock screen lights up, your heart nearly jumps out of your throat.

“What—” Yuji murmurs, groggy and confused.

“I have class in thirty minutes!” you gasp, scrambling off the bed despite the soreness. “I cannot miss this one!”

His eyes instantly widen, and before you can blink, he’s already on his feet. He rushes over to your side, scooping you into his arms as he carries you bridal-style to the shower.

“I’ll get your clothes, uh— hold on!” he calls, and just like that, he’s darting to your room, leaving you blinking and flustered. 

The shower’s warmth does little to soothe the ache of your limbs, but you linger just long enough to pull the towel tight around yourself. When you finally do open the bathroom door, you freeze.

Spider-Man. In. The. Flesh.

He’s standing there, folded clothes in hand, looking every bit like the superhero he is. Though the awkward, nervous smile beneath it? 100% Yuji. You pause, staring, and when you finally reach for your clothes, you whisper a hurried thanks, cheeks burning.

He gives a little wave back at you.

You’re not telling him thanks, this time, though—when fast-forward five minutes, you’re in the air, soaring past skyscrapers, strapped in some ridiculous ghost mask he bought last Halloween.

Your stomach flips every time the wind picks up, hair whipping across your face, and the city below blurs into dizzying streaks of light. When you eventually land in a quiet alleyway, you’re gasping for breath, legs trembling, and he finally lets go of your waist. You glance at your watch.

Ten minutes left—cue panic.

You start to turn and dash, but can’t resist sneaking one last glance over your shoulder. Yuji simply stands there, chest heaving, mask slightly crooked, head tilted. He's waving you to get moving already.

But you can’t leave it at that, so quickly, you run back, grab his clenched fists gently in one hand, and lift his mask just slightly to plant a brief peck on his lips.

“Thanks,” you whisper. And before he can say a word, you’re off—rushing back into the bustle, heart hammering, adrenaline still sending quivers through your shaky legs.

"Oh my god...." He dramatically leans back against the cold alley wall, sliding down slowly while clutching at his own head beneath his zipped get-up.

His suit definitely needs an upgrade from Megumi, he thinks, because you’d left him totally knocked out.

And right now, his brain is half-filled with how easily you just slipped away—the other half overclocking on how he's so, so down bad for you.

A pigeon coos from above, judgmental in its stare.

Class has barely ended when your phone buzzes. The hallway is in its usual chaos—sneakers squeaking across scuffed linoleum, laughter ricocheting, backpacks slung over shoulders. You’re juggling your bag, your water bottle, and an overdue sense of exhaustion as you pull out your phone, fully expecting a group chat notification or a calendar reminder.

But then you see the name on the screen. Yuji.

Yuji: look at the manhattan bridge :))

Your brows knit, confused, but curiosity wins still, and you turn toward the tall window overlooking the city, breath fogging faintly against the cold glass. The sky is rinsed in a soft apricot glow today, dripping over the skyline like spilt honey. Its golden hour tints with warmth, enough to melt even the sharpest edges of steel and glass.

And that’s when you see it.

Strung between the beams like frost, shimmering in the golden, like it’s snared a wandering cloud amidst the bleeding sky—three words are strung across the Manhattan Bridge in enormous, gleaming webs.

Each letter is woven thick, looped around half a dozen times so they won’t blow away in the wind.

Your eyes widen. There is absolutely no way.

I LOVE YOU.

Your heart skips violently, and your breath stumbles out of your chest in a gasp.

A stupid, giddy laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it, and your hand flies to your mouth as if you can physically push your stunned smile back in.

“Idiot…” you whisper.

Around you, other students press against the windows, whispering, pointing. Someone mutters,

“Brother did a whole Hollywood sign…”

“Is Spider-Man in love?? With who??”

Your phone buzzes again.

Yuji: empty classroom, east wing. the one w the broken light. hurry! :(

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to fight off the warmth spreading through your chest as you practically float down the hallway. Your steps are light, your face is on fire, and your heart's busy doing backflips inside.

By the time you reach the forgotten old classroom in the east wing, your pulse is sprinting. The door sits slightly open, the flickering ceiling light casting lazy pulses of brightness across the desks like it’s trying, yet failing, to stay conscious.

You push the door open.

And there he is. Yuji stands near one of the desks, mask pulled back and tucked into his hood, pink-peach curls mussed from the wind.

His cheeks are flushed, hoodie slightly crooked, and even though he’s leaning like he’s been waiting forever, he probably swung here mere seconds just before you arrived.

How do you know that? Because the flowers in his hands look like they've just gone through hell and back.

When he sees you, something in him softens so completely it makes your breath catch.

“Hey,” he says, smile tugging gently at the corners of his mouth.

It’s so pure, so bright, it almost tricks you into thinking he didn’t just do something as insane as webbing a literal confession across a whole bridge.

You let out a breathy laugh as you approach him. “Yuji… you webbed the entire Manhattan Bridge.”

He rubs the back of his neck, practically glowing.

“I—uh—wanted to make sure you saw it?” He winces. “And that you didn’t think I was joking.”

His voice gentles. “I mean it.”

Before your brain can even catch up with your racing heart, he reaches out. His hands slip like usual to your waist.

He looks at you like sunlight through glass, stars folding into themselves—unfathomable heaven of devotion graced into every line of his expression.

“You ready to go home?” he asks softly. 

You wrap your arms around him.

“Yeah,” you whisper, and his forehead drops to your shoulder in the tiniest, softest surrender.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as you giggle and ruffle his hair.

“I love you too, silly.”

Outside, the sun sinks slowly behind the skyline, ember light scattered across the room as it catches on a stray fleck of web on Yuji’s sleeve. It glows like silver fire as he lifts you effortlessly, stepping toward the window. You simply cling to him, heart soaring as he pushes the pane open and the cool wind rushes in.

With a soft laugh, Yuji leaps, both of you cutting through the evening breeze as the city roars beneath.

Taxis honk, trains rattle, pedestrians shout, but everything muffles the moment his arm curls tighter around you.

With him, flying feels safe.

With him, the city feels small.

With him, the skyline with I LOVE YOU strung across it feels like the only world that matters.

He steals a glance at you mid-swing, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

New York watches as he swings past skyscrapers—and this time, he isn't alone. He holds you like he has nowhere else to be but by your side, basking in the afterglow of a love he had written across the skyline just for you. 

Petals float below from the two of you, and you say his words back. Barely louder than the wind, but just enough for him, and only him, to hear.

It's what you’ve found between this litany of quiet you’ve both settled into:

“Home.”

CH 1 ⇐ CH 2 ⇒ CH 3 જ⁀➴

sukuna laughs again, low and full. “aw, shit. that was adorable.”

you shoot him a look. glare weak, eyes watery.

“you okay, sweetheart?” he asks, already brushing your back, soothing in a way that shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

“i’m fine,” you mumble, embarrassed. your voice cracks.

he grins again, mouth all smug and soft. “wanna try again?”

“…maybe.”

he watches you this time. doesn’t say anything when you steal another puff, smaller this time. still a little rough. still not good. but you don’t choke. not as bad, anyway.

“attagirl,” he says, and something in your stomach twists.

you hand it back.

“tastes weird,” you admit.

“you’ll get used to it.” he takes another hit, exhales toward the sky. then he glances over. “bet you’d like it better from my mouth.”

your heart skips.

“w-what?”

he shrugs, casual. “shotgun. ever tried?”

you shake your head.

he taps ash into an old beer can on the railing, then takes one more drag. when he looks back at you, it’s all heat.

“c’mere,” he says again, voice lower. slower. “i’ll show you.”

and you do. you hesitate, which only makes him smirk deeper. cocky. knowing. like he can feel your pulse skipping through your wrist.

“relax,” sukuna murmurs, voice thick with smoke. “just open your mouth for me.”

you shouldn’t listen. you know that. but your lips part before you can think twice.

he steps in closer. impossibly close. one arm braces against the railing beside your head, his other hand holding the joint with two lazy fingers, almost burned down now. the smoke clings to him, to the collar of his shirt, to his breath. he brings it to his lips again, inhales slow—then leans down before he exhales, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger like he’s done this a hundred times.

his mouth barely grazes yours.

and then he breathes it out.

warm smoke floods your mouth, your lungs. it’s smoother than before, still hazy, but your focus is too scrambled to register the burn. because sukuna’s lips are hovering over yours, eyes half-lidded, watching you like he’s already undressed you with his gaze.

you swallow, hard. his mouth lingers, breath mingling with yours, lips not quite touching.

“good girl,” he says, so low it’s almost a growl.

your stomach flips violently. the praise settles between your thighs like heat.

“see?” he adds, thumb dragging down the curve of your jaw. “tastes better like that, doesn’t it?”

you nod. or try to. it’s barely a motion, just enough to make him grin again.

“one more?” he offers, already moving in again, like he doesn’t need your answer.

and this time—this time when he exhales, your lips brush. soft. smoky.

he’s not kissing you. not really. but it feels like one anyway.

your knees wobble. his mouth hovers again, so fucking close.

and then he licks his lips. eyes flick down to your parted ones. waits.

“you wanna taste me again?” he asks, almost amused. “or you gonna be shy on me now, sweetheart?”

you don’t realize how warm you are until you’re back inside. maybe it’s the way the room tilts a little. not enough to scare you, just enough to feel like the floor’s moving soft beneath your socks. maybe it’s the bass still thumping through the walls. maybe it’s him, still pressed against your side.

you’re not even high, really.

just… warm. tingly. floaty. like a fizzy drink. like your mouth tastes like smoke and sugar and you’re not sure if it’s from the shotgunning or just him.

he doesn’t move away. his hand finds the small of your back when you wobble slightly. not to steady you. just to touch.

“you good?” he asks, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

you nod. too quickly. then blink up at him.

and then—god help you—you giggle.

his brow arches. “oh?”

you don’t even know what’s funny. the way his shirt’s positioned? the way his necklace dangles right at your eyeline? the way your body feels like it’s made of candlewax?

you can’t stop staring at his mouth.

and he knows it.

“you’re high,” he says, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

you shake your head. “no,” you whisper, though you sound more breathless than you mean to. “just a little… floaty.”

he hums. fingers brushing your side, lower now.

“floaty,” he echoes. “that what we’re calling it?”

you nod again. but slower this time. eyes still locked on his mouth like it’s the only solid thing in the room.

“you’re staring,” he murmurs.

“m’not.”

“mmhm.”

you’re still staring. especially when his tongue flicks across his lip, like he’s daring you to do something about it.

and—god. you do.

you lean in.

not a kiss. not yet. just close. your nose grazes his. your breath catches. your hand fists the front of his shirt like you need something to hold onto, and his eyes flicker, half-lidded.

“you’re actin’ different,” he murmurs, voice dipped in something low and amused.

“noooo,” you whisper, lashes fluttering.

“no?” his hands slide down to your hips, pulling you snug against him.

“you’re just… really sexy,” you say. it slips out too fast. too soft. the moment it leaves your mouth, your eyes widen in horror.

he laughs. full-on.

you cover your face with both hands, mortified.

he pulls them down, gently.

“don’t hide,” he says, grinning now. “i like this version of you. high and horny.”

your mouth drops open. “am not—”

“baby,” he interrupts, dipping his head until your noses bump, “you’re grinding on my thigh.”

you freeze.

then blink down.

you are. barely. just a little. soft and slow, like you didn’t even notice. and now your hands fly back up to your face.

he groans, deep in his chest.

“fuck,” he mutters, voice ragged. “you’re gonna kill me.”

he presses a thigh up firmer between your legs and watches your lashes flutter.

“damn,” he murmurs, pulling your leg over his lap, “who knew my girl just needed a little smoke to show me how she really is.”

you squirm, half-embarrassed, half still riding whatever fuzzy, low-buzz high is humming in your limbs. you press your face into his shoulder, but he’s already grinning, hand dragging up the inside of your thigh like it’s second nature.

“don’t get all shy now,” he teases, voice dipped in that lazy charm. “too late for that.”

your legs tighten around him.

and he feels it.

he groans under his breath, head falling back for a second like he’s collecting himself, before his eyes drop back to you—a little heavy, a little wild.

“bathroom,” he says.

you blink. “what?”

“bathroom,” he repeats, already shifting you off his lap, steadying you when you stumble slightly. “unless you wanna grind my thigh in front of the whole fuckin’ party.”

your eyes widen, heat climbing up your cheeks. but your hand still finds his, fingers lacing without thinking.

the walk is a blur. music thudding behind you, hallway lights too bright. you barely notice people talking. laughing. someone calls his name but he doesn’t answer, just tugs you down the hall, his hand firm on your waist like he owns it.

you hadn’t even realized how bad it’d gotten until he locked the bathroom door behind you.

until the echo of the party vanished, muffled through tile walls and music-thick floors, leaving you both in this tiny, hazy space that smelled like weed and faded cologne and something sweeter—him. you were dizzy. not just high, not just warm from the smoke still coating the back of your throat, but dizzy from the way he’d been looking at you all night. since the shotgun. since the way your lips had brushed and you’d looked up at him with glassy eyes, pupils blown wide.

you don’t remember who kissed first, only that your back hit the counter and his hands were already everywhere. under your skirt, gripping your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing and sitting you on the edge of the sink.

“can’t believe you,” he muttered, pulling your panties down to your knees. “you’re fuckin’ soaked. this from one hit?”

you whimpered—barely nodded. it wasn’t just one. it was him. the heat of his palm against your neck. the heavy drag of his voice every time he called you baby in front of the other guys. the way he looked at you like he wanted to ruin you, just so he could build you back up again.

his rings were cold when they brushed your folds, but the burn of his mouth made you jolt. he knelt between your legs like he had something to prove, mouthing at your pussy like it was the only thing in the world worth praying to.

and fuck, you wanted to cry—his tongue was slow, thick, greedy, curling inside you while his thumb circled your clit just the way you liked. you could feel yourself dripping down the curve of his wrist, making a mess all over his hand, but he didn’t care. didn’t pause. just kept groaning into your cunt like he was starving and you were the only meal he’d ever wanted.

you tugged his hair. moaned his name. rocked your hips against his face and choked out a high, half-sobbing plea when your thighs started to shake.

“’kuna—fuck, wait, i’m—”

he didn’t wait. he never waited when it came to your pleasure. you came on his tongue like it was the only thing that made sense anymore, thighs clamped around his head, one hand slipping behind you to keep from sliding off the sink. your vision blurred. your lungs trembled. your legs twitched as he kissed back up your body, his cock already out, already hard—heavy against your inner thigh as he licked his lips like he could still taste you.

“you want me inside?” he asked, and you nodded fast, too fast, whispering something that barely made sense but sounded like yes and please and need it now.

he fucked you slow at first, one hand gripping your waist to keep you steady, the other sliding up the back of your neck to cradle your head. he kissed you while he did it, tongue hot and slick, swallowing every noise you made, like he didn’t want anyone outside that door to hear how good he made you feel.

but he got mean when you clenched. when you whispered his name like a prayer. his hand dropped to your throat, thumb resting against your jaw, and his hips snapped harder, faster—fucking up into you like he owned you. like you were his, and he was going to fuck that fact into your soul.

“look at you,” he rasped, fucking you so deep your body jolted back against the mirror, “high off one little hit. letting me fuck you dumb in the frat bathroom. you like this, baby?”

you nodded, gasped, whimpered—his cock hitting that soft spot inside you over and over until tears leaked out the corners of your eyes.

“yeah,” he growled, fucking you harder, sloppier, voice breaking with it. “you’re my good fuckin’ girl, huh? my sweet little thing who gets high and begs for dick. gonna let me cum in this pussy, sweetheart?”

you couldn’t answer. not really. not with how hard you were trembling, how your nails dug into his shoulders and your mouth parted in a silent moan. he took it as a yes anyway, slamming in once more and spilling inside you with a guttural sound you’d never forget. you were still panting when he kissed you again, slower this time. messier. his cum leaking out of you, still pulsing around the base of his cock.

he pulled back, sweat-damp and grinning, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers.

your lips are kiss-swollen. your lashes heavy. your thighs still trembling.

his thumb traces the corner of your mouth.

“fuck,” he mutters, voice ragged. “you’re unreal.”

you blink up at him, a little dazed. still floaty. still warm.

“can we go again?” you whisper.

his brow arches. “...like round two?”

you nod slowly, lips tugging into a half-smile.

“of which one?” he asks, grin tugging at his mouth. “smoking or sex?”

you pause, pretend to think about it, then shrug.

“both?” you offer, sweet as sugar.

he groans.

he has a list of things be may or may not believe to be true based on the handful of times he’s stopped to watch you do your thing. what songs you like, how you like your drinks mixed, even how likely you are to leave based on the vibe. you always come alone, that he knows for certain, but what he can’t figure out is why. 

the first time he sees you is the friday after halloween. 

he’s about three shots deep, sweatshirt rucked up over his shoulders with a headache that could kill an elephant. the music feels way too loud to bear and whatever sukuna poured in his cup earlier makes his nose burn every time he takes a sip, but satoru endures it, because he thinks you threw him off his axis the moment you walked into the house. 

you’re gorgeous, sitting pretty on the couch like something from one of his fantasies. cup held loosely in your hand with your ankles crossed over each other. you don’t speak, don’t dance. you just sit and watch the room bubble, shoulders relaxed in that sweet little outfit that he’d give up anything to see on the floor of his bedroom.

he’s never seen you on campus. granted, he’s not usually the observant type, but for you? you have his undivided attention whether he likes it or not. he can’t help but watch you just sit. eyes wandering around the room like you’re not quite sure when or why you got here. 

you keep him on his toes for the better part of a month. showing up to his parties, sticking to the wall all night like you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself, turning his world upside down, and leaving right before he gets to say he’s had his fill of you for the night. 

he waits for the other shoe to drop. for your friends to drop by at the end of each night and whisk you out the door. maybe for your boyfriend to waltz out of the shadows and take you home if he’s really unlucky. but no one ever comes. week after week you sit there alone, and he watches you like he’s getting paid to do it. 

satoru wouldn’t say he starts toying with you after that. call it controlled research. an experiment conducted to try and get to know the inner workings of your little brain. he notices which songs you bop your head to, which ones get you to tap your foot on the carpet and mouth along to the lyrics. those get uploaded to a special playlist, queued and ready for when you walk through the door. he starts buying the mixers he knows you like, bubbly sodas and little bottles of fruit juice he stores in the mini fridge in his room, just in case the bottles downstairs run out. 

he gets reckless after the second week. starts showing off in the ways he knows best. push up contests with choso, doing chin ups in the doorway, conveniently forgetting to don a shirt after spilling beer down his neck, the whole nine yards. anything to get you to look.

and the worst part is? you do look. you lock eyes with him so frequently that he starts pregaming in his room before every party just to shake his nerves. fleeting, quick glances in his direction that make him feel hot all over and make him want to melt into the shaggy carpet in between shots. fast enough to look like an accident, but mysterious enough to make him question whether or not you’re doing it on purpose.

you’re an enigma. a paradox he can’t quite shake, and that’s exactly what he likes about you. why come to a frat party just to be a wallflower? why sit on the couch and watch the wax and wane of the crowd instead of joining the fun? the answer is something he hasn’t been able to figure out. but maybe, just maybe, you’d finally come out of your shell if he started a conversation with you.

satoru decides tonight is the night he’ll test that theory.

you’re in your usual spot tonight. smushed halfway between the arm of the dingy couch and a couple who looks like they’re trying to fuck through their clothes. you tap your fingers against the side of your cup to the beat of the speakers, not quite enjoying yourself but not hating the party enough to go home just yet.

someone comes up behind him then, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

“cute, right?” suguru asks, arms crossed over his chest. his best friend settles in next to him with a sleazy grin, gaze focussed suspiciously close to the couch.

satoru’s smile wavers a little as he re-registers what he just heard.

“which one?” he asks casually, scanning the room like he wasn’t just eye fucking you for the better part of half an hour. something heavy hangs in the air.

sugaru smiles wider, eyes narrowing in your direction. satoru frowns. 

“the one on the couch. left hand side.” he clarifies. something in satoru’s stomach sours, and it isn’t just the liquor he’s been nursing all night. 

“i don’t know, she looks kinda quiet.” he reasons, hoping that’ll somehow deter the other man from encroaching on his plans to woo you. suguru runs his tongue over his top lip in thought, giving you an up and down with a look that can only be described as hungry. 

“yeah, but you know what they say about the quiet ones.” his best friend laughs. suguru’s implication isn’t lost on him at all, in fact, it only makes him madder. you on the other hand look none the wiser, swirling whatever’s in the bottom of your cup with a thoughtful demeanor. god, what he wouldn’t do to whisk you off that couch and get you out of here. 

satoru doesn’t speak for a moment, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. between the way you look right now, and whatever suguru’s deal is, he’s not even sure he can form a coherent sentence right now. 

suguru must notice the look on his face, because he softens.

“oh shit, i didn’t…” he trails off, looking a little guilty now that satoru’s feelings are understood. he smiles, almost like he’s trying to hold in a laugh, and bumps satoru’s shoulder with his own.

“you’re on that?” the interest in suguru’s voice isn’t directed at you now. it’s playful, almost innocent in nature, like the two of them are back in middle school, sitting cross legged while they talk about which girls from class they’ve held hands with.

“not yet.” he huffs. some of the tightness in his chest has started to dissipate. he looks over at you longingly, stance wide. what would it take to make you smile? to see those pretty eyes light up just for him?

suguru bumps his shoulder again, harder this time. the look in his eyes tells satoru that what he’s about to suggest could either make or break the entire night.

“need a wingman? i could help you out.” he offers, inky black hair tipping into his eyes as he turns his gaze toward you again. 

satoru almost feels tempted to accept, but shakes his head, pressing the heels of his palms into  his eyes to try and soothe the pounding in his temples.

“i’m good.” he laughs softly. “i’ll talk to her later.”

suguru laughs, clapping the other man on the back with a smug smile before nodding in the direction of the couch. “c’mon, either talk to her or don’t.”

satoru’s feet haul him forward begrudgingly, dragging with every step. he suddenly feels a lot more aware of his hear in his chest, the way it vibrates against each of his ribs. 

you don’t notice him at first, too absorbed in the sea of bodies across the room for you to spot the two six-foot-something men standing in front of you. when you finally look up, it’s directly at him. something sweet in satoru's chest pangs.

“hi.” you mumble sweetly, giving them both a polite smile. there’s a familiarity in the way you say it, almost like the way you’d speak to an old friend.

cute.

you introduce yourself with an outstretched hand, looking up at him through your lashes, and it’s like the headache satoru’s been nursing all night just disappears. your hands are soft, fingers wrapped sweetly around his like you know what you want. suguru introduces himself with a curt wave, and the pleasantries drone on for another few minutes. 

“y’know, it’s cozier up on the deck if you’re interested.” suguru finally offers, nodding toward a stairwell nestled at the back of the house. you purse your lips in thought, taking a quick sip of your drink before nodding. you stand and turn to satoru, addressing him directly this time with a playful tilt in your voice.

“alright, lead the way.”

the rooftop ends up being a lot quieter than downstairs. satoru leads the three of you up the stairwell, past the second floor and through a door that looks like its seen better days. 

a couple partygoers sit in small groups, flanked by the smell of booze and weed. satoru finds the three of you a pile of blankets to sit on, cursing internally when you choose to sit a little closer to suguru. 

you look gorgeous like this, features illuminated by the street lights below and the glow of the string lights they’d tacked up here last spring. a couple of people he recognizes sit perched behind you around a table, shouting obscenities over a game of beer pong. some more sit idle in a circle of old lawn chairs, passing a bottle around with a flurry of laughter.

the three of you talk, and satoru thinks your voice might be his new favorite sound. you tell him about your major, your hometown, how much you like the music he plays. he tells you everything you want to know in return, blood pressure rising every time he thinks you might have scooted an inch closer to him when he wasn’t looking.

suguru talks to you too, albeit with lazy eyes and a smile that reads trouble. satoru tries not to read too much into it. tells himself that that’s just how his friend is, and that it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things as long as he’s sitting this close to you. you woo them both with your antics, cracking jokes that have their ribs splitting at the seams and their chests heaving for breath.

you’re a lot different than satoru thought you’d be. pretty, obviously, and outgoing when you want to be. suguru drifts off for a moment to grab the three of you a round of shots, and before long, you’re sitting with your head on satoru’s shoulders as the alcohol settles in, raving on and on about a class he’d recently found out the two of you had shared a few semesters ago. 

“is that not insane?” you giggle, waving your hands theatrically as you continue your ministrations. “if you’re going to track attendance at least have the balls to do it yourself. like why send the TA to do it for you?” 

satoru laughs, deep and airy in his chest as his head floats above the three of you. you’re so warm, bleeding heat into the side of his body like a little furnace, and if he’s being honest, the smell of your shampoo is all he can focus on right now. you’re just as captivating as he thought you’d be. quiet, but with a quick mouth and the stamina to keep up with him and his best friend’s jests like no other. 

the night drags on, and so does the party below.  eventually, suguru turns to address you, head cocked to the side with his eyes narrowed playfully. 

“so why show up to our parties alone every week? you bad at making friends?”

satoru feels your spine straighten against him, almost like you weren’t expecting a question of that caliber. you smile into his shoulder, caught red handed.

“i don’t know.” you answer softly. that shy side of you looks like its coming out again, like a turtle wanting to curl back into its shell. satoru waits for you to continue nosing at the crown of your head.

“i think maybe i was just waiting for the right people to come up to me?” you answer truthfully. suguru shoots him a look that screams “i told you so”, and all satoru can do is laugh, feeling grateful that his friend did right by him tonight. he brings his hand up to squeeze your waist and you nuzzle further into his side, stretching your legs out in front of you with a happy sigh.

except, suguru reaches forward then, guiding your legs into his own lap like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and satoru pauses, because what flares in his chest isn’t anger like he expected. it’s something sweet. 

he should be upset, right? ticked off like he was a couple hours ago when his self proclaimed “wingman” waltzed right up to you like it was nothing, all low eyes and sweet promises. his friend is still giving you that hungry look, brazenly rubbing the pad of his thumb over your bare ankle while your upper half melts into satoru’s side. he knows he should find it in himself to be jealous right now, but he just can’t because in all honesty… satoru finds this kind of hot. more than he ever thought possible.

you look irresistible like this, melting at the attention both of them are giving you. there’s not an ounce of apology in the way lets his fingers trail up your leg to massage the softness of your calf, and for a very brief moment, satoru pictures the three of you doing this more. lounging up on the roof with the cool autumn air blanketing you. you looking up at them both with those sweet eyes. holding your hips still while suguru slides in from—

“i think she likes that, gojo.” suguru purrs, testing the waters with a raised brow.  satoru snaps out of his trance immediately, flinching as the the dirty thought he’d been toying with slips free of his mind. he glances down briefly and realizes that the hand that’d been rubbing your side sits  a lot higher now, kneading the skin right under the swell of your breast.

you turn to him with your tongue pressed up against the inside of your cheek, silently begging him for more. suguru looks on with a look that screams “go on.”

fuck it, he’ll bite.

“yeah? you like that princess?” satoru asks quietly, feeling high on a mix of endorphins and pure need. suguru seems fired up to, judging by his groan of approval.

“maybe i do..” you admit softly, wrapping your fingers around satoru’s bicep. you turn your gaze back to suguru and relish in the sultry look he gives you. 

this. whatever this was could kill satoru. he’s never been this turned on in his life, feeding off of the attention you spread equally between the two of them. he didn’t even think this was an option before tonight, but judging by the look you and suguru give him, anything feels possible.

a swell of commotion suddenly rings out from the group behind you, breaking the seal spell around the three of you like a record scratch. he can’t quite see what’s going on, but judging by the clatter of glass against the ground and the chorus of “ooohs” and jeers that follow suit, he’s pretty sure he’s witnessing a good ol’ game of spin the bottle. his hand doesn’t leave your side, rubbing slow circles as the fire in his chest burns bright.

suguru must come to a similar conclusion and decide he’s all in, because he’s waggling his eyebrows at the both of you before standing to his full height, walking toward the circle with zero hesitation. 

“is he serious?” you turn to look up at satoru, eyes glossed over in mischief. 

“oh, he loves this stuff.” satoru chuckles, nosing at the side of your neck softly. you ponder his worder for a moment before turning back to him playfully.

“i’ll join if you join.” you nod toward suguru as if to ask satoru for permission, and something inside him flares at the idea. who is he to say no to you?

he takes you by the hand, helping you up and off the pile of blankets before joining the circle. suguru pats the ground next to him as soon as you come into view, scooting over to let the both of you settle down with satoru in the middle.. 

you look… nervous? excited? he’s not really sure. the three of you sit idle as a girl gears up for a turn. the bottle completes a few shaky turns before it stops, landing on another girl to the left. 

satoru’s own mixed feelings about the game start to surface once his rose tinted glasses fade and he realize there’s a very large chance you could end up kissing someone that’s not him or suguru. not that he’d be into seeing you kiss suguru. actually, no. the thought of watching you kiss suguru doesn’t actually sound that terrible. this whole night will probably end up being a lot to unpack.

more people spin, and more kisses ensue. another pair of girls share a short peck followed by laughter, some guy spins and ends up kissing a girl that is clearly not his girlfriend, judging from her shrill protests, and few more people pass. eventually, the bottle makes it’s way to suguru, and he laughs, deep in his chest the way he does when he’s about to get into trouble.

satoru watches as his best friend holds the bottle out toward you, its foggy neck dangling right at you like an invitation. you accept it, setting every nerve in his body on fire in the process, and place it down on the ground in front of you. 

he watches the glass vessel spin, tracing an arc around itself as gravity takes over, pulling it to an eventual halt. and in the spirit of weird luck, it finally stops. right in between him and suguru.

the crowd erupts instantly. 

“spin again!”

“that one doesn’t count!”

“i think it’s closer to the white haired one?” hearing that makes satoru’s mouth water.

he looks to you to try and get a gauge on what your thinking, feeling pleasantly surprised to see the equally conflicted look on your face. he turns to suguru then with a laugh, eyebrows raised as if to ask “what now?”

suguru snickers, shrugging his shoulders. the three of you marinate in the sheer hilarity of the situation before a voice across the circle cuts through the chatter.

“kiss them both!”

a few people nod in agreeance, mumbling amongst themselves like a choir of judges. satoru can’t help but heat up at the thought.

“sure, yeah, why not?” he offers, looking to you for your input. you lay your cheek on his shoulder and smile, beckoning a very enthusiastic suguru closer with two fingers.

you adjust back onto your haunches, looking a little smaller with both men now flanking you. you lean toward satoru first, much to his approval, sealing your lips over his in a fiery act of passion that makes his blood run hot.

you taste delicious. like grenadine and something carbonated. the smell of your shampoo overwhelms every one of his senses, and before long, he’s got two hands on your waist, squeezing the softness there like it’s the last time he’ll ever touch you. 

you whine into the kiss, and that for sure got him hard judging by the throb in between his legs. satoru parts his lips just enough to flit his tongue over your bottom lip, tasting the sweet skin there before the two of you finally part.

the circle erupts with cheers, praises and dirty jokes bouncing around the roof like a pinball machine. between the tent threatening to pitch in his jeans, and the mess of white hair sticking to his forehead, satoru feels like he’s going to explode. you don’t look any better, face flushed with a mix of need and embarrassment, and your bottom lip pinched between your teeth. you give him smile and a small peck on the cheek before turning to suguru, nodding when he asks for permission to kiss you.

suguru’s kiss is a lot different. it’s pure lust, marked by a mess of tongue and two hands dangerously close to your ass. you arch as soon as he makes contact, and satoru groans under his breath because it just about feels like the hottest thing he’s ever seen. you part a lot faster than you did with him, shoving suguru with a grumble about “too much tongue” and the crowd seems to love it, cheering the both of them on just as they did you and satoru.

“now kiss em’ at the same time!” a girl yells, eliciting a laugh from the rest of the circle. satoru reclines with a huff, glancing over to try and get a read on you. you and suguru however, are sharing that look again, and the implications make his brain short circuit.

you take both of their arms, pulling them a little closer to you, and the commotion that elicits from the rest of the rooftop is loud enough to make suguru flinch. satoru’s brain immediately jump to some of the filthiest thoughts he’s had all night, hand enclosing around your waist to steady himself. 

suguru follows suit with a hand on your hip glancing over at satoru with a filthy look in his eye. 

“you ever do something like this?” he teases.

“fuck no.” satoru laughs. he groans when he feels your fingers thread into his hair, bringing the other up to do the same to his friend.

“first time for everything.” you reason, pulling the both of them closer until your lips meet theirs clumsily.

satoru shouldn’t take this seriously, should maybe pull away and not give into the ache at the apex of his jeans, but why would he when this is arguably the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him? he smiles against your mouth, feeling suguru’s lips seal right next to his. you part your mouth just the slightest bit to let your tongue flit out, and that must drive suguru crazy because the noise he makes is absolutely filthy.

it’s so good. everything feels so fucking good right now, and satoru doesn’t even care if there’s people watching. suguru places a warm hand on his shoulder to stabilize the both of them and soon enough, the noise on the roof has gotten so loud that his ears ring. your mouths move in synchrony in a messy, brazen show of affection. satoru is enjoying it so much that after a moment or two, he doesn’t know who’s mouth is who’s  or whose tongue is flitting against his bottom lip. all he knows is that he’s rock hard in his jeans, and this very well may be the best night of his life.

you’re the first to part from the kiss, much to his and suguru’s dismay. the air encompassing the three of you feels like it’s boiling. you’re a flushing mess, suguru’s pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the sclera, and satoru feels ten times more tipsy than he was before this whole game started.

he’s the first to break the silence between the three of you, ignoring the jests and pleads for more from the small crowd around the three of you. 

“we should head downstairs.” you and suguru nod in curt synchrony, and the three of you stand to leave, snickering at the wave of disappointment that seems to set off. suguru waves a grand goodbye to the people of the rooftop before slinking down the stairwell after you and satoru.

“holy shit, what just happened?” he whispers, eyebrows raised so high they’re practically touching his hairline. satoru only grins, wiping a hand over his face like he can’t believe half of what’s gone down tonight. the pair bump fists before catching up with you.

the air is cooler down here despite the increase in noise. you lead the both of them down a few steps before pausing in front of the step-off to the second floor, a knowing smile gracing your face. 

“are these the bedrooms?” you ask softly. there’s that shy side of you again. 

“mmhm, this is all of em.” satoru grins, coming up behind you to slink an arm around your waist. suguru trail a bit to the side, hands clasped behind his back as he watches on.

“where’s yours?” you ask, swinging your arms back and forth like you didn’t just ask to take this whole ordeal to the bedroom. 

“what do you say? you wanna show her?” his best friend asks, something filthy lacing all four of those words. what suguru’s implying isn’t lost on the three of you in the slightest. 

“last door on the right. wanna see, princess?” satoru asks, looking down at you with a sly grin. you nod at the suggestion, giving them both a look so needy that both men groan under their breath. 

you’re the first of the trio to move, slinking in through a door with careful grace. the two men follow suit, and soon enough, suguru has you crowded against the door while he mouths at your neck. 

you’re insatiable, squeezing your thighs together under the dim light while his best friend paws at your hips. the two of you move together in a way that makes satoru’s head spin, sending what little blood remains in his brain straight between his legs.

“c’mere.” you mumble, reaching a hand out to him. you manage to get a grip on his shirt, pulling him in until he’s close enough to slot your mouth together. suguru groans in approval, stepping away to strip his upper half down.

you go so well with the both of them it hurts. pulling both men deeper and deeper into the warm waters of your body with your little siren call. satoru swears he can smell suguru’s cologne sticking to your clothes and the thought alone makes the white haired man want to never let go of you.

it’s the fact that you want both of him, he realizes. that you trust both men enough to let them touch and tease you like this. the fact that you’re willing to give them equal cuts of your attention without compromise, letting the three of you steep in your shared pleasure.

you wrap your arms around satoru’s neck, letting him carry you to the mattress. the white haired man drops you against the sheets with careful precision, slotting his body between your open legs to grind your clothed centers together.

“fuck, that’s hot.” suguru sighs, letting his shirt hit the floor. he takes a moment to just watch the two of you. how satoru rolls his hips down against yours, how our fingers entangle themselves in his snowy locks, pulling tight every time his hard cock ruts against your clit.

“oh god.” he grits, lacking the brain capacity to do anything but feel good in the moment. this was really happening. this. a full blow threesome. right in his room while the droves of partygoers downstairs are none the wiser. satoru’s never done something like this before, and despite his best friend’s confident demeanor, he’s willing to bet suguru hasn’t either, but that doesn’t stop him for a second.

you break away from the kiss only for a moment and guide both men’s hands to the hem of your shirt, letting them pull it up and off of your body together. slowly, inch by inch of skin is revealed like they’re unwrapping gift.

“you ever fuck two best friends, baby?” suguru whispers, palming at the curve of your breast through your bra. you shake your head no with a laugh, sighing as he reaches behind to unclip the garment and ease it off of you.

“well, like you said, first time for everything.” satoru jokes, and the laugh that elicits from you is music to his ears. the darker haired of the two men chuckles at the little quip too.

suguru leans down for a brief moment to take the bud of your nipple between his lips, sucking softly. the stimulation draws the sweetest noise out of you, spurring the two men on. satoru moves the both of you further to the side, and soon enough, there’s just enough room on the mattress to house the three of you comfortably.

“get her bottoms off.” suguru mumbles, trailing his tongue over each of your breasts. you arch into the man’s touch, letting your fingers brush away some of the hair that’s fallen in front of his eyes. 

satoru slinks down the length of the mattress to undress you, running the pad of his thumb against your clit through your drenched panties.

“who’s this for? hm?” he questions playfully. 

“you.” there’s not an ounce of hesitance in your tone when you say it, and satoru would be lying if he said that didn’t make him ten times harder.

“aww, just him?” suguru asks, licking a soft stripe over your nipple.

“both–ah–both of you.” you whimper, shying away once satoru pushes your panties to the side and finally runs his bare finger through your soaked folds. 

he whistles, low and drawn out. 

“fuck, come feel this.” he grits out, bringing his soaked digits up as a testament to how wet you are. suguru parts from your breasts slowly, and surprises the both of you when he dips his head down, sucking satoru’s fingers clean of your slick.

“knew she’d taste sweet.” he breaths. satoru brings his fingers to try for himself almost intrinsically, tasting what’s left of you with a groan. 

if your eyes weren’t blown wide before, they definitely are now. something about the sight of them together must turn you on the same way seeing you with either of them turns the other on. 

suguru makes a beeline for the space between your legs and gets straight to work, licking a fat stripe up the length of your pussy without hesitation. the stimulation send jitters through your core right up to your chest, drawing a water groan from your lips. 

satoru’s a goner as soon as he hears you, diving forward to claim your lips for his own. everything’s too much and not enough at the same time. your touch, your taste, the way you moan while suguru settles between your legs to let his tongue go to work. he could die happy like this, tangled in the sheets with the hottest, funniest girl he’s ever met and his best friend while the party rages on below the three of you. you snake your hand down to undo the button of his jeans, rucking the zipper down impatiently until you’re able to palm him through the thin fabric of his briefs. 

“fuck, that’s good.” he praises. the relief your hand gives him is nearly instantaneous. satoru can’t rid himself of his bottom layers fast enough, kicking the fabric off and onto the floor. 

you gasp when his cock slaps against his stomach, taken aback by the sheer size of him. satoru’s eyes hold your own as you look up at him cautiously, breathing heavy through your nose at the thought of taking him.

“you can take it, angel.” he reassures. he brings his thumb up to stroke the apple of your cheek gently. you take to his reassurance beautifully and nod, nuzzling into his hand with a dreamy hum.

he feeds you his cock once he’s able to discern a good angle for it, hand braced against the wall while you swallow his length down. 

it’s messy at first. you’re a little uncoordinated on account of the size of satoru’s cock, and the unrelenting feeling of suguru’s tongue on your clit. satoru does his best to let you adjust to the pace, reeling his hips back softly before pushing his dick back into the warm cavern of your mouth.

he doesn’t have half a mind to feel embarrassed right now, and suguru must be riding that same wavelength because he’s fully honed in on making you feel good with his mouth, slipping two digits into your wet core while his lips close around your little bud. 

the three of you continue like that for a bit, the sounds of your shared pleasure punctuating the silence. satoru loses himself in the push and pull of your tongue. you slink off of him with a pop to flatten the muscle against the underside of him and lick up to his tip, and that sends him a little too close to the edge for comfort. he reels his hips back a little and fastens his hand around the base of himself, not wanting to finish just yet.

“shit, you’re too good at that.” he breaths, chest heaving with exertion. suguru chuckles under his breath at you both before speaking up.

“come here, help me out.” he commands, snaking his hands under the back of each of your knees to push your legs closer to your chest.

satoru circles the mattress to join his friend at the foot of the bed, seemingly confused. he gets a better picture of what suguru means when the dark haired man scoots over, letting one of your legs drop against the sheets.

“whatd’ya say. you wanna make her feel good?” he purrs, scooting to the side to give satoru a better view at the way his tongue laves over your clit.

satoru would love nothing more. 

the space between your legs is a sopping wet disaster, messy with your slick and suguru’s spit. the wet spot underneath you ass is too big to not have soaked into the mattress by now, nevermind the sheets. your clit is so swollen that satoru’s dick jumps in his hand at the sight of it. all perked up and shiny, peeking out of its hood after being played with for so long. 

“fuck it, yeah. let’s do it.” satoru laughs, holding his hand out low for his friend to slap it triumphantly in a boyish show of solidarity.

you scoff at their antics, hiding behind the crook of your arm. both men waste no time bringing their lips to your center.

satoru claims your clit first, kissing softly over the tiny nub just to hear you whimper. his best friend licks his fingers clean before bringing them back down to your hole, pressing up against that initial barrier of resistance before the two of them are rewarded with a soft squelch as the digits enter you.

the two men work in perfect tandem, toying with the most sensitive parts of your body like it’s practically second nature. in away, satoru supposes it very well could become second nature if you’d let them. if you’d only say “fuck it” and let yourself be their altar. 

you arch up off of the mattress as they continue, mumbling obscenities under your breath as your orgasm reels closer and closer. eventually, suguru fastens his hand to the back of satoru’s head and guides the both of them up toward your clit, tongues laving up against your special spot like there’s not tomorrow.

the move in unison, practically making out on top of your pussy while you moan and beg like your life depends on it. you end up peeking at the two of them for a brief moment, and that proves to be detrimental, because the sight before you sends you right over the edge into a ground shattering orgasm.

the two men coax you down from the clouds with tentative kisses pressed anywhere they can reach. the inside of your thighs, your ankle, the softness of your lower tummy. you’re able to sit up after the last of your high has melted, and satoru thinks the look on your face is to die for. 

“yeah? feeling good?” he asks, nipping at the inside of your thigh for good measure. you squeal at the contact, getting a laugh out of the both of them. 

“can you…” you start, voice trailing off as a flash trails over your chest and cheeks.

“what, baby?” suguru urges, interlocking his fingers with your own. he rises to kiss a path from your thighs to your neck, nosing at the sensitive skin there. 

“can we keep going?” you mumble, clearly a bit embarrassed. 

“already?” suguru hums. 

you nod, laying back against the sheets to part our legs for the both of them. satoru swears loud enough to startle you, already spitting in his hand to stroke himself from base to tip. 

“your move, gojo.” suguru commands, circling the mattress to snake his hands under your shoulders. satoru watches on as his best friend readjusts you, turning your body until your head hangs off the mattress and your lower half faces the wall. your hands come up around the backs of his thighs to brace yourself. 

his best friend wastes no time feeding you the head of his cock, watching it breach past the lining of your mouth until a smooth bulge appears in your throat. he looks down at you through hooded eyes, hair pooling at his shoulders as you sputter and gag around his hulking length.

“you gonna fuck her or what?” suguru asks, running his warm palm over your throat to soothe the stretch there. he doesn’t even look away when he says it, too enthralled with the way you hollow your cheeks around the girth of him.. 

satoru moves almost on instinct, clambering onto the bed to sort himself into the gap between your body and the wall. you moan softly and part your legs in invitation.

“holy shit.” he whispers, taking a moment to run his thumb through the mess leaking from your pussy. purple lovebites line the inside of your thighs like confetti, they must’ve gotten too carried away in the throes of eating you out. 

you whine then, something halfway between his name and the word “please.” satoru decides right then and there that he’ll give you anything you want as long as you keep making noises like that.

“what, this? you want this?” he asks, slapping the tip of himself against your sensitive clit. you jolt at the stimulation and do your best to nod, groaning as suguru thrusts in and out of your drooling mouth.

“cmon’ she’s dying for it.” the other man grits, burying himself to the hilt of your throat with a shaky moan. you whimper softly in agreeance. 

satoru wastes no time lining up with your sticky core, pushing past that ring of resistance and sliding home in one fell motion.

“big stretch, princess. hold on.” he grits, clawing at the last of his sanity as your cunt spasms around him beautifully. you whine around suguru’s length again, higher this time, chest heaving in and out from the feeling of being used at both ends. 

satoru waits for you to adjust, hunched over your sweaty form with a forearm on either side of you to support his shaky body. he knows your ready the moment you draw your hips up and down on his length, trying to chase the feeling of your orgasm. 

“patience.” suguru mumbles, patting your cheek sweetly. you moan in return, stilling your body the best you can. 

you’re so beautiful like this, and both men make sure you know it. you try your hardest to adjust to the stretch between your legs, doing your best to obey them both even though your limbs feel like jelly and you’re not sure which way is up or down. 

satoru finally thrusts into you, and the three of you moan in absolute, indescribable bliss. 

you’re unbelievably tight. so tight he thinks he might cum soon if he’s not careful. every thrust of his sends a chain reaction down the line and back, pressing up against that hard-to-find spot inside of you and pressing you further across the bed and onto suguru’s cock at the same time.

he’s so focused on fucking you that he doesn’t even notice the hand in front of his face until suguru snaps his fingers, holding out two digits for the other man to suck on. 

satoru knows exactly what to do, wetting his best friend’s fingers with his tongue while the two of you maintain a heated look. once suguru’s satisfied, he brings them down to your clit to rub tiny circles into the bud.

that drives you wild, sending you over the edge so fast that both of them choke. 

“holy shit.” suguru hisses, watching your cunt milks satoru for all he’s worth. all the white haired man can do is brace an arm on the wall behind him, head thrown back as he’s taken along through every wave and crest of your orgasm.

“oh my god–fuck!–oh god.” he groans. 

suguru is the next to hit the edge, spewing expletives before withdrawing from your throat with a wet pop. you try to catch your breath as he motions for satoru to flip you onto your stomach, whining as the other man pulls out of you briefly.

“hold her hair. fuck, there we go.” suguru groans in approval as satoru gathers your locks out of your face. he fists his cock with a noise so desperate it almost sounds like a sob. 

“open up–fuck–oh my god.” he moans. creamy white ropes of cum splash against your cheeks and lips, decorating your features like a painting. 

satoru can only watch in awe, cock dripping pre against your upper thigh where his still-hard dick rests. he has to physically stop himself from groaning when you lean in on all fours to clean suguru up, suckling at his swollen tip to swallow the last of his load down.

“good girl, holy shit.” suguru huffs, legs a little wobbly from the force of his orgasm. he takes your messy face in his hands then, spooning the rest of his cum into your mouth with careful precision. 

“gonna give her a load too, satoru?” he asks, eyes locked in on the way you suckle the pad of his cum-soaked thumb.

satoru releases a heavy breath with a nod,, still watching suguru clean you up.

your upper half settles down into the sheets almost on queue, painted face turning to

and all satoru can do is whimper because every single millisecond of tonight is going in his spank bank for the rest of conceivable time. 

you turn to him then, ass up and a sly little grin on your face.

“cmon.” you whine, wiggling your ass as if to punctuate your begging. “please?”

“fuck. inside?” satoru huffs, more surprised of your seemingly endless stamina than the request itself. he takes himself in his hand and lets the tip sink in between your folds. his eyes never leave yours, waiting for a sign of approval.

you nod with a moan, shifting your hips back to take the rest of his dick all the way. 

“holy shit.” suguru grumbles fondly, already half hard again just from watching the two of you.

if satoru wasn’t fucking you right before, he definitely is now, thrusting down against that spongey spot inside of you with a feral look in his eyes. his hands cling harder to the meat of your hip with every passing second. your turn your head back and look directly into his eyes, and the act is so intimate satoru feels his dick jump inside of you. 

you’re loud enough to rival the noise of the party downstairs, whining and writhing and sobbing as he takes you apart and puts you back together again all at the same time. your hand lies firmly between your legs, right above where your two centers meet to stroke the swell of your lcit. suguru watches on in awe, fucking his own fist with his teet digging into his bottom lip.

satoru’s orgasm hits him from every angle all at once. he stills first, feeling a wave of pleasure seize at every muscle in his body. then, all that pleasure comes to a rolling release right between your legs. 

he cums so long it feels like an eternity, emptying his balls into your soaking wet heat while his eyes struggle to stay open. you reach your own high almost directly after his, cumming on his dick for the second time that night with a scream of both their names into the sheets. 

it takes a while for the two of you to come back down to earth. you stay wrapped up in each other. satoru slumped over you, your laid under him with his dick still inside of you. suguru must’ve climbed onto the mattress a bit ago to play with your hair, mumbling praises to you softly while his you and his best friend recover.

“i can’t feel my hands.” satoru mumbles exhaustedly. that draws a laugh out of all three of you.

“yeah? that good?” suguru teases, still toying with you from his spot a little ways up the mattress. 

satoru finally musters up the strength to pull out of you after a few deep breaths, groaning at the wave of cum that seeps out of your pussy and onto the mattress.

suguru is the first to part from the trio with a kiss to your hairline. he dips into the bathroom before returning with a handful of bath towels, tossing them at the pair of you.

“you’re lucky i don’t fill that pretty mouth again.” he groans. “gotta bounce if i’m gonna make it to class tomorrow.” he tousles your hair one last time before beginning the search for his boxers amongst the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. 

“you okay? need water?” satoru asks, nodding when you decline his offer.

“stay a little longer, suguru.” you whisper, reaching a shaky hand out to try and grab at him playfully. satoru rubs circles into your back gently, reaching for one of the towels to start wiping off the parts of you that he can reach.

satoru hums in agreeance, still reeling from his orgasm. suguru sighs fondly, glancing back at the door before dropping his things on the floor again and climbing into bed behind you.

“can’t have just one, hm? always need the both of us.” he sighs. it’s a tight fit with the all of you pressed against each other like this. limbs against limbs, chests beating against chests. the air around you starts to heat with your combined body heat, lulling the three of you into a sex-drunk haze.

“what’s wrong with wanting both?” you giggle. and satoru laughs too, because it truly is that simple. 

“yeah, let her have both of us.” satoru mumbles into your neck. 

suguru hums thoughtfully, tracing circles into your naked thigh with his thumb. something sweet blankets the three of you then, like a promise looming in the horizon. would it really be that crazy to do this again? the three of you, working together with the shared goal of making each other feel good?

“fuck it, you’ll have us then.” he agrees, settling the arrangement in stone with careful finality. 

“same time next week then?” you joke, squealing as the both of them pepper you in kisses.

───────────────

katsuki's always had this knack — a silent understanding of the way your brain works. your quietness was never something he pushed against, only something he wished to ease.

even as his thumb drags slowly over your cheeks, you know he's only trying to steady you.

you whisper a small breath of his name, circling your hands around his wrists as your foreheads press together — that's all it takes.

and maybe, that's when something in you finally gives — when all that hesitation breaks the moment his eyes stare patiently into yours, and why you're the one pressing your lips together before you can even think twice.

he tastes like caramel, a warmth that settles onto your tongue slowly, like the sunlight peeking through an open window. 

surprisingly tense under your touch, his hands pause against your back — his mind insistent on following your guidance. 

he presses his lips gently against yours, slow and tentative, like if he rushes this moment it may end too soon. groaning breathlessly into your mouth when your hands card through his hair, and give the strands a gentle tug before they're back on his face.

it's not long before your confidence wavers, his muscles tightening subtly underneath your palms as you pull your lips away, breathlessly.

katsuki's cheeks are red, hair stuck to his forehead and a faint shine coating his chest. his lips are flushed a bright pink, spit-soaked — breathing unsteadily as he looks at you like he's trying to figure out what you're thinking.

"again," you murmur, chest heaving against his, "please?"

a toothy grin spreads across his face when your eyes dart over his features — as if they're in search of something — some kind of reassurance.

which katsuki is glad to give when he presses a teasing peck to your cheek, adjusting himself underneath you so your body's pulled even closer and whispering, "you drive me crazy, you know that?"

you can't help but smile.

lips skimming his for the last time tonight — this time with no intentions of pulling away. guiding his hands to your lower back as you press into his palms. 

your hips move against his thigh at a steady pace, soft sounds of your lips meeting blending with the hum of the AC.

"katsuki?" 

there's an annoyed sigh that tumbles from his mouth when your lips detach, "hm?"

"my bra . . . take it off"

© — tokkushin : all rights reserved. all works belong to me .ᐟ pls do not repost/copy, or feed into ai.

a/n: kali loves intimacy! i like writing this more than smut let's be so fr. i tagged it as smut cuz i don't want people yelling at me so just to be safe! -> masterlist. | comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! 💋