mina

you'd gone on the date anyway.

the guy's eyebrows had been perfectly normal, and his laugh had been genuinely nice, but satoru's comment had stuck in your head the whole time, making you hyperaware of things you never would have noticed otherwise.

that was his gift, or his curse, you hadn't decided yet.

since then, there had been others;

a very sweet and cute guy from your economics discussion group who satoru had dismissed as "way too short for you" (he’d been five eleven). a sweet philosophy major who satoru had claimed "smelled like soup" (he hadn't). a theater student who satoru had said was "obviously using you to get over his ex" (that one had actually been true, and you'd hated admitting satoru was right).

each time, satoru had been there, lounging in your space like he belonged there, making comments that ranged from mildly annoying to borderline cruel. and each time, you'd rolled your eyes and gone on the date anyway, because that was just how satoru was; opinionated, dramatic, a little bit of an asshole.

but satoru was also the one who showed up at your door at 2am with takeout when you failed a midterm.

the one who let you cry on his shoulder after the theater student broke your heart, the one who remembered how you took your coffee and which side of the bed you slept on and the name of your childhood stuffed animal.

so you let the comments slide, mostly.

but this time was different.

this time, his name was jaehyun, and you'd met him at a house party two weeks ago — the guy was in grad school for architecture, had kind eyes and a quiet laugh, and when he'd asked you out for coffee, you'd felt that little flutter in your chest that you'd almost forgotten existed.

you'd mentioned him to satoru casually, the way you always did, expecting the usual eyeroll and some stupid comment about jaehyun's haircut or his shoes.

what you got was something else entirely.

"jaehyun?" satoru had repeated, his voice doing something very strange — going flat in a way it never did. "what kind of name is jaehyun?"

"a perfectly normal one," you'd said, not looking up from your phone. "he's in grad school. architecture. really sweet."

"architecture," he had echoed, like you'd said jaehyun collected human teeth. "so he draws buildings. cool. very exciting."

you'd glanced up then, frowning.

satoru was sitting across from you at the campus coffee shop, his long legs stretched out under the table, one of his legs pressed against yours in that way he always did — like he needed to be touching you to exist properly. his sunglasses were pushed up into his white hair, and his expression was carefully, almost aggressively, neutral.

"what's your problem?" you'd asked.

"nothing," he'd said, too fast. "no problem. i'm thrilled for you. jaehyun the architect. hope he designs you a very nice house."

you'd stared at satoru for a very long moment, waiting for the usual punchline. but he'd just smiled — that big, fake, toothy smile that meant he was annoyed about something and pretending he wasn't at all.

you'd let it go. you were used to satoru being weird.

but over the next week, his weirdness escalated into something you couldn't ignore.

it started small; satoru started showing up at your apartment unannounced, which wasn't new — he'd always done that, letting himself in with the key you'd given him after he'd climbed your fire escape twice in one week. but before, he'd text first, or at least announce his presence with a dramatic "honey, i'm home!" as he walked through the door.

now, he just appeared.

you'd be doing dishes, and suddenly there he was, leaning against your doorframe like he'd been there the whole time. you'd be studying at your desk, and satoru’s chin would appear over your shoulder, his chest warm against your back, asking what you were doing in a voice that was way too low for the question he was asking.

and god, the touching.

satoru had always been touchy. you'd known that about him from the beginning — the way he'd sling an arm over your shoulders, rest his hand on your lower back when you walked through crowds, drape his legs over yours when you sat together on the couch.

he was a physical person, and you'd never minded, because it was just satoru.

but this was very different.

now, satoru’s hand found the small of your back every time you stood next to him. his fingers brushed your wrist when you handed him something. when you sat on the couch together, he pulled you against his side like you might float away if he didn't hold you down, his arm tight around your waist, his thumb tracing circles against your hip.

and it was always casual, always easy, like he wasn't even aware he was doing it.

but you were aware.

painfully aware, every time his thigh pressed against yours, every time his breath ghosted across your neck when he leaned in to look at your phone, every time his fingers lingered on your skin a second longer than they needed to.

you didn't say anything. because what would you even say? 'hey, why are you touching me so much?' that sounded crazy. he was your best friend, and best friends touched.

but then came the comments…

"so when am i meeting jaehyun?" satoru asked one afternoon, sprawled across your bed while you got ready to go out.

you weren't even going out with jaehyun — you were simply going to a study group — but satoru had shown up forty minutes ago and hadn't left.

"you're not," you said, digging through your closet for a hoodie. "we've been on two coffee dates. it's not serious."

"but it could be," satoru said.

it was not a question, and his blue eyes tracked you across the room, and you felt them like a physical weight.

"maybe," you said, because you didn't know yet.

jaehyun was nice. jaehyun was safe. but jaehyun didn't make your heart race in that annoying, confusing way that made you want to scream.

satoru made a sound in the back of his throat, something low and very dissatisfied.

"jaehyun wears new balance sneakers," satoru said, like he was delivering a closing argument. "new balance! do you really want to be seen with a man who wears new balance?"

you turned to look at him.

"you're wearing crocs right now."

"crocs are ironic," satoru said, completely serious. "new balance is a cry for help."

you threw a pillow at him. he caught it without looking, grinning, and you tried to ignore how your stomach flipped.

the worst night, the night everything broke, started like this;

you had a date, a real one.

jaehyun had texted you earlier in the week asking if you wanted to go to that new ramen place downtown, the one with the hour-long wait and the broth people wrote blog posts about. you'd said yes, because you'd been wanting to go, and because jaehyun's texts made you smile, and because you were trying very hard to be normal about all of this.

you hadn't told satoru.

not because you were hiding it, exactly, but because you knew damn well — you knew — what would happen if you did; the comments, the touching, the way he'd look at you with those too-blue eyes like he was trying to communicate something you didn't have the vocabulary to understand.

so you kept it to yourself.

you got dressed in your room, you picked out a black dress that made you feel so pretty, you did your makeup carefully in the bathroom mirror. your hair fell prettily in waves around your shoulders, and you added a necklace — something delicate, something that caught the light.

you casually were just reaching for your black coat when the front door opened.

"satoru," you said, and your voice came out strangled.

your best friend stood in your doorway, and for a moment, neither of you moved. his eyes swept over you — the dress, the makeup, the necklace — and something flickered across his face; something fast and dark that he smoothed over before you could fully read it.

"going somewhere?" satoru asked, and his voice was light, but his jaw was tight.

you should have lied. you should have said study group, or grocery shopping, or literally anything else, but you'd never lied to satoru before, not about anything that mattered, and you didn't know how to start now.

"i have a date," you said. "with jaehyun."

the silence that followed was deafening.

satoru didn't move; he simply stood there, one hand still on the doorknob, his body blocking the doorway like he could physically prevent you from leaving. his white hair was slightly messy, like he'd been running his hands through it, and he was wearing that black sweater you liked — the one that made his shoulders look impossibly broad.

"jaehyun," he repeated flatly.

"yes," you said, and your voice came out smaller than you intended. "jaehyun. the architect. the one i told you about."

"i know who jaehyun is," satoru said.

he completely stepped into the apartment, finally, and pushed the door closed behind him. the click of the lock was weirdly loud in the quiet room.

"i just thought you would have better taste."

the casual cruelty of it stung.

you felt it in your chest, sharp and hot, and suddenly you were so tired — tired of the comments, tired of the games, tired of the way satoru touched you and looked at you and made you feel like you were constantly missing something obvious.

"what is your problem, satoru?" you asked, and your voice cracked in the middle.

satoru blinked. "what?"

"you heard me."

you turned to face him fully, your coat completely forgotten on the couch. your hands were shaking, so you curled them into fists at your sides.

"every single time i mention someone, you have something to say. their eyebrows are wrong, they're too short, they smell like soup—"

"the soup thing was valid—"

"it wasn't!" you shouted, and satoru's mouth snapped shut. "it wasn't, satoru. and now it's jaehyun, and you won't even give him a chance. you show up at my apartment without warning, you won't stop touching me, you look at me like—"

you stopped, breathless, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat.

satoru was watching you with an expression you'd never seen before. his usual mask — the arrogant smirk, the lazy confidence, the annoying playfulness — had slipped away entirely. underneath was something raw. something hungry.

"like what?" satoru asked, and his voice was low. rough. "like what, sweetheart?"

you shook your head, stepping back, and your legs hit the edge of the couch.

"this isn't fair. you can't just—you don't get to act like this every time i try to move on. you don't get to be jealous when you're the one who—"

"jealous?" satoru laughed, but there was no humor in it. "you think i'm jealous?"

"i know you are," you said. "everyone can see it, satoru. suguru sees it. shoko sees it. i'm pretty sure my neighbor across the hall sees it, and she's half-blind."

satoru's jaw tightened.

he took a step toward you, then another, until he was close enough that you could smell his cologne — something clean and warm, like cedar and vanilla. his hand came up, and you flinched, but he just tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, his long fingers trailing down the side of your neck.

"and what if i am?" he murmured. "jealous. what if i can't stand the thought of you going out with him tonight? what if i've been going crazy for weeks, watching you text him, hearing you say his name—"

"then you should have said something," you whispered, and your voice broke on the last word.

satoru's hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face up so you had to look at him. his eyes were almost desperate, searching your face like he was looking for something he needed to survive.

"i'm saying something now," he said. "i can't watch you with anyone else. i can't do it. i've tried—god, i've tried—but every time you smile at someone who isn't me, i want to tear something apart."

your breath caught. "satoru—"

"so if you're gonna be with someone," he continued, his thumb brushing across your lower lip. "it's gonna be me."

the words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric.

you could feel the heat of satoru’s body through your dress, could see the way his chest rose and fell with each uneven breath. his hand was still on your jaw, gentle but firm, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go.

"what about jaehyun?" you asked, and it came out breathless.

satoru's eyes darkened. "fuck jaehyun."

and just like that, he kissed you.

it wasn't a soft or gentle kiss, no, it was so desperate and hungry and a little bit angry, like satoru had been holding this back for long years and the dam had finally broken.

satoru’s mouth moved against yours like he was trying to prove something, his hand sliding into your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss you deeper.

you made a little sound — something between a gasp and a moan — and satoru swallowed it. his other hand found your waist, pulling you against him until there was no space left between your bodies; he was warm and solid and everywhere, and your brain had stopped working entirely.

when he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard. satoru’s lips were swollen, his eyes dark, and there was a flush creeping up his neck that you'd never seen before.

"tell me you don't want this," he said, his voice rough. "tell me to stop, and i will. but if you don't—"

you kissed him again, because you couldn't not. because six long years of insane tension and longing and denial had been building to this moment, and now that it was here, you couldn't imagine doing anything else.

satoru groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. he walked you backward until your legs hit the couch, and then he was lowering you onto the cushions, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the fabric.

"god, i've wanted this for so long," he murmured against your neck, his lips brushing your pulse point. "so fucking long. you have no idea."

"then show me," you said, and you felt him shudder.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes roaming over your face like he was memorizing it.

"when i'm done with you," satoru said, and his voice was low and dark and full of promise. "you're not gonna remember jaehyun's name."

and then he kissed you again, and you stopped thinking about jaehyun entirely.

satoru's mouth was hot and insistent, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl inside your boots. he kissed like he did everything else — like he was competing for something, like he needed to win. but there was desperation underneath it, a trembling kind of hunger that made his hands shake slightly where they gripped your hips.

you kissed him back just as hard, your fingers tangling in his soft white hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

satoru made a sound — something low and wrecked — and his hips pressed into yours instinctively; you could feel him already, hard against your thigh through his jeans, and the knowledge sent a rush of heat straight through your core.

"bedroom," satoru murmured hungrily against your lips, and it wasn't a question.

you nodded, breathless, and then he was pulling you up off the couch, his hands never leaving your body. one palm flat against your lower back, the other cupping the side of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair. satoru kissed you the whole way down the hall — deep, messy kisses that made you stumble backward, trusting him to guide you.

he did. of course he did.

satoru’s body was a wall of heat in front of you, and his hands were everywhere; your waist, your ribs, the curve of your ass through your dress. he squeezed once, experimentally, and when you gasped into his mouth, he did it again, harder.

"fuck," he breathed, and you felt the word more than heard it.

your bedroom door was open, and he walked you through it without looking, his attention entirely on your mouth, your jaw, the spot behind your ear that made you shiver when he kissed it. the backs of your knees hit the bed, and you fell backward onto the mattress, pulling him with you.

satoru caught himself on his forearms, hovering over you, his hair falling forward into his eyes.

for a second, he just looked at you, like he couldn't believe you were here, beneath him, your dress riding up your thighs and your lipstick smeared across his mouth.

"you're so pretty," satoru said, and his voice cracked in the middle. "god, you're so pretty. i'm gonna lose my mind."

then he sat back on his heels and pulled his sweater over his head in one movement.

you'd seen satoru without a shirt before — pool parties, beach trips, that one time his dorm ac broke and he'd walked around campus in nothing but shorts for a week. but this was different; this was close, and private, and his skin was flushed pink across his chest, and you could see everything.

satoru’s shoulders were absurdly broad, tapering down to a narrow waist that made your mouth water. his chest was defined but not bulky — it was lean muscle that shifted under pale skin as he moved, and there was a thin line of white hair trailing down from his navel, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans, and satoru’s arms were roped with veins that stood out when he flexed.

he caught you staring and smiled — not his usual cocky grin, but something softer, almost shy.

"like what you see?"

"shut up," you said, and reached for him.

satoru came down willingly, his body pressing you into the mattress, his skin warm and smooth against your palms. you ran your hands over his shoulders, down his back, feeling the way his muscles jumped under your touch.

he was all heat and tension, and when your nails dragged lightly down his spine, satoru groaned and buried his pretty face in your neck.

"you're gonna kill me," he mumbled into your skin.

you kissed his shoulder, then his collarbone, then the hinge of his jaw. your hands slid down his sides, over his ribs, and when they reached the button of his jeans, you didn't hesitate.

satoru went rigid.

your fingers fumbled with the button, then the zipper, and then you were reaching inside his boxers, and—

oh!

satoru was ridiculously big.

well… you'd known he would be, somehow — everything about satoru was excessive, after all — but fucking hell, feeling him in your hand was completely different. he was thick and hot and already leaking, and when you wrapped your fingers around him, his whole body shuddered.

"sweetheart," satoru gasped, and it came out as a whine, so high and so desperate.

his hips jerked into your hand involuntarily, and he dropped his forehead to your shoulder, his breathing ragged.

"fuck, fuck, please—"

you stroked him slowly, your thumb spreading the wetness at the tip, and satoru made a sound you'd never heard from him before. it was broken and insanely needy, and satoru was shaking — actually shaking — his long fingers digging into the mattress on either side of your head.

"please what?" you asked, and your own voice was rough.

he lifted his head just enough to look at you, and his eyes were glassy, pupils blown so wide there was almost no blue left.

"please don't stop," satoru whispered. "please. i've wanted this for so long. i've thought about your hands—god, i've thought about your hands so much—"

you squeezed gently, just a little firmer, and his sentence cut off in a choked moan.

satoru buried his face in your neck again, his breath hot and uneven against your skin, and you felt him pulse in your hand; his whole body was tense, thighs flexing against yours, and you could feel how close he was — the way his stomach kept twitching, the way his hips started moving in small, desperate little thrusts into your fist.

"if you keep doing that," satoru said, muffled against your shoulder, "i'm not gonna last."

you didn't answer, you just kept going — steady, intentional, your grip adjusting to the slickness now, your thumb pressing into that spot right under the head on every upstroke. you wanted to see satoru fall apart; you wanted it more than you'd ever wanted anything.

and then he did.

it wasn't loud, that was the thing.

satoru’s breath hitched, held, and then released in a long, shuddering exhale against your neck. his whole body locked up for a second — his back arching just slightly, fingers twisting in the sheets — and then he broke.

you felt it in your hand first; the pulsing, the warmth spilling over your fingers, the way satoru’s hips stuttered and stopped. then the rest of him followed; his forehead pressed harder into your shoulder, almost like he was hiding. his arms trembled on either side of you. a sound came out of him — soft, wrecked, more breath than voice — and you realized his free hand had moved to grip your hip, not guiding you, just holding on.

you kept stroking him through it, slow and gentle now, and satoru whimpered and tried sooo hard to squirm away from the sensitivity even as he pushed into your touch at the exact same time. satoru’s face was still buried in your neck, and you could feel how warm his cheeks were, how damp his lashes were against your skin.

for a moment, neither of you moved.

satoru’s breathing was uneven, hitching every few seconds like he was still coming down, and your hand was a mess, and you didn't care at all.

finally, he lifted his head.

satoru’s face was flushed, his lips parted, his hair a disaster. he looked at you like he'd never seen you before — or maybe like he was seeing you clearly for the first time.

"your turn," you said, and your voice was steadier than you felt.

he blinked slowly, like the words had to travel through fog to reach him, then something completely shifted in satoru’s expression — something dark and determined settling over his still-soft features, a spark of that familiar satoru intensity cutting through the haze.

"my turn," he agreed.

his still trembling hands easily found the hem of your dress, and he pulled it up and over your head with an impatience that made you laugh — a breathless, surprised sound that turned into a gasp when he bent down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your stomach.

satoru worked his way up slowly, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered, his lips hot and wet and reverent. when he reached your bra, he looked up at you, asking silent permission. you simply nodded, and he reached behind you to unclasp it with fingers that trembled even more.

the bra joined your dress on the floor.

satoru sat back on his heels and stared at you; his blue eyes traveled down your body — your breasts, your stomach, the lace edge of your panties — and his expression was almost painful to look at; like he was in awe, like he was in pain.

"you're so beautiful," satoru said, and his voice was hoarse. "i don't—i can't—"

"toru," you said, and your own voice was shaking. "please."

that broke whatever trance he was in.

satoru lowered himself over you again, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was softer this time, almost tender, and his hand slid down your body, over your ribs, your hip, until his fingers brushed the waistband of your panties.

he pulled back just enough to look down, and then his fingers were hooking into the lace, but he didn't pull them off. instead, satoru pushed them to the side.

the air hit your wetness, and you felt exposed and seen and so incredibly turned on you thought you might combust. satoru's breath caught when he saw you completely, and his pupils swallowed the very last of the blue.

"all this for me?" he murmured, his fingers hovering just above where you needed him.

"y-yes," you said, and you meant it more than you'd ever meant anything. "always for you."

satoru’s eyes flicked up to yours, and something shifted in his expression; something soft and fierce and terrified all at once. then he looked back down, and his middle finger slid through your folds, gathering your wetness, circling your clit in a way that made your hips jerk off the bed.

"fuck," you gasped.

"that's it," satoru murmured, his voice low and focused. "that's it, sweetheart. let me hear you."

he circled your clit again, slow and meticulous, watching your face. when you moaned — loud, involuntary — his lips curved into a smile that was almost smug, but then you moaned again, and his smile faltered, replaced by something hungrier.

"you have no idea," satoru said, his finger still moving in lazy circles. "what this sound does to me."

he pushed two fingers inside you without warning, and your back arched off the bed.

it was so good — way too good — the stretch of his long fingers, the curl of them inside you, the way he found that spot immediately like he'd been studying a map of your body for years. his thumb pressed against your clit, and he started a rhythm that made your vision blur.

"right there?" satoru asked, and his voice was strained.

"y-yes—yes, don't stop—"

and satoru didn't stop.

he fucked you with his long fingers like he really meant it, his palm slapping against your clit with every single thrust, his blue eyes never once leaving your face; he watched every expression, cataloged every sound, and satoru’s own breathing was ragged, his hips pressing into the mattress like he was fucking it just to keep himself sane.

"you're so wet," he said, almost to himself. "god, you're so wet. is this because of me? because of what i said?"

you couldn't answer — you couldn't form any words — so you simply nodded, your hands desperately gripping the sheets, your hips rocking against his hand.

"say it," satoru demanded, his fingers curling harder. "say you want this. say you want me."

"i want you," you sobbed. "i want you, toru, please—"

he added a third finger, and the stretch was almost too much, the pressure building in your core until you couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do a damn thing but feel. his thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing in tight circles that matched the rhythm of his fingers, and he leaned down to kiss your chest, your collarbone, the side of your breast.

"cum for me," he murmured against your skin. "cum on my fingers, sweetheart. i want to feel it."

you shattered.

it crashed over you in huge waves, your whole body convulsing, your nails digging into satoru's shoulders as you rode out the pleasure. he didn't stop — he kept his fingers deep inside you, he kept his thumb on your clit, working you through every aftershock until you were trembling and oversensitive and crying his name into the quiet room.

when you finally stilled, satoru pulled his fingers out slowly, carefully, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as he brought them to his mouth.

he licked them clean.

his eyes never left yours as he did it, his tongue sliding between his long fingers, tasting you like you were something precious. he made a sound — low and satisfied — and when he was done, and held his fingers out to you.

"your turn," he said, echoing your words from earlier.

you took his wrist and guided his fingers to your mouth; you sucked them in, one by one, tasting yourself on his skin. his breath hitched, and his hips jerked against the mattress, and you felt powerful in a way you'd never felt before.

when you let go, satoru’s fingers were slick with your spit, and his eyes were almost black.

"f-fuck," he whispered. "fuck, sweetheart. i need—i need to be inside you. please. i can't—"

he was shaking again, his composure crumbling completely, his body vibrating with need above you. you could feel him through his jeans, hard and aching, and you wanted him so badly it was a physical pain.

"then do it," you said. "do it, satoru."

he fumbled with his jeans, pushing them down just enough, and then he was there — pressing against your entrance, the head of his huge cock nudging at your wetness, both of you breathing too fast.

"look at me," he said, and his voice was raw. "i want you to look at me when i finally make you mine."

his voice cracked on the last word, and something in your chest splintered; this wasn't just sex, you could see it in his eyes — blown wide, glassy, stripped of every layer of sarcasm and swagger he'd ever worn. satoru looked terrified and hungry and so in love it was almost painful to witness.

"toru," you whispered, and his name felt different in your mouth now.

"i know," he said, and he sounded almost sorry. "i know we should talk. i know we're gonna have to figure out what the hell we're doing tomorrow. but right now—"

he pressed forward, just barely, the head of his cock catching against your entrance, and you both gasped.

"—right now, i need to be inside you. i need to feel you cum around me. and i need you to watch me fall apart while i do it."

you nodded, unable to speak, and satoru pushed in.

just an inch — slow, so slow — and your body stretched around him, full and burning in a way that made your eyes water. satoru was so much bigger than his fingers, thicker and hotter, and the pressure was almost too much. you felt every millimeter, every pulse of his cock as it slid into you, and the sound he made — god, the sound — was something you'd never heard from him before.

it was a broken moan, high and desperate, like he was the one being split open.

"fuck," satoru choked out, his forehead dropping to yours, and his breath was hot and uneven against your lips. "f-fuck, baby. you're so—you're so tight—i can't—"

his hips stuttered, and he pushed deeper, another inch, and your nails dug into his shoulders. the stretch burned in the best way, your body adjusting to him, and you could feel every ridge, every vein, every tiny shift of his hips.

"m-more," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "please, toru. i want all of it."

satoru made a sound like a wounded animal, and then he pushed forward in one long, slow thrust until he was buried completely inside you.

you both stopped breathing.

he was everywhere, filling you completely, stretching you in a way that bordered on overwhelming, his hips flush against yours; you could feel him throbbing inside you, could feel the way his whole body trembled above you, his arms shaking where they caged you in.

"oh my god," satoru breathed, and his voice was wrecked, absolutely destroyed. "oh my god. sweetheart. you feel—i can't—there aren't words."

his eyes were squeezed shut now, his jaw tight, and you watched a bead of sweat roll down his temple. he looked like he was in pain. like he was holding on by a thread.

"toru," you said, reaching up to cup his face. "look at me."

his eyes opened, and what you saw there completely made your heart clench; satoru looked dazed, almost drunk, his pupils so blown there was only a thin ring of blue left now, his lips were parted, his breathing ragged, and when you ran your thumb across his cheekbone, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to your palm.

"you're gonna be the death of me," satoru murmured against your skin. "you know that, right? i've been imagining this for six years, and it's still—it's so much better than i ever—" he cut himself off with a shaky exhale. "i'm not gonna last. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, but i can't—"

"then don't," you said. "move, toru. please move."

well… he didn't need to be told twice.

satoru pulled out slowly — agonizingly slowly — until only the tip remained inside you, and then he pushed back in, just as slow, just as deep, his eyes never left yours, watching your face as he bottomed out again, and the expression on his face was one of pure, reverent awe.

"that's it," he whispered. "god, that's it. you're taking me so well, sweetheart. so fucking well."

he did it again, and again, each thrust was slow, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every sensation; the drag of his huge cock against your walls, the way you clenched around him, the little sounds you made every time he pushed back in. his hands roamed your body — your waist, your ribs, your breasts — touching you like he was afraid you'd disappear.

"you're so beautiful," satoru said, and his voice was thick. "i've wanted to touch you like this for so long. you have no idea how many times i've jerked off thinking about you. thinking about these sounds you're making right now."

satoru’s hips snapped forward a little harder, and you moaned at that — loud and unfiltered — and satoru's eyes rolled back for just a second.

"yeah," he breathed. "yeah, like that. i want to hear you. i want everyone to hear you. i want jaehyun to hear you and know—know that you're mine."

the possessiveness in his voice should have scared you, but instead, it made you clench around him, and satoru groaned so loudly you felt it vibrate through his chest.

"you like that?" he asked, his pace picking up slightly. "you like it when i get jealous? when i talk about how you're mine?"

"fuck—yes," you admitted, because you couldn't lie anymore.

not with your best friend inside you, not with his skin against yours, not with the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

satoru's smile was sharp and hungry.

"good. because you are mine. you have been since the day you let me climb your fire escape."

satoru kissed you then — it was deep and messy, his warm tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched his hips. he was fucking you slowly but deeply now, each thrust pushing you up the bed a little, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

that changed everything.

the angle made him hit something inside you — something that made stars burst behind your eyes, and you cried out against his mouth, and satoru swallowed the sound, his hips stuttering before he found a new rhythm; faster, harder, still deep, but no longer gentle.

"there?" satoru gasped, pulling back just enough to look at your face. "is that the spot? right there?"

you couldn't answer, you could only nod, your hands fisting in his white hair, pulling him down so you could bite his lower lip. and satoru moaned loudly, and his hips snapped forward so hard the headboard banged against the wall.

"oh—f-fuck, sweetheart," satoru panted. "you're gonna make me come so fast. i can't—i've been waiting too long for this. you feel too good."

his hand slid between your bodies, and his thumb found your clit, and you nearly screamed.

he circled it in tight, fast motions, exactly the way you needed, and the combination of his enormous cock hitting that sweet spot inside you and his thumb on your clit was too much. the pleasure built so quickly it was almost painful, your whole body tightening like a coil about to snap.

"that's it," satoru murmured, his voice low and dark and completely gone. "cum for me again, sweetheart. i want to feel you cum on my cock this time. i want to feel you squeeze me while i'm inside you."

his thumb pressed harder, his hips moved faster, and he was looking at you — watching every micro-expression on your face with an intensity that should have been overwhelming.

but all you could feel was him. all you could hear was the sound of his breathing, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together, the little whimpers that fell from his lips every time you clenched around him.

"i'm close," you managed, your voice breaking. "oh my god, toru, i'm so close—"

"yeah?"

satoru was practically fucking you in earnest now, his composure completely gone; his hair was a mess, his face flushed, his lips swollen from your kisses.

"you gonna cum for me? gonna soak my cock, sweetheart? i want to feel it. i want to feel you—"

you came.

it surged through you without warning, your whole body arching off the bed, your nails raking down satoru’s back as you convulsed around him. satoru groaned — a deep, guttural sound that seemed to come from somewhere primal — and his hips kept moving, kept thrusting, working you through every second of your orgasm.

"oh, fuck," he gasped. "oh, fuckfuckfuck, sweetheart—you're squeezing me so tight—i can't—i'm gonna—"

satoru pulled out just enough that you felt the first pulse of his release, hot and sudden, and then he pushed back in and buried himself to the hilt as he came inside you.

his whole body shook, his arms gave out, and satoru collapsed on top of you, his face buried deep in your neck, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he emptied himself into you. he made sounds you'd never heard him make — broken, desperate sounds, almost like sobs — and you felt each pulse of his cock, each wave of his release, hot and filling.

"g-god," satoru whispered against your sweaty skin. "god, sweetheart. i love—i—"

he didn't finish the sentence, maybe he couldn't, maybe he was too far gone.

you held him, your fingers threading through his sweaty hair, your legs still wrapped around his waist. his cock was still inside you, softening slightly but not pulling out, and you could feel his cum leaking out around him, warm and wet.

for a long moment, neither of you moved, neither of you spoke, the only sounds were your breathing, slowly evening out, and the distant hum of the city outside your window.

satoru's hand was tracing patterns on your hip, lazy and absent, and you thought maybe he'd fallen asleep. maybe you'd get a moment to process what had just happened.

then satoru shifted.

his hips rolled forward, just slightly, and you felt him twitch inside you.

"satoru," you said, your voice hoarse.

he lifted his head, and his eyes met yours; they were still dark, still blown wide, but there was something new there now. something hungry and determined and a little bit feral.

"i'm not done," satoru said, and his voice was rough. "i'm not even close to done."

he pulled out slowly, and you felt the loss of him acutely — the sudden emptiness, the trickle of satoru’s cum that slid down your trembling thigh. but before you could mourn it, he was flipping you over, pulling you onto your hands and knees, his hands gripping your hips.

"i've been thinking about this position for years," satoru murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. "thinking about how deep i could get. how loud you'd be."

you heard him spit into his hand — you heard the wet sound of him stroking himself — and then he was pressing against your entrance again, already hard, already ready.

"toru," you said again, and it came out as a pathetic whimper. "i'm still sensitive—"

"i know," satoru said, and he sounded almost apologetic. almost. "but you feel too good, sweetheart. and i'm so fucking obsessed with you. i can't stop. i don't want to stop."

he pushed in, and you both moaned.

it was different from the first time; you were still so wet, still so stretched, still so full of his cum, and satoru slid in easier now, way deeper, until you felt him in your stomach.

satoru paused for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to the back of your neck.

"baby, tell me when," satoru said, his voice strained. "tell me when you're ready."

you took a breath, then another, the sensitivity was fading, replaced by a familiar ache, a familiar need.

"now," you said. "move now."

and he did.

satoru started slow again, but this time it was different.

this time, he was savoring; his hands completely roamed your body — your back, your ass, your hips — and he leaned over to press kisses along your spine. his huge cock dragged against your walls in a way that made your eyes roll back, and he was murmuring things against your skin; things you couldn't quite understand, things that sounded like praise and worship and desperation all at once.

"you're so perfect," he breathed. "so perfect for me. this pussy was made for me. you know that? made for my cock."

satoru’s pace quickened, his hips slapping against yours, and the sound was obscene — wet and loud and relentless. he reached around and found your swollen clit again, rubbing in tight circles, and you sobbed with the overstimulation of it.

"too much?" he asked, but he didn't stop. "or not enough?"

"m-more," you gasped. "more, toru—please—"

he gave you more.

satoru fucked you harder, faster, deeper, his grip on your hips so tight you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. his breathing was ragged, his moans were loud, and he was talking — talking constantly, a stream of consciousness that was half dirty and half desperate.

"look at you. taking me so well. you're so wet. so fucking wet. is this all for me? tell me it's all for me."

"it's all for you," you said, and you meant it.

satoru groaned loudly, and his hips snapped forward even harder, and you felt a second orgasm building — faster this time, sharper, pushed along by the overstimulation and the sound of his voice and the way he was fucking you like he needed you to survive.

"cum with me this time," he said, his voice breaking. "i want to feel you cum while i'm filling you up again. i want to feel you squeeze every drop out of me."

his thumb pressed down on your clit, and his hips lost their rhythm, becoming sloppy and desperate, and you knew he was close, and so were you. so close—

"now," satoru gasped. "now, sweetheart—"

you came together.

it was messy and loud and overwhelming, your body clenching around him as he spilled inside you again, his hips jerking erratically as he rode out his orgasm. you collapsed onto the bed, and he followed you down, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his cock still buried deep inside you, still pulsing.

neither of you moved.

satoru’s breath was hot against your ear, his heart pounding against your back, and you could feel him — getting hard again, still inside you, still not pulling out.

"one more," he murmured, and you could hear the smile in his voice, even through the exhaustion. "just one more. and then maybe we can talk about how i'm in love with you."

you laughed — a breathless, surprised sound — and satoru kissed your shoulder, your neck, the curve of your jaw.

"i'm serious, baby," satoru said, his hips rolling forward again, slowly. "i've been in love with you for years. and now that i've had you like this—"

he pushed deeper, and you moaned.

"—i'm never letting you go."

satoru’s hand slid under you, finding your clit again, and you realized he actually meant it.

he wasn't going to stop.

and honestly… you didn't want him to.

the professor was droning on about something to do with economic hierarchies, but all satoru could think about was your mouth and whether or not that was your real lip color or something expensive from sephora.

suguru’s mind wasn’t much better, he’d already saved the photo to his camera roll.

you were the shit, and not in a try hard way.

you were just it.

2000's pink fever dream is the kind of vibes you gave off. wearing whatever shoes were hot that week and some low rise jeans that hugged you snug, you flowed through the quad in tops that looked straight from a britney spears music video.

you were always laughing and draped in people who looked just as cool but still somehow dimmer than you.

there were whispers every time you passed, who you were dating now, what party you were at last night, which guy was crying after you’d ghosted him.

you were a story literally everyone wanted to tell.

but satoru and suguru didn’t just want to tell it, oh no. they wanted to live inside of it, in more ways than one...

no one looked at them. not as much as you, anyways. to put it lightly, no one looked at them in a way that was... appreciative.

sure, they were hot, that much was obvious.

satoru was tall with ridiculously good bone structure and an unfairly handsome face, he was the kind of guy you'd make eye contact with but instead of getting giddy, it makes your stomach drop like, "is he staring at me or am i just being weird and looking at him creepily...".

suguru definitely had an allure. he was pierced all over his face but not in a trashy way, dressed head to toe in black and always looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, yet still somehow better looking than everyone else.

so yeah, they're were hot. but they were weird.

they jointly have over 4000 hours on terraria. they watch stupid anime's all day and talk about different concepts and theories for hours after, and they play pokemon go and digimon all day unironically.

real nerd shit.

it was a known fact that the two could find a certain interest and obsess over it for the next bajillion years. so, when it came to you? it was safe to say they noticed quite literally everything.

like how you always posted around 11:30am like clockwork, probably right after class.

like how you changed your highlights every other week to match your current aesthetic, “🍸” was suguru’s favorite, that one had a photo of you in a tiny yellow bikini licking salt off your wrist.

like how your phone case had changed, a clear one with a blurry photo tucked into the back. satoru had spent ten minutes trying to enhance it in his camera app. it was some girl, maybe a friend? maybe someone you'd kissed.... yuck. either way, it ruined his entire afternoon.

“remember that video she posted last month?” satoru said dreamily, might as well of been thinking about a dead lover. “the one with her in the pool?”

suguru shakes his head. “don’t,” he sighs.

“she was doing that thing with her eyes, remember? like, eye fucking the camera? and she had that little chain around her waist, oh my god—"

“i said stop,” suguru snapped, though he was smiling. “i had to excuse myself from psych after that one. couldn’t stand up for ten fucking minutes.”

satoru swiped through your profile, it was as if every new photo was a different flavor of devastation.

you and your friends in the back of some expensive car. you holding a cocktail and laughing with your head thrown back. you bent over in a mini skirt, taking a mirror selfie with a little ass showing.

was this gross? definitely. did they care? a littleeee, but it wasn't like you'd give two weirdos the time of day anyway, so it didn't matter! that was their logic, anyway.

“i bet she moans pretty,” he said absently. suguru smiled and nodded. “oh, absolutely.”

satoru let out a huff. “jeez, i’d buy her a car just for saying my name.” and saying that wasn’t even absurd, the two of the boys were filthy rich.

“she always smells good, too.” satoru adds. “like… like a sexy scent. i don’t even know what it is. something grown.”

suguru huffed a laugh. “you sound so psychotic.”

“you smelled it too, though. that one time in the elevator. when she came in with maki and was on the phone with sukuna? she pressed the button and i literally blacked out, never been that close to her before.”

“right, and she had those jeans on, the real low ones.” satoru clutched his chest. “fuck. she’s so hot.”

they lapsed into silence again, both of them stewing in their own separate daydreams.

it wasn’t just that you were hot, everyone was hot in college. but you were something else, your own category.

suguru reached for satoru’s phone and swiped through your tagged photos now, which were even more the reminder that you were way out of their social circle.

there were many candid flashes of your life. you in the club with yuki and maki, glitter around your eyes and a bottle in one hand. you curled up on a dorm bed with shoko, half asleep and smiling wide with those pretty lips, your arms tight around ieri's torso. you and choso at a rooftop party, your chin on his shoulder and your fingers looped loosely around his belt.

satoru groaned. “i hate that she’s close with choso.”

“he’s like, her best friend.”

“urgh."

when class ended, the boys stood and made their way out of the room. suguru slung his bag over his shoulder as satoru joked about one thing or other, the two best friends falling into easy conversation.

as they step out into the hallway, however, all conversation stops when they spot you.

you were at the end of the hall posted up against the lockers, even the fluorescent lighting couldn’t make you look bad. if anything, it just made your skin glow warmer, your lip color glossier.

but, like always, you weren’t alone.

he was there, sukuna.

and god, he looked like a big, red, flashing warning sign, like something straight out of a sex and violence movie. he was tall and cut like a knife, his red eyes dark and oh so mean.

“gross,” satoru scoffed, ducking his head.

suguru didn’t add any quips, he just stared with clenched teeth.

sukuna had his hand on your waist, his chrome hearts rings catching in the light as his fingers dug into your flesh.

god, it was so possessive it made them sick, like he was daring anyone to look.

“he doesn’t deserve her,” satoru whispered, too quiet for anyone but suguru to hear.

“mhm, n' he cheats on her, too,” suguru muttered. “everyone knows it. choso was telling me he was touching up some girl at a bar the other week right infront of her.”

they stared at the scene like poor kicked puppies. sukuna was probably murmuring something dirty against your ear, and all you did was smile and hit his chest, acting like you both liked and hated it all at the same time.

satoru’s heart was pounding not with jealousy, or, not just jealousy, but with rage, helpless obsession. it was the possessive ache of wanting to save you from someone who didn’t deserve your attention, like at all, much less your affection.

he wanted to grab you by the shoulders and ask what you were doing, ask what you saw in him when you could have had the world.

when you could have had them.

“he’s not even all that,” satoru says weakly.

“mm, he’s objectively hot,” suguru corrected bitterly.

“okay, but he’s a dick!"

then suddenly, as the boys are bickering over how shit of a boyfriend sukuna was, your gaze sweeps over the crowd for a second. and then it pauses, on them. or maybe just past them? maybe you didn’t see them at all? but your lashes flicked up, and satoru swore your eyes met his.

it was less than a second. a glitch in time. and then you looked away.

“we should go,” suguru said hoarsely.

satoru nodded, dazed. “yeah, yeah. let's go.”

they turned and walked in the other direction with their hearts pounding and their ears ringing, like they’d just survived a brush with a godess and came out utterly unworthy.

you on the other hand? the gaze you'd felt penetrating the side if you head earlier was driving you up the wall.

just for a moment, the faint prickle on the back of your neck, that sixth sense that someone was watching. not in a creepy way, more like a spotlight brushing over your skin. you looked up lazy and bored with your manicured hand still in sukuna’s, and there they were.

satoru and suguru. the weird ones.

the smart ones, the ones who sat in the back row and whispered loudly. they wore dark colors and always looked like they were thinking about something far too complicated to say out loud and share with the rest of the normies.

you knew who they were, obviously. not by name, by vibe. the tall one with the white hair and the other one with the bun and the earrings. they were always together, always some what quiet. always, always, staring.

they were looking at you now, or maybe through you.

you held their eyes for a second too long, or maybe not long enough? your eyes flicked over them like flipping a page, your stomach twisted a little when they blinked like they were too afraid to breathe.

and then you turned away.

“what?” sukuna asked getting all weird and possessive already, his voice low against your temple. “who th' fuck was that?”

“no one,” you said quickly, “just some nerds.”

he grunted and pressed a kiss to your cheek. it was hard and a little too showy for you, but you smiled like you liked it nevertheless.

his hand stayed on your ass the whole walk back to your pretty little dorm. on lookers offered their stares up like children seeing animal mascots on the street. and you liked it when people stared, or, you were supposed to.

that was kind of the whole point, wasn't it? being seen with him. it felt good being the girl everyone wanted yet so out of reach. it meant you were interesting, y'know? you were hot and keepable.

and sukuna was a lot of things, not really good things, but things all the same. sexy, really fucking mean, arrogant, your friends all had different names for it. toxic, thrilling, psychotic, exciting. but he was never boring, so that was a plus?

when you get back to your place, the dorm door smashes shut behind you, and suddenly he was all up on you with his heavy hands grabbing at every inch of your body, his mouth already sliding over your neck like he needed to mark you up.

you tilted your chin up and played along, somewhat. giggling when he pushes you against the wall tighter.

“i missed you,” he said, already pulling at your top. “fuck, you look so hot in this.”

“you saw me this morning,” you said lightly even as your stomach curled tight.

“not enough,” he rasped.

he kissed you hard and messy. sukuna was ever the desperate man when it came to sex, he tugged at your waistband and shoved you toward the bed, and you went.

~

it felt good, in theory...

how he just knew how to fuck you in a way that felt different to anyone else, it wasn't exactly nice, per se, but it was different, that's for sure.

your head always managed to stay up in the clouds during sex with him. way way up in the clouds.

you thought about how his hand always squeezed the fat too hard on your delicate throat. how he never asked beforehand if you were down or how he got really mean when you moaned too loud. how he always acted like he was the one doing something for you.

gross, really.

you finish up after a good half hour and your bodies collapse against the mattress.

sukuna inhales dragging smoke from the now lit cigarette between his fingers, eyes slipping across your body like he’s still hungry, or maybe just checking to make sure you’re still all there.

“you came, right?” he asks dully.

you nod. you didn’t, but he’s not looking at your face so he wouldn't know anyway.

he smirks and pats your thigh as if to say, 'good girl'. his tatted chest stretched as he inhaled deeply, they were sexy, sure, but now they just look like big flashy warnings you'd ignored.

“you’ve been weird lately,” he says curt. you roll onto your side away from him, dragging the sheets higher to hide your naked body.

“i’m tired,” you reply.

“you’re always fucking tired.” he snarls. like it’s your fault for being drained as if he’s not the reason you keep losing sleep.

he gets up. doesn’t bother with a shirt or anything, only paces toward the mirror checking his reflection. you watch him from the corner of your eye as he he adjusts his necklace and wipes his thumb across his mouth.

“i don’t like when you get quiet,” he says.

“i’m not quiet.”

“you were quiet at the party last week. and yesterday when i called, you sounded so off.” he doesn’t ask how you are, shit, he never does. it’s always, what’s wrong with you, never, what happened? he can tell when something’s different, but he doesn’t want to understand. he wants it fixed, he wants you back to normal. back to the chick that kisses his jaw while laughing at his jokes, clinging to his arm at kickbacks like a trophy wife.

“i’m fine,” you say.

you’re not, you've got that dull ache in your chest after he touches you and that knot of disappointment in your stomach when he says your name like some stupid command.

you used to feel chosen and so, so wanted, but now you just feel like a bet he doesn't like all that much.

“you’re not gonna start some shit, are you?” sukuna asks roughly,

“what are you talking about?” 

he turns around with slitted eyes. “you always do this shit. pull away when things are good. look, i know i fucked up last weekend, okay? that bitch came onto me. i didn’t do shit.”

and there it is.

you hadn’t brought it up, hadn’t said a word about the girl at the bar last weekend. she had her hands all over him and he sure as hell wasn't moving, like, at all. so that whole 'she came onto me' thing was obviously bullshit.

you sit up slowly with your shaky arms around your knees. “i didn’t say anything about that,” you whisper gently.

“yeah, well, you’re thinking it. i can see. i know how your brain works.”

and that’s the fucking problem, isn’t it? he doesn’t know how your brain works, hell, he only knows how to manage it, redirect it or drown it out.

he climbs back onto the bed, sitting over you and locking you in with his big, strong arms. “don’t start being weird, babe,” he says with that disgusting persuasion. his hand cups your face and his thumb strokes your cheek. “you’re mine. yeah?”

yuck.

"mhm."

he kisses your forehead sweetly like he’s doing something tender. but your skin feels... rotten, frankly.

as he peppers kisses to your face, reality starts to slowly creep into the cracks of your battered heart. you don’t want this anymore, but you don’t know what else there is.

you're looking up at him but your head is racking through the options. what else is there?

you could date a jock, maybe a business major who's destined for success? perhaps a quiet boy who actually pays attention to you.

with that thought, your mind is thrown into a daze, a nerd daze to be precise.

you think about the look those grade A hotties gave you earlier, the freakishly tall ones in the hallway. you don’t know their names, but you sure as hell remember the way they made you feel with one little glance.

hm.

before you know it, sukuna's throwing on a beater and fixing his hair in your mirror before patting your ass and mumbling a ‘later.’ like you were just another one of his hoes rather than his girlfriend.

there’s a hollow ache in your ribs, the kind you ignore, ignore, ignore, until it piles up behind your lungs, ready rot.

you sit up groggily and the mirror on your vanity catches your —admittedly— terrible reflection. you've got smudged mascara and your lipstick half gone. you look like a girl who’s just been fucked, sure, but not in a good way, kinda like an accidental one night stand kinda way...

why do you keep letting him do this to you?

you sigh and look down at your phone, deciding there was no one better to call right now than your right hand man, choso.

he picks up after two rings. “yo.”

“hey,” you say curling your legs beneath you. “you busy?”

you hear him exiting whatever room he was in then he responds, “nah. what’s up?”

“just…” you hesitate and take a deep breath, the words feet much too heavy. “i feel like shit.”

“ryomen?”

you sigh.

“he’s such a dick,” choso scoffs like he’s already angry for you. “what happened this time?”

“same shit,” you mumble. “he left without even looking at me. he barely touched me. like i was just… just there to get him off.” you despise how much you sound like a frail little girl, but you couldn't help being vulnerable in this moment.

you hear choso inhale like he wants to say something cruel about sukuna, but doesn’t wanna kick you while you’re down.

instead, he suggests, “you should come to this thing m' having tonight. it's at my place, just a few people. yuki’s coming, maybe shoko. i’ll let you smoke some of my shit.”

you press your lips together. “wow, let me? how generous of you." you smile, but it fades almost as quick as it came. "hm. but sukuna’ll be there.”

“no,” he says simply. “he doesn’t know about it."

oh? that surprises you, suddenly you feel much happier.

“what?” he adds dryly. “i’m allowed to throw a party without that asshole, and you need to get out. please?”

you hum like you haven't already made up your mind.

“you can wear that matching set, the leopard print one,” choso adds. “that ones sexy.”

you give him an excited giggle and agree.

“fine,” you say. “i’ll come.”

he hums like he knew you would. “i’ll text you the details. bring whoever you want.”

you thank him then hang up and lay back again.

sure, sukuna had basically ruined your entire afternoon, but chosos parties were always nice, and he wouldn't be there. win win!

~

meanwhile, satoru’s dorm smells like weed and really expensive cologne.

the taller guys legs are criss crossed on the bed with his shirt clinging to his broad chest, his glasses halfway down his nose. suguru’s in the desk chair off to the side with his sketchbook balanced on his thigh, pen smoothing over the page. they’re both a little baked.

“sukuna can't handle all of that, bro,” satoru says after a moment. “he’s such a fucking clown.”

“i hear ya.”

they'd been taking shots at the man for being a pissy boyfriend for the past half hour.

“she should be worshipped,” suguru echoes, voice low. “with tongue.”

satoru laughs like he's short of breath. “you’re gonna make me hard again.”

“you’re always hard.”

“only for her.”

satoru grabs the blunt and takes another hit, suguru adds a shadow to your lips, the shape of them exact from memory. he doesn’t need reference photos anymore he could draw you from bone and ash if he were ever stranded in the pits of hell.

“gross. what if she's with that flop.” satoru sighs.

he groans, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it over his face. “i need to go to the gym, i can't imagine her with that dick any longer.”

suguru just keeps drawing. his phone buzzes against the desk, he glances down, then lifts it. “it’s choso.”

he picks up. “yeah?”

choso’s voice is clear. “yo, i'm having a party at my place tonight, you two should come.”

suguru glances at satoru, who’s peeking from beneath the pillow with a very interested look, they weren't really the guys to be invited to functions.

“who’s coming?” 

“toji, nanami, yuki. maybe shoko. and, uh,” choso pauses. “y/n.” suguru’s grip on the phone actually quadrupled.

the two boys quite literally jitter at the mention of your name, their minds racking with the millions of possible situations that could occur tonight. this wasn't real, surely?

“y/n's coming?" satoru mouths sitting upright like an excited puppy.

suguru smiles at satoru and nods, making the white haired boy grin from ear to ear and jump up from the bed like the big goof he is.

“we’ll bring something,” suguru says, calm as ever, although, let's be real, he's fucking ecstatic. “see you soon, cho.” he hangs up and closes the sketchbook.

satoru is scrambling for a hoodie. “are we bringing alcohol or pot?”

"pot, obviously.”

“should i put on cologne or is that too much?”

“nah, it's never too much.”

satoru smiles. “okay, okay! i'll put on the nice one.”

“do you think she’ll talk to us?” satoru asks, suddenly nervous.

“no,” suguru says.

“but we’ll be near her.” satoru swallows.

“okay, yeah. near’s good.”

~

choso’s posted up on the porch like some washed up security guard.

his shoulders relax when he sees them walking up the sidewalk, two tall silhouettes backlit by the streetlights. satoru gets there first with his geeky faded digimon shirt being overshadowed by his sheer muscular mass. 

“you postin’ up like a bouncer now?” he teases, breath fogging in the crispy weather.

“gotta keep the freaks out,” choso mutters, glancing between the two of them. “and then i remember i invited you.”

suguru smiles, he was dressed like a chanel model cross frat attire, for a total geek he knew how to throw a fit. black button up halfway open reveling his tribal tattooed chest and some ridiculously expensive jeans that flattered his body so well. “and aren’t you glad you did?”

“jury’s out,” choso rolls his eyes.

satoru digs into his pocket and pulls out a small tin of weed. “look, our entry fee.” he says, flipping it open and offering it like a tray of macarons. “it's really good shit, so be greatful.”

“right,” choso says, but he takes one.

“suguru bought ‘em. he’s got a good dealer,” satoru borderline whines, he doesn't like people doubting him or his best friend.

"i'm just messin with you, toru." choso pushes satorus shoulder and laughs. "are you guys gonna be alright in there? lots of people y' don't know."

“we’re always alright,” satoru grins.

“sure,” choso says. “you two have a weird effect on people.”

satoru grin's teasingly “you mean a sexy effect.”

“i mean a weird one,” choso reiterates.

suguru chuckles, “we’re on our best behavior.”

“that your best?” choso gestures to suguru’s half open shirt. “jesus.”

once they smooth inside they're blown in the face by the potent smell of alcohol and grass.

people give them glances then quickly look away like they're either intimidated or just not coherent enough to fully appreciate their beauty.

they find a couch in the corner that's low to the ground and good for people watching. suguru takes the end and man spreads out while satoru slouches beside him with his long limbs draped in studied disarray, his finger idly tapping his phone screen but not really looking at it.

frank ocean is softly floating in the background, it's overall a good kinda vibe.

they're just settling in when they notice toji. he’s up near the kitchen leaning against the counter dressed in black on black on black. he doesn’t smile at anyone and he doesn’t blink, just watches them watching him.

satoru lifts two fingers in a greeting. “toji,” he calls.

toji raises his cup in acknowledgment and stalks towards the two.

“you look well,” suguru smiles.

toji’s voice cuts across the room. “hm, what’d you bring?”

“weed,” satoru answers, grinning. “and each other.”

“i figured,” toji mutters. he takes a sip from his cup, then adds, “y'know, y/n's here.”

“oh, when'd she get here?” suguru asks trying to sound nonchalant.

“just walked in,” toji says. “looked abit sad, i can't lie."

“hm,” satoru hums looking over the crowd.

“and sukuna?” suguru asks.

toji’s yawns, “haven’t seen the guy, don't think choso invited him.”

“good,” satoru flashes his pearly teeth.

toji shakes his head as he watches them for another second. “you two are fucking sick,” he says.

“we know,” satoru replies.

“but you’re fun to watch,” toji adds, then vanishes into the kitchen.

satoru exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “i might combust.”

“oh cmon,” suguru says. “we haven't even seen her yet.” but obviously, as life would have it, they clock you.

and when you walk into the room like some higher being with that outfit, satoru breathes your name out then slaps a hand to his big stupid mouth. suguru doesn’t say anything but his hands are already itching for a pen, wanting to capture this moment in his own little way. 

you looked perfect. 

that’s all they can think in their half baked brains, watching you from across the room like you’re the moon and they'd never seen night before. the party smooshes around you all, orbiting the shine of your pretty smile and the flash of your earrings, the sweet ridiculous sway of your hips as you laugh at something yuki says and lean into her like you belong to no one.

they're not breathing right, they keep inhaling too deep or too slow, then holding it like they're trying to trap the moment inside their lungs.

“my god,” satoru mutters, "look at her.”

"i know..." suguru's got one of his hands rubbing his temples like this is all too much for him.

they’re stoned, yeah, but it’s the kind of high that sharpens things instead of dulling them down to a blunt smack. it makes your mouth dry and your stomach hollow and your hands twitch when you see something you want but just can’t touch.

you’re surrounded, of course. draped in others arms and flowing conversations while smiling so, so brightly, sipping from someone else’s cup.

yuki’s arms around your waist, maki’s laughing near your shoulder, shoko leaning in close to talk to you over the noise.

“i’d ruin her,” satoru says softly.

“shh, not here,” suguru murmurs.

then, choso appears, intruding their spectacle. he slips behind you like a shadow and you lean back into him freely, your head tilting toward his shoulder and your hand coming up to hold around his wrist. your fingers brush the hem of his sleeve and satoru physically can't help but twitch.

“what the fuck,” satoru huffs.

“best friends,” suguru reminds him. “remember?”

choso says something and you laugh, he wraps an arm around your waist and you don’t move away. satoru makes another strangled noise like the drama queen he is.

“calm down,” suguru says, though even his usually calm and soothing voice is aggressive now.

yet, their malice almost instantly disappears when they watch your eyes scan the room then, oh shit, they land right on them.

satoru feels it like a physical blow to the head, your gaze lands on him, then suguru, then both of them. your expression doesn’t change much, just a soft, almost curious look.

and then choso follows your gaze too, and...

fuck.

he smirks and they panic.

you smile as choso whispers something only you can hear in your ear, "you see those two over there? they've got this huge crush on you, y'know. might be worth indulging to forget about that asshole for tonigt."

you considered his words, it was the nerds from earlier, and hell if they didn't look even more attractive in the dark lighting... maybe choso was onto something.

he starts walking toward them, still holding your waist guiding you through the people like he’s bringing you home.

satoru’s heart starts thumping, suguru quickly closes the sketchbook he was about to start drawing in and sets it beside him.

“play it cool,” he murmurs.

satoru nods. “yeah, yeah! cool, i'm so cool,”

“lower your shoulders,” suguru adds.

“right.”

“stop bouncing your leg.”

“fuck me, bro.”

you stop in front of them like a beautiful monet. next to you choso cheeses. “you two remember how to say hi to a girl, or do i have to teach you?”

“hi! i- uh,” satorus voice cracks and he slaps a hand over his mouth.

“hi." suguru cuts in trying to save his best friend. you smile at him, sweet and a-lot-a-bit amused at gojos little slip up.

“hi,” you say, and your voice is warm and clear, offering satoru a smirk that makes his ears turn redder.

“this is satoru,” choso smiles, gesturing with one ringed finger. “he’s sort of a science freak, he's an astrophysics major, thinks weed makes him smarter.”

“it does,” satoru replies instantly, sitting up and adjusting his glasses while adorably avoiding eye contact with you. “scientifically.”

“right... and this is suguru,” choso continues, looking at him with a smile. “ he's an arts major. probably has a hundred drawings of you in that little sketch book.”

suguru almost choked at the call out and fumbles to skwark out a response. “hey! don’t tell her that.”

hm, this was definitely getting intriguing. you glance at him, angling your head to access him better. “oh, is that true?” you tease.

he meets your eyes shyly. “maybe."

you giggle and satoru feels it sink deep into his heart.

they could'nt believe it, you were seriously talking to them, like, right now. offering them your perfect pretty voice as you stood there radiantly gazing at them through pretty lashes. they could feel their blood rushing to all different places at the sheer proximity...

"you’re choso’s friends?” you ask, looking between them sweetly pretending to not notice the way they're practically eye fucking you. they were definitely fans, you could just tell. not to mention one of them apparently has some secret stalker sketches of you, they weren't exactly being subtle.

“yeah, classmates,” suguru throws out, rubbing his neck and adjusting his jeans while satoru still sat peering up at your figure.

these guys were a little weird, you'd thought that since seeing them in the hallway, but they were hot. like, smoking hot. “i’m a media comms major,” you giggle, “minoring in fashion marketing.”

“we know.” satoru blurts out way louder than anticipated, then catches himself. “i mean, cool. that’s cool.”

you raise a brow. “you guys stalking my linkedin or something?”

“lowkey, yeah,” suguru says unapologetically.

“jesus,” choso mutters.

but you laugh again like you don’t mind. you twirl a piece of hair around your finger. “that's... cute, i guess."

cute. she called us cute.

“mm. more like dumb freaks,” choso says fondly. and you just smile like you’re not even a little surprised. maybe you knew?...

“good,” you say. “i like freaks.” and satoru’s entire brain turns to mush while suguru clears his throat and pulls at his jeans once again.

choso drops down onto the couch with his legs spread and his back slouched, and you slip easily into the space beside him, your thigh brushing his.

“so,” you say, stretching your legs out. the hem of your skirt riding higher, “what do two scary smart guys like you do for fun?”

“this,” satoru says, pointing to his blunt.

“and this,” suguru murmurs, tapping his sketchbook, you glance over at the long haired guy.

“are you really drawing me or was that like, a joke?”

he doesn’t answer at first, just looks at you with that hesitant gaze, then flips open the sketchbook, turns it toward you, and holds it still.

your face sat staring back at you, charcoal and his smudged obsession all over the page.

hm, he was serious...

you nod, then laugh. “that’s kinda insane,” you smile, appreciative yet a little concerned, as one would be.

“yeah, he’s kinda insane,” satoru says.

“takes one to know one,” you reply, not looking away from suguru.

his voice is embarrassed now as he avoids your sparkling eyes. “do you... do you mind?”

you glance at him, then satoru, then choso, who just shrugs like he’s used to this kind of attention around you.

“guess not,” you say. “i think it’s hot, just wished i'd known of such devout fans a little sooner, y'know.”

satoru makes a tiny sound in the back of his throat, suguru just hums and flips to a fresh page. he was always quieter when he was embarrassed, nervous, or flustered, and satoru could tell suguru was going insane over your careless flirting.

every word that fell from your mouth was driving the boys insane, they glanced at eachother and exchanged a silent conversation. one that said, 'i'm so fucking hard right now what the hell am i supposed to do!?' they both clear their throats and shift in their seats.

your eyes drag over to satoru next, making him tense up a little. “and you? physics, right? what do you do in your spare time?”

“i… read things. smoke, i think about time a lot.” look at photos of you, he almost stutters, adjusting his glasses again out of nervous habit.

you blink. “hm, time?”

“yeah, like, the concept of it. what it means that we experience things in sequence. how we know we’re not dreaming.”

god he was such a dork, but you loved it so far. he was cuter than suguru, one was stoic and sexy and the other was slightly more bubbly and cute, this dynamic was really starting to grow on you.

feeling confident you let the sweetness drop and the sultry tone take over, deciding to tease him in that flirty way.

“you're so weird.”

“yeah,” he says breathless at the change of mood, “i know.”

you stare at him, his big black rimmed glasses and his faded digi shirt, how big he was for such a timid seeming guy.

then you shift to suguru, he's quiet and strange, i mean, who the hell draws hundreds of sketches of someone they've never had the courage to talk to before?

yeah, they were both lowkey kinda guys, quiet and awkward. but fuck if they weren't bad as hell. catching their eye in the hallway and now meeting them at a party? the universe was surely giving you signs.

you watch as their eyes seem to wash over each and every part of your body, taking in every little detail.

you’re a little high, but not stupid. you’re used to attention but not like this. theirs feels… different. more intense, almost like they’re not flirting, more so studying.

choso slings an arm behind you, tapping your shoulder with two fingers. “you good?”

“mmhm,” you hum, leaning into his touch. “they’re interesting.”

“told you.”

“and hot.” you murmur.

satoru hears it and his breath hitches.

“you guys live on campus?” you ask, them being oblivious to the ulterior motives cooking up in your head.

“yeah, the dorms,” satoru says.

“it’s kinda gross.” suguru adds, the boys once again exchanging a look to almost check up on eachother. we're good so far, normal conversation isn't that bad!

“so you guys hang out a lot?” you ask, tilting your head.

“basically live in each other’s pockets,” choso says, tapping ash into the cup again. “they’re like married. it’s freakish.”

“shut up, it’s just practical,” suguru replies.

“yeah, no, that's hot,” you repeat again. two sexy guys living in the same dorm knowing they're both fans of you and we're currently shitting bricks over this insignificant conversation? this situation was almost too perfect to be playing out the way it was. you felt like the universe was playing some reverse harem trick on you.

you’re lounging back now as your finger traces patterns on the head of the couch right by sugurus neck.

they're almost having an out of body experience, everything is too much. your perfume is quite literally assaulting their noses in the best way, your body is moving and shifting and it's only worsening the growing bludges in both of their pants.

they feel an overwhelming urge to just pick you up and take you back to their dorm, sit you on the bed and study every little thing. ask every question they've been dying to know about you, take turns worshiping, praising, pleasuring the beauty that only existed on their phones until this very moment.

now you're talking to choso about whatever party's happening next week, engulfed in his words giving them time to debrief off to their own side of the couch.

suguru leans into satoru's ear and whisper screams like the room isn't teeming with noise. "what the hell do we do now?"

satorus still cooling down from the light teasing and rubs his eyes under his glasses. "she's literally right there, we can't lose this opportunity, bro. what should we say?"

"we could ask about her modelling?" suguru suggests.

"that's creepy." satoru shakes his head, shooting his head over his shoulder to make sure you're still busy talking to choso.

"her hobbies?"

"too basic!"

"then what the fuck do we say?!"

"you're acting like i talk to women!"

before they can finish their pathetic little plan to keep you interested, choso turns to them and speaks up.

“i’m gonna go grab a drink,” he laughs. he pushes up from the couch, a cocky smirk falls across his mouth. “don’t embarrass yourselves too hard, boys.”

suguru rolls his eyes and satoru feels his bones tense.

and just like that, you’re alone.

in this perfect little corner of the room, it’s just you and them. two boys who’ve been obsessing over you for months like it was a sport, acting unbothered every time you walked past even though they were starving in ways they’d never ever admit.

satoru leans back like he’s relaxed with his legs sliding wider, pretending he’s just getting comfy to hide the way his pants are getting tighter and tighter... his fingers tap his thigh slowly as he plasters on that wicked smile, yet inside, he feels like if he blinks wrong he’ll cry.

suguru try's to look calmer but his thoughts are loud, every one of them about where to take this next, how to keep it cool, how to not give away that he’s two seconds away from losing all of his composure.

you can pick up the sexual tension and decide to capitalise on it. “jeez, you guys always this intense?”

you fold your arms under your chest and lean in giving them a good look at your pretty cleavage. both of them glance down quickly, then immediately back up.

instead of panicking, satoru answers smoothly, “maybe you’re just distracting.”

suguru hums. “yeah, kinda hard not to stare at a girl like you.”

underneath the nonchalant-ness, they’re freaking the fuck out. since when were they able to hold up conversation without nerding out and scaring people off?

you laugh, waving it off. “i’m teasing. you’re just a bit nervous, that’s fine. you guys don’t talk to many girls or something?”

satoru gives a little shrug. “not ones like you.”

suguru leans in closer, “definitely not like you.”

you can tell that they're going to war in their own respective minds, you sorta had that effect on people. but they for some reason, made it much more obvious than other guys.

cute, you liked virgins.

behind this blatant flirting your mind drifts to sukuna, then to the girls you know he's hiding somewhere in his phone, and suddenly he's gone again. funny how that happens. if he can treat you like shit, then you can do the same.

your eyes drop to the sketchbook on suguru’s lap at the half finished sketch of yourself, he really was talented, you liked that in your men.

“so… you always draw girls you wanna fuck, orrr?”

satoru genuinely almost groans at the vulgar words coming out of such a cute mouth, but suguru doesn’t react as strongly.

“no.”

you turn your head slightly, lips turning up into a smile. “just me then?”

his eyes flutter shut for half a second like you'd caught him red handed. “yeah... just you.”

you trail your gaze down his torso deliberately, then turn to satoru.

“what about you, gojo?”

he clears his throat gently, “satoru, you can call me satoru.. and what about me?”

you lower your voice, fingers playing with your skirt. “d'you want me too? is this something the both of you like... discuss in your little nerd cave?”

he actually laughs under his breath trying for suave. “want’s a mild word...”

"hm. so, you ever think about what it’d be like?” your voice goes low. “taking me apart together?”

might as well throw the ball out there and see how they react.

and react they did, the guilty look on their faces confirmed what you pretty much already knew, they were into that freaked out throuple shit.

you continue like you’re talking about the weather, just trying to get a rise out of them, mentally and physically. “who’d start,” you say, “and who’d finish.”

your hand slides down suguru’s solid bicep and his throat bobs hard.

“you’d take turns, right?” you ask sweetly. “be real nice to me?”

satoru curses under his breath and suguru digs his nails into his knee to keep from shivering.

you smile at them, “or maybe not?”

now their heads are filled with images they’ve only let themselves fantasise about in the dark. suguru’s brain is showing him flashes, your hands bound with his belt, your mouth open and wet, your thighs trembling under both their grips.

satoru’s picturing you in his lap, suguru behind you, his fingers splayed over your throat while satoru kisses the words out of your mouth.

you lean back, finally giving them room to breathe, but they don’t. they seriously can’t.

and still, through the thick syrup of want, you feel it: the sting of guilt. you’re not drunk, maybe a bit high, bust still. when it came down to it, you were just being reckless while hurting.

memories of sukuna’s thick fingers on your waist just yesterday, the way he grunted when he finished and didn’t look you in the eye. just zipped up, threw some unsignificant words your way, and left.

you think of all the nights you cried over him and all the times you begged, all the times you forgave him just to keep things civil.

and you think of last weekend. and the weekend before that, and the weekend before that.

it seemed like you had a new story for each function you went to together, this was not healthy.

...yeah, fuck it.

they obviously want you, really badly, and you needed a good distraction. what better distraction than two tall, handsome strangers to take your mind off things?

you move so you're sitting in between them, and they part for you like the red sea. "can't let geto take all of the attention now can i?"

“jesus christ,” satoru whispers as you sit down almost ontop of him, he tries his best to keep his hands to himself as you readjust your skirt while sitting squished between them.

you catch yourself grinning before grabbing the white haired boys collar, what did you have to lose? one night, you could indulge for one night.

you lean in, suguru’s breath fans over your cheek as you press your lips to satoru’s, it was barley a brush, yet the exhale that escaped his lips was thick and needy. his hands jumped to your jaw but you pull away quick to give suguru some attention.

he meets you halfway with his eyes falling shut. his hand guides up your body and brushes your waist although he doesn’t pull you in, not yet, not unless you want it.

and you do.

so you kiss him deeper with one hand gripping his shirt and the other sliding up into satoru’s soft hair. they’re both touching you everywhere like they can’t believe this is real, they're half expecting to wake up in a cold sweat.

you pull back for air with lips bruised, and satoru’s chasing you before he even knows it, a needy, gasping thing.

your mouths meet messily with hunger. you nip his lower lip and he whimpers, then moans low in his throat as your hips shift between them, pressing firm to suguru’s thigh. satoru’s pupils are blown so wide they look bottomless.

and god, god, they want you.

"holy— are you real?" suguru manages to groan, and you feel ecstatic at the feeling.

all until the fear hits.

your eyes open, just barely and you do a quick sweep of the room. you see them everywhere, phones.

not aimed at you, but they're everywhere all the same. in hands, on laps, on tables. camera lenses you can’t see and screens you can’t control. this isn’t your dorm, this isn’t even your party, this is choso’s house. and you’ve made a career, a life, out of being seen a certain way, you can’t risk this.

not when there’s a chance he could see it. sukuna was a headache you wanted to deal with much later down the track.

you pull back pressing your palms to their chests. their mouths chase yours dazed and so out of breath, but you hush them with a kiss to the corner of suguru’s lips, a brush of your fingers down satoru’s jaw.

“we should take this somewhere more.. private.” you whisper sensually.

you slide off the couch and tug your dress into place, checking over your shoulder once as a coy smile spreads across your swollen lips. suguru’s standing eagerly and satoru fumbles with his belt that you'd pulled at earlier.

“lets go upstairs, yeah?”

you shoot down the hall and up choso's long stairway, you faintly hear them behind you whispering curses.

“jesus christ.” satoru mutters under his breath. “what's even happening...”

“this is a dream, it's gotta be.” suguru says.

“if it is, don’t wake me.”

you reach the upstairs hallway where the rooms are, and choso's standing by his bedroom door with the drink he said he was gonna grab earlier.

you look up at him and he seems to know the situation before you even had a chance to explain. his eyes flick over your body, the smear of gloss on your chin and the flushed heat of your cheeks, he doesn’t judge.

he stares behind you at the taller boys practically shaking with nerves, he tries to surpress a laugh at how pathetic his friends look. although, hes proud of them for not totally ruining their opportunity with you by saying something too creepy or out of pocket.

you step close, just enough for him to hear you over the noise of whatever shitty drake song was bumping.

“can i use your room, cho?” you ask politely. the way you say it is sweet and light, but choso can hear the not so nice undertones, the rage. the heartbreak. the fuck you of it all.

he looks like he's contemplating for a moment, then exhales through his nose. “both, huh?" he teases, earning a bashful look rom all three of you. "course, go crazy.”

you grin shyly as your fingers brush his wrist as you pass by, "thanks, love ya."

when the two men scuff by, choso nods, and yawns. “don’t fuck up my shit.”

satoru closes the door behind you with trembling fingers and suguru rubs his neck anxiously like he's ten seconds away from falling apart all over you.

they both look at you with wide eyes and unsure, after all, this was their first time.

they’re looking at you like you’re quite literally the single most amazing thing they've ever seen, and even with the air of uncertainty, they both looked so beautiful you wanted to sob.

you take a shaky step back toward the bed, and they follow suit.

they don’t rush you or fumble, they just inch closer like gravity’s dragging them to you. like they’ve been waiting a lifetime for this moment and they’d rather die before wasting it.

you stand next to choso's big comfy bed, suguru stands close infront of you as satoru circles behind, they're both sweating bullets. you watch as their hands shake with the need to touch, to grab.

"well... go on." you whisper.l

both boys tense up, but as soon as the hesitation's gone they're scrambling to try and make this feel as natural and consensual as possible before indulging in their fantasies, like they'd always said they would if this was to ever happen.

“is this okay?” suguru asks, brushing his fingers along the bottom of your skirt. “we’ll stop if you—”

“—no,” you breathe. “no, it's fine. don't stop, just... please.”

the boys look at eachother like they'd struck gold.

satoru’s long fingers pull your tight top up and over your body, kissing at your neck as he does so. suguru stands behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra with a deftness that makes your thighs clench, his mouth grazing your shoulder blades as the straps fall loose down your arms.

they undress you like they’re unwrapping some beautiful luxury gift. for virgins, they were doing wonderfully so far.

suguru’s hands slide down your sides to unzip your skirt, and it pools around your ankles in a heartbeat. satoru drops to his knees to help you step out of it, and you could swear he shudders when your bare thighs come into view.

“fuck,” he breathes. “you’re…”

but he doesn’t finish.

he just looks up at you, eyes wide behind his glasses, blue and blown with complete and utter awe, he's staring like you’re some divine creature.

then suguru turns you gently, his hand curling under your chin to tilt your face toward his. he kisses you slowly, and when he pulls back you’re trembling from the sensuality of it all.

you almost feel greedy having this much attention on you.

choso’s sheets are soft and rumpled beneath your thighs as they ease you down, laying you back so softly. satoru kneels beside you and suguru leans over you, and they begin to undress themselves slowly.

you cant help but groan because god, they’re unreal under all of that geeky shit.

suguru shrugs off his sweater, the hem dragging over his beautifully cut torso revealing smooth, pale skin and thick lines of muscle traced with soft black hair.

he’s covered in little scars, faint things like he’s lived a hundred lives just to get here, in this moment with you.

you can’t look away from the tattoos that curve around his chest, how they stretch over his muscle as he inches closer.

satoru pulls off his jumper in one messy sweep, ruffling his snowy hair and leaving it even more tussled than before. his t-shirt comes next, he’s a little leaner than suguru, but muscular all the same.

you stare, and they know you’re staring. i mean, you weren't being very subtle about it...

satoru goes redder in the face from this new attention, his hands are shaking again as he peels off his jeans. when you glance down, you gawk as his pretty cock slaps back against his tummy, so hard and long.

suguru’s slower as usual, keeping his eyes on you the whole time as he undoes his belt and pushes down his jeans, the snap of leather making your thighs squeeze together.

and then they’re both kneeling at the foot of the bed, fully undressed, looking at you like you’re god.

“she’s shaking,” suguru notices as his eyes trail up your bare legs. “we should start slow, satoru.”

“yeah,” satoru says, crawling closer. “yeah, slow, gotcha…” he swallows nervously.

you're genuinely overwhelmed at how methodical they seem to be, how having their undivided attention suddenly flipped the power dynamic, now you're at their mercy.

when they lay you back, when they open your thighs with trembling hands and eager mouths, you feel a flip of need in your stomach.

you’ve been touched before, plenty. you’ve been kissed, been fucked, been thrown around a bedroom by a man who only knew how to want you with his hands, not his heart.

sukuna was always rough and so, so selfish. he’d shove your knees apart without looking you in the eye, fuck you hard and fast like he was trying to pour out all of his frustration, and always left you cold and empty afterwards.

you let yourself be used, again and again. hoping that one dad, he’d see you, want you in the way romeo wants juliet.

and now? instead of that, there’s this.

satoru’s mouth hot and wet and oh so greedy as his tongue slides past your lips, moaning like he’s already got his cock inside of you.

suguru’s hands fan over your chest, groping your tits sensually, “fuck, want you so bad."

satoru pulls away from your lips with a gasp, tugging at your jeans. “fuck, want you bare. now.”

suguru butts in, “that okay?”

you nod, also breathless. “yeah,”

“good girl,” the purple eyed man smiles, his eagerness making you throb.

shit, for virgins these guys knew how to get a girl going, your mind was blown.

satoru falls to his knees and kisses your thighs feverishly, his spit drips onto your pussy before he laps it up with a filthy moan. “fuck, you’re wet,” satoru pants. “is that for us?”

you nod with your hips trembling, whines spilling out with each breath. "f—fuck! he's, yes it's for you." you groan.

suguru snakes a hand around the front for your cunt and finds your clit in record time, dj-ing the bundle of nerves using satoru's spit as lube. "aw, you like that baby? like having us both at once?"

they moan in sync when you moan out a "fuck, yes!"

satoru buries his face in your cunt like he’s trying to suffocate in it, his tongue circling your clit now as suguru toys with your nipples, his two fingers working deep inside you, slapping wet sounds into the quiet of the room. satoru's sloppy and greedy with his jaw completely soaked, eyes rolling back every time you whimper. “taste her,” he mumbles up to suguru. “holy shit, taste-”

suguru shifts positions and leans down without hesitation, then licks you right off satoru’s mouth. your knees almost give out.

“perfect,” he mutters.

“so fucking good,” satoru finishes.

they drag you further up the bed, both of them hard and leaking. you see the way satoru grips the base of his cock, flushed red and twitching, precum spilling down his knuckles. suguru’s is heavier, curved meanly upwards, all veined and dark, there's a piercing glinting at the tip.

“can we take you?” satoru pants while suguru's leaving heavy kisses up and down the sides of your shoulders.

“—yes!” you whimper, “please, please.”

the black haired ones on you first, face now buried between your thighs in place of satoru, tongue working your clit while satoru kneels beside your head, stroking his cock. “open,” he tells you, you obey, and he spits in your mouth with a devilish grin.

“swallow it,” suguru says, watching from between your legs. “good fucking girl.” he praises as he watches your throat bob.

they take turns. satoru fucks your throat slow and deep, his hands cradling your head like you're both fragile yet able. suguru sucks and licks up every inch of your cunt, his tongue curling inside you, then pulling back to spit on your clit before rubbing it in with his fingers.

“she likes that,” satoru says with a wrecked voice. “look how loud she's gettin'.”

“jesus,” suguru growls. “god, let me fuck her already—"

“wait,” satoru groans, pulling out of your throat with a pop. “i wanna be in her mouth when you go in.”

they flip you, get you on your hands and knees. satoru kneels in front of you, his cock glossy with your spit. suguru lines himself up behind you, hands firm on your hips.

you’re soaked and throbbingas he slides in with one slow, mean thrust, and you scream around satoru’s cock.

suguru groans a pornographic groan. “tight fucking pussy,” he pants. “gripping me so hard, fuck!”

“she's doing so well, taking my cock to the —fuck— to the base,” satoru gasps, thrusting into your mouth.

they fuck you in sync. suguru pounds into you from behind, each thrust making your thighs shake, cock punching deep into your cunt while satoru holds your face steady and uses your throat like a pocket pussy. tears streak your cheeks and spit drips from your lips.

you're completely and utterly wrecked, yet you’ve never felt more loved.

“gonna cum,” suguru growls, yanking you up by the hair. “gonna fill her up,”

“inside,” you gasp, pulling off satoru. “please, please come inside!”

suguru moans at that, and with one final pull, he's spilling inside you hard and deep. he keeps thrusting through it, fucking his cum back up into you.

“switch,” you mumble almost instantly. “i want both.”

satoru's all breathless but he's grinning like a kid on christmas, he helps you onto your back.

suguru leans down and kisses you filthily, cum still dripping from your pussy onto the sheets.

you’re shaking, but still hungry for more of this sweet, sweet sex.

“you sure?” satoru pants, slapping his cock against your ass before lining up.

“yes,” you breathe. and when you confirm, he slides in slowly.

he tried to hold back, but the moment he bottoms out, his control shatters. he slams into you, moaning like he’s possessed, watching his cock fuck suguru’s cum into you with each thrust.

“fuuuuk, you’re dripping,” he gasps. “that’s his, huh? all that from us?” he leans down and kisses your open mouth, then pulls back to spit in it again. you swallow with a moan.

suguru watches, stroking himself with a fucked our expression. “you’re both so hot,” he sighs. “look at you two, jesus.”

after a good few deep thrusts, satoru too finishes inside you hard, his cock spamming and jerking deep in your cunt. you feel every spurt, hot and full mixing with suguru’s, dripping down your thighs.

and then, “open up,” suguru says, kneeling over your chest from his spot beside the bed.

you stick out your tongue and his seed covers the inside of your mouth. you swallow it all and the action makes the boys hard all over again.

still, they gauge that this was probably enough for the first time, and they rush to clean you up immediately.

this was sex you could seriously get used to.

~

after the clean up, you’re asleep before either of them can even utter the word 'aftercare'.

curled between them in the tangle of choso’s sheets, one leg tossed over suguru’s thigh, your cheek pressed deep into satoru’s warm chest.

your breathing is soft and steady like you’ve never slept better, like you were meant to end up right here, with both of them wrapped around you tight.

satoru stares down at you, stunned.

“she’s asleep,” he whispers.

“mm,” suguru hums beside him. “out cold.”

satoru breathes out a disbelieving laugh. “holy shit.”

suguru smiles slowly. “yeah.”

“i mean,” satoru whisper screams, “did that actually just happen? like, what the fuck?”

he looks at you again, at your bare shoulder rising and falling and how your lashes kiss your cheeks. your hand is fisted into his shirt, you’re holding onto him in your sleep.

he swallows. “fuck, man.”

suguru’s hand rests lightly on your hip, his fingers dotting soft circles over your skin, he can’t stop touching you even now. “that shit was like a dream.”

“she was perfect,” satoru agrees.

suguru's hand slides carefully up your spine and you shift slightly in your sleep, a soft whisper, and both of them freeze as to not wake you further. but you don’t open your eyes, you just sigh, sweet and content, pressing closer into the warmth of their worn out bodies.

suguru watches you like he’s studying religious scripture. “i’ve imagined it,” he says quietly. “a thousand times. how she’d sound. how she’d taste.”

satoru nods. “i thought it wouldn’t be as good as i imagined.”

“mhm, but it was better,” suguru says, voice hoarse.

“so much better.”

their thoughts drift back to how easily you let yourself be taken care of by them, letting them see you vulnerable, see you cry, even. they knew you didn't get that with sukuna.

"bet that beg's never fucked her like that.” suguru jokes, and satoru rolls his eyes. “obviously. if some virgins can outfuck that clown, that's just embarrassing.”

tthey stare at you again, admiring your pretty features as you sleep soundly.

satoru brushes a knuckle along your temple. “she was genuinely phenomenal, oh my god.” he's obviously still convinced this was all a dream.

suguru hums. “she clenched so hard on my cock, i thought i was gonna die.”

they both fall silent again, looking down at how peaceful you were.

“i hope we made her forget. about him, i mean. could tell something was up,” suguru sighs.

satoru nods. “mhm, hope we gave her something to think about instead of whatever issues they're having.”

“she deserves it,” suguru murmurs.

“yeah,” satoru says. “she deserves everything.”

"and you don't even feel the slightest bit guilty? screwing a taken women?"

"nope. not when her man is that dick."

suguru just smiles, brushing his hands through your hair and humming in agreement.

the room smells like you, they smell like you. they’ve got you on their hands, in their mouths, under their nails. you’re in their teeth, in their veins, in their bloodstream.

they'd never felt so utterly consumed before, and they wouldn't want it any other way.

~

the door creaks open just after two.

choso leans into the doorway with a curious glance, taking in the sight of you sleeping peacefully against the two boys.

“hey.” he whispers into the darkness.

satoru flinches like he’s been electrocuted.

“jesus!”

“shhh.” choso murmurs into a dry tone. “you’ll wake her.”

suguru huffs, “shit, how long have you been standing there?”

“long enough,” choso says, stepping fully into the room now. he crosses to the side of the bed like he’s done it a thousand times. “relax, m' not pissed off or anything.”

“you’re not?”

choso shrugs. “i let you guys come up, lowkey egged her on, too.”

satoru looks at him. “so you’re not… like grossed out?”

choso snorts. “nah.”

suguru’s brow twitches. “you’re not… disappointed?”

choso shakes hi head at that.

he glances down at you again, at the way you’re sleeping, deep and undisturbed with a softness on your face he hasn’t seen in weeks. he sees the glow in your skin and the tension gone from your shoulders, melted away like butter on a hot day.

he sighs. “no, she clearly needed this.”

satoru and suguru exchange a glance, unsure if they’re about to be punched or hugged.

but choso only leans over, hands surprisingly careful, and nudges satoru’s shoulder with a low murmur. “alright, up.”

satoru quirks a confused brow. “what?”

“move, she sleeps better when she’s not squished between two lanky assholes.”

“but she’s—”

“oh my fucking god, move.”

his tone leaves little room to argue, so suguru sighs, then gets up stiffly trying not to wake you, untangling himself from the bedsheets and carefully withdrawing from the warmth of your body. satoru follows, groaning quietly. you stir a little but don’t wake, just curl inward into the space they leave behind, a faint sound of protest escaping your lips.

satoru almost cries at the loss.

“go,” choso puhes, “before she wakes up and feels weird.”

suguru looks at you one more time. then nods solemnly. he pulls on his hoodie, grabs his sketchbook from the floor, but satoru just stands there, staring.

choso raises a brow. “need help?”

“no,” satoru mutters. “i’m fine.”

he pulls his shirt on inside out, then they leave without another word.

choso sighs then pulls off his boots and shrugs off his jacket, folding it neatly over the back of his desk chair. he stalks back to the bed, careful not to wake you, then eases himself into the space satoru left behind.

you gravitate toward the new heat, you nuzzle into his chest with a little sigh, one hand fisting in the fabric of his shirt.

he smiles gently, taking in your adorably clingy nature.

“hey,” he murmurs fondly, brushing your hair from your face. “there she is.”

he doesn’t say anything else. just watches you sleep for a moment, long fingers stroking the plush of your cheek. your lashes flutter a little and your lips twitch, then you breathe his name without waking.

he closes his eyes contently, “sleep, ma,” he mutters. “you’re okay."

~

shit, your head was pounding.

your body was weighed down heavy with the kind of sex ache that makes your thighs shake when you stretch. you shudder under the covers and blink blearily into the chest in front of you.

“choso…?”

“hey.” his voice is sleepy and he’s barely opened his eyes. “mornin’, sweetheart.”

you’re nestled against him like you always are after long parties at his place, except this time your lips are swollen, your thighs are sore, and your body still sings with the memory of being ravished.

“uh, how did you—"

“js' found you like this,” he says simply, brushing a knuckle under your eye. “figured you’d want someone to keep the nightmares away or whatever.”

your heart melts.

“thank you, cho." you whisper.

he hums like it’s no big deal and like holding you through the night isn’t his favorite part of every party he has at his place.

you curl closer into him, your sleepy face tucked under his chin, breathing in his familiar scent. you and choso have always made sense, bestfriends since the beginning. you’ve never had to ask for much with him.

maybe it’d be easier if he didn’t care so much about you, if he could just be the guy who hosts the cool invite-only-parties and didn't get involved in the messy shit.

but he’s never had that option with you, no way.

not when he’s watched you make yourself small and insignificant for someone who doesn’t deserve you, he’s seen the way sukuna leaves you hollowed out and timid, he’s picked you up from the worst nights and still thought you were the best thing that ever happened to him.

he’s just there.

not because he wants anything from you, god, never, he’s not sukuna.

he just wants you to be safe, he wants you happy. wants you to know that someone sees you, that someone really gives a shit, because he really gives a shit.

so yeah, if it means slipping into bed beside you so you don’t wake up alone, brushing your hair back from your cheek while you breathe soft and steady, he’ll do it. because you’re his girl, even if you aren't really his girl. he’s always going to look out for you, no matter what.

if he can't be the one loving you right then he'll do everything he can to make those who can, do.

“hey, cho?”

“mm?”

“…do you have their numbers?” you ask shyly, trying to sound as flippant as you could.

he doesn’t have to ask who you mean, he just cheekily smiles. “yeah, baby,” he says. “i got you.”

"and cho?"

"yes?"

"don't tell ryo."

he would never, don't you worry.

~

monday

you told yourself it was just a one time thing. afterall, two guys at once was a bit much, even for you. (no matter if they were the best fuck you'd ever had.)

but then monday came.

you walk into the small campus café with your laptop tucked under one arm and your sunglasses still perched high on your pretty cheekbones, and there they were.

satoru and suguru. sitting in the back sharing a muffin, whispering furiously about whatever nerdy thing it was. normal, they hadn’t been inside you at the same time forty eight hours ago.

you almost turned around, but then suguru looks up, satoru following.

shit, they were so fucking pretty.

his eyes darkened when they landed on you like all he needed in this moment was to be close to you again, and you couldn’t move. couldn’t scoff and turn around, couldn’t not walk over to them when he raised a slow hand and curled his fingers in a quiet, come here.

so you walked over, and sat between them.

the vibe was a little akward, yet still somehow more comfortable than your expected. satoru was looking at you with that cute needy expression, and suguru smiled when his knuckles accidentally pushed at your wrist when he reached for his coffee. your stomach was flipping like a schoolgirl’s.

"you look as beautiful as ever, y/n." satoru murmurs as he grabs for your hand under the table.

"i still can't believe you're real, god, you're so cute." suguru whispers as his hands grip your thigh descreetly.

jeez, one night and they're getting this bold? you couldn't lie, you liked it.

an expectant smile crossed your lips when satoru leaned in and asked quietly, “wanna come over later?” you nodded, you knew you could never say no to these two.

tuesday

satoru keeps a bottle of lotion on his nightstand that smells like coconut and soy.

you’re not sure why that’s what sticks with you the most.

he'd kissed your thighs for fifteen full minutes before even touching you, he whispered mine, mine, mine into the hollow of your throat when you came, he looked at you after, eyes wet and mouth upturned like he’d seen something so divine.

instead of that, all you could focus on is lotion.

the smell of it on your wrists when you woke up in his bed, your body all aching and sore in the best way. when he sat behind you on the floor after your shower, hands gliding gently over your skin with the stuff, murmuring such sweet words in your ear.

“you’re so pretty like this,” he’d smile, rubbing circles into your shoulders. “all quiet and sleep.”

you let him touch you for a long time. let him press kisses down your spine, let him pull you into his lap and rest his cheek against your back as he listened to your hear beat.

you didn’t ask what this meant and neither did he, too soon for that.

wednesday

suguru brings you over to the dorm while satoru's out, and he sketches you.

you don’t know how you got to that point, one moment you were sitting on his bed in your underwear, eating strawberries from a chipped glass bowl, and the next he's looking at you like van gough looked at sunflowers.

“y/n, stay like that,” he said gently. you thought he meant it as a joke or something. maybe he was gonna do something freaky, but instead, he grabbed his sketchbook.

and then he drew you.

you followed his instructions and let him work away while you admired his beautiful face, taking in every little curvature of his blessed body. after he was through with sketching you raw, he placed his book aside, climbed onto the bed, straddled your hips, and kissed you so hard you felt him deep in your heart.

he’s quieter than satoru is and so much more intense. less prone to fidgeting, more prone to doing.

“you should be adored,” he said at one point, dragging his mouth along your collarbone as he plunged deeper inside of you. “you should be touched with all the care in the world.”

he didn’t realise you were crying until he kissed your cheeks and tasted the salt.

thursday

satoru’s the one who starts questioning every little thing first between the three of you.

at first he just acts really weird, he talks fast and says shit like “we’re not your boyfriends, right?” and, “i don’t wanna make it weird, haha, unless you do, but even then like… i dunno, just ignore me!”

you're lying on his floor in between his legs, he keeps running his fingers through your hair. you’re not wearing a bra, and he’s definitely hard, the perfect setting to have your mind turn hazy with pleasure.

but then, “do you regret it?” he asks suddenly.

"hm?"

“the weekend..” he replies. “and… everything after.”

you sit up with a confused look on your face.

satoru’s face is a mess of contradictions. he looks both nervous and cocky, like he’s daring you to reject him but also it would ruin him if you did.

you roll your eyes then kiss him rough until he's gasping for air.

“does that answer your question?” you murmur against his mouth, then he lets go of a groan.

“i’m so in love with you it’s disgusting,” he blurts out, then slaps a hand over his big mouth, turning red. “wait, pretend i didn’t—"

you kiss him again.

friday

suguru finds you in the library as you’re curled into a corner with your laptop, your hoodie's pulled over your head and your sunglasses are on. you're trying to avoid attention and pretend you’re being productive, when really, you’re just replaying the last five nights in your mind on repeat.

he smiles to himself and walks over, setting a cup of coffee by your hand. “hey there, pretty,” he says quietly.

he’s wearing glasses today with a loose button down, his hair is tied back in a low bun, he looks as perfectly put together as usual.

you grin before you can stop yourself. “hey, handsome.” he sits in the seat beside you, draping his arm over the back of your chair.

“you looked like you needed caffeine,” he murmurs. you glance at the coffee. it’s your exact order. “and a kiss,” he adds, even softer.

your face flushes hot.

“but i can wait until later.” he adds.

he doesn’t say, 'my place or yours,' but you hear it anyway.

you bite your lip, you know you weren't in a position to reject such a beautiful man. “later,” you echo, with a wide smile.

saturday

by now you stop acting like this isn't something you want.

there’s no “maybe this is a phase, maybe i just needed a distraction.”

there’s no one night stand logic that can explain the way suguru presses his face into your stomach after he comes, arms wrapped tight around your hips whispering about how he never wants to let you go.

there’s no throw away excuse for how satoru touches your face so gently, palms cupping your cheeks, thumb brushing your big lip, whispering your name as he thrusts in and out.

there’s no ignoring the ache in your chest when you leave them in the morning. your fingers hover over your phone every night, like maybe if you just called, one of them would show up at your door again. you’re not sure when this stopped being about sex.

and hell, you’re not sure it ever was.

saturday was spent overthinking.

sunday

satoru and suguru have you shared again, you're panting heavily from their joint efforts to make you finish as they caress your face tenderly, covered in sweat themselves.

"you did so well, baby. you took the both of us like a pro." satoru praises.

"it's like you were made just for us to take apart, isn't that right, honey?" suguru adds.

you could only whimper in reply from the intense moment that still hadn't been shaken yet.

the two hush you, whispering such sweet words while they kiss up and down your body trying to calm you down. you're left reeling with the thoughts you didn't want to acknowledge quite yet.

“i’m scared.” you whisper.

the boys stop their aftercare and move to hover around your face that's now somehow covered in tears.

"oh, my sweet girl... of what?" suguru asks, stroking your head as satoru rubs your cheek.

"it's just... this is getting too much. i'm scared of sukuna finding out, i'm scared of you two leaving me, or getting bored, or someone finding out, or—"

"—baby, relax. thats not gonna happen, we promise we'll—"

you cut satoru off. “but what if it’s just a phase? or something stupid we’re all into just because it’s new? what if i wake up and you guys leave? what if you don’t want me tomorrow? what if this whole thing is just…”

you're unloading everything that had been slowly eating away at you, you can’t finish through the small sobs.

suguru cuts in firmly this time. “no.”

"y/n, listen to me. me and satoru aren't going to abandon you, hell, if anything you should be the one walking away from us. were just two freak losers who got extremely lucky."

“yeah,” satoru agrees, his voice cracking halfway through it. “you’re not just something we wanted to fuck, okay? we want all of you, all of the time. but if sex is all you want to give us, then that's fine, we really don't mind.”

you close your eyes. the room is so quiet now, just your breathing and theirs, the soft creak of the floorboards as the building settles.

“it just feels so wrong... like i'm using you two to get over the pain someone else is giving me. someone who i'm still technically with..."

“we’re not taking anything negatively from this,” suguru speaks softly. “we don’t want anything you don't want. we just want you, in whatever way you want to be wanted.”

satoru exhales through his nose. “we’ve admired you for so long,” he murmurs. “we've been needing this for literal years, y/n, we're never going to just up and leave, it's a privilege you even looked our way that day in the hallway, let alone let us have you like this. morals be damned, we couldn't care less about you using us for solace.”

his confession makes you want to sob harder.

“i never thought i’d get to touch you,” suguru adds. “never even dreamed of this. of holding you like this. of being held by you, so don't worry your pretty little head, we're completley at your mercy.”

youre overwhelmed by the honesty, by the massive amount of devotion these two silly guys have you. hell, you were cheating on your boyfriend and using them as emotional anchors, they seriously were obsessed.

still, their attention always felt so pure.

“...you make me feel like i matter,”

“you do matter,” satoru assures, “you’re the realest person out there, y/n. and we lo-like you for you.”

"we love every part of you, okay? we're not gonna leave you." suguru smiles.

your eyes sting worse, and you think of sukuna, of all the nights you curled away from him after he’d taken what he wanted. you think of the mornings he didn’t even say goodbye. you think of the shame. the emptiness. the way you convinced yourself it was love when it really, really wasn't.

this, what satoru and suguru give you, is nothing like that.

you reach for them, pull them closer until their limbs are tangled in yours again, until you’re flush against suguru’s chest and satoru’s long body is draped around your back.

you close your eyes with a tight throat. “don’t let me go,” you whisper.

“never,” satoru murmurs into your hair.

“not ever,” suguru echoes, thumb stroking your waist.

~

now it was time to face the elephant in the room, after your week of emotional, intense sex with satoru and suguru, sukuna finally came over after a week of radio silence.

he basically cock blocked you just as you were about to leave your room and head to the boys, the quietness felt so disgusting when he was close.

he sits at the edge of your bed with his arms folded across his broad chest, you’re still by the door with your keys dangling from your hand, bag slipping off your shoulder.

“you’ve been weird,” he says flatly.

you blink, taken aback. “what?”

he doesn’t look at you when he says it again. “you’ve been weird. haven't texted for days. no invites.”

you gulp. “look, sukuna, i’ve just been—"

“busy?” he cuts you off, his voice deadly sharp. “yeah. busy ignoring me.” the door clicks shut behind you and your hand trembles on the knob.

“i’m not ignoring you,” you say much quieter now. “you’ve been busy too, no? with law midterms, remember?”

“don’t patronise me.” he scoffs.

“i’m not,” you murmur. “i’m trying to talk to you.”

he stands abruptly now pacing, fingers running through his pink hair in that agitated way that always comes before he says something horribly cruel.

“nah,” he mutters. “you’re trying to do damage control or some shit. every time i text, you take hours to respond. you come back home late, you dodge my calls, you’ve been hanging out with..." he pauses, squinting. “who’ve you even been hanging out with?”

"so you're stalking my location now?" you try to shift the conversation but the blank look on his face lets you know that he's not having it.

your mouth goes dry. you feel the heat rise in your cheeks, guilt, even though you told yourself a hundred times it wasn’t really bad cheating if he was doing the same behind closed doors.

“choso,” you lie. “and shoko. i’ve just been trying to keep my head on straight, kuna.”

“bullshit,” he snaps. “you’re lying.”

“i’m not!”

“don't fucking yell at me, you are.” he growls.

you can’t look at him, because he’s right, you are. not just about who you’ve been with, but about everything. about how you recoil when he touches you, you don’t like how he talks to you in front of your friends, you look for other names in your phone when things go wrong.

“why are you doing this,” you ask softly, “why are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

“because you’re not the same,” he snarls. “because something’s fucking off, and you think i’m too stupid to notice!"

you feel a knot in your stomach, not guilt, but anger. you’ve kept your mouth shut for months, made excuses for him, wiped away your own tears before anyone else could see them. and now he’s standing in your dorm, looking at you like you’re the problem? like he hasn’t been slowly sucking the light out of you since the start of the semester.

“it's none of your business. you do the same thing, sukuna,” you snap.

his red eyes narrow.

“you go ghost, ignore me for days, don't call, don't text. maybe i don’t wanna tiptoe around you every day. maybe i’m tired of getting punished for needing space, or being quiet, or not wanting to fuck you every single time you come over!”

his face twists. “so that’s what this is about?”

you laugh bitterly. “of course that’s the only thing you hear!”

“i fucking knew it,” he seethes, stepping closer. “you’ve been getting dick from someone else.”

your blood goes cold.

“the fuck?”

“who is it?” he demands. “that freak choso? is it toji? what, are you on some slut streak now, trying to fuck your way through all your little guy friends?”

you’re shaking with anger now.

“get out.”

“what?”

“get out, sukuna.”

he stares at you with his chest heaving.

“don’t talk to me like that,” you whisper. “don’t come into my room and call me names and accuse me of shit that you’ve done to me.”

he laughs then scoffs, stepping back. “so that’s it, huh? i call out your bullshit and suddenly i’m the villain?”

“you’re always the fucking villain!” you yell.

...

“you’re fucking pathetic,” he spits. “cry me a river, i'm gone.”

but you don’t cry. not until after the door slams or until you hear his boots stomp all the way down the hall, not until he’s fully gone. and then you’re on the floor.

knees pulled up to your chest with your hands shaking. it’s not even the fight, it’s the months you spent convincing yourself he loved you, you forgot how to want things that weren’t him, he turned every good thing sour and convinced you that it was your fault.

eventually, your hand finds your phone. you stare at your contact list through blurred teary vision. you scroll past 'kuna's' name, you scroll past choso.

and you stop on satoru and suguru's. your chest heaves with pain, you shouldn’t. they don’t deserve this. you can’t drag them into your mess just because you’re too weak to be alone.

but you think about their little confession earlier, how they were so adamant on being there for you, and decide this is the best thing you can do.

“hello?”

satoru’s voice is expectant like he was already waiting for you to call. you open your mouth, but nothing comes out except a strangled breath. “hey,” he asks softly. “are you okay?”

and you break. “can i come over?” you whisper. “please?”

satorus heart breaks in two when he hears the gentle sob in your plea, “of course,” he says. “i’ll come get you.”

“no,” you say quickly. “don’t. i'll come.” there’s a beat of silence. you imagine him looking at suguru. maybe nodding. maybe holding the phone between them like you’re some rare bird that landed in their hands and they’re afraid to scare you away.

“we’re here,” suguru says quietly now. “whenever you want.”

you nod, even though they can’t see you. “i’m leaving now.” then you hang up.

you stumble across campus with your hands shoved deep in your pocket, all you can think about is getting to their dorm and collapsing into their arms.

when you arrive, satoru’s there with the adorable messy hair you'd grown to love. suguru stands just behind him in a black t-shirt with his hair tied back, looking scared for whatever had hurt you now.

when you walk in past the boys, the pressure seems to ease up, but you could still feel the guilt eating away at you.

satoru comes to you first with his arms open and wide, suguru follows close behind, you fall into satoru’s chest shaking. he holds you like he wants to sew your broken parts together with his hands. suguru’s arms wrap around you both from behind, breath warm on your neck.

no one speaks until you whisper, “can i stay?”

suguru laughs solemnly. “you never have to leave.”

then they kiss you tenderly, this is what you needed.

some may of preferred a soft night full of praise and tight cuddles, but you? you just needed them to take your ability to think away, there was time for that softness later, afterwards.

ithey knew you well enough by now to know exactly how to take care of you in this kind of situation, and they got straight to it.

five minutes later they've wrestled your clothes off, and satoru’s tongue is trembling in your cunt like he’s going to cry from how good you taste.

he’s murmuring your name over and over with wet lips dragging sloppy kisses over your folds, his moans humming against your clit. he sounds wrecked, like he's unworthy but taking all he can get anyway, not at all entitled or selfish.

and suguru, he’s watching as his hand slides over your stomach, tracing circles against your skin as he holds you still for satoru’s mouth. every movement is so gentle, so purposeful.

“she’s shaking,” suguru whispers. “toru. slow down.”

but satoru just groans, deeper, like he physically can’t help himself.

“can’t, she’s so good— fuck, you’re so fucking good—" his muffled voice is strained and needy.

he laps you up with a helpless rhythm, his hands are gripping your thighs like he’s trying to keep you there, keep you there for him to service. his glasses are long gone, his eyes are glazed, his mouth is glistening with you.

you can barely breathe, you’re crying for what seems like the fiftieth time that week. not messy out of control sobbing, just quiet, stuttering tears. and it’s not from the orgasm building in your spine. it’s from how they’re treating you so gently.

suguru notices your wet face immediately and leans in, kisses your cheek, then, “you okay, sweetheart?”

"...i just... he never—"

your voice cracks and you can't finish the sentence, not that you need to.

because they know, they know.

satoru’s pace falters just a little. suguru’s fingers rub up and down your tummy.

“he doesn't deserve you,” suguru says, so low it’s almost a growl. “he can't handle all of this.”

you turn your head and sob once, the truth of his words really hit something deep within you it seems, because then you come.

hard.

satoru groans like he’s the one finishing, licking you through it with desperate, uncoordinated strokes, gasping against you like he’s addicted to the taste of your pleasure.

your body locks, then shudders, then melts.

and suguru pulls you into his big, safe arms, kissing your wet eyelids shut, murmuring soft, incoherent things against your skin.

you blink up at him, dazed and sore.

“do you wanna stop, baby?” he asks in a quiet voice.

and you say no.

hell no, you don’t want to stop.

you want to be held, ruined, then rebuilt afterwards.

you want them to drown out everything he left behind.

so suguru fucks you slow.

he guides you onto your back, one hand cradling your face, the other stroking down your thigh as he lines himself up. you feel the thick head of his cock press to your entrance, and your fingers tremble where they’re fisted in the sheets.

he pushes in.

inch by inch.

watching your face.

watching every reaction.

he doesn’t slam, doesn’t shove, only presses in gently until he’s buried inside you to the hilt and your walls are fluttering around him.

you gasp, whimper, any sound you could possibly be making in a situation like this was pouring out in humiliating waves.

and he moans, “fuck,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “you’re— so tight, s-so good—"

satoru is still beside you, one hand in your hair, the other jerking himself slow, his mouth slack.

“she’s perfect,” he whispers. “she’s fucking... god, suguru, look at her.”

and suguru is, he fucks you like you’re made of glass. like this is the only chance he’ll ever get to love you. slow, dragging thrusts that push so deep they punch even the littlest sounds out of your sweet mouth.

you cling to him.

you whimper his name.

“please,” you gasp. “please! don’t stop— don’t leave—"

satoru kisses you so soft it makes your head hurt.

“never,” he says.

that seems to start the mantra of praise as they spill pretty words into the air.

"he didn’t deserve your body. or your heart.”

“we’ll take better care of you, baby.”

"pretty things like you need to be treasured."

and then, "open for satoru, sweetheart.”

you blink through the tears, still spread open and full of suguru, and then satoru is there again, cock flushed and leaking, breath ragged as he kneels by your head.

“can i?” he whispers. “i’ll go slow. i swear.”

and you nod.

because you trust them.

because you want them.

this was all happening so fast but you just couldnt seem to care.

satoru hovers your chest, his cock heavy on your lips and you open for him with tongue out, lashes wet, suguru still thrusting into you slow and deep and steady.

“fuck,” satoru breathes. “fuck, baby! just like that—"

you suck him in and he chokes on a deep, sensual groan.

his fingers curl in your hair as he starts to fuck your mouth, soft at first, like he’s afraid he’ll hurt you, but you whimper and gag and grip his thigh, and he loses it.

he starts moving faster, much deeper.

the wet sounds of your mouth around him mix with the slap of suguru’s hips against yours.

you’re being worshipped and all but consumed. you can’t speak, can’t even think, you’re just feeling, a vessel for their pleasure, full of their hands and cocks and pure, undying love.

because that’s what it is.

twisted and bruising.. but it’s love.

there's no possession, or violence. just two boys who’ve been obsessed with you for years, who would rather die than see you cry over someone who didn't deserve you again.

and when they both come, satoru across your tongue with a helpless sob, suguru deep inside you with a raw groan and a hand pressed over your heart, it feels like freedom.

this is what it feels like to be fucked loved right.

you lay there soaked while they pet your hair and whisper. “so good,” satoru smiles. “you were so fucking good."

“you always are,” suguru adds. “you’re ours.”

you’re not crying now, not quite. but your chest feels split open, nerves buzzing like something too big to hold is trying to crawl out. you can’t speak. can’t move. you just lay there, fucked full and coated in their cum, staring at the ceiling like it’s got answers hidden in the plaster cracks.

satoru takes note of your dazed expression. “hey,” he says softly, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “too much?”

you shake your head, but your mouth doesn’t cooperate.

suguru’s weight moves behind you, he’d curled around your back after they’d finished, warm and sticky yet safe. now he leans over you, his voice a low drawl in your ear. “you’re okay, you’re safe, baby. with us.”

you nod, a tiny tremble as satoru presses a kiss to your forehead. “let’s clean you up.”

they lift you gently, one arm under your knees, one around your back. satoru carries you to the bathroom while suguru turns on the shower, testing the temperature with his hand. steam curls around your skin, soft and warm.

they step in with you, satoru supports you against his chest, water running down both your bodies. suguru kneels in front of you with a washcloth, moving like he’s handling a painting or a prayer. “gonna clean you real gentle,” he says. “you did so good for us.” the first touch of the cloth between your legs makes you shiver.

“i know, i know,” suguru murmurs. “you’re sore. we’ll be careful.”

he’s not just washing, but caring for you as he dabs away the mess between your thighs. “look at how much we gave you,” he says softly, gazing up. “you took it all. every drop.”

you shudder, just a little, overwhelmed sound. satoru kisses your temple. “it's okay, baby. it's okay."

suguru cleans the rest of you up, at this point your entire being feels free of impurities, your soul, even. its like they’ve cracked your soul open and poured themselves inside.

you look up at them, blinking through tears and steam. “you don’t just want me for sex?” you whisper.

satoru makes a strangled sound and hugs you tighter. “jesus,” he breathes. “no, never.”

“we want all of you,” suguru says. "every inch of you, baby.” you bury your face in suguru's chest, he’s also a little shaky.

“you could fuck us a thousand times,” he says, voice cracking, “and we’d still just wanna talk to you. sit next to you and listen to you talk about anything and everything.”

“we wanna know you,” suguru says. “wanna ruin every memory you had with him, overwrite them.”

your heart breaks, but not from pain, or from pleasure, but from the terrifying, beautiful truth of being seen. being known.

suguru whispers, “you’re so good to us.” then satoru kisses your forehead. “you’re enough,” he says. “just like this.”

you fall asleep so warm, soothed down into unconsciousness by their arms. now, you’re silent between them.

suguru looks over you softly, and satoru is awake too. lying stiffly beneath you, eyes wide open and glassy in the moonlight. “you know she hasn’t fully broken up with him,” suguru whispers.

satoru’s face drops like a puppies “i know.”

“hm.”

satoru exhales, rubbing gently on your arm. “i just… i don’t wanna be a secret, y’know?” he says. “feels like i’m in middle school again. like i’ve got a crush on the most popular girl in school, and if anyone finds out, i’m gonna get laughed out of the room.”

“you’re not in middle school,” suguru mutters. “you’re in a bed with her.”

“i know. js' doesn’t feel real...i keep thinking,” he says softly, “what if she wakes up one day and regrets it?”

suguru doesn’t say anything. the thought has haunted him too. “what if this is just a rebellion?” satoru whispers.

“what if she’s just pissed at sukuna and we’re… convenient?”

“we’re not convenient,” suguru says. satoru lets out a short, bitter laugh. “she's been too vulnerable with us for this to just be convenient.”

"hm, i guess..."

“don't worry toru, everything is going to be alright,” suguru says. satoru nods and curls his arms tighter around you.

he presses his mouth to your hair. “i love you,” he whispers. not expecting an answer. just needing to say it. suguru’s hand smooths protectively over your stomach. “i do too,” he says. “always will.”

you stir a little, murmuring something incoherent in your sleep. satoru freezes and suguru holds his breath, but you don’t wake, just nuzzle closer.

your body knows where you’re safest.

~

you were back in your own orbit, mentally healing from the crash out with sukuna and using the memory of satoru and suguru to ground you to whatever schedule you were trying to stick to.

you were doing really well, things seemed a little less scary when you were alone nower days.

but, you know what they say about good things.

a disturbance from your daily note revision was interrupted by a loud knock. you open your dorm door half asleep, thinking it’s shoko or maybe choso coming to check in, your voice is groggy. “hey, who is it—”

“so you're fucking them?”

it’s sukuna. he storms inside without waiting, he smells like weed and sweat and pure and utter rage. when the door slams shut behind him, it rattles the frame. “answer me,” he snarls. “are you fucking gojo and geto?”

you blink, completely stunned. your heart jumps in your chest. “what are you even talking about?”

“don’t fuck around right now!” he growls, stalking closer. “don’t lie to me, i’m not stupid.”

“we're not a thing anymore sukuna why the fuck do you care?! you walked out on me!”

he scoffs, “you think that counts as a break up? did those words ever leave my fucking mouth?" he scoffs loudly. "god, you think i haven’t noticed? you've been walking around all chappy like, like you’ve been—” his mouth twists up in disgust, “—bred.”

you freeze.

“i didn’t want to believe it,” he spits. “but you’re fucking filthy. knew it the second i saw you the other night. knew something was wrong, you’ve got that look on your face, like you’ve been ruined, like some other dick already beat me there.”

“you’re out of your mind.” you roll your eyes.

“am i? am i?!” his voice ricochets off the walls. “how long has this been going on? how long you been sneaking around behind my back? letting those losers put their hands all over you? let them stretch you out like the whore you are?”

“don’t talk to me like that,” you say quietly, not matching his energy at all.

he laughs cruelly. “why not? isn’t that what you are now? a whore? letting two guys run a train on you like you’re fucking community pussy?”

you flinch like he’s hit you.

“what’d you do, huh? let them talk sweet to you?” he sneers, advancing again. “gojo tell you you’re pretty? geto say you’re ‘divine’ like he’s reading fucking poetry off your tits? is that all it took to turn you into a cheating slut?”

youre growing really sick of this degrading asshole, he opens his mouth again to choke out another quip, but you slap him, hard.

he doesn’t react, just wipes the corner of his mouth, then looks at you with a stare darker than fury.

“don't talk about them,” you say, voice trembling with rage. “they've treated me better in one night than you have this whole relationship.” you snarl.

“so that’s it, then?” his voice rises. “you let them rail you and now you’re in love? we're just over?”

“well yes? they actually give a shit about me."

he laughs again, but it breaks off. something flashes across his face, almost like pain. then: “they don’t care about you. they just wanted to see if they could fuck the golden girl. you’re nothing special, not once they’ve both had you.”

“you don’t know a thing about them.” you stand your ground, staring daggers into his eyes.

“i know they’re pathetic. i know they’re weak little virgins who’ve probably been jerking off to your instagram for years. and now what? they tag teamed you and whispered some sweet nothings while they watched each other fuck you? did you like that? getting split open like a pornstar, is that your thing now?”

you’re seething.

“i didn’t believe it,” he spits. “choso said you were glowing. said you were feeling good lately, didn’t even think twice. just figured maybe i’d finally gotten through to you, maybe you were actually starting to feel something. turns out you were getting it from them.” he shakes his head.

you take a breath, steadying yourself. “you never gotten through to me,” you say. “never even tried, so miss me with that bullshit.”

he snarls. “don’t fucking do that. don’t act like i didn’t care about you—"

“—you cared about you, sukuna. about being right. about being the one i came back to, even when you didn’t deserve me.”

his eyes widen with disbelief. “and they do?”

“they listen to me! they make me feel safe.”

he stares at you. his breathing is hard now, chest heaving. “so what, you gonna be their little girlfriend now? hold hands in the quad with your geeky little nerd boyfriends? gonna let them show you off like a piece of meat?”

“yeah, maybe,” you say. “maybe i will.”

he shakes his head. “you’re a fucking slut.”

you feel the blood drain from your face and he notices it. he sees the pain flash in your eyes. and for a second, just a small, fleeting moment, he looks like he regrets it.

you lift your chin. “don’t call me that.”

“why not?” he snaps. “it’s what you are now, isn’t it? playing perfect on campus while you get used like a fleshlight by the two weirdest freaks in the math building.”

“get out,” you whisper.

but he doesn’t move.

“get the fuck out!" you begin to yell, walking up on him until he backs up towards the door.

"you'll miss me." he tries to push, looking you dead in the eye as he smiles with that belittling glint.

“i missed you while we were still together, fuck face.”

silence.

"whatever. m' gone." and he turns, and he leaves.

"stay gone this time." you call out, slamming the door.

you don’t hear from sukuna again after that night. you thought maybe he’d show up the next day, demanding an apology, some groveling, some ridiculous admission that you were wrong to move on. but he doesn’t.

instead, from then on he starts showing up in other ways, on your feed, tagged in blurry stories from parties, surrounded by girls who don’t know better.

you hear through the grapevine that he’s been on a spree, sleeping around. saying shit like “i’m single now, guess i gotta make up for lost time,” with a smug little grin. even maki brings it up once, rolling her eyes. “he’s just a horny cunt. it’s pathetic.” you nod, sip your iced coffee.

“he’s trying to prove he doesn’t care,” choso adds. “but he does. it's fucking embarrassing.”

instead of replying you start filling that space sukun left with something else. ever since you finally broke shit off with him, you’ve been getting closer and closer to satoru and suguru, and not just physically anymore.

you're listening to them talk about their majors in the library as they help you with your marketing assignments.

you pose for suguru whenever he wants to draw you, his new folio of work was going to be centered around you this semester, apparently.

you'd sit in the middle of satoru's bed as suguru sat on the floor looking up at you, sketching lines. satoru would be busy typing away at his computer completing his homework. it was the kind of domestic bliss you'd always longed for in a partner, and in this case, partners.

on the weekends, the boys would take you out to pretty cafes, hidden spots where the lighting was perfect and the scenary was photographable. you'd put them to work taking various photos of you for instagram, saying you've been 'slacking off lately' because of them. "the fans need something to eat. after all, you two aren't my only ones, after all."

they just smile and count their lucky stars that they were able to help you curate the very thing they obsessed over not too long ago.

their dorm became the place to be, after parties you'd all crash out together in suguru's bed, tangled in the limbs of one another.

the boys staring became a normal thing, you'd always catch them looking at you, taking apart every movement you made. it was daunting at first, but now you knew it was just because they admired you so much.

it definitely made you feel special.

you go to another party the following friday. not one of choso’s this time, but a campus wide art show afterparty in some crumbling loft. suguru’s reading a short piece upstairs for his portfolio, and you cheer loudest in the crowd, earning a soft smile from the man.

satoru stands beside you in his hoodie and jeans, chewing his lip and looking like he’d throw hands for a single glance in your direction. afterward, you snap a photo of you sitting on a couch, a flash of suguru’s rings on your waist and satoru’s hand on your thigh. a caption that says, 'soft launch?' your comments go feral.

@/tysoc23: who is she with???

@/miamiamia she’s got secret lovers now?

@/innnoooo wish that was me.

every day you spend with them, your light gets brighter. you start studying with them more often in the campus chapel between classes, lying beside them in the pews while suguru reads out loud from his religion texts, you and satoru listen with fond expressions listening to him recite the scripture.

suguru smells like amber and ink, a smell you'd grown to adore.

every afternoon spent with satoru, he walks you across campus just to detour into the physics building to show you something dumb, a chalkboard equation that “reminds him of you,” because its so complicated yet beautiful, whatever the fuck that meant.

you cherished every second nevertheless.

he makes you laugh so hard your cheeks hurt. he always knows when you’re about to cry, even if you don’t.

they don’t push and they don’t ask for more than you’re ready to give. and yet, you want to give them everything.

satoru starts leaving one of his hoodies in your dorm becuas he knows how cold you get when they aren't there. suguru brings you incense and hangs it by your mirror. their things start to trickle in, little tokens, little bits and pieces.

one night, you fall asleep with your head on suguru’s chest and wake up to satoru’s fingers in your hair, his sleepy voice whispering something like, “she’s so perfect.” you pretend to still be asleep.

sometimes you wake up alone. sometimes you wake up tangled between them, your legs draped across suguru’s lap, satoru’s breath hot on your neck. and sometimes, on soft mornings, when the world is still, one of them will whisper that they like being your favorites.

you still don’t define it, but everyone, including the three of you, can tell you're a thing.

~

sukuna watches from the jealous, seething sidelines, and you know he was.

you catch him across campus sometimes, lingering too long when you walk by. you hear about the girls he’s sleeping with, the way he drinks too much now and picks fights with guys he used to ignore. you don’t feel anything for it anymore, pity, anger, jealousy, none of it.

it's just a good, fair distance.

~

a few weeks pass by of healing, love, friendship, all that lovely gooey shit.

you’re sitting at a tiny booth in a tucked away cafe, one of those old ones that still plays jazz from a radio and serves lattes in chipped ceramic mugs. your hands are wrapped around your cup, legs crossed under the table, suguru’s sketchbook open between you.

“this doesn’t look like me,” you tease, squinting at his latest drawing.

“it’s not you,” suguru murmurs, smirking faintly. “it’s the concept of you.”

“oh my god,” satoru groans from your other side, halfway through stealing the sweet foam from your latte with his spoon. “can we go five minutes without suguru seducing you with dumb art terminology?”

“i’m not seducing her,” suguru says, without looking up. “i’m studying her. for my project, duh.”

“same thing,” satoru mutters, dropping the spoon into your saucer and leaning over your shoulder. “let me see.”

you tilt the sketchbook so he can look. his chin brushes your temple and his breath is warm.

“whoa,” he says, genuinely awed. “she looks… weird but hot.”

suguru glances up and happily shrugs. “that’s what she is.”

you roll your eyes, but your smile is shy. “you guys are so weird.”

“and you like it,” satoru beams.

you bump your shoulder into his. “i guess.”

suguru just hums, pencil still moving. “you keep saying that like we didn’t catch you doodling our initials in your notebook last week.”

you go still. “…you went through my notebook?”

“you left it open.”

“that’s private!”

“you drew little hearts too,” satoru gasps. “and put my letters before his, you love me more!”

“i’m leaving.”

“you’re not,” suguru says calmly, flipping the page again. “you haven’t finished your drink.”

you fake roll your eyes, but genuinely, you've never felt more at ease.

the three of you orbiting each other so naturally, like this was always fated to happen.

you catch suguru’s eye, then he smiles at you softly. satoru tosses a sugar packet at you and sticks out his tongue. you laugh. and it’s good, more than good, actually. it's perfect.

you think you could do this forever, forever with these two insanely hot nerds who just so happen to be just as infatuated with you, as you are them.

forever intertwined with these people who look at you like you're made of gold.

you knew for the rest of your life, you were going to be deeply rooted in the narrative that was satoru and suguru, and god, not you, nor them, would have it any other way.

a/n i hope you liked this re-vamp! if you saw any typos... no you didn't. (i suck, ik i need to proofread plz don't throw tomatoes at mama)