606

"Yes, sir." Your voice comes out slightly scratchy but soft and worn out from the moaning, the begging, the repetition of his name that flowed from your lips every time he pulled another orgasm from you.

He nods, his eyes looking at you, reading your expression as he drags his tongue over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cleaning it off before he sinks his teeth into it, making you jump slightly with a loud whimper.

He smirks, taking the time to shove two fingers deep inside you, his fingers slipping inside with ease before he drags them back out, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.

The taste of your messy cunt on his tongue drives him insane, making his mouth water as he craves more of you. He quickly moves his mouth back to your pussy, his spit soaked tongue dragging the wet heat over your quivering hole and you feel his saliva run down to your asshole, worsening the wet spot on the sheets beneath you.

"Zeke.." You moan letting your fingers go down into his messy hair, pulling at it slightly making him groan deeply as his mouth works desperately at your overstimulated pussy. You hear him slurping, kissing, and lapping at your cunt as if he was starving, like it was the greatest thing he'd ever had the pleasure of tasting.

He loved the pain of you yanking on his hair, wanting you to pull it hard enough to hurt, pulling him closer and closer, suffocating him in your cunt.

Your fingers curl into his hair tighter, holding his mouth against you, he flattens his tongue against your pussy as you grind yourself into his tongue. You rub yourself up and down it, moaning loudly as you feel him move his tongue in sync with you, his tongue slipping from your hole to the sensitive, puffy bud.

His tongue stimulates your clit intensely, saliva dripping from it as he looks up, watching you enjoy yourself with slightly furrowed eyebrows. He groans loudly, enjoying the way you're using him, loving how you're making a mess on his face. This is the only way he likes it.. completely messy, sloppy, and nasty.

"Mmm fuck.. Zeke.."

Hearing his name roll off your lips again makes him lose his patience. He has to have you right now.

He forces his mouth away from your cunt with a groan, giving your clit one last suck before he pushes your legs back up roughly.

"Hold them." He pants out roughly.

Once your fingers grab the back of your thighs again, he sits on his knees, wrapping his large hand around the base of his dick while he uses the other to finger you, his fingers moving quickly, dragging in and out making a mess of your cunt, he curls them up into your g-spot repeatedly, listening to the sound of your pussy squelching at the movement of the digits.

He uses the mess that built up around his fingers, smearing it along his dick once he pulls his fingers out. He groans, his dick jumping slightly as he feels the hot fluid from your needy cunt dragging along the slightly pink, leaky tip. His hands move to hold your thighs apart, not trusting your hands to keep them open for him.

He moves closer placing his dick on top of your pussy, his hips move slowly, rubbing the heavy length over your lips, through the folds, and popping the tip in and out with shaky breaths, hearing the sweet sound of your soaked hole kissing at the head.

He watches the sight with his lips slightly parted, groaning deeply as he watches. His chest, adorned by a bit of hair, heaves up and down, his breath coming out in moans and sighs.

"Fuck.." He mutters quietly before he pulls his hips back slapping his dick against your pussy before be lines himself up, letting the head of his cock slide into you one more.

"Ahh.. fuck.." He moans, finally slipping every inch inside of you, feeling your pussy stretch and mold around his dick and he swears he could cum just from that.

He stills his hips, letting out a shaky breath as his body moves to hover over yours, his lips gently nip and kiss at your neck, you tilt your head back giving him more room to work and his facial hair tickles you a little getting a small, breathless giggle from you. He smirks against your neck before he starts to move his hips, pulling back slow just to slam inside quickly.

The soft giggle you let out quickly turns into a pleasured moan. Your legs wrapping around him, your hands running up his biceps, to his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex beneath your hands while he fuck you, holding his weight off of yours.

He plants an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, groaning loudly.

"God.. you feel so fucking good.."

He drags his hips back, letting his leaking dick slip from your cunt until only the mushroom shaped tip remains buries between those hot, silky walls.

He lifts himself back up, pushing your legs up closer to your chest as he sinks back in, watching the cream push down his dick with every inch that disappears deep inside of you. He pulls his length out slowly, watching your pussy grip him, almost like it's trying to suck him back in.

"Fuck.. she doesn't wanna let me go.."

Your hand reaches out to run down his abs, feeling them flex and move beneath your touch trailing down to the hair right above his cock.

"Nghh.. shit.. stop that.." He groans, letting your thigh go and yanking your hand away from his body, the sensation of your delicate fingers making him want to cum all to soon.

He lets go of your other leg too, letting them fall slack as he pins your hands down to the mattress above your head, moving his body to fuck you harshly.

He groans loudly with every thrust, letting your pussy milk his cock until he's cumming deep inside you. Feeling your cunt spray him one last time as he empties himself into you. He plants most of his weight on you as his hips continue to sloppily jerk, cum gushing out around it once he stops moving.

He pushes his glasses up on his face as he lies his head next to yours, his blonde hair brushing past your cheek softly as you hear him trying to catch his breath.

"Mm.. I've been needing you for so long.. Shit.. hope you don't mind, but.."

Your hand grips his biceps tight as you feel his dick get harder inside you all over again, the length stretching you out once again before he drags back, cum slipping out as he does.

"I'm not done yet.."

If anything, it was a relief. You weren't lurking in his shadow anymore, waiting with those wide, anxious eyes for a crumb of attention he never wanted to give. You were off his back, finally. He might even owe Suguru a quiet thank-you for that.

And now that you weren't hovering too close, trying too hard, he could actually see you. Really see you. Not as an obligation, not as a nuisance, but as... you.

"Satoru, it's your turn."

Shoko's nudge snapped him out of his brief trance. He blinked, realizing he'd been staring at your focused expression—lips pursed, brows furrowed over the fan of Uno cards in your hands.

He slapped a red five onto the pile and leaned back, only to find you already giggling at something Suguru had whispered. The sound was light, unguarded. Happy.

When he really thought about it, you were exactly Suguru's type. Soft. A little lost. The kind of person who needed saving, who needed someone steady to guide them through the mess of the world. Someone patient. Someone kind.

He glanced at his best friend, his head thrown back in easy laughter, eyes crinkling at whatever you'd just said.

Satoru furrowed his eyebrows. You can't be THAT funny, can you?

But something settled in his chest.

Maybe this was for the best. You were happy. Suguru was happy. And for once, Satoru didn't feel like he was suffocating under someone else's expectations.

He let a small, genuine smile slip out before quickly masking it with exaggerated annoyance.

"Hey, hey! I don't know if this is supposed to be a team competition over there," he grumbled, pointing between you and Suguru.

Then he turned to Shoko with a dramatic sigh. "You wanna form an alliance with me and destroy them, Shoko?"

She exhaled a thin stream of cigarette smoke, smirked, and calmly placed a +4 on the pile. "Sorry. I'm on a mission to destroy your ass."

Laughter erupted around the table as Satoru groaned, staring at the growing stack of cards in his hands.

"I still have more," Shoko teased, already reaching for the draw pile.

Suguru played his card next, smooth and unbothered. You laid down a reverse with a bright, genuine smile.

"Don't worry," you said softly, looking right at Satoru. "I got you."

His heart gave a small, unexpected sting at the kindness in your voice. He looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

Deep down, he'd always known he'd been an asshole to you. The guilt had been there for years, buried under layers of arrogance and indifference. These days, though, when he was watching you laugh freely with his friends, seeing how much lighter you were, it hit harder. You didn't deserve the coldness he'd thrown at you for so long. And now you were still offering him kindness in a stupid game of Uno.

None of this was your fault. You were as much a victim of this arrangement as he was—maybe more. At least no one hounded him daily to "please" you. Who knew what kind of quiet abuse had stripped away the fire you'd shown that very first day, when you'd yanked his hair and cried over a ruined dress? He absently brushed a hand over the spot on his scalp, remembering.

He made a quiet promise to himself then: he'd at least treat you better. As a friend, if nothing else.

So when you showed up at the Gojo estate a few days later with puffy, red-rimmed eyes, he swallowed the snarky comment that rose automatically to his tongue.

"What are you doing here?" he asked instead, voice quieter than usual as he gestured for you to sit across from him.

You sank into the chair, shoulders hunched, the same meek posture he'd seen for years. Not the girl from the Uno game a week ago. Not the one who'd smiled so freely.

"My mom told me to apologize to you," you said softly.

Satoru frowned, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his yukata. "Why?"

"She... one of the workers saw me with Suguru."

He let out a long, irritated sigh. Unnecessary. Pointless. Why did people love to gossip? Why did your mother care this much? You were seventeen, the same as him. Old enough to figure things out. With the constant stress of missions and cursed energy and expectations, going on dates was one of the few normal, easy things anyone could do. He went out all the time, and no one batted an eye. His white hair and blindfold made him impossible to miss, so his chance of getting caught by one of your people would be higher than yours. 

He scratched the back of his head, frustration bubbling up.

"Look, you don't need to apologize. I don't care if you're going out with Suguru or whoever."

Your eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering through the haze of upset.

"You knew?" you asked, voice small.

Satoru rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'm not dumb. You two are terrible at hiding it."

You let out a soft "oh," and for a moment, the room was quiet.

Then you spoke again, barely above a whisper.

"She called me a whore. Because I went out with another guy who isn't you."

The words landed like ice water.

Satoru's blood ran hot. His jaw clenched.

"That's ridiculous," he said flatly. "Your mom's insane."

You said nothing in response to his words. Satoru sighed, pushing himself up from the chair.

"Come on. I'll send you home and clear the misunderstanding with your mom."

Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face. He let out an annoyed tsk, already heading for the door. "Do you want it or not?"

Like a sheepish puppy, you rose quietly and followed him out to his car.

The ride passed in near-total silence. Satoru glanced over once or twice—your posture perfect in the passenger seat, hands folded neatly in your lap, eyes fixed straight ahead on the road. He wondered how much you'd endured over the years if this small glimpse was already enough to make his stomach twist. How many times had you sat like this, braced for disapproval, swallowing every word?

Part of him felt... proud. For once, he hadn't pushed you away. He'd listened, actually listened. It felt like the tiniest dent in the guilt that had been piling up for years—the cold dismissals, the ruined bentos, the casual cruelty he'd never bothered to rein in. A smug little smile tugged at his lips.

Was this what growing up felt like?

"I'm sorry for bothering you all this time, Satoru."

His smile vanished. He frowned, grip tightening on the wheel.

"What do you mean?"

You sighed softly, fingers curling into the hem of your skirt—he noticed, absently, that you no longer wore those frilly dresses from childhood. Just simple, understated clothes now.

"I know you hate me because I kept bothering you almost every day."

He clicked his tongue sharply. "Stop apologizing."

The words came out louder than he meant. He winced internally.

So much for growing up.

Satoru scratched the back of his head in frustration, then gripped the steering wheel harder.

"Look. This whole bullshit isn't your fault. It's fine. Just... stop apologizing."

You murmured a quiet "okay," and the car fell silent again.

He should say sorry. He knew he should. The moment had been right there, hanging between you, but it slipped past. By the time he opened his mouth to try again, the familiar gates of your estate were already in view.

He told you he'd handle the talking. Charming people was effortless for him—almost an instinct that came with being born special. Winning over your mother would be child's play; she'd been desperate for his approval since day one.

"Ma'am," he began as soon as she opened the door, voice smooth and honeyed, "I'd like to clear up the misunderstanding. The guy your worker saw with her was one of my closest friends. I asked him to accompany her because I couldn't make it myself. I would have preferred to take her to get her favorite dessert, but I trust him completely. I'd rather she enjoy it with someone I know than not at all."

Your mother's expression softened immediately, pleased. To further sell it, Satoru slid an arm around your waist and pulled you gently against his side. You stiffened for half a second, confusion flashing across your face, but he met your eyes and flashed a perfectly practiced, loving smile.

It worked like a charm.

"Oh my," your mother said, clasping her hands together with a delighted smile. "Yes, of course. Thank you so much for taking care of my daughter, Satoru-kun."

Easy.

After a few more minutes of polite small talk and another round of the doting-fiancé act, he was finally free to leave. You walked him out to the porch, his arm still loosely around your waist. From the corner of his eye, he could see your mother trailing a few steps behind, watching.

An image of Suguru's pissed-off face flashed through his mind, and a mischievous spark lit up inside him. 

This would be fun.

Right before he stepped into the car, he turned to you, held your gaze for a split second, then leaned in and pressed a soft, deliberate kiss to your cheek. He pulled back slowly, smirking at your wide-eyed shock.

"I'll see you later."

As he pulled away, Satoru's grin stretched wide. Pure, giddy satisfaction bubbling up in his chest. The same rush he got after a clean mission, after saving someone who actually needed it. Helping felt good.

He gave your mother a casual wave as he slid into the driver's seat. She stood frozen, hand pressed to her mouth, as she'd just witnessed the climax of some grand romance.

What he'd done today wouldn't erase years of being an asshole. Not even close. But it was a start. A baby step. With any luck, your mother would back off for a while and stop hounding you over trivial nonsense.

Now he couldn't wait to get back and brag to Suguru about the whole thing—especially that parting kiss.

---

tag: @ugly4512 @nightmarenyxx

If anything, it was a relief. You weren't lurking in his shadow anymore, waiting with those wide, anxious eyes for a crumb of attention he never wanted to give. You were off his back, finally. He might even owe Suguru a quiet thank-you for that.

And now that you weren't hovering too close, trying too hard, he could actually see you. Really see you. Not as an obligation, not as a nuisance, but as... you.

"Satoru, it's your turn."

Shoko's nudge snapped him out of his brief trance. He blinked, realizing he'd been staring at your focused expression—lips pursed, brows furrowed over the fan of Uno cards in your hands.

He slapped a red five onto the pile and leaned back, only to find you already giggling at something Suguru had whispered. The sound was light, unguarded. Happy.

When he really thought about it, you were exactly Suguru's type. Soft. A little lost. The kind of person who needed saving, who needed someone steady to guide them through the mess of the world. Someone patient. Someone kind.

He glanced at his best friend, his head thrown back in easy laughter, eyes crinkling at whatever you'd just said.

Satoru furrowed his eyebrows. You can't be THAT funny, can you?

But something settled in his chest.

Maybe this was for the best. You were happy. Suguru was happy. And for once, Satoru didn't feel like he was suffocating under someone else's expectations.

He let a small, genuine smile slip out before quickly masking it with exaggerated annoyance.

"Hey, hey! I don't know if this is supposed to be a team competition over there," he grumbled, pointing between you and Suguru.

Then he turned to Shoko with a dramatic sigh. "You wanna form an alliance with me and destroy them, Shoko?"

She exhaled a thin stream of cigarette smoke, smirked, and calmly placed a +4 on the pile. "Sorry. I'm on a mission to destroy your ass."

Laughter erupted around the table as Satoru groaned, staring at the growing stack of cards in his hands.

"I still have more," Shoko teased, already reaching for the draw pile.

Suguru played his card next, smooth and unbothered. You laid down a reverse with a bright, genuine smile.

"Don't worry," you said softly, looking right at Satoru. "I got you."

His heart gave a small, unexpected sting at the kindness in your voice. He looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

Deep down, he'd always known he'd been an asshole to you. The guilt had been there for years, buried under layers of arrogance and indifference. These days, though, when he was watching you laugh freely with his friends, seeing how much lighter you were, it hit harder. You didn't deserve the coldness he'd thrown at you for so long. And now you were still offering him kindness in a stupid game of Uno.

None of this was your fault. You were as much a victim of this arrangement as he was—maybe more. At least no one hounded him daily to "please" you. Who knew what kind of quiet abuse had stripped away the fire you'd shown that very first day, when you'd yanked his hair and cried over a ruined dress? He absently brushed a hand over the spot on his scalp, remembering.

He made a quiet promise to himself then: he'd at least treat you better. As a friend, if nothing else.

So when you showed up at the Gojo estate a few days later with puffy, red-rimmed eyes, he swallowed the snarky comment that rose automatically to his tongue.

"What are you doing here?" he asked instead, voice quieter than usual as he gestured for you to sit across from him.

You sank into the chair, shoulders hunched, the same meek posture he'd seen for years. Not the girl from the Uno game a week ago. Not the one who'd smiled so freely.

"My mom told me to apologize to you," you said softly.

Satoru frowned, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his yukata. "Why?"

"She... one of the workers saw me with Suguru."

He let out a long, irritated sigh. Unnecessary. Pointless. Why did people love to gossip? Why did your mother care this much? You were seventeen, the same as him. Old enough to figure things out. With the constant stress of missions and cursed energy and expectations, going on dates was one of the few normal, easy things anyone could do. He went out all the time, and no one batted an eye. His white hair and blindfold made him impossible to miss, so his chance of getting caught by one of your people would be higher than yours. 

He scratched the back of his head, frustration bubbling up.

"Look, you don't need to apologize. I don't care if you're going out with Suguru or whoever."

Your eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering through the haze of upset.

"You knew?" you asked, voice small.

Satoru rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'm not dumb. You two are terrible at hiding it."

You let out a soft "oh," and for a moment, the room was quiet.

Then you spoke again, barely above a whisper.

"She called me a whore. Because I went out with another guy who isn't you."

The words landed like ice water.

Satoru's blood ran hot. His jaw clenched.

"That's ridiculous," he said flatly. "Your mom's insane."

You said nothing in response to his words. Satoru sighed, pushing himself up from the chair.

"Come on. I'll send you home and clear the misunderstanding with your mom."

Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face. He let out an annoyed tsk, already heading for the door. "Do you want it or not?"

Like a sheepish puppy, you rose quietly and followed him out to his car.

The ride passed in near-total silence. Satoru glanced over once or twice—your posture perfect in the passenger seat, hands folded neatly in your lap, eyes fixed straight ahead on the road. He wondered how much you'd endured over the years if this small glimpse was already enough to make his stomach twist. How many times had you sat like this, braced for disapproval, swallowing every word?

Part of him felt... proud. For once, he hadn't pushed you away. He'd listened, actually listened. It felt like the tiniest dent in the guilt that had been piling up for years—the cold dismissals, the ruined bentos, the casual cruelty he'd never bothered to rein in. A smug little smile tugged at his lips.

Was this what growing up felt like?

"I'm sorry for bothering you all this time, Satoru."

His smile vanished. He frowned, grip tightening on the wheel.

"What do you mean?"

You sighed softly, fingers curling into the hem of your skirt—he noticed, absently, that you no longer wore those frilly dresses from childhood. Just simple, understated clothes now.

"I know you hate me because I kept bothering you almost every day."

He clicked his tongue sharply. "Stop apologizing."

The words came out louder than he meant. He winced internally.

So much for growing up.

Satoru scratched the back of his head in frustration, then gripped the steering wheel harder.

"Look. This whole bullshit isn't your fault. It's fine. Just... stop apologizing."

You murmured a quiet "okay," and the car fell silent again.

He should say sorry. He knew he should. The moment had been right there, hanging between you, but it slipped past. By the time he opened his mouth to try again, the familiar gates of your estate were already in view.

He told you he'd handle the talking. Charming people was effortless for him—almost an instinct that came with being born special. Winning over your mother would be child's play; she'd been desperate for his approval since day one.

"Ma'am," he began as soon as she opened the door, voice smooth and honeyed, "I'd like to clear up the misunderstanding. The guy your worker saw with her was one of my closest friends. I asked him to accompany her because I couldn't make it myself. I would have preferred to take her to get her favorite dessert, but I trust him completely. I'd rather she enjoy it with someone I know than not at all."

Your mother's expression softened immediately, pleased. To further sell it, Satoru slid an arm around your waist and pulled you gently against his side. You stiffened for half a second, confusion flashing across your face, but he met your eyes and flashed a perfectly practiced, loving smile.

It worked like a charm.

"Oh my," your mother said, clasping her hands together with a delighted smile. "Yes, of course. Thank you so much for taking care of my daughter, Satoru-kun."

Easy.

After a few more minutes of polite small talk and another round of the doting-fiancé act, he was finally free to leave. You walked him out to the porch, his arm still loosely around your waist. From the corner of his eye, he could see your mother trailing a few steps behind, watching.

An image of Suguru's pissed-off face flashed through his mind, and a mischievous spark lit up inside him. 

This would be fun.

Right before he stepped into the car, he turned to you, held your gaze for a split second, then leaned in and pressed a soft, deliberate kiss to your cheek. He pulled back slowly, smirking at your wide-eyed shock.

"I'll see you later."

As he pulled away, Satoru's grin stretched wide. Pure, giddy satisfaction bubbling up in his chest. The same rush he got after a clean mission, after saving someone who actually needed it. Helping felt good.

He gave your mother a casual wave as he slid into the driver's seat. She stood frozen, hand pressed to her mouth, as she'd just witnessed the climax of some grand romance.

What he'd done today wouldn't erase years of being an asshole. Not even close. But it was a start. A baby step. With any luck, your mother would back off for a while and stop hounding you over trivial nonsense.

Now he couldn't wait to get back and brag to Suguru about the whole thing—especially that parting kiss.

---

tag: @ugly4512 @nightmarenyxx

"We haven't had an official ceremony or anything," Satoru had said that afternoon, sprawled back in his chair in the empty classroom, hands laced behind his head like he was discussing the weather. "But yeah, she's been betrothed to me since we were kids. Crazy, I think. Totally unnecessary."

Suguru had paused mid-bite of the convenience-store onigiri he'd been eating. "Betrothed?"

"Arranged since forever. Clan bullshit." Satoru shrugged, the motion lazy and dismissive. "She's supposed to be the daughter of one of the strongest sorcerers from the last generation. Big legacy, right? But she's a total wimp! I don't even think she qualifies as a sorcerer. They keep saying 'one day you'll understand why she's perfect for you,' but come on, it's obviously a scam."

Suguru just raised his eyebrows, the gesture slow and dismissive, lips pressing into a thin line. He couldn't relate to his best friend's story at all since he comes from a family that doesn't have any tie to the jujutsu world and no one would force him in any beneficial marriage arrangement. However, sorcerer or not, though, he didn't think that gave anyone the right to treat you like you don't matter.

So, when he saw his best friend mistreating you once again at the school gate, he couldn't help but interfere. Thankfully, without having to discuss anything, Shoko went along with his plan.

Alright, he gotta confess another thing: he found you cute.

Suguru can't believe Satoru had the heart to treat you like shit while you were this harmless little dove, just standing there nervously, fidgeting confusedly as he and Shoko save you from his self-centred best friend. Is he blind? If someone shoved you as his fiancée, he might treat you nicely–taking you to a little date once in a while, taking your picture with his digital camera, then printing it and putting it on his nightstand, maybe also making bentos together? Well, to be fair, you coming here and there to visit Satoru came a bit as a stalker behaviour, though, but he was not in the other guy's shoes to experience it, so he can still imagine he can be a better fiancé for you. Having a girl moulded to his liking? That sounds like a dream.

So he didn't pass up the opportunity to snatch you when the opportunity came.

"Please do. Keep her."

Whether Satoru was joking or not, he wouldn't care. Suguru immediately drag you out of the scene before Satoru could change his mind.

"Satoru is such a jackass," Suguru muttered under his breath as he guided you toward one of the empty seats on the train. He waited until you sat down before letting go of your arm, then reached up to grip the overhead handle, standing close enough to talk to you.

You were too busy taking everything in, eyes wide as you scanned the rattling interior, the advertisements plastered above the windows, the gentle rock of the floor beneath your feet, that you didn't notice his quiet amusement at first. When you finally looked up and met his gaze, a small, genuine smile broke across your face.

Apparently, you were so rich that you'd never ridden a train before. He'd had to walk you through the basics step by step: how to tap your card, which side to stand on the escalator, not to block the doors. He never imagined his first "date" with anyone would involve teaching someone how to use public transport.

"He was actually a lot better now," you said with a light shrug, settling back against the seat. "Especially when you and Shoko are there with him. Thank you for standing up for me the other day." Your smile softened, almost shy.

Suguru noticed the nervous edge that had clung to you earlier was gone. No more fidgeting hands, no more stolen glances toward an invisible authority figure. You weren't nearly as timid as he'd first assumed. Was it simply because Satoru wasn't around?

He let out a low chuckle and leaned in a little closer, ostensibly so you could hear him over the hum of the train and the chatter of other passengers. Or maybe, unconsciously, because he wanted a clearer view of that small, unguarded smile up close.

"Then I'll make sure we're around every time you have to meet him," he said, voice warm and steady.

You laughed softly and nodded, cheeks tinting the faintest pink.

Cute, he thought.

"I'm so sorry he's your fiancé," Suguru blurted out, the words slipping free with zero regret.

You let out a soft chuckle, the sound light but tinged with something bittersweet, like you found his empathy more amusing than comforting.

"I'm actually sorry for him too," you said quietly. "I feel like a burden a lot of times."

"Then don't be with him?" Suguru tested, frustration creeping into his voice. Hearing you pity the same guy who'd just waved you off with a snarky "have fun" like you were an unwanted package made something twist uncomfortably in his gut.

He watched you sigh, your gaze drifting somewhere distant until your eyes looked almost regretful.

"I wish it were that easy."

Suguru stared at you for a long moment. The quiet stretched between you, broken only by the steady clack of the tracks beneath the carriage. A tiny pang stabbed his chest at the sight of your unreadable expression.

Something he and his world couldn't relate.

What was he even doing here?

Was this just pity? Or was he slipping into that old habit of playing white knight for someone who looked like they needed saving? He'd done it before, more times than he cared to count.

But asshole or not, Satoru was still his best friend. And you were Satoru's fiancée. No matter how poorly the guy treated you, no matter how little interest he showed, the lines were clear. Suguru's little advances were already toeing dangerously close to out of bounds.

Even if Satoru didn't want you. Even if he treated you like shit.

He shook the conflicting thoughts loose, forcing himself to draw a clean line.

He could help you. That much was fine. Maybe flirt a little in front of Satoru, just enough to spark that competitive streak the idiot loved more than anything. Boys like him thrived on rivalry, making him feel like someone else might actually notice what he had, and maybe, just maybe, he'd stop acting like you were invisible.

But that was it. Nothing more (no matter how cute he found you are).

So that's what Suguru did every time you were around his little circle of friends: tossing out flirtatious comments about your outfit, doing small favors like taking your order at the café or twisting open a stubborn bottle cap before you even asked, winking at you while Satoru clearly watching.

Whether it worked or not, he had no real clue. Satoru never reacted much beyond the usual snarky comments and exaggerated eye-rolls. Once, though, he did look genuinely pissed when he spotted you waiting on the school field, already chatting easily with Suguru while the two of you laughed over something small. However, Satoru said nothing about it later. Suguru thought he was maybe imagining things.

And then, as if the universe wanted to test just how firm that line Suguru had drawn really was, the opportunity to cross it landed right in his lap.

"Sorry, I gotta go. I have a date."

Suguru raised an eyebrow at the white-haired idiot standing in front of him. They'd just finished a small mission and were supposed to head straight back to school to report to the principal. After that they will meet you for your weekly "meeting." These days the formal dates had quietly dissolved. Satoru called them a hassle anyway, especially since his two best friends always tagged along and turned everything into a casual hangout.

"Don't you have to meet your fiancée today?" Suguru asked, voice carefully even.

Satoru yawned, stretching his arms overhead like he hadn't a care in the world. "I told her I can't today. Said we'd do it another time. She'll accommodate my schedule anyway."

Suguru felt the irritation flare hot and sudden in his chest. "With whom?"

Satoru turned to him, that boyish, smug smile spreading wide across his face.

"Mariko-chan. You know, the girl from the arcade?"

Suguru's brows shot up. "Isn't she way older than us?"

"The older the better," Satoru replied, smug as ever. A fat drop of rain splattered onto his forehead, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. "Oops, better go now. See you at home?"

Before Suguru could get another word out, that shock of white hair had already vanished into the crowd.

So his little tricks weren't working. Not even close.

The train ride home felt longer than usual. Suguru stared out the rain-streaked window, mind circling back to you. Would it hurt you to know Satoru was out on actual dates? Or had you already accepted it? Had known for years, really, since this engagement had been hanging over both your heads forever.

His heart dropped when he turn to the ally of the school building.

There you were, huddled under the small overhang in front of the school gate, head bowed, shoulders hunched against the cold. Shivering. A little wet from the rain splashing in at the edges. When you looked up and caught his eyes, your face lit up with a smile so bright it almost hurt to see.

Suguru's brows scrunched together; his chest tightened.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, already closing the distance, eyes scanning your soaked sleeves and the way your teeth chattered just slightly.

You blinked at him, confused, like the answer was obvious. "Meeting you guys?"

He frowned deeper. "Didn't Satoru tell you he—" Suguru caught himself, exhaled sharply through his nose, then finished more gently, "—he has something to do and can't make it?"

Your smile faltered. "Oh... my phone died..." You paused, thinking, then asked hesitantly, "Can I borrow your charger? So I can ask my driver to pick me up."

Suguru sighed at the way you hesitated, like you were already apologizing for the inconvenience. Which is unnecessary since he consider you one of his close friends already (or maybe more, he didn't really want to think about it though).

"Sure," he said. "You can wait here until the rain lets up anyway. And you need something dry to change into." He nodded toward your damp clothes.

He tilted his umbrella toward you a bit and told you to scoot closer as you walked toward the dorm building. From this distance he could smell your sweet perfume, soft, familiar now. He realized with a quiet jolt that he'd started missing it on days you weren't around.

Once inside his room, he handed you one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts. "I have to report a few things to the principal first," he said, already turning toward the door. "Change and get warm. I'll be back soon."

Truth be told, he also needed a minute to steady his heartbeat. The idea of you standing in his room, about to wear his clothes, sent a ridiculous rush through him. Excitement so sharp it almost felt embarrassing.

Dear God, he was nothing but a teenager with raging hormones after all.

When he returned to his dormitory room, any effort to steady his racing heart vanished the moment he saw you sitting on the floor, admiring his collection of favorite band CDs. You were wearing his T-shirt and shorts, both clearly a little too big on you. When you noticed him, you offered a small, welcoming smile.

"You listen to Brit Rock?" you asked, your eyes gleaming with excitement.

He sat down beside you, glancing at the CDs you were examining.

"Yeah. Do you know these bands?"

You smiled. "One of my uncles lives abroad and brings me CDs every time he visits." You picked up one of his albums. "I haven't listened to this one yet, though."

He took the CD from your hands and stood to search for his Sony Walkman. "You should give it a try, then."

When he finally found it and slid the CD inside, he noticed your gaze lingering on the cigarette box and tray on his nightstand. You looked curious when you realized he was watching you.

"I didn't know you smoke," you said, your voice carrying nothing but mild amusement. You sounded as if you found it acceptable.

"Um... yeah. Just sometimes. I find it helps after swallowing a nasty curse spirit," he replied, untangling the cord of his headset.

He actually could use one now, since he just swallowed one earlier. But since you were here, he kind of forget the bitter taste on the back of his throat.

"It must feel awful, you know, swallowing spirits," you said softly, sympathy in your tone.

Suguru shrugged and sat back down beside you. "Feels like swallowing a dirty rag. But I've gotten used to it." He handed you the headphones. "Here. Give it a listen."

You slipped them on, leaving one ear slightly uncovered so you could still hear him. You paused, listening carefully to the beat, then began nodding along after a moment.

"This one has a fun drum," you said, meeting his eyes.

Hi"What's the title?" You leaned closer to the album cover to read the track name.

Suguru smiled, quietly satisfied by your reaction.

"Here, listen to this one. It's my favorite." He fiddled with the Walkman then adjusting the headphones so they sat better over your ears.

You went still for a second before your eyes lit up.

"This one's good."

He only nodded with a smile, knowing you couldn't hear him over the music. You kept nodding along, trying to follow the song, repeating the refrain once you'd heard it enough times.

This side of you—the free, unapologetic side. The one that wasn't constantly trying to please Gojo Satoru. The one that wasn't shaped around him. Just you.

Before he realised it, he had already leaned in. His thoughts lagged behind his body; one moment he was watching the way you smiled at the music, the next his hand had shifted slightly on the floor beside you and his face was inches from yours. There was a brief hesitation, just enough to feel his own breath tremble, before his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft at first, almost uncertain, like he was testing whether this was okay. Whether this was real. Then he pressed closer, properly capturing your lips with his. The warmth startled him, the gentleness of it even more so. It was sweeter than he had ever imagined.

When he opened his eyes, reality rushed back in. You were staring at him, wide-eyed, your face flushed a deep, unmistakablyred. Your lips were still slightly parted in shock. The sight struck him all at once and his chest tightened.

"Oh, fuck. I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't be." Your hand caught his arm tightly, your body leaning toward him, brows drawn together with quiet need. "Don't be... do it again."

It was hard not to surrender to temptation. To hell with whatever line he had drawn between the two of you.

In one swift motion, he pressed his lips to yours again, already missing the feeling after only a few seconds apart. He sighed softly against your mouth, guiding you slowly, unhurried. Languid. Sweet. Desperate. Something he had been longing for, longer than he wanted to admit.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to study your face. Your lips swollen from his kiss, your cheeks flushed beautifully. Then he leaned in once more.

Suguru had to confess one more thing: he might be in love with his best friend's fiancé.

---

Part VI

These days, your mother had you prepare Satoru's lunch whenever his schedule allowed, or rather, whenever she decided it did. With him now enrolled at Tokyo Jujutsu High, missions pulling him away at odd hours, she'd pulled you from regular school entirely. Homeschooled. Isolated. Convenient for packing bentos and practicing domestic perfection, less convenient for anything resembling a normal life. You untied your apron with slow, tired fingers and hung it on its hook. A soft sigh escaped as you wiped your hands on your skirt.

You hoped this one would be different. That maybe he'd open the lid, see the effort, and for once not toss it aside or mock it or ignore it completely. Maybe he'd even eat it.

The thought made your chest tighten. You weren't sure which was worse anymore: his indifference or yet another lecture from your mom if she caught you home from another fail attempt to please your fiancee.

You closed the bento's lid with a quiet click, fingers lingering on the cool surface.

Maybe today he'd like it.

"This is for kids," Satoru muttered, voice thick with annoyance as he stared down at the bento like it had personally offended him.

"Would you at least try?"

You blinked, startled by the sound of your own voice breaking through the silence you'd worn like armor for so long.

The words slipped out softer than you meant, but they hung there anyway. A flicker of amusement danced across Satoru's face, before his brows lifted in mock surprise. He snapped the lid shut with a decisive click, fingers curling around the box. At least he hasn't shoved the box back to you.

"What are you even doing here?" he grumbled, shifting his weight. "I already told you, we're not supposed to have another one of these stupid meetings until next month. I was about to head into town for lunch with my friends."

"Yeah, but my mom-"

"That's enough. Stop treating your fiancée like that." The voice came from behind the school gate. Low,!calm, but edged with warning. A tall boy with long dark hair stepped forward and delivered a solid, casual slap to the back of Satoru's head. He flashed you a charming, easy smile that made heat rush to your cheeks before you could stop it.

"We've had enough of watching you act like this, Gojo," came another voice. A girl appeared from behind Satoru's shoulder, dark hair tied back, eyes sharp and unimpressed. Without hesitation she snatched the bento right out of his grip.

"Hey—give it back, Shoko!" Satoru protested, reaching for it.

"I thought you didn't want it," she shot back coolly. She cracked the lid open, peered inside, then plucked a perfect slice of tamagoyaki and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes widened almost comically. "Mmm... this is freaking amazing. What a waste to give this to an ungrateful guy like you." She turned to the long-haired boy. "Here, Geto. Try this."

Geto leaned over her shoulder, inspecting the contents with quiet curiosity before picking up a piece. He took a bite, chewed slowly, then gave a small, approving nod.

"You really are an ungrateful prick, Satoru."

Satoru crossed his arms, scowling, but the usual bite in his expression looked almost... uncertain now.

Your chest grew warm, slowly at first, then spreading like sunlight after too many gray days. Two strangers stood there devouring the food you'd spent the morning shaping with careful, anxious hands, and they weren't mocking it.

"Happy now? Alright, now we're going. You should head back," Satoru dismissed you with a sharp wave of his hand. His tone made it clear: interruption over, conversation done.

"Why don't you join us?" Shoko asked between bites, still munching happily on another piece of tamagoyaki like it was the best thing she'd tasted all week. The long-haired guy—Geto—nodded in easy agreement beside her.

"Yeah, you're already here anyway."

Your heart gave a small, hopeful lurch. You stole a quick glance at Satoru, searching his face for any sign. Permission, irritation, anything. He just let out a long, dramatic sigh and shrugged one shoulder, the gesture lazy and resigned.

"Don't you have those lessons you always do?" he muttered, eyes flicking toward you without quite meeting them. "What is it today? Piano? Tea ceremony? Some other boring crap?"

"I stopped doing that a year ago," you said, voice quiet but steady, surprise threading through your own words. "I'm... free now."

The admission hung in the air for a second. Free. The word felt almost foreign on your tongue.

Spending time with these two strangers who'd just eaten your food like it mattered, who'd called Satoru out without hesitation, who'd smiled at you like you were a person and not just an obligation. And underneath that—practical, almost guilty—your mother would be thrilled. Actually thrilled. You'd spent time with Satoru outside the stiff, arranged dates. Progress. Proof you were trying.

Satoru stared at you for a beat longer, something unreadable flickering behind those endless blue eyes. Then he huffed again, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

"Fine. Whatever. Don't make it weird."

The girl grinned around her last bite, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "See? He's secretly a softie. Come on, we're heading to that ramen spot near the station. My treat if you're hungry."

Geto gave a small, amused smile and tilted his head toward the path leading away from the gate. "It's not far."

You hesitated only a second, then nodded, clutching the now-empty bento bag a little tighter. Your steps felt lighter as you fell in beside them, the school gate shrinking behind you.

Satoru walked ahead, shoulders tense, muttering something about "extra baggage," but he didn't tell you to leave again. Not once.

For the first time in years, the afternoon stretched open in front of you. Not scripted, not supervised, just... free.