#stsg fluff

“c’mooon, ’guru,” and, he supposes, a blonde freak with beautecious blue orbs™ as well. “do a cute lil’ pose for us. aigoo or some shit.”

“aegyo,” you correct satoru, your tone utterly dignified as you adjust the various and unnecessarily placed knobs even though you do acknowledge his parts in your evil schemes for suguru. “say it properly or don’t.”

satoru rolls his eyes, much, much too exaggeratedly for someone who couldn’t spell ‘ginormous’ on an essay yaga had put you all through after a mission.

(you still have a piece of his dignity tucked away in your pocket, for emergency situations.)

“well, damn. it ain’t that deep for someone who—”

“can you guys stop?” suguru mumbled into his pillow, and satoru and you exchange an equally feral glance. united in. . pieces, it seems. pieces of suguru’s excruciatingly steady demeanour. “no, like, seriously. keep that away. could be a cursed object for all i know.”

the that in question is a rickety old video camera, which satoru had unceremoniously fished out during your clean up of the haunted store room. honestly, you couldn’t give any lesser fucks about wanting to do anything with the wheezing machine initially— but when the white haired gremlin had suggested to annoy a certain someone with it, the idea had been. . tempting, for sure.

(terrifyingly tempting.)

and so, here you are, with a digital casket centuries older than you tucked in your palms like a pitchfork— an instrument, really, of seeing how long it takes for your suguru to finally break.

“budge up, mr. optimistic,” satoru takes a look at the large expanse of empty space beside suguru, before flopping down riiight on top of the other boy. “even i give yaga that much credibility to inform us about a cursed object on campus. and a haunted camera no less.”

“maybe yaga doesn’t know, either,” suguru huffs, but his hands come up to hold satoru, anyway— they always do, as if having a mind of their own. “or maybe he expected that we’d be smart enough not to meddle with things.”

satoru lets out a scandalized gasp, ceasing his obnoxious nuzzling into the crook of suguru’s neck for a moment to spare him a mortified glance. “yaga? expect us to be smart? yaga? you’ve gone bananas.”

“anyway, what’s it gonna do? put a scary filter on your face or something?” you hum along, stifling a yawn— feeling the soft, afternoon sun graze your cheeks. how strange. just a minute ago, you were bursting with hyperactivity, and now. . .

eh.

probably the weather. the heat makes you want to peel your skin off, anyway.

“it ain’t gonna take a filter for that,” satoru says intellectually, but not before stifling a groan while suguru graces his shoulder with a bite. “—ow. i’m telling you, we need to muzzle him.”

“says the banshee high on sugar.”

you listen to them bicker, circling the area between your brows with your thumb— you free hand still fidgeting with the camera, feeling an odd, sticky sort of invisible substance lodge itself between your fingertips.

“i have perfectly polished vocals, thank you very much,” satoru raises a brow, “it’s not my fault you think the digimon theme needs to be hummed with whistle notes.”

you open your mouth to add in how the last time satoru attempted a whistle note sounded like a very bad imitation of a dying balloon, but something stops you. tiny little pinpricks of something stagnant pierce into you from every way imaginable, and your thoughts cease altogether— your brain filling with a low, steady ring.

fuck.

fuck.

“guys,” you splutter out, the words rattling against your teeth and making your head pound. “guys, i think. . think there’s . .—”

— thud.

the camera falls from your hands, but it doesn’t shatter. instead, an overwhelming stench of forgotten wrath and lingering sorrow fills the air of suguru’s dorm.

“. . . shit,” satoru says, after a moment of silence passes. “shit. shit, suguru, the camera was—”

“— cursed,” suguru finishes, already picking up your passed out body on the bed and heading towards the infirmary. “we need shoko. now.” tense lines form around his face, ones that you’ve never seen before— not that you’re awake, anyway.

turns out, yaga had forgotten about warning you three about the unsealed cursed object in the store room. and even though you woke up a few minutes later with nothing to your name but a migraine gone too bad— let’s just say, satoru and you never pushed suguru enough to break ever again. the two hour silent treatment had been bad enough.

(it had been two days, but suguru loves you two too much.)

But even with both of them on the same page, so aligned it was almost scary, they were still nervous. Hesitant, even. Because it wasn’t just some new phase or thrill; it was you. Their best friend. The person who knew them too well, who made everything feel easy. The last thing they wanted was to risk that.

What if you didn’t want to change anything? What if it made things weird? What if they lost you?

But then Suguru noticed how you instinctually bounced between the two of them depending on what mood you were in; feeling silly and a bit unhinged, wanting nothing more than to lean into your unending curiosity and desire for adventure? Satoru was your man; the two of you were never not doing something; frequenting the city, shopping and snacking and chatting about everything, which inevitably led to y'all being at a random party across town just because you felt like it.

Not many people could hangout with Satoru for extended periods of time without getting annoyed, but it was like you and him were two halves of the same whole, well...aside from Geto, of course…the two of you complimented Satoru in different but fulfilling ways. You matched him, and Suguru balanced him. 

And if you were craving calmness and deep, intellectual chats filled with quick wit and the occasional dose of sarcasm, you’re hanging out with Suguru, your legs thrown over his thighs as he manspreads on the couch. His presence was just so comforting, and the two of you never ran out of things to say. He made you feel seen. He supported you unconditionally, all while dismissing the pressure to conform to anyone else's standards. Geto just wanted you to be you. 

The two of them harbored a safe space for each part of your personality, and when you were all together, there was an unspoken balance between you. The laughter was unending and it never once felt awkward or forced, even when you had first met them. It felt...natural. Like this was the reality that the three of you were meant to live. 

You started to notice your feelings for the both of them about three months into your friendship, but didn't want to overstep any boundaries or insert yourself into their relationship. Though it had been years now since you had first met the two of them, you still felt slightly ashamed for viewing your friends in a seemingly inappropriate way. You attempted to push those feelings away, but the longer this played out, the harder it was to ignore…

.⋅♡‧₊˚〰.

You were sat on the couch of their shared apartment, sipping on some wine, snacks littering the coffee table as some random movie faded into background noise. You found yourself tied up in harmless banter, going back and forth with Satoru over god knows what. It was rare for someone to entertain Gojo's ramblings, but you were fair game, loving the challenge of his stubbornness. Suguru was smiling admirably at the two of you from a loveseat to the left, and though he looked calm on the outside, his mind was racing; Is now the time? Should I ask? Should we do this? 

You excused yourself and went to the bathroom. But rather than actually using the toilet, you leaned over the sink, splashing cool water on your face and silently thanking the heavens that you could blame your intensely blushed face on the alcohol.

But you didn't even drink enough to have a buzz from the wine. It was them making you red in the face: How effortless it was to joke around with Satoru (while others viewed him as immature, you saw him as someone who's healing their inner child, and the two of you had similar senses of humor. It was so easy for him to make you laugh and vice versa). Not to mention how intently Suguru listened to you when you spoke...it was like he was trying to look through you, like he was holding on to every single word. And his emotional intelligence coupled with his unintentional siren eyes definitely didn't help your nerves.

And as comfortable as you felt around them, the deeper feelings you had were becoming unbearable.

But while you hid yourself away in the bathroom, the two guys were having a whispered meeting, psyching themselves up to finally ask you to join them: 

"Suguru...we've been putting this off for long enough. Tonight's the night," Satoru whispered. His eyes darted between his boyfriend and the hallway, on the lookout for you to reappear. His hand grasped Geto's as he rubbed gentle circles into his skin.

Suguru offered him a gentle squeeze in response, nodding his head as he chewed the inside of his cheek. "I know, I know...but who's gonna bring it up?" he asked softly. 

"Oh, definitely you," Satoru replied, almost like it was obvious, leaning back on the couch cushions.

Suguru narrowed his eyes at his white-haired counterpart, "So, no...we're doing this together, Satoru."

When you finally returned and sat back down, you could feel the tension that had settled between the three of you. It felt abnormal for the usual dynamic and your heart rate increased at the feeling.

Your eyes drifted nervously between the two men, "...is...everything okay?" you questioned, reaching for your wine and taking a much needed swig. You rolled the stem of the glass between your fingers as you awaited their response.

Suguru finally spoke up after sharing a look with Satoru, "Yeah, everything's fine," he smiled, "We just want to talk to you about something," he murmurs, shifting his weight in his seat before turning his body to face you.

His dark eyes and unwavering attention made your hands tremble slightly. Your gaze meandered toward Gojo, who occupied the space next to you, then back to Geto, before nodding slowly.

Satoru sat up a bit. "We've been thinking a lot about our friendship lately...about how close we've all become..." he trailed off and glanced at Geto.

"Yeah, it's rare to find this kind of connection with people. We trust you and care about you so much," Suguru added.

You looked between the two of them, your brows furrowed deeply. "Why does it feel like you two are getting a divorce and are about to ask me who I want to stay with..." you half-joked, taking another sip of your wine, "But in all seriousness, you two mean a lot to me. So, what's goin' on?" 

Gojo laughed at your comment before speaking up, "We've been talking about something for a while now, and we wanted to share it with you because it's important to us."

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. Panic bloomed, subtle but rapid, like the fizz in your half-finished wine glass. You were terrified they had caught on, had noticed the lingering glances, the way you always sat a little too close to Suguru when you were tired, the way your laugh came too easily around Satoru. You thought you’d been discreet.

One hand twirled the wine glass around in slow, absent circles, the other clenched tight, tucked beneath your thigh like you could keep your nerves from spilling out if you just held them in hard enough.

You glanced between them—Suguru sitting composed but visibly tense, and Gojo, still smiling, but with an undercurrent of seriousness in his eyes that made your stomach twist. You nodded once, just barely. You weren't sure if you were giving them permission to keep talking or trying to brace yourself for whatever came next.

A deep breath broke the silence—Geto’s. His voice was low, steady, but you could hear the effort it took to speak so plainly. "We love each other deeply, and we've also realized how much we care about you," he said, shifting again like he couldn’t quite get comfortable with the weight of what he was about to say.

"We’ve been considering the idea of opening our relationship to include you, if that’s something you’d be interested in."

You blinked. And then blinked again. You took another sip, as if the wine was the reason this conversation seemed real. But it was real, and this was actually happening. 

The words didn’t register at first, not really. You stared at him like you’d misheard, like if you just kept looking long enough, he’d laugh and say he was joking. Your breath caught in your throat and you nearly choked on it, coughing once before covering your mouth like that would hide the shock painting your face.

Your ears were ringing, the edges of your vision buzzing, like the room itself had tilted. But beneath the static, there was this creeping warmth. It was an overwhelming, radiant kind of relief that made your fingers tremble. They weren’t uncomfortable with your feelings. They knew, and they wanted you.

And then, just as quickly, the shock gave way to a strange kind of disbelief, like you’d stepped into a dream, one too good to be real. Your mind spiraled with thoughts, too fast to catch: Are they serious? What does this mean? How long have they been thinking about this?

You’d wanted them for so damn long. In different ways, at different times, but it had always felt hopeless. Forbidden, even. A deep, lingering sense of guilt followed you around for mentally inserting yourself into their relationship. It was like wanting the sun and the moon but the gravitational pull from both kept you...stuck. And now they were sitting across from you, calm and honest, asking if you wanted them back.

Your chest was tight with emotion. You could barely find your voice. You looked between them again, your mouth slightly open, like you might say something, anything, but all that came out was a quiet, “You’re serious?”

Satoru grinned, soft and real. “Dead serious, sweetheart.”

Suguru nodded. There was something rare and vulnerable in his gaze that made your heart twist. “Only if you want to. There’s no pressure. But we had to ask.”

You felt like crying. Or laughing. Maybe both, simultaneously. Because somewhere deep down, part of you had wanted this for so long, and now that it was real, you almost didn’t know how to hold it.

"...Really? So…so, how would that work?" Your body was putting in overtime to keep your voice level, but in reality, you were elated. And as Suguru started to lay everything out, you began to feel more and more on board with the whole scenario. 

"We understand if it's not for you. But we wanted to be honest about our feelings and see if you might feel the same way," Geto concluded, his eyes searching yours for any sign of apprehension.

"I appreciate you both being so open about this..." Your voice trailed off as you looked at Suguru, then to Satoru, and back again. You were deep in thought as you weighed your options. It was one thing to daydream about a relationship like that, but it was a whole different ballpark when actually attempting it. 

Gojo spoke up once more, "Above all else, we want to make sure this is something you're comfortable with...a relationship where the three of us are equally involved and supportive of each other."

"Communication is going to be key. We want you to feel comfortable expressing any thoughts or concerns along the way," Suguru added. 

Silence fell as you pondered the offer presented to you. you smiled at the two of them before speaking up, "I'd love to give it a try. You are both important to me and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it before." 

As the words of affirmation left your lips, you were immediately tackled into the couch by your overjoyed, blue-eyed (boy)friend, encompassed in a body-crushing bear hug. Geto quickly joined the two of you on the couch, placing a gentle peck to both you and Satoru's cheek. 

This marked the start of a flourishing relationship, just you and your boys against the world, a beautiful dynamic operating with a deep sense of mutual respect, love, and open communication.

ੈ♡˳ how it's going...

The minute the three of you decided to give polyamory a try, the world felt like it shifted on its axis, a wave of normalcy washing over all of you. The dynamic was perfect, and you always caught yourself wondering why this didn't happen sooner. 

It didn’t feel unnatural or complicated like you’d feared. If anything, it was the opposite. A strange and beautiful wave of normalcy settled over the three of you. Like you had just remembered something you were never supposed to forget.

The dynamic fell into place effortlessly. Suguru, as always, was the grounding force—calm, intentional, fiercely attentive. He took on the role of caretaker with ease, though he'd never say it out loud. It wasn’t in the dramatic gestures, but in the way he placed a hand on your back when you looked overwhelmed, or quietly handed Satoru a bottle of water when he’d clearly forgotten to drink anything all day. He made sure you both ate when your schedules got chaotic, that you went to bed instead of overextending yourselves. He didn’t nag—he guided, steady and warm.

Suguru had always carried a kind of weight in his presence, but now that weight felt like protection instead of distance. You and Satoru gave his life color, purpose—and in return, he anchored you both without ever demanding anything back. But of course, you gave it anyway. In quiet gestures, in lazy mornings spent curled together in bed, in the way you learned to read the tiniest flickers of expression on his face and respond to them before he even asked.

Satoru… well, not much had changed on the surface. He was still loud, still playful, still the first to suggest impulsive ideas like midnight ice cream runs or building a blanket fort just because. But there was a softness to him now, a depth that had always been there but now showed itself more readily. He teased, flirted, joked—but he was also the first to notice when you were feeling distant, the first to ask, “Are you okay?” with a hand over yours and a rare kind of quiet in his voice.

He was touch-starved in the way only someone who gives so much could be, and now that you were his, he made no effort to hide how much he loved being loved. You caught him staring all the time—at you, at Suguru—like he couldn’t believe any of this was real. Sometimes he’d just sigh and press his forehead to your shoulder and mumble something like, “This is the best timeline,” and then pretend it hadn’t happened at all.

Despite the deep feelings and the complicated history, what surprised you most was how easy it all felt. How often you found yourself laughing. How domestic it became without even trying.

Suguru was surprisingly touchy when no one was looking. You’d be brushing your teeth, and he’d wander in to tuck your hair behind your ear like it was nothing. Or he’d rest his chin on your shoulder while you were making tea, arms snaking around your waist, quiet and content. His love language was care disguised as routine—always making sure your phone was charged, that you took your meds, that Satoru didn’t eat cake for breakfast (again). And the best part? He never needed thanks. He just looked at you like, of course I’ll take care of you. You’re mine.

Satoru, on the other hand, was as dramatic and extra as ever, but now he had two people to dote on—and be doted on by. He’d wear matching socks with you and pretend it was a coincidence. He’d climb into bed with you and Suguru and sigh like the day had personally attacked him, only to melt into your arms five seconds later. You once caught him trying to braid Suguru’s hair while he was half-asleep, and instead of stopping him, Suguru just sighed and let him keep going, eyes closed, face soft.

.⋅♡‧₊˚〰.

It was a lazy morning—one of those rare days where no one had anywhere to be and the sun was barely creeping through the blinds. You stirred awake to the sound of quiet humming, familiar and slightly off-key, and the sensation of something warm and heavy draped across your waist.

Satoru.

His hair was a fluffy mess, pillow-creased and wild, his blindfold bunched up like a headband around his forehead. He was curled half on top of you, long limbs tangled like a human octopus, one arm flung across your stomach, one leg hooked over yours. He was still humming, barely conscious, but so deeply relaxed it was like he’d melted.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled against your shoulder, voice thick with sleep.

You tried to stretch, but he clung to you like you were his emotional support body pillow. “You’re heavy,” you grumbled, affection softening the complaint.

“Mm, no I’m not. You’re just dramatic.” He nuzzled further into your neck, lips brushing your skin in a way that made your heart stutter.

“Do you ever wake up like a normal person?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the 'p' like it was the proudest thing he’d ever said.

You ran your fingers through his messy hair, and he actually purred. Like, audibly. It was so ridiculous you laughed, but he just sighed like your touch was the cure to every problem in the world.

“You spoil me,” he said softly, quieter now, like the teasing had melted into something real. “You know that, right?”

You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “You spoil yourself, Satoru.”

“Yeah, but you do it better,” he replied without missing a beat. “You make it feel like… I deserve it.”

That stilled you. Because under the teasing, under the ego, you knew that was something he struggled with—that weight he carried behind the blindfold and bravado.

You shifted, just enough to wrap your arms around him, tucking his head beneath your chin. “You do deserve it. Every bit of it.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just exhaled slowly, fingers curling against your side like he was anchoring himself to the moment. And then, muffled into your skin:

“You’re my favorite.”

You rolled your eyes, affectionately. “You say that to everyone.”

“Nope.” He lifted his head to grin at you, impossibly soft and just a little smug. “Just you. Don’t tell Suguru.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek anyway. “Too late. He already knows.”

Satoru sighed dramatically, burying his face in your neck again. “Damn. Guess I’ll just have to make you love me more today.”

And he would. In all the stupid little ways only he could pull off—bad jokes over breakfast, kissing your forehead like it was a compulsion, wrapping you in his arms like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

Because when it was just the two of you, Satoru Gojo was less god and more boy—clumsy in his affection, shameless in his need, and so, so easy to love.

.⋅♡‧₊˚〰.

It was late. The apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that settles over everything like a blanket—soft, still, safe. Satoru had passed out on the couch hours ago, limbs everywhere, one sock missing (again). You and Suguru had tiptoed away, not to be sneaky, just… because it felt like the right time for a quieter moment. A private one.

You were sitting on the floor of his room, your back against the side of the bed, a record playing low in the background. Suguru sat beside you, legs stretched out, one hand resting between the two of you, pinky just barely brushing yours.

He hadn’t said much yet, but that wasn’t unusual. Suguru didn’t need words to fill the space. He was the space—solid and grounding, always tuned in even when he was silent.

You turned your head to look at him, and he was already watching you. Not staring—watching. The way he always did. Like you were something worth observing carefully.

“What?” you asked softly, smiling a little.

He didn’t smile back—not because he wasn’t happy, but because he was in that kind of mood. The soft one. The vulnerable one. The Suguru one.

“You look peaceful,” he said simply. “I like seeing you like this.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you looked away, but not for long. Suguru didn’t say things for effect. If he gave you a compliment, it was because he meant it. Entirely. It always landed different—like he wasn’t just noticing your beauty, he was recognizing it. Respecting it.

“You make it easy to be peaceful,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder.

He shifted, just slightly, so he could wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his side. “I want to.”

“You do.”

Silence fell again, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of silence that made your chest ache in the best way. The kind that said I don’t have to talk to be with you. After a while, he spoke again, voice low, words slow and careful like always. “Sometimes I think about how this almost didn’t happen. You and me. Us. All of it.”

Your stomach fluttered. “Yeah. Me too.”

“I think about all the time we wasted pretending we didn’t want more.”

You turned slightly to look at him, and this time he looked away, the smallest flicker of self-consciousness crossing his face.

“I used to watch you laugh with Satoru,” he continued, “and I’d wonder what it would be like… to be close to you like that. To make you smile that way.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I didn’t think I deserved it back then,” he said softly, eyes still fixed ahead. “But you make me feel like maybe I do now.”

You didn’t say anything at first. You just reached out and took his hand, lacing your fingers through his, grounding him for once.

“You do,” you said. “You always did.”

He finally looked at you, and this time, he smiled—small, soft, heartbreakingly genuine.

Then, wordlessly, he leaned in and kissed you. Not like Satoru’s kisses—quick and playful and endless. No, this was a Suguru kiss. Intentional. Slow. Like he was pouring every unspoken thought into it. Like he was giving you something sacred. Because he was.

And when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “You’re my peace.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, your heart aching in the best way.

“And you’re mine,” you said.

Suguru gave devotion like it was breathing. He didn’t just love—he chose you, over and over, with every glance, every touch, every quiet act of care.

.⋅♡‧₊˚〰.

One on one, they were everything you had imagined them to be. But when they both decided to show you just how much they loved you at the same time? It was like being caught in the middle of a one-sided competition where you won every time.

It started with something small. A bad day. You came home quiet, not upset, just… low. Drained. And of course, they noticed. Satoru noticed in the way your eyes didn’t crinkle when you smiled. Suguru noticed in the way you sighed a little too often.

And that was all it took. You were suddenly the battlefield for a very soft war.

Suguru made your favorite dinner without asking, and you didn’t even realize he’d gone out to buy the ingredients. It was already plated when you got out of the shower, still warm, waiting on the coffee table with a fresh pair of fluffy socks he must’ve pulled from the back of your drawer. It was precisely what you needed, even though you didn’t know how to ask. They just knew. Little was said at dinner, but nothing really needed to be said. 

Suguru gently ushered you to the couch. Then Satoru came into the room with a blanket and immediately sat on your lap. “Your turn to be the little spoon,” he declared, even though the size difference made it slightly ridiculous. He tucked the blanket around both of you and kissed your forehead like he was sealing in warmth.

Suguru sat beside you, arm draped along the back of the couch, fingertips brushing your shoulder, his voice low as he asked how your day went. No pressure, no expectations, no fixing. Just listening. Satoru, meanwhile, made little dramatic gasps every time you said something mildly annoying that happened. “They said what to you?? Prison. Life sentence. I’ll teleport there now.”

And it kept going. Suguru offered to braid your hair. Satoru tried to unbraid it just so he could “fix it.” Suguru rolled his eyes and took over again, whispering soft things about how pretty you looked even when you were tired. Satoru kept interrupting with kisses to your temple and shoulder, mumbling, “Yeah, and you smell good too. So unfair.”

At one point, you made a sound halfway between a laugh and a whimper. “You guys are literally overwhelming me with affection right now.”

They both paused. Then Suguru smiled, “Good.” And Satoru chimed in with, “You deserve to be worshipped. Let us live.”

After that, they teamed up. You were tucked between them on the couch—Suguru rubbing slow, grounding circles into your back while Satoru played with your fingers like he was counting each one. They talked around you, but every word was for your benefit.

“You think she knows how good she is?” “Mm. Not nearly enough.” “Well, that’s criminal.” “Agreed.”

You couldn’t even respond anymore. Your heart was too full. Your face hurt from smiling. And still, they didn’t stop. Because to them, loving you wasn’t a competition, but a privilege they both happened to share. And god, they were so good at it.

.⋅♡‧₊˚〰.

There were little things, too. The mundane kind that somehow became sacred. Suguru read with his head in your lap while Satoru scrolled through his phone, occasionally reaching up to boop your nose. Satoru stealing your chapstick and dramatically applying it like he was doing runway makeup, you walking into the kitchen to find the two of them dancing like idiots to a song on the radio, laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

It wasn’t always glamorous, but it was always yours. And in between the chaos and the teasing and the deep emotional undercurrents, there was this unshakable sense of joy. Of having finally found your people. The ones who made the world quieter, softer. Who made even the bad days feel survivable—sometimes with a forehead kiss, sometimes with a warm meal, sometimes with a joke so bad you had to physically throw a pillow at Satoru just to make it stop.

You loved them. You really, really loved them.

And they loved you back with the kind of love that felt like sunshine on skin, like home.

.⋅♡‧₊˚〰.

Of course, the intimacy deepened in every way. The friendship you’d all built didn’t disappear. It just bloomed, unfurled into something deeper, richer. And with it came the parts you’d never experienced before, not like this. The touches lingered longer, the kisses grew softer or rougher depending on the night, and the tension that had once been so unspoken became a language all its own.

The sexual aspect of it all… that was the most unfamiliar territory at first. Not difficult, but definitely an adjustment. It was one thing to imagine it, to dream about what it might be like. But reality, real vulnerability, was a different beast. It wasn’t just about desire. It was about trust. About learning new rhythms, exploring each other’s boundaries, needs, wants.

It would probably start in private moments, organically—Maybe you and Suguru share a vulnerable night, talking until the conversation softens into touches, confessions, something deeper. He’d be intentional, focused on making you feel safe and understood. It wouldn’t be rushed. If anything, it was incredibly slow, deliberate. He'd check in constantly, not just with words, but with his gaze, his hands, his presence. He’d ensure that you had his full attention in the way his fingers would trace along your skin, the way his big hands would hold you, ground you, his voice low when he whispered praise into ear; “There you go…just relax, pretty girl. I’ll be gentle. You’re doing so good.”  

And then, a few days or weeks later, it happens with Satoru. His energy was different—playful, disarming, but no less attentive. He would make you laugh right before kissing you breathless, help ease your nerves by being a bit ridiculous, a bit indulgent. He’d worship you in his own way, probably talk the entire time unless you shut him up with a kiss or sat yourself down on his face. Oh, that sweet tongue of his. But under the teasing, he’d be just as tender as Suguru, even if he hid it behind charm.

The first few times all together were careful, only a little awkward, full of whispered check-ins and shy laughter. But they were also electric, intimate in ways you hadn’t even known were possible. Suguru, intense and patient, knew how to read the room, how to guide without being overwhelmed. Satoru, unfiltered and affectionate, knew how to turn nerves into giggles, how to make even the most hesitant moments feel joyful and full of love.

Eventually, it became second nature, like everything else between the three of you.

You found yourself lying in bed with them, tangled in warmth and limbs, wondering why it had taken so long to get here. Why you’d ever thought being “just friends” was enough. Because now you knew what enough really felt like.

And it was this. 

an: this literally healed a part of me and i feel so full of love. also ik this one wasnt smutty, but don't you worry. i have a nashtyyy one comin soon. and, i started working on a stsg CHAPTERED story. omg. im really diving back in head fuckin' first. ik i said i was working on a dark choso series and a dead dove sukuna series but the subject matter is super heavy so im putting a pause on those for the foreseeable future xx