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DISCLAIMER: I don't support the casting for the wuthering heights 2026 adaptation, I've watched the movie and it's stayed on my mind for a while so i wanted to write a fic about it, please don't send any hate, if you don't like this feel free to scroll!
wc: 1.9k
smut,angust
It was 3am when you heard a knock on your door.
The knock was persistent and got louder by the second, it was now piercing your ears and you finally awoke from your deep slumber. Sighing heavily you sat up carefully and rubbed your sleep deprived eyes . You had been up all last night thinking about him, the very man that you swore no strings were attached to, the very man that although he wasnât yours, gave you butterflies in your stomach every-time he touched you.
Heathcliff, you thought breathing in the cold air, your mind ran through endless possibilities as to why he was at your door. You went through a couple scenarios before whipping your feet off the bed. You chuckled lightly to yourself as you thought maybe he was here to talk, like really talk, one to one, a deep meaningful conversation. You carefully opened your Creaking bedroom door sighing once you closed it, one foot pressed against the cold hardwood floor and a shiver was sent up your spine as both feet touched the floor softly ,you took your time walking towards the doorway deliberately pressing your feet heavily along the corridor floor making enough noise for Heathcliff to know you were coming to open the door.
You had reached the door, before opening it you stepped up on your tiptoes to look through your small window designed with a vintage mosaic.
it was him.
You studied his face, a provoked look sat across it, looking up at his eyes you had noticed wet traces of tear stains smothered around his bright pink cheeks. He had been crying. Disappointed you bit your bottom lip roughly. You knew what he was here for.
You undid the latch on the door and unlocked it slowly turning the handle to be taken in by Heathcliff's tall image. He tilted his head down to look at you, it was a look of exhaustion and desperation, his eyebrows furrowing gradually as he read your face, after what seemed like ages he finally spoke.
"you have not slept". He said as he reached down to tuck your hair behind your ear.
Self consciously you looked down to the porch floor trying to hide the dark circles that engrossed your eyes, hiding your face you replied.
"It's before dawn" You said avoiding his remark "the sun is yet to rise".
he chuckled a deep throated laugh, voice box vibrating. "And you're yet to tell me why your face has a worrisome look circulating around it". He said mocking you.
Defeated you stepped aside giving him way to walk into your home. It was a cold night, autumn was just ending and the trees around your small cottage were barren, the last remains of the once bright emerald coloured leaves falling on the floor and moulding into a hard crisp texture now a fiery red colour.
It was the fourth time this month he had come to your house unexpected and at peculiar times in the early morning.
He stood for a second, reluctant to walk in, acknowledging the state he was in. You thought for a second that he would turn back, but he didn't instead he swept you up off your feet and pulled you in for a hungry, possessive kiss. Startled by this it took you a while to gain awareness until his tongue was begging to access your mouth. Thinking for a second you kissed him back roughly. Both needing something. Your tongues danced softly together in harmonious movement.
He carried you in, closing the door with his foot carelessly, walking towards your room as his heavy boots treaded against your floor, leaving a trail of mud behind him. It was evidence, evidence that this was actively happening and that you weren't dreaming. Still enclosed by this hungry kiss you two shared he threw you down on your bed, back hitting the mattress softly you looked up at him a sultry look spread across your face as you studied him. He looked gorgeous in this light, his ruffled brown hair illuminating from your nightlamp, white shirt now see-through from sweat and tugged to the side, it stuck to his abs illustrating every curve and dip on his stomach. Your eyes glanced down at his swollen lips as he moved down to hover over your body, he messily unbuttoned his shirt throwing it to the side, you glanced over to the floor as it fell down. Evidence.
He grabbed your face slowly moving it to face him.
"You want this right?" He said looking for reassurance.
Your mouth opened for a second, processing, "y-yes" you said face plastered with doubt.
he stopped. Confused you looked at him eyebrows furrowed. "Do not look at me like that, God".
You opened your mouth to say something before he cut you off with another hungry kiss, it trailed down your neck making you gasp silently. "Heathcliff" You moaned as he nipped at your skin.
His hands started to trail along your curves, in a hurry you drew your pink nightgown off, fully exposed he had retreated from nibbling off your neck and he smiled, he had finally smiled, gold tooth glistening as light bounced off of it, you smiled too.
He unbuckled his belt and took off his drawls and before you could see anymore he slowly inserted his cock into your vagina, you gasped softly at the feeling and euphoria spread through your body, giving you a moment to adjust to him he started moving. Slowly at first but then rougher and more needy, his tip kissed your cervix and you moaned softly at the feeling. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear as your eyes rolled back blurring your vision with stars. "You're so beautiful " he whispered, you moved your hips up toward him wanting more when he said the unthinkable "God Cathy" He moaned.
You looked up at him, confusion and anger spread across your face. " I-I am sorry" He said quickly " I did not mean it, I did not realis....." your soft hand touched his cheek and his words slowly drifted off his tongue. "It is okay" you said with an understanding expression on your face, you smiled sincerely as you kissed him softly on his swollen lips.
He continued moving in you, his thumb entering you sending waves of pleasure down your legs, he then circled his thumb slowly stretching you out to add another finger, you moaned softly as his fingers moved in and out of you , occasionally flicking your clit to initiate your release, you finally did and it was loud "Heathcliff" You moaned as he worked you through your orgasm speeding up his fingers. He slowly pulled out of you and released on the bed sheets being sure not to get any on you.
You were both spread out, exhausted on your bed panting frantically as he sat up and reached down to put on his clothes. He was leaving. Like always but you thought that maybe just maybe heâd stay a little longer. You turned your head to face him moving your hair from your sticky temple. "you're leaving" You said, voice quieter than a whisper sounding much more desperate than you had intended, he paused for a moment while buckling his belt, the back of his white buttoned up shirt facing away from you as he stood watching the wall when he replied.
"You know how it works" He replied bluntly.
His words cut like a sharp blade ,you swallowed the lump in your throat that had formed and tentatively replied, "I know but.." You said while adjusting your body by sitting up "I thought maybe this time was different" you said weakly sounding as vulnerable as ever.
He had finally turned to face you, his eyes finally meeting yours in a intense, antagonizing stare down, you held your breath scared to breathe too deeply and set him off. You didn't dare to say a word, your heart pumped as loud as ever against your chest, it felt as if your heart was going to explode in any moment as you waited for him to say something.
Instead, he made his way through your bedroom door, floorboard creaking loudly as he pressed his feet onto the wood and walked towards your kitchen. Flabbergasted, you quickly put back on your nightgown, following him in a quick motion being sure to avoid the mud that was spread across your corridor floor. When you reached him he was spread out comfortably at your wooden dining table set, eyes fixated on a white paper that lay in front of him, he was in visible distress as you looked at his face, frustration written all over it as he moved his quill pen to his mouth, ink pot sitting next to the paper.
You moved closer, and sat down at the chair that was situated beside him, you took the paper, eyes moving to his when his hands instinctively went to grab the paper from you. Moving your head closer you read what was written on it.
You read the letter, slowly bringing it down to meet his compelling gaze, waiting for you to say something. Tears ran down your eyes as you mustered up the courage to say something " It is beautiful" You said wiping your eyes to look up and meet his " Very thoughtful and.. sincere" His expression changed, lips pursing narrowly.
"is that all you have to say?" He pleaded, expecting more for you.
"well what would you like me to say, Heathcliff." You hissed his name scorn filling your tone almost completely. " You come to my home, make love to me when it suits you, and then you leave and forget about me until your letters to Cathy go neglected" You hissed her name on purpose, wanting a reaction form HeathCliff, you took a shaky deep breath, struggling to get the words out. "Don't you understand? I don't want to be the woman you only remember when your problems swallow you whole..I" You give up anger, replacing the admiration you felt towards him. In these few months that your affair with him took place you grew to know him and grow fond of him. Maybe even love him.
You cried silently, waiting for an answer that you knew you weren't going to recieve, his solemn eyes met yours and his face read an emotion of regret.
"I must be on my way" He said completely blanking your plea of love "Isabella is expecting me."
You said nothing, only looked at him disappointment overwhelming you as your eyes followed his movement. He swiftly got up and took the letter that you tightly clutched onto and left the room, quickly putting on his boots as he made his way to your door. Instinctively you followed him weeping silently while trailing behind like a lost puppy.
Finally he had reached the door, he opened it and the cold autumn air hit your body sending cold shivers down your spine, you shakily breathed in waiting for him to say something as he stood facing the pathway towards your home.
Realising he wasnât going to say anything you spoke âI love you, Heathcliffâ You mumbled wiping the salty tears that welled underneath your eyes.
âAnd you Iâ He replied quietly speaking in a calm tone as he walked down the path refusing to look back at you.
You feel apart, back hitting your wall making a painting fall, you slid down, legs giving in weakly as you sobbed loud and broken tears. It was over. He was gone. You stayed until his figure slowly disappeared as he turned the corner. You were sure this was the last you would hear from him.
It was a goodbye.
Notes: this is my first fic so tell me if you guys like it, my friends have been proof-reading it for a while so i might make a part 2!!
wc:7.9k~ credits to @/bbyg4rlhelps for the cutesy borders !
synopsis: you and sukuna have always been inseparable, since kids itâs always been late night talks, sleepovers and movie marathons. anyone who knew you knew sukuna, and anyone that knew sukuna knew you, but as you two grow and moments shared and stolen glances surface, what happens when neither of you address the growing tension?âŚ
~
!!read!! childhood bsfs to lovers, mutual pining, angst if you squint, smut, comfort, fluff, banter, & unspoken feelings. best friends who wonât share their feelings. sukuna down badddd, reader said to have a little bit of nerdy interests.
authorâs note : if you couldnât tell i get a lot of inspo for my fics from songs lol. also tysm for all the love on my last work !! <3
âsomewhere in northern italyâŚâ the familiar words flash across the screen of the cheap flat screen tv in your living room, the is sun peaking through the blinds, illuminating the room in golden beams of warmth. the air in your apartment smells like sweet vanilla and blueberry from the muffins youâd just baked and put in the oven.
it was that time of year where everything was a little bit looser, with the semester ending and summer break approaching, the days were longer, the sun set at 7pm and you found yourself smiling a bit more. the perfect time to rewatch âcall me by your nameâ one of your favourite films ever.
you take off your baking apron, which was decorated with adorable little embroidery flowers along with mini kittens, a gift from sukuna. the same sukuna who was now about thirty minutes late after saying he was going to come over today so you guys could begin your annual summer festivities. it wasnât unlike sukuna to be late, he always had something going on at the frat, but it was really irritating. i mean you didnât even like blueberries that much, but you baked the muffins specifically because you knew how much sukuna liked them.
you grab a popsicle from your fridge and walk over to the couch, deciding you canât be bothered to clean up the mess from baking, get comfy and resume watching the film. then about ten minutes later youâre heart almost jumps out of your chest when you hear the front door slam shut from down the corridor.
âi come in peace..and with snacks!â sukuna walks into the room, holding his hands up in surrender.
âoh my fucking gosh sukuna, are you trying to give me a heart attack or what?!â you jump, startled by the sudden commotion.
âshit my fault, forgot my bestfriend has a weak ass heart.â he chuckles, kicking his shoes off and already gravitating towards the kitchen to scavenge through your fridge.
ââwait. is that blueberry i smell?..â he says, sniffing the air.
âoh yeah, i baked muffins, butttt you donât get any since you wannaâ be late again.â you shrug, turning your attention back to the film playing on the tv.
you were totally bluffing, you werenât that evil, but you liked teasing sukuna.
âyou wouldnât..â he narrowed his eyes.
âoh i so would.â
âthereâs no way in hell you can eat a whole batch by yourself anyway.â he shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the counter.
âyou seriously underestimate me sukunaâŚin fact they should be done by now.â you reply, getting up off the sofa and pushing past sukuna peering into the oven at the golden treats.
you take them out the oven, careful not to burn yourself, and place them on the counter between the two of you. you pick up one of the muffins and slowly begin to take a big fat bite, all whilst staring sukuna right in his ruby red eyes.
âoh so youâre evil evil.â sukuna gasps.â
âmmmm~ so good.â you taunt, very proud with yourself.
âbro you donât even like blueberries like that.â he retorts.
âi know, its for the love of the game.â you reply, a smirk making its way to your face as you wait for sukuna to give in.
a few seconds pass, thenâŚ
âfine dang it, you win y/n, what do you want from me, iâll do anything for a taste of those muffins.â
got him. âhmm..i want a heartfelt sincere apology for you being late.â you reply.
sukuna raises on eyebrow, âreallyâŚ? thatâs it? an apology.?â
âyup, thatâs it.â
âhuh..alright bet, easy enough.â he says, standing up straight and clearing his throat very dramatically.
âi am so very, very sorry my amazing, wonderful, beautiful, talented, funny, smart and amazing at baking best friend for being late. i promise it wonât happen again.â
âhow was that for an apology?â sukuna asks, looking exceedingly proud of himself.
âyouâre so stupidâ you canât help but giggle as you grab a nicely designed ceramic plate from the cabinet behind you, plate up a couple of the muffins and push them towards sukuna.
âyeah and you love it.â he teases back with a mouthful of the dessert.
âyouâre so lucky i do, idiot.â you roll your eyes at him, but canât hide your smile.
because it was true, sukuna was an irritating idiot, but he was your irritating idiot and you wouldnât have it any other way. youâve known sukuna for as long as you could remember, but the memory of when you two met would forever be rooted in your brain chemistry.
you were in second grade and little you was sitting on the fake grass outside cross-legged. reading your favourite book, a habit that grew with you except now youâve upgraded to novels and manga, whilst eating the packed lunch your mom made for you. when suddenly, the afternoon sun was blocked by a shadow. you look up from your book to see a little red haired boy with beautiful crimson eyes and mud on his knees holding a worm in front of your face.
âewww! get that away from me, gross!â little you shrieks, inching away from the bug.
the boy only giggles, exposing his toothless grin and plopping down next to you on the grass, setting the little worm down somewhere in the distance.
âwhatchaâ readinâ?â he asks curiously, shuffling over even closer to get a closer look.
âdork diaries, my mommy bought it for me and its my favourite ever!â you exclaim, excited to finally be talking to another kid about something that interests you.
âhuh.. thatâs coolâanyway do u wannaâ play tag with me?â the boy asks.
âi donât really like playingâŚâ you continue to flip through the pages of your book, expecting the boy to leave and go continue playing with the other kids.
instead he pouts says, âawwh okay, can i read with you then?â
that shocked little you, because you werenât used to people noticing you. you were always tucked away in the corner, nose buried in a different book, or drawing little doodles. you enjoyed your own company.
âyou wanna read with me?âŚokay! but no more worms or creepy crawlies..â you scold, grinning from ear to ear at the excitement of someone wanting to talk to you.
âyayyy, and no more worms, i got it.â
he notices the lone blueberries left in your packed lunch and frowns.
âwhy arenât you eating those blueberries?..theyâre gonna feel sad if you donât eat them!â he points to your pink lunchbox.
âthatâs not true silly! and i donât like blueberries theyâre yucky and mushyâŚbut you can have them if you want.â you giggle at the boys comment.
he doesnât waste any time and takes a handful of the berries, stuffing them in his cheeks like a chipmunk. you burst out into fits of laughter, amused by the boyâs little act of stupidity and he follows shortly after.
you both sit there in the liquid gold sun, giggling till your stomachs hurt and your cheeks ache.
and ever since that day, you two were best friends. same middle school, same high school, and now same college. you smile at the memory, completely caught up in your own head forgetting you were still in the kitchen, the faint noise of the film on the tv forgotten, and the air warm with the lingering smell off sugar and blueberries.
âawe ya thinking about me?â sukuna coos, snapping you out of your daydream and back into the present.
âyou wish, definitely not.â you scoff, walking back to the couch and plopping down with the rest of the muffins in hand.
which was a fat lie, because you totally were, but you werenât gonna tell him that.
âyeah yeah, whatever.â he grins, following you over to the couch sitting next to you.
the sheer weight of him made the whole couch shift beneath you two and you catch yourself distracted by the way the light seemed to catch his eyes. sukuna was good looking, like really good looking, you werenât going to lie to yourself and it wasnât unknown news, everyone knew it including himself. you werenât surprised why so many sorority girls would literally drool all over him, though sukuna never seemed to acknowledge them which you admired. ever since joining sigma rho he still stayed the same old sukuna, he didnât change to fit in or fake being someone who he wasnât.
âhey y/n, you good?..you keep zoning out like crazy..â sukuna speaks, once again snapping you out of your daydream.
ââwhat, oh yeah iâm fine, just tired or something.â you reply.
âyeah? you sure?â he moves closer and puts his arm around you pulling you into his side.
âiâm fine sukuna, promise.â you grin, shimmying out of his grip even though your attempts are futile due to his strength.
âgoodâoh shit yeah, iâve been meaning to ask if youâd come to the frat party on saturday..â he asks, his arm still around you, but now his handâs tracing patterns into your arm.
âsukunaââ you start, already opposed to the idea.
âand before you say it, i know you hate the frat, and the partiesââ
âand the people.â you add.
âand the people, but i really want you there y/n, seriously, hey who knows you might even enjoy it.â
âi donât knowâŚâ you contemplate, considering the idea, but genuinely not wanting to deal with anything that goes on at those parties.
he pouts, âpleaseeeeee..â
âwhatever, fine iâll come, but you have to wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen in return.â you point to the mess still on the counter from your earlier baking.
he jumps up from his spot on the couch and gets straight to work, âyes maâam.â
what an idiot. you think to yourself, grinning as you watch your best friend attempt to wipe flour off the counter, but only worsening it.
the sun begins to set, leaving the room painted in warm tones of gold and orange, as you sit back and already begin to dread this party you got yourself tied up in.
it was saturday night and you were now smoothing out your hands on your outfit which youâd picked last minute, mini jean skirt, and your favourite light beige sweater which was decorated with small black cats all around it, all paired with a pair of uggs. you honestly didnât even know what you were supposed to wear to frat parties, but you thought your outfit was cute and you felt confident. you even did your makeup a little differently and tried out a new hairstyle in hopes of trying to hype yourself a little.
you walked to the doorstep of the large house and stepped through the threshold.
shit.
youâre immediately hit in the face with bright fluorescent orange lights and the smell of alcohol. the booming sound of speakers blasting some rap song youâre not familiar with fill your ears as you try to move your feet and weave through the tight bodies already filling up the space.
you end up in the kitchen, where itâs a little calmer and hop up to sit on one of the kitchen stools. you take in the whole scene, couples eating off each otherâs faces, freshman doing karaoke, a very intense game of beer pong. it was chaotic, and you donât even realise your leg has started bouncing up and down and that you were fidgeting with your necklace, a nervous habit, till a familiar voice breaks you out of your trance.
âthereâs my favourite girl.â
the voice startles you and you look up to see sukuna striding over to you, a smug smirk plastered on his face and red solo cup in hand.
âsukuna i fucking swear one of these days youâre deadass gonnaâ give me a heart attack!â you yell over the music.
âglad to see you too.â he grins, thanks for actually coming.â he says, placing his free hand on the counter behind you, leaning closer so it was easier to hear.
âyeah well you didnât really give me a choice did you.â you take the cup out of his hand and toss back the contents.
bad idea.
âew oh my gosh what the fuck is that-â you wince, take back by the sharp taste.
he snorts and takes the cup from your hand, âeasyyyy, easy.â
you donât even notice that youâve still absentmindedly been bouncing your leg up and down till sukuna frowns and places a reassuring hand on your bare upper thigh.
the gesture makes your face heat up and your stomach flip. âstop. cut it out y/n.â you think to yourself, itâs just the drink right?
âhey you okay?â
ââwhat, oh yeah just a little loud thatâs all..â you dismiss, distracting yourself with your necklace once again.
âmm, you overwhelmed?â he asks, gently.
of course he knew exactly how you were feeling.
âyeah a little..iâll be fine though.â
âpromise?â he asks
âpromise.â you reply.
sukuna knew that parties had never been your thing, ever since you were kids he found it cute how youâd always rather be reading, drawing or lost in your own little world. even though in high school, you broke out of your shell and became a lot more outgoing you still preferred to be in the comfort of your own home, thatâs just who you were. and he loved it. he also could always tell what you were thinking or feeling just by you body language, years of observing your little habits meant that he knew you very well.
âalright good, tell yaâ what, we stay for an hour or two then after that i take you home, we get food and binge watch films of your choice.â he says, tracing small circles into your thigh.
you try and stifle a smile, he practically listed your ideal night, how could you say no?
âfoul play, you used all the perfect buzzwords.â you grin
ânah, not my fault i know you so well.â sukuna smirks, pulling you onto your feet and leading you into the living room.
âalright câmon drama queen, the guys are gonna think i dipped or somethin.â
sukuna leads you to a couch near the corner of the room where he sits down and drags you down with him and his arm snaking around your shoulders as you curl up into his side, knees up to your chest.
âcute sweater.â he teases, smiling down at the little black cats.
âyou like it? itâs new, can you believe i got it fifty percent off?? such a steal.â you examine it once more.
you start rambling about things sukuna doesnât even particularly care about, but he listens and watches the way your eyes light up and your smile gets bigger and brighter as you speak. itâs always been like this, you speak and he listens, getting lost in the sound of your voice and the gleam of your eyes, he loved it.
but his serenity is disturbed when he hears a yell from the other front room.
âsatoru get off the fuckinâ chandelier you idiot!â
he groans, already dreading whatever bullshit heâs gonna have to deal with this time.
ââhold that thought, gotta go deal with these jackasses before one of âem breaks some shit.â
âokay, good luck.â you giggle.
sukuna enters the other room and immediately spots satoru, choso and suguru all sprawled out on the rug in front of the couch. satoru holding a half empty bottle of whiskey, suguru downing a beer and choso smoking a blunt.
he joins them on the floor, âso, the hell happened here then.â
âyo, ryo you shouldâve fuckinâ seen it man, shit was hilarious.â choso drawls, smoke curling in the air around him.
âyeah i donât even wanna knowâdamn satoru how much have you drank?â sukuna replies, eyeing the half empty bottle in his hands.
âpfftt, barely anything this is lightwork bro.â satoru slurs, proud smirk on his face.
âsaw y/n hereâ suguru starts, tossing back the rest of his beer. âsurprised she came.â
âhm? yeah, asked her to come.â
satoru snorts, âshe has cats on her sweater right? damn, the girlâs cute as shit.â
âdeadass, might need to invest in that i wonât lie.â suguru smirks, gaze falling back to the room you were in.
the fuck? sukuna wasnât liking where this conversation was headed.
âwhat the fuck do you mean by that suguru?â he crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing.
âheâs not wrong yâknow, looks like the type to bake you cupcakes ând shit.â choso adds.
âimagine a good fuck from her then getting some bomb ass cupcakes right afterâ satoru begins, taking another sip of whiskey. âthat shit would be heaven.â
they had to be messing with him.
âwhat the hell is wrong with you guys? cut that shit out.â sukunaâs pissed now, ây/n doesnât sleep around with fucking frat boys, sheâs not like that.â
he stared at his three friends, completely baffled and disgusted at the way they spoke about you as if you were just another thirsty sorority girl. they didnât get it, didnât get you.
then all of a sudden the three burst into obnoxious laughter and sukuna deadpans.
âoh my god bro, you shouldâve seen your face.â satoru chuckles, slapping his leg.
âi donât get the joke.â sukuna spits.
âdonât worry man, we didnât mean any of that crap.â suguru says, still clearly amused.
âyeah we were just tryinâ to confirm our suspicions on the fact youâre a hundred percent in love with y/n.â choso snorts.
oh.
sukuna didnât even know what to reply to that because he could lie all he wanted, tell them it wasnât true, but it wouldnât get rid of that feeling in his heart, the one that wouldnât leave him alone whenever he thought of you. who was he kidding? it was just normal affection anyone felt towards their best friend right? totally platonicâŚso why did he still feel that lingering ache in his chest.?
âwhatever. iâm retiring for the night..later.â sukuna swiftly gets up and leaves, heading back to you.
âthink we pissed him off?â choso asks.
ânah heâs mad cusâ he knows weâre right.â suguru takes the now empty bottle of whiskey from satoru who was now completely passed out.
the party has died down a bit now, the musicâs a little quieter and the atmosphere more relaxed. youâre still on the couch idly scrolling on your phone, to keep yourself from drifting off, when sukuna appears in front of you.
âoh there you are, thought iâd fall asleep before you got back.â you yawn.
âyeah sorry about that, they were being idiots as per usual.â he runs his hand down his face.
âi can imagine, anyway can we go now im like actually starving, anddd you owe me food.â you whine.
âof course you rememberâwas hoping youâd crash before we got to this stage.â he curses.
you giggle, âhow could i, already thinking about what i want.â
âyeah i bet you are, love running my pockets donât you.â he pulls you off the couch hand coming to wrap around your shoulders as you two walk towards the door.
you can only yawn in response, tiredness completely taking over as the cold night air sends shivers down your spine making you lean into the warmth of sukuna.
âyou tired?â he asks, speaking into the crown of your head.
âhm..nuh uh.â
another yawn slips out, completely betraying your last statement.
ânot tired huh? he snorts.
âshut up..â
âcâmon i know you just wanna get into bed, how about we reschedule our little evening and i make you ramen instead?â sukuna leans down to get a closer look at your face.
âfineâŚbut iâm not forgetting that you owe me sukuna.â you look up at him, eyebrows raised.
âi know you wonât y/n, i know you wonât.â he grins.
you reach your apartment, immediately kick your shoes off and run straight to your couch. your sunset lamp illuminates the room in a cool orange tone. sukuna follows shortly after sitting down on the couch right next to you. you crawl into his lap on instinct, your head resting on his hard chest. the position nothing new and familiar to you by now.
âso, how was your first frat party?â he asks, running a gentle hand down your back.
you hum, âokay i guess..still donât know why you wanted me to come though..â
âcus i like having you around y/n, you know thatâŚyou just get me.â he says, hand still running up and down your back.
his words and the repeated sensation on your back give you those stupid butterflies again and make your face heat up. you try to stifle down the feeling and ignore it, because you know sukuna doesnât think of you like that, âwhy the hell do i keep feeling like this?â you knew damn why, but you wouldnât say it out loud, not even to yourself, because saying it out loud is hard. so instead, you settle for humour and bury those feelings.
âdonât get all dramatic on me idiot.â
he faintly laughs at that, the sound almost not there, ânot dramatic, just true.â
you smile into his chest, and you both sit there tangled up in each other, the sound of your breathing and cars passing in the distance and a million unspoken thoughts that neither of you brought up, but you have a feeling that things were changing.
98% ~ amazing work y/n, great way to end the semester.
youâre standing in the middle of campus near the common area when the notification from student portal pops up. you reread the grade once, twice just to make sure youâre not hallucinating from the scorching heat beaming down on you. 98%. you passed. it felt like someone had just released the invisible strings that had been holding up your shoulders the whole semester. all the work youâd put into your final literature essay had paid off.
you couldnât wait to tell sukuna, heâd promised that if you got over eighty percent on the essay heâd take you out anywhere and let you get anything you want. he had calculus right now so you rushes across campus with a smile plastered across your face.
you get to his class right in time, you see him speaking to gojo about something, and rush up to him.
âsukuna! sukuna look! i passed!â you squeal, shoving the phone in his face completely unable to contain your excitement.
ââwoah, woah passed what, what am i looking at.â he asks, taking your wrist and steadying your shaky hand to get a better look.
âmy english essay sukuna, i got a ninety eight!â you bounce up and down, steadying your hand so he can see.
âholy fuck, ninety eight? attaâ girl thatâs amazing y/n, seriously.â he wraps you into a tight embrace, hugging you tightly.
the smile on your face is contagious as you pull back, âyou know what this means right?â
âi sure do.â he sighs, âso whatâs the first stop then.â
you tap your chin in contemplation, âhm..well i have been dying for a new pair of jeans..oh my god and thereâs this new book place that opened..â
sukuna canât help but smile at your enthusiasm, âgod what have i got myself into..lead the way.â
you drag him all the way your favourite book store off campus for your first stop. the place has that nostalgic orange lighting, with decorative signs and retro furniture in every corner. whimsy lamp posts and wooden bookshelves filled to the brim with different copies of literature are on display as you walk in.
âthis place is literally you.â he states, taking in the whole scene.
âwhat does that even mean dude?â you look at him, one eyebrow raised.
âjust like if you were a store this is what iâd imagine it to look like.â
âyeah okay whatever that means sukuna.â you roll your eyes and grin.
you take his hand in yours and lead him to the back of the store where the largest bookshelf resides.
the keychains on your backpack jingle as you excitedly move and grab every single book youâve read that you can spot and start explaining the plot to him.
ââŚ.and then itâs like so cute becauseâhey are you listening??â you wave the book in front of his face.
âhuh..yeah, yeah of course keep going i was interested.â sukuna blurts out.
which was a massive lie, because he was way to busy watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, how your pretty little eyes looked up and batted your eyelashes at him. he was mesmerised, you were beautiful, the way the sun made you glow you looked like a fairytale. he wanted so badly to just take your face and kiss those lips till all he could remember was the taste of your lipglossâpause. what the fuck? this was y/n, his best friend y/n, so why was his heart suddenly beating and his face hot?
âsukuna, you alright? your face is like crazy red..â you ask, snapping him out of his daydream.
âoh yeah, nothinâ itâs just mad hot in here.â he shrugs, lying through his teeth.
âhm yeah it is..iâm almost done in here anyway, gonna get these two.â you grab the books and place them under your arm.
âalright letâs get outta here before i pass out please.â he begs.
you wait patiently by his side as sukuna pays for your books, then you two exit the shop and step back into the summer air. itâs the brink of the evening by now and the sun is ever so slightly beginning to set leaving behind a refreshing breeze that cools you down.
âthank you, iâm so excited to read these..youâre hearing all about them by the way.â you grip onto his arm as you two begin walking down the pavement.
âno worries, you deserve it im proud of you forreal, for acing that essay.â he says looking down at you with so much admiration in his eyes.
âthanks sukuna.â you reply, squeezing his arm.
âso where to next, miss shopaholic.â he sighs.
âhmm yâknow iâm kinda tired of shopping, oh i know, can we go to that gelato place down the street?â you ask.
âfuck yeah, iâm down for some ice cream.â sukuna replies, a big grin appearing on his face.
âof course youâre smiling..â you roll your eyes, but canât help but grin.
you two begin walking down the street to the gelato place, your still gripping his arm as you watch the cars drive by and the trees sway in unison to the wind. it was getting a little darker now, so that cool summer breeze began to pick up.
you loved summer, something about the way the sun shined and left the streets glittering, the way people gathered in the parks for picnics everyday and you woke up already feeling tranquil.
your heavy bag filled with textbooks and notebooks started to make your back ache, so you fidget a little in futile attempts to get comfortable.
sukuna, noticing your squirming, asks âwant me to carry your bag?â
âno itâs okay, super heavy youâd probably struggle.â you tease.
âpfftt, i take that as a challenge.â
sukuna reaches behind you and grabs your backpack off of your shoulder with ease.
âsuper heavy huh?â he smirks.
âwhatever, try carrying it on your back the entire day.â you roll your eyes.
you reach the ice cream shop and immediately go to the counter to look at the variety of flavours. you loved looking at the different colours laid out in front of you, it gave you that nostalgic feeling for some reason. you already have your order ready, you always get the same thingâvanilla.
âyou ready?â sukuna asks.
âyeah.â you go to order and then tap your card, but sukuna beats you to it.
âi got it, your treat remember..plus i still owe you.â he nudges your shoulder.
he watched your smile grow as you both got handed your ice cream and you turn to him with those pretty eyes of yours and say âthank you, youâre the best.â
well shit. he was definitely blushing again.
âno problem y/n..donât know why you always get plain vanilla though.â he teases, leading you two out of the shop back into the summer breeze.
âsays you, i donât know how you always get blueberryâŚi mean who even eats blueberry ice cream?â you shoot back.
you two settle on thee edge of the curb near the small beach a few miles off campus.
âdonât knock it till you try it sweetheart.â he takes a big bite into the scoop.
youâre close enough to be able to hear the calming crash of waves against each other and smell the salty smell of the sea water. youâre so engrossed in the hypnotic scene that you donât even realise the vanilla ice cream was dripping down your chin.
âmessy ass eater..â sukuna teases, tilting your face towards him and running his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping up the mess and then licking it off his finger.
you stare at him, butterflies again. those stupid butterflies and that fluttering feeling in your stomach that canât seem to leave you alone no matter how much you push it down. it would only get bigger and bigger, leave a lingering feeling that got stronger everytime you were near him. you yearned for his warmth, his hands in yours, his lips on yours. the feeling was suffocating, but you couldnât say anything, wouldnât say anything because if you did it would only make things complicated and you didnât want to risk losing him, it would kill you. so you just push it down and pray.
âshut up..â you mutter, turning your face away from him in embarrassment so he canât see how much heâs affected you.
but youâre then distracted when the cutest most tiny little ball of fur strolls up to you.
âoh my god! sukuna look at it, sâ a kitty!â you squeal, passing your melting ice cream over for him to hold.
the little creature meows and crawls into your lap like youâre a cushion.
âawhh, hi there little one, youâre so adorable arenât you?â you coo, stroking the kitten.
âit kinda looks like youâ you say to him.
he raises his eyebrows, âdid you just compare me to a kitten?â
the cat had reddish-ginger fur with little white spots all around it. it did sort of resemble sukuna.
âit does, except itâs way cuter.â you giggle.
âliar.â he grins, poking you in the side.
the kitty meows once again and hops out of your lap, running off somewhere in the distance.
âawh, bye bye.â you wave as the little feline runs off.
you take the rest of your ice cream back and then sukuna speaks.
ây/n?â he says, staring off into the distance.
âhm?â youâre preoccupied with finishing off your dessert without any of it dripping onto you.
âwhat do yaâ wanna do after college?..â
the question surprises you and you turn your head towards him.
âafter?..i donât know, i mean iâve always wanted to travel, who knows maybe iâll visit italy or somethingâŚâ
travel with you, is what you really want to say. be with you, is what your heart desires.
âwhat about you?..â you ask, almost a whisper.
âi donât really know to be honest..probably stay here.â he shrugs.
travel. travelling means leaving, means leaving him behind, he thought. he didnât want that, he needed you with him, itâs always been like that, you and him.
you hum as you two sit there, and let the ocean carry away the weight of all the things you havenât said, let the wind calm the storm inside your head.
âââââââââââââââââââââwhen you get back to your apartment, you head to your room and get changed into your pyjamas as sukuna crashes on the couch, exhausted from the day.
you walk out into tiny polka dot sleep shorts and a matching thin tank top, perfect for hot summer nights.
shit. sukuna couldnât help but stare at your perfect legs and the perfect swell of your breasts under your tank topâthere it was again. those thoughts that normal people were definitely not supposed to be having about their best friend. but then again his head was a mess, a whirlpool of emotions and unsaid thoughts and feelings. he knew what it was deep down, but he chose to say nothing. it was easier keeping it all to himself than loosing you and ruining what you two had because you didnât feel the same way.
but it was killing him, he was pent up, he hadnât even looked at another girl let alone touched one for ages, and he now realised why. plus, the sexual desire he felt for you wasnât making anything easier.
you cross the room, sit next to him and throw your legs over his lap. âyou gonna crash here tonight?â you ask.
âuh yeah if thatâs cool.â sukuna picks up the remote and switches on the tv, needing a distraction from the way your ass was rubbed up right against his hip.
âyeah, cool just donât steal all the blanket this time or youâre getting kicked in the stomach.â you snort, snatching the remote from him.
âgod youâre mean.â he grins
âyou wouldnât have it any other way, donât lie.â you look up at him.
âgot me thereâ
youâre both drifting asleep slowly, some cheesy rom-com playing on the tv when you hear sukuna speak tiredly.
âfratâs throwing an end of semester mixer..you gonna come?â
âanother party? iâll pass..â you say, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes.
âcâmon please, itâll be less chaotic this time jusâ a small mixer with some of the other fratâs and sororities.â he pleads, caressing your leg.
âwhen is it?â
âtwo days away, sunday.â
âshit i canât anyway, thatâs my designated cleaning day..and iâm baking that day, sorry.â you say.
âman, gonna fuckin hate it if youâre not there.â he groans.
sukunaâs on the couch at the mixer, red solo cup in hand even though he hasnât drank anything since he got it. he didnât want to be here, being forced to make conversation with neighbouring frat members whose names he wouldnât even remember in an hour, and a blonde sorority chick wouldnât leave him alone. her high pitched voice going on about wanting to âget away from the party for a whileâ. everything was pissing him off and he just wanted to be back at your place arguing about something stupid whilst he helps you mix brownie batter.
âhiiii sukunaaa.â the blonde was back again, clearly a few drinks in.
he doesnât even look her away, just returns a slight nod.
âyou look a bit down, need me to cheer you up a bit?â she winks.
he looks at her now, expression stoic âhow you gonna cheer me up huh?â
âwhy donât you come find outâŚâ she purrs, her hands all over him now, feeling up his arms, his chest, everywhere.
he feels sick. but for some fucked up reason he abides, he gets up and walks towards the staircase looking back at the girl.
as soon as he enters some random bedroom on the second floor, the girl pounces on him, all teeth, nipping at ever inch of skin. sukuna can only stand there, his mind in a completely different dimension.
y/n.
thatâs all he can think off as the blonde steps back and frantically removes her tank top.
y/n.
she pulls him onto the bed, her hands everywhere, reaching under his shirt searching for any inch of skin. your smile, your laugh, your face, your voice is all he can see. images of you in the apron he gifted to you, baking muffins and singing along to your favourite songs in your kitchen flash through his mind.
he doesnât want this, never wanted this, the girls perfume is way to sweet, nothing like you.
ây/n.â he says out loud this time.
âwhat..?â the blonde scoffs, pausing.
âget off me, i need to go.â he spits, shoving the girl off and running out the room.
âwhatever.â she rolls her eyes, putting her shirt back on.
sukuna runs down the stairs of thehouse, his heart pulsing and stomach turning. his own heartbeat is so loud in his ears that he doesnât even realise that satoru was calling after him.
ââsukuna where you goinâ man?â
âthink he finally came to his senses?â choso asks.
âhundred fuckinâ percent.â suguru replies watching his friend leave through the door.
sukuna feels sick to his stomach and he doesnât even realise his feet are moving in the direction of you apartment. what the fuck was he doing? he knew exactly what he was doing, he thought that maybe he just needed a distraction, that he was pent up and needed release, so he tried to. but it wasnât you and that made him want to throw up, but why? why? why? why.
âiâm in love with y/n.â he finally says, barely a whisper
âi love y/n.â he says again, louder now like heâs finally allowing himself to feel.
his feet are moving even faster now and his mindâs going at a hundred miles per hour, he couldnât hide it anymore, couldnât push it down, it was killing him.
he reaches your apartment in no time, enters the lift and pushes the button to the correct floor. he doesnât even bother knocking, just uses the spare key you gave him for emergencies and busts the door open.
youâre vacuuming the floor when you hear it and it startles you so bad, you genuinely think someoneâs breaking in.
âoh my fuck, sukuna you actually want me dead donât youâŚââ
your words are cut off when he runs up to you and captures you in the tightest embrace you think youâve ever felt. his face buried in the crook of your neck and hands squeezing your torso so tight, his breathing ragged and uneven.
concern starts to flood your mind and you run your hands through his hair in attempt to get him to calm down.
âsukuna youâre scaring meâŚwhatâs wrong why arenât you at the mixer?..â
a few seconds of silence pass..
but then ever so quietly that you think youâre hearing things, âiâm in love with you y/n.â
you must be hearing things, youâve finally reached the hallucination stage.
âwhat?..â you whisper.
he finally looks up, tears, in his eyes as he says, ây/n, i love you. youâre the only one i want, whether or not thatâs as best friends or more. i need you.â his voice is so small, youâve never seen him so emotional.
he continues, âi think iâve loved you ever since that day in second grade on the grass, i didnât go back and play tag with the others for some reason, but iâm glad i didnât.â
it feels like youâve finally come up to shore after drowning in your feelings for ages. âyouâre stupid sukunaâŚwhy didnât you tell me earlier.â
he drops his head back onto your shoulder, âi know i am, i didnât say anything because i didnât wanna ruin anything.â
your heart breaks, âif youâd told me earlier i wouldnât have had to push my feelings so far down either.â
he looks into your eyes, the ones he wishes he could get tattooed onto the backs of his eyelids so he could stare at them forever.
âwhat do you mean?â he mutters.
âi love you too idiot, have loved you forever.â is the last thing you say before your lips are on his.
the kiss is electric, so full of years of longing and unspoken feelings it feels like you can finally breathe properly again. sukunas hands are everywhere, trying to literally climb into your skin as your hands come up to run through his hair, you tug on the crimson locks and that earns a satisfied groan from him. heâs leaving trails of kisses down your neck, on your cheeks, anywhere he can. and youâre moving towards the couch before you even know it.
your back hits the couch and sukunas lips are on yours again, his tongue grazing your bottom lip, wanting in. you feel his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth before the kiss is broken and youâre both left panting. sukuna hovers over you and lifts his shirt over his head exposing his tan chest, and abs. you trace over the few tattoos painted across his body, mesmerised.
âcareful, youâre drooling baby.â he smirks.
âshut up, iâm not.â you roll your eyes, leaning up on your elbows to remove your thin tank top.
you discard your shirt somewhere on the floor, leaving you in just your lacy bra and tiny pyjama shorts.
âfuckinâ hell youâre perfect..â he breathes, eyes taking in your figure.
âwhoâs drooling now?â you tease back.
âdamn right i am, please i need to taste you baby, please can i?â heâs already trailing down your body and sliding your shorts off.
he settles between your legs, fingers running along the waistband of your underwear as he leans in and licks a long stipe along your clothed pussy through the fabric. sukunas eyes blow wide and light up in pure ecstasy as he continues licking through the now soaked fabric.
ââŚfuckk, so good. who knew my best friend had such an amazing pussy.â he groans.
your legs wrap around his head, the sensation sending vibrations through your whole body.
âtake em off, sukuna, stop being such a t-tease..â you whine.
he removes his mouth from the soaked fabric, âdidnât hear the magic word in there baby.â
such a tease.
âp-please âkunaâ you manage to force out.
all his restraint disappears at the use of the nickname and he hooks his fingers under the waist of your underwear and drags them down your legs, the damp fabric sticky due to the mix of your arousal and his saliva.
he eats you out like heâs been starved for days, tongue plunging in and out of your sopping cunt, wet lewd noises fill the air. the pleasure is only added to when he adds two fingers, starts thrusting them in and out of you and his thumb starts circling you sensitive clit.
âmmâclose âkuna âm so close donât stop..â you moan, your legs beginning to shake around his head and your toes curl in the air.
âyeah? thatâs it, thatâs my girl, cum on my tongue baby, give it to me..â he rasps.
the vibrations against your pussy send you over the edge as you orgasm. sukuna doesnât stop, only continues eating you through it, lapping up all your juices with a satisfied moan.
he doesnât waste any time andâs already unbuckling his belt and pulling his jeans and boxers down, freeing his thick cock. and oh was he massive, his cock was girthy and a little curved, the tip flushed a bright red and already dripping pre down to the base. he jerk it a few times, smearing pre cum all over all whilst staring at you with that sultry look and those enchanting ruby eyes.
âholy fuck youâre big..â you didnât even realise you spoke aloud.
âyeah? donât worry baby i know you can take it.â he mutters, leaning down to catch you in another deep kiss.
he spreads your legs wider and starts lining his cockhead against your entrance.
âiâll go slow yeah? tell me if itâs to much okay baby?â he mumbled into the crook of your neck, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.
you nod, already feeling the stretch as he pushes in inch by inch, your back arches and your eyes snap shut as you feel sukuna fill you. he bottoms out and his forehead drops against yours, both of you panting.
âyou good? want me to move?â
you nod, the pain fading away and being replaced by pure pleasure and need.
he smirks, âuse your words baby, wanna hear you say please.â he moves his hips in little circles, teasing.
âf-fuck how much times are you gonna make me begâŚplease sukuna need you.â you plead.
âthatâs my girl.â he grins.
his hips start moving, slow thrusts at first then his pace picks up, brutal thrusts angled so perfectly they hit that sweet spot. you cover your mouth in attempt to muffle the lewd sounds youâre making.
ânah, donât do that baby, let me hear those cute noises, let everyone hear how good iâm making you feel.â sukuna grits out, gripping your hips so tightly youâre certain itâll bruise.
your eyes roll to the back of your head ad he continues thrusting and your hands fly to his back, scratching up and down trying to find anything to grip onto. sukunaâs completely rambling now, praise flying out every second, completely lost in pleasure.
âso so good, fucking pussyâs so tight and warm, so good for me arenât you? yeah fuuckk me.â
your release is close, but too fucked out to even form coherent sentences you can only babble and make little noises, âclose âkuna, so closeeâso deepâ
âyeah? me too baby, f-fuck, where do you want it?
âi-inside please, need you insideââ you moan.
as soon as those words leave your mouth both of you cum at the same time, sukunaâs hot seed spilling inside of you, and you soaking his dick.
he lets out a string of praise, âfuck i love you, love you so much, so perfect for meâ
and then he collapses next to you on the couch, pulling out and watching his seed drip onto the cushions beneath you.
â..you okay? i didnât hurt you or anything did i?â he asks, sitting up on one elbow.
âiâm perfect âkuna.â you press a light kiss to his cheek.
âgoodâlet me clean you up.â he jumps up and heads to the bathroom to get towels.
he returns and you sit up, allowing him to clean up the mess you two made off of you.
âcanât believe you couldnât tell i was in love with you dummyâ you poke him in the stomach.
âsame here baby, why do you think i always wanted you at those parties.â he grins back.
you laugh and put your pyjamas back on, sukuna does the same and you curl up next to him on the couch like you always do, except now things were way different and instead of that heavy burden you felt free, comfortable.
the sound of cars driving past in the distance and college kids laughing outside filled the air as you two sat there.
âyâknow..im looking forward to our sleepovers way more now..â sukuna says smugly.
âyou perv.â you canât help but chuckle.
âyeah youâre stuck with me forever now baby, maybe weâll even go to italy together.â
âoh gosh, what have i got myself into..â you playfully reply, rolling your eyes up at him.
âlove you y/n.â he kisses your forehead.
âlove you too idiot.â you reply.
and as the sun sets, you know youâre going to remember this summer for the rest of your life.
yay second fic done ! i really enjoyed writing this one lmk what you guys would like to see next <3
wc:7.9k~ credits to @/bbyg4rlhelps for the cutesy borders !
synopsis: you and sukuna have always been inseparable, since kids itâs always been late night talks, sleepovers and movie marathons. anyone who knew you knew sukuna, and anyone that knew sukuna knew you, but as you two grow and moments shared and stolen glances surface, what happens when neither of you address the growing tension?âŚ
~
!!read!! childhood bsfs to lovers, mutual pining, angst if you squint, smut, comfort, fluff, banter, & unspoken feelings. best friends who wonât share their feelings. sukuna down badddd, reader said to have a little bit of nerdy interests.
authorâs note : if you couldnât tell i get a lot of inspo for my fics from songs lol. also tysm for all the love on my last work !! <3
âsomewhere in northern italyâŚâ the familiar words flash across the screen of the cheap flat screen tv in your living room, the is sun peaking through the blinds, illuminating the room in golden beams of warmth. the air in your apartment smells like sweet vanilla and blueberry from the muffins youâd just baked and put in the oven.
it was that time of year where everything was a little bit looser, with the semester ending and summer break approaching, the days were longer, the sun set at 7pm and you found yourself smiling a bit more. the perfect time to rewatch âcall me by your nameâ one of your favourite films ever.
you take off your baking apron, which was decorated with adorable little embroidery flowers along with mini kittens, a gift from sukuna. the same sukuna who was now about thirty minutes late after saying he was going to come over today so you guys could begin your annual summer festivities. it wasnât unlike sukuna to be late, he always had something going on at the frat, but it was really irritating. i mean you didnât even like blueberries that much, but you baked the muffins specifically because you knew how much sukuna liked them.
you grab a popsicle from your fridge and walk over to the couch, deciding you canât be bothered to clean up the mess from baking, get comfy and resume watching the film. then about ten minutes later youâre heart almost jumps out of your chest when you hear the front door slam shut from down the corridor.
âi come in peace..and with snacks!â sukuna walks into the room, holding his hands up in surrender.
âoh my fucking gosh sukuna, are you trying to give me a heart attack or what?!â you jump, startled by the sudden commotion.
âshit my fault, forgot my bestfriend has a weak ass heart.â he chuckles, kicking his shoes off and already gravitating towards the kitchen to scavenge through your fridge.
ââwait. is that blueberry i smell?..â he says, sniffing the air.
âoh yeah, i baked muffins, butttt you donât get any since you wannaâ be late again.â you shrug, turning your attention back to the film playing on the tv.
you were totally bluffing, you werenât that evil, but you liked teasing sukuna.
âyou wouldnât..â he narrowed his eyes.
âoh i so would.â
âthereâs no way in hell you can eat a whole batch by yourself anyway.â he shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the counter.
âyou seriously underestimate me sukunaâŚin fact they should be done by now.â you reply, getting up off the sofa and pushing past sukuna peering into the oven at the golden treats.
you take them out the oven, careful not to burn yourself, and place them on the counter between the two of you. you pick up one of the muffins and slowly begin to take a big fat bite, all whilst staring sukuna right in his ruby red eyes.
âoh so youâre evil evil.â sukuna gasps.â
âmmmm~ so good.â you taunt, very proud with yourself.
âbro you donât even like blueberries like that.â he retorts.
âi know, its for the love of the game.â you reply, a smirk making its way to your face as you wait for sukuna to give in.
a few seconds pass, thenâŚ
âfine dang it, you win y/n, what do you want from me, iâll do anything for a taste of those muffins.â
got him. âhmm..i want a heartfelt sincere apology for you being late.â you reply.
sukuna raises on eyebrow, âreallyâŚ? thatâs it? an apology.?â
âyup, thatâs it.â
âhuh..alright bet, easy enough.â he says, standing up straight and clearing his throat very dramatically.
âi am so very, very sorry my amazing, wonderful, beautiful, talented, funny, smart and amazing at baking best friend for being late. i promise it wonât happen again.â
âhow was that for an apology?â sukuna asks, looking exceedingly proud of himself.
âyouâre so stupidâ you canât help but giggle as you grab a nicely designed ceramic plate from the cabinet behind you, plate up a couple of the muffins and push them towards sukuna.
âyeah and you love it.â he teases back with a mouthful of the dessert.
âyouâre so lucky i do, idiot.â you roll your eyes at him, but canât hide your smile.
because it was true, sukuna was an irritating idiot, but he was your irritating idiot and you wouldnât have it any other way. youâve known sukuna for as long as you could remember, but the memory of when you two met would forever be rooted in your brain chemistry.
you were in second grade and little you was sitting on the fake grass outside cross-legged. reading your favourite book, a habit that grew with you except now youâve upgraded to novels and manga, whilst eating the packed lunch your mom made for you. when suddenly, the afternoon sun was blocked by a shadow. you look up from your book to see a little red haired boy with beautiful crimson eyes and mud on his knees holding a worm in front of your face.
âewww! get that away from me, gross!â little you shrieks, inching away from the bug.
the boy only giggles, exposing his toothless grin and plopping down next to you on the grass, setting the little worm down somewhere in the distance.
âwhatchaâ readinâ?â he asks curiously, shuffling over even closer to get a closer look.
âdork diaries, my mommy bought it for me and its my favourite ever!â you exclaim, excited to finally be talking to another kid about something that interests you.
âhuh.. thatâs coolâanyway do u wannaâ play tag with me?â the boy asks.
âi donât really like playingâŚâ you continue to flip through the pages of your book, expecting the boy to leave and go continue playing with the other kids.
instead he pouts says, âawwh okay, can i read with you then?â
that shocked little you, because you werenât used to people noticing you. you were always tucked away in the corner, nose buried in a different book, or drawing little doodles. you enjoyed your own company.
âyou wanna read with me?âŚokay! but no more worms or creepy crawlies..â you scold, grinning from ear to ear at the excitement of someone wanting to talk to you.
âyayyy, and no more worms, i got it.â
he notices the lone blueberries left in your packed lunch and frowns.
âwhy arenât you eating those blueberries?..theyâre gonna feel sad if you donât eat them!â he points to your pink lunchbox.
âthatâs not true silly! and i donât like blueberries theyâre yucky and mushyâŚbut you can have them if you want.â you giggle at the boys comment.
he doesnât waste any time and takes a handful of the berries, stuffing them in his cheeks like a chipmunk. you burst out into fits of laughter, amused by the boyâs little act of stupidity and he follows shortly after.
you both sit there in the liquid gold sun, giggling till your stomachs hurt and your cheeks ache.
and ever since that day, you two were best friends. same middle school, same high school, and now same college. you smile at the memory, completely caught up in your own head forgetting you were still in the kitchen, the faint noise of the film on the tv forgotten, and the air warm with the lingering smell off sugar and blueberries.
âawe ya thinking about me?â sukuna coos, snapping you out of your daydream and back into the present.
âyou wish, definitely not.â you scoff, walking back to the couch and plopping down with the rest of the muffins in hand.
which was a fat lie, because you totally were, but you werenât gonna tell him that.
âyeah yeah, whatever.â he grins, following you over to the couch sitting next to you.
the sheer weight of him made the whole couch shift beneath you two and you catch yourself distracted by the way the light seemed to catch his eyes. sukuna was good looking, like really good looking, you werenât going to lie to yourself and it wasnât unknown news, everyone knew it including himself. you werenât surprised why so many sorority girls would literally drool all over him, though sukuna never seemed to acknowledge them which you admired. ever since joining sigma rho he still stayed the same old sukuna, he didnât change to fit in or fake being someone who he wasnât.
âhey y/n, you good?..you keep zoning out like crazy..â sukuna speaks, once again snapping you out of your daydream.
ââwhat, oh yeah iâm fine, just tired or something.â you reply.
âyeah? you sure?â he moves closer and puts his arm around you pulling you into his side.
âiâm fine sukuna, promise.â you grin, shimmying out of his grip even though your attempts are futile due to his strength.
âgoodâoh shit yeah, iâve been meaning to ask if youâd come to the frat party on saturday..â he asks, his arm still around you, but now his handâs tracing patterns into your arm.
âsukunaââ you start, already opposed to the idea.
âand before you say it, i know you hate the frat, and the partiesââ
âand the people.â you add.
âand the people, but i really want you there y/n, seriously, hey who knows you might even enjoy it.â
âi donât knowâŚâ you contemplate, considering the idea, but genuinely not wanting to deal with anything that goes on at those parties.
he pouts, âpleaseeeeee..â
âwhatever, fine iâll come, but you have to wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen in return.â you point to the mess still on the counter from your earlier baking.
he jumps up from his spot on the couch and gets straight to work, âyes maâam.â
what an idiot. you think to yourself, grinning as you watch your best friend attempt to wipe flour off the counter, but only worsening it.
the sun begins to set, leaving the room painted in warm tones of gold and orange, as you sit back and already begin to dread this party you got yourself tied up in.
it was saturday night and you were now smoothing out your hands on your outfit which youâd picked last minute, mini jean skirt, and your favourite light beige sweater which was decorated with small black cats all around it, all paired with a pair of uggs. you honestly didnât even know what you were supposed to wear to frat parties, but you thought your outfit was cute and you felt confident. you even did your makeup a little differently and tried out a new hairstyle in hopes of trying to hype yourself a little.
you walked to the doorstep of the large house and stepped through the threshold.
shit.
youâre immediately hit in the face with bright fluorescent orange lights and the smell of alcohol. the booming sound of speakers blasting some rap song youâre not familiar with fill your ears as you try to move your feet and weave through the tight bodies already filling up the space.
you end up in the kitchen, where itâs a little calmer and hop up to sit on one of the kitchen stools. you take in the whole scene, couples eating off each otherâs faces, freshman doing karaoke, a very intense game of beer pong. it was chaotic, and you donât even realise your leg has started bouncing up and down and that you were fidgeting with your necklace, a nervous habit, till a familiar voice breaks you out of your trance.
âthereâs my favourite girl.â
the voice startles you and you look up to see sukuna striding over to you, a smug smirk plastered on his face and red solo cup in hand.
âsukuna i fucking swear one of these days youâre deadass gonnaâ give me a heart attack!â you yell over the music.
âglad to see you too.â he grins, thanks for actually coming.â he says, placing his free hand on the counter behind you, leaning closer so it was easier to hear.
âyeah well you didnât really give me a choice did you.â you take the cup out of his hand and toss back the contents.
bad idea.
âew oh my gosh what the fuck is that-â you wince, take back by the sharp taste.
he snorts and takes the cup from your hand, âeasyyyy, easy.â
you donât even notice that youâve still absentmindedly been bouncing your leg up and down till sukuna frowns and places a reassuring hand on your bare upper thigh.
the gesture makes your face heat up and your stomach flip. âstop. cut it out y/n.â you think to yourself, itâs just the drink right?
âhey you okay?â
ââwhat, oh yeah just a little loud thatâs all..â you dismiss, distracting yourself with your necklace once again.
âmm, you overwhelmed?â he asks, gently.
of course he knew exactly how you were feeling.
âyeah a little..iâll be fine though.â
âpromise?â he asks
âpromise.â you reply.
sukuna knew that parties had never been your thing, ever since you were kids he found it cute how youâd always rather be reading, drawing or lost in your own little world. even though in high school, you broke out of your shell and became a lot more outgoing you still preferred to be in the comfort of your own home, thatâs just who you were. and he loved it. he also could always tell what you were thinking or feeling just by you body language, years of observing your little habits meant that he knew you very well.
âalright good, tell yaâ what, we stay for an hour or two then after that i take you home, we get food and binge watch films of your choice.â he says, tracing small circles into your thigh.
you try and stifle a smile, he practically listed your ideal night, how could you say no?
âfoul play, you used all the perfect buzzwords.â you grin
ânah, not my fault i know you so well.â sukuna smirks, pulling you onto your feet and leading you into the living room.
âalright câmon drama queen, the guys are gonna think i dipped or somethin.â
sukuna leads you to a couch near the corner of the room where he sits down and drags you down with him and his arm snaking around your shoulders as you curl up into his side, knees up to your chest.
âcute sweater.â he teases, smiling down at the little black cats.
âyou like it? itâs new, can you believe i got it fifty percent off?? such a steal.â you examine it once more.
you start rambling about things sukuna doesnât even particularly care about, but he listens and watches the way your eyes light up and your smile gets bigger and brighter as you speak. itâs always been like this, you speak and he listens, getting lost in the sound of your voice and the gleam of your eyes, he loved it.
but his serenity is disturbed when he hears a yell from the other front room.
âsatoru get off the fuckinâ chandelier you idiot!â
he groans, already dreading whatever bullshit heâs gonna have to deal with this time.
ââhold that thought, gotta go deal with these jackasses before one of âem breaks some shit.â
âokay, good luck.â you giggle.
sukuna enters the other room and immediately spots satoru, choso and suguru all sprawled out on the rug in front of the couch. satoru holding a half empty bottle of whiskey, suguru downing a beer and choso smoking a blunt.
he joins them on the floor, âso, the hell happened here then.â
âyo, ryo you shouldâve fuckinâ seen it man, shit was hilarious.â choso drawls, smoke curling in the air around him.
âyeah i donât even wanna knowâdamn satoru how much have you drank?â sukuna replies, eyeing the half empty bottle in his hands.
âpfftt, barely anything this is lightwork bro.â satoru slurs, proud smirk on his face.
âsaw y/n hereâ suguru starts, tossing back the rest of his beer. âsurprised she came.â
âhm? yeah, asked her to come.â
satoru snorts, âshe has cats on her sweater right? damn, the girlâs cute as shit.â
âdeadass, might need to invest in that i wonât lie.â suguru smirks, gaze falling back to the room you were in.
the fuck? sukuna wasnât liking where this conversation was headed.
âwhat the fuck do you mean by that suguru?â he crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing.
âheâs not wrong yâknow, looks like the type to bake you cupcakes ând shit.â choso adds.
âimagine a good fuck from her then getting some bomb ass cupcakes right afterâ satoru begins, taking another sip of whiskey. âthat shit would be heaven.â
they had to be messing with him.
âwhat the hell is wrong with you guys? cut that shit out.â sukunaâs pissed now, ây/n doesnât sleep around with fucking frat boys, sheâs not like that.â
he stared at his three friends, completely baffled and disgusted at the way they spoke about you as if you were just another thirsty sorority girl. they didnât get it, didnât get you.
then all of a sudden the three burst into obnoxious laughter and sukuna deadpans.
âoh my god bro, you shouldâve seen your face.â satoru chuckles, slapping his leg.
âi donât get the joke.â sukuna spits.
âdonât worry man, we didnât mean any of that crap.â suguru says, still clearly amused.
âyeah we were just tryinâ to confirm our suspicions on the fact youâre a hundred percent in love with y/n.â choso snorts.
oh.
sukuna didnât even know what to reply to that because he could lie all he wanted, tell them it wasnât true, but it wouldnât get rid of that feeling in his heart, the one that wouldnât leave him alone whenever he thought of you. who was he kidding? it was just normal affection anyone felt towards their best friend right? totally platonicâŚso why did he still feel that lingering ache in his chest.?
âwhatever. iâm retiring for the night..later.â sukuna swiftly gets up and leaves, heading back to you.
âthink we pissed him off?â choso asks.
ânah heâs mad cusâ he knows weâre right.â suguru takes the now empty bottle of whiskey from satoru who was now completely passed out.
the party has died down a bit now, the musicâs a little quieter and the atmosphere more relaxed. youâre still on the couch idly scrolling on your phone, to keep yourself from drifting off, when sukuna appears in front of you.
âoh there you are, thought iâd fall asleep before you got back.â you yawn.
âyeah sorry about that, they were being idiots as per usual.â he runs his hand down his face.
âi can imagine, anyway can we go now im like actually starving, anddd you owe me food.â you whine.
âof course you rememberâwas hoping youâd crash before we got to this stage.â he curses.
you giggle, âhow could i, already thinking about what i want.â
âyeah i bet you are, love running my pockets donât you.â he pulls you off the couch hand coming to wrap around your shoulders as you two walk towards the door.
you can only yawn in response, tiredness completely taking over as the cold night air sends shivers down your spine making you lean into the warmth of sukuna.
âyou tired?â he asks, speaking into the crown of your head.
âhm..nuh uh.â
another yawn slips out, completely betraying your last statement.
ânot tired huh? he snorts.
âshut up..â
âcâmon i know you just wanna get into bed, how about we reschedule our little evening and i make you ramen instead?â sukuna leans down to get a closer look at your face.
âfineâŚbut iâm not forgetting that you owe me sukuna.â you look up at him, eyebrows raised.
âi know you wonât y/n, i know you wonât.â he grins.
you reach your apartment, immediately kick your shoes off and run straight to your couch. your sunset lamp illuminates the room in a cool orange tone. sukuna follows shortly after sitting down on the couch right next to you. you crawl into his lap on instinct, your head resting on his hard chest. the position nothing new and familiar to you by now.
âso, how was your first frat party?â he asks, running a gentle hand down your back.
you hum, âokay i guess..still donât know why you wanted me to come though..â
âcus i like having you around y/n, you know thatâŚyou just get me.â he says, hand still running up and down your back.
his words and the repeated sensation on your back give you those stupid butterflies again and make your face heat up. you try to stifle down the feeling and ignore it, because you know sukuna doesnât think of you like that, âwhy the hell do i keep feeling like this?â you knew damn why, but you wouldnât say it out loud, not even to yourself, because saying it out loud is hard. so instead, you settle for humour and bury those feelings.
âdonât get all dramatic on me idiot.â
he faintly laughs at that, the sound almost not there, ânot dramatic, just true.â
you smile into his chest, and you both sit there tangled up in each other, the sound of your breathing and cars passing in the distance and a million unspoken thoughts that neither of you brought up, but you have a feeling that things were changing.
98% ~ amazing work y/n, great way to end the semester.
youâre standing in the middle of campus near the common area when the notification from student portal pops up. you reread the grade once, twice just to make sure youâre not hallucinating from the scorching heat beaming down on you. 98%. you passed. it felt like someone had just released the invisible strings that had been holding up your shoulders the whole semester. all the work youâd put into your final literature essay had paid off.
you couldnât wait to tell sukuna, heâd promised that if you got over eighty percent on the essay heâd take you out anywhere and let you get anything you want. he had calculus right now so you rushes across campus with a smile plastered across your face.
you get to his class right in time, you see him speaking to gojo about something, and rush up to him.
âsukuna! sukuna look! i passed!â you squeal, shoving the phone in his face completely unable to contain your excitement.
ââwoah, woah passed what, what am i looking at.â he asks, taking your wrist and steadying your shaky hand to get a better look.
âmy english essay sukuna, i got a ninety eight!â you bounce up and down, steadying your hand so he can see.
âholy fuck, ninety eight? attaâ girl thatâs amazing y/n, seriously.â he wraps you into a tight embrace, hugging you tightly.
the smile on your face is contagious as you pull back, âyou know what this means right?â
âi sure do.â he sighs, âso whatâs the first stop then.â
you tap your chin in contemplation, âhm..well i have been dying for a new pair of jeans..oh my god and thereâs this new book place that opened..â
sukuna canât help but smile at your enthusiasm, âgod what have i got myself into..lead the way.â
you drag him all the way your favourite book store off campus for your first stop. the place has that nostalgic orange lighting, with decorative signs and retro furniture in every corner. whimsy lamp posts and wooden bookshelves filled to the brim with different copies of literature are on display as you walk in.
âthis place is literally you.â he states, taking in the whole scene.
âwhat does that even mean dude?â you look at him, one eyebrow raised.
âjust like if you were a store this is what iâd imagine it to look like.â
âyeah okay whatever that means sukuna.â you roll your eyes and grin.
you take his hand in yours and lead him to the back of the store where the largest bookshelf resides.
the keychains on your backpack jingle as you excitedly move and grab every single book youâve read that you can spot and start explaining the plot to him.
ââŚ.and then itâs like so cute becauseâhey are you listening??â you wave the book in front of his face.
âhuh..yeah, yeah of course keep going i was interested.â sukuna blurts out.
which was a massive lie, because he was way to busy watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, how your pretty little eyes looked up and batted your eyelashes at him. he was mesmerised, you were beautiful, the way the sun made you glow you looked like a fairytale. he wanted so badly to just take your face and kiss those lips till all he could remember was the taste of your lipglossâpause. what the fuck? this was y/n, his best friend y/n, so why was his heart suddenly beating and his face hot?
âsukuna, you alright? your face is like crazy red..â you ask, snapping him out of his daydream.
âoh yeah, nothinâ itâs just mad hot in here.â he shrugs, lying through his teeth.
âhm yeah it is..iâm almost done in here anyway, gonna get these two.â you grab the books and place them under your arm.
âalright letâs get outta here before i pass out please.â he begs.
you wait patiently by his side as sukuna pays for your books, then you two exit the shop and step back into the summer air. itâs the brink of the evening by now and the sun is ever so slightly beginning to set leaving behind a refreshing breeze that cools you down.
âthank you, iâm so excited to read these..youâre hearing all about them by the way.â you grip onto his arm as you two begin walking down the pavement.
âno worries, you deserve it im proud of you forreal, for acing that essay.â he says looking down at you with so much admiration in his eyes.
âthanks sukuna.â you reply, squeezing his arm.
âso where to next, miss shopaholic.â he sighs.
âhmm yâknow iâm kinda tired of shopping, oh i know, can we go to that gelato place down the street?â you ask.
âfuck yeah, iâm down for some ice cream.â sukuna replies, a big grin appearing on his face.
âof course youâre smiling..â you roll your eyes, but canât help but grin.
you two begin walking down the street to the gelato place, your still gripping his arm as you watch the cars drive by and the trees sway in unison to the wind. it was getting a little darker now, so that cool summer breeze began to pick up.
you loved summer, something about the way the sun shined and left the streets glittering, the way people gathered in the parks for picnics everyday and you woke up already feeling tranquil.
your heavy bag filled with textbooks and notebooks started to make your back ache, so you fidget a little in futile attempts to get comfortable.
sukuna, noticing your squirming, asks âwant me to carry your bag?â
âno itâs okay, super heavy youâd probably struggle.â you tease.
âpfftt, i take that as a challenge.â
sukuna reaches behind you and grabs your backpack off of your shoulder with ease.
âsuper heavy huh?â he smirks.
âwhatever, try carrying it on your back the entire day.â you roll your eyes.
you reach the ice cream shop and immediately go to the counter to look at the variety of flavours. you loved looking at the different colours laid out in front of you, it gave you that nostalgic feeling for some reason. you already have your order ready, you always get the same thingâvanilla.
âyou ready?â sukuna asks.
âyeah.â you go to order and then tap your card, but sukuna beats you to it.
âi got it, your treat remember..plus i still owe you.â he nudges your shoulder.
he watched your smile grow as you both got handed your ice cream and you turn to him with those pretty eyes of yours and say âthank you, youâre the best.â
well shit. he was definitely blushing again.
âno problem y/n..donât know why you always get plain vanilla though.â he teases, leading you two out of the shop back into the summer breeze.
âsays you, i donât know how you always get blueberryâŚi mean who even eats blueberry ice cream?â you shoot back.
you two settle on thee edge of the curb near the small beach a few miles off campus.
âdonât knock it till you try it sweetheart.â he takes a big bite into the scoop.
youâre close enough to be able to hear the calming crash of waves against each other and smell the salty smell of the sea water. youâre so engrossed in the hypnotic scene that you donât even realise the vanilla ice cream was dripping down your chin.
âmessy ass eater..â sukuna teases, tilting your face towards him and running his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping up the mess and then licking it off his finger.
you stare at him, butterflies again. those stupid butterflies and that fluttering feeling in your stomach that canât seem to leave you alone no matter how much you push it down. it would only get bigger and bigger, leave a lingering feeling that got stronger everytime you were near him. you yearned for his warmth, his hands in yours, his lips on yours. the feeling was suffocating, but you couldnât say anything, wouldnât say anything because if you did it would only make things complicated and you didnât want to risk losing him, it would kill you. so you just push it down and pray.
âshut up..â you mutter, turning your face away from him in embarrassment so he canât see how much heâs affected you.
but youâre then distracted when the cutest most tiny little ball of fur strolls up to you.
âoh my god! sukuna look at it, sâ a kitty!â you squeal, passing your melting ice cream over for him to hold.
the little creature meows and crawls into your lap like youâre a cushion.
âawhh, hi there little one, youâre so adorable arenât you?â you coo, stroking the kitten.
âit kinda looks like youâ you say to him.
he raises his eyebrows, âdid you just compare me to a kitten?â
the cat had reddish-ginger fur with little white spots all around it. it did sort of resemble sukuna.
âit does, except itâs way cuter.â you giggle.
âliar.â he grins, poking you in the side.
the kitty meows once again and hops out of your lap, running off somewhere in the distance.
âawh, bye bye.â you wave as the little feline runs off.
you take the rest of your ice cream back and then sukuna speaks.
ây/n?â he says, staring off into the distance.
âhm?â youâre preoccupied with finishing off your dessert without any of it dripping onto you.
âwhat do yaâ wanna do after college?..â
the question surprises you and you turn your head towards him.
âafter?..i donât know, i mean iâve always wanted to travel, who knows maybe iâll visit italy or somethingâŚâ
travel with you, is what you really want to say. be with you, is what your heart desires.
âwhat about you?..â you ask, almost a whisper.
âi donât really know to be honest..probably stay here.â he shrugs.
travel. travelling means leaving, means leaving him behind, he thought. he didnât want that, he needed you with him, itâs always been like that, you and him.
you hum as you two sit there, and let the ocean carry away the weight of all the things you havenât said, let the wind calm the storm inside your head.
âââââââââââââââââââââwhen you get back to your apartment, you head to your room and get changed into your pyjamas as sukuna crashes on the couch, exhausted from the day.
you walk out into tiny polka dot sleep shorts and a matching thin tank top, perfect for hot summer nights.
shit. sukuna couldnât help but stare at your perfect legs and the perfect swell of your breasts under your tank topâthere it was again. those thoughts that normal people were definitely not supposed to be having about their best friend. but then again his head was a mess, a whirlpool of emotions and unsaid thoughts and feelings. he knew what it was deep down, but he chose to say nothing. it was easier keeping it all to himself than loosing you and ruining what you two had because you didnât feel the same way.
but it was killing him, he was pent up, he hadnât even looked at another girl let alone touched one for ages, and he now realised why. plus, the sexual desire he felt for you wasnât making anything easier.
you cross the room, sit next to him and throw your legs over his lap. âyou gonna crash here tonight?â you ask.
âuh yeah if thatâs cool.â sukuna picks up the remote and switches on the tv, needing a distraction from the way your ass was rubbed up right against his hip.
âyeah, cool just donât steal all the blanket this time or youâre getting kicked in the stomach.â you snort, snatching the remote from him.
âgod youâre mean.â he grins
âyou wouldnât have it any other way, donât lie.â you look up at him.
âgot me thereâ
youâre both drifting asleep slowly, some cheesy rom-com playing on the tv when you hear sukuna speak tiredly.
âfratâs throwing an end of semester mixer..you gonna come?â
âanother party? iâll pass..â you say, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes.
âcâmon please, itâll be less chaotic this time jusâ a small mixer with some of the other fratâs and sororities.â he pleads, caressing your leg.
âwhen is it?â
âtwo days away, sunday.â
âshit i canât anyway, thatâs my designated cleaning day..and iâm baking that day, sorry.â you say.
âman, gonna fuckin hate it if youâre not there.â he groans.
sukunaâs on the couch at the mixer, red solo cup in hand even though he hasnât drank anything since he got it. he didnât want to be here, being forced to make conversation with neighbouring frat members whose names he wouldnât even remember in an hour, and a blonde sorority chick wouldnât leave him alone. her high pitched voice going on about wanting to âget away from the party for a whileâ. everything was pissing him off and he just wanted to be back at your place arguing about something stupid whilst he helps you mix brownie batter.
âhiiii sukunaaa.â the blonde was back again, clearly a few drinks in.
he doesnât even look her away, just returns a slight nod.
âyou look a bit down, need me to cheer you up a bit?â she winks.
he looks at her now, expression stoic âhow you gonna cheer me up huh?â
âwhy donât you come find outâŚâ she purrs, her hands all over him now, feeling up his arms, his chest, everywhere.
he feels sick. but for some fucked up reason he abides, he gets up and walks towards the staircase looking back at the girl.
as soon as he enters some random bedroom on the second floor, the girl pounces on him, all teeth, nipping at ever inch of skin. sukuna can only stand there, his mind in a completely different dimension.
y/n.
thatâs all he can think off as the blonde steps back and frantically removes her tank top.
y/n.
she pulls him onto the bed, her hands everywhere, reaching under his shirt searching for any inch of skin. your smile, your laugh, your face, your voice is all he can see. images of you in the apron he gifted to you, baking muffins and singing along to your favourite songs in your kitchen flash through his mind.
he doesnât want this, never wanted this, the girls perfume is way to sweet, nothing like you.
ây/n.â he says out loud this time.
âwhat..?â the blonde scoffs, pausing.
âget off me, i need to go.â he spits, shoving the girl off and running out the room.
âwhatever.â she rolls her eyes, putting her shirt back on.
sukuna runs down the stairs of thehouse, his heart pulsing and stomach turning. his own heartbeat is so loud in his ears that he doesnât even realise that satoru was calling after him.
ââsukuna where you goinâ man?â
âthink he finally came to his senses?â choso asks.
âhundred fuckinâ percent.â suguru replies watching his friend leave through the door.
sukuna feels sick to his stomach and he doesnât even realise his feet are moving in the direction of you apartment. what the fuck was he doing? he knew exactly what he was doing, he thought that maybe he just needed a distraction, that he was pent up and needed release, so he tried to. but it wasnât you and that made him want to throw up, but why? why? why? why.
âiâm in love with y/n.â he finally says, barely a whisper
âi love y/n.â he says again, louder now like heâs finally allowing himself to feel.
his feet are moving even faster now and his mindâs going at a hundred miles per hour, he couldnât hide it anymore, couldnât push it down, it was killing him.
he reaches your apartment in no time, enters the lift and pushes the button to the correct floor. he doesnât even bother knocking, just uses the spare key you gave him for emergencies and busts the door open.
youâre vacuuming the floor when you hear it and it startles you so bad, you genuinely think someoneâs breaking in.
âoh my fuck, sukuna you actually want me dead donât youâŚââ
your words are cut off when he runs up to you and captures you in the tightest embrace you think youâve ever felt. his face buried in the crook of your neck and hands squeezing your torso so tight, his breathing ragged and uneven.
concern starts to flood your mind and you run your hands through his hair in attempt to get him to calm down.
âsukuna youâre scaring meâŚwhatâs wrong why arenât you at the mixer?..â
a few seconds of silence pass..
but then ever so quietly that you think youâre hearing things, âiâm in love with you y/n.â
you must be hearing things, youâve finally reached the hallucination stage.
âwhat?..â you whisper.
he finally looks up, tears, in his eyes as he says, ây/n, i love you. youâre the only one i want, whether or not thatâs as best friends or more. i need you.â his voice is so small, youâve never seen him so emotional.
he continues, âi think iâve loved you ever since that day in second grade on the grass, i didnât go back and play tag with the others for some reason, but iâm glad i didnât.â
it feels like youâve finally come up to shore after drowning in your feelings for ages. âyouâre stupid sukunaâŚwhy didnât you tell me earlier.â
he drops his head back onto your shoulder, âi know i am, i didnât say anything because i didnât wanna ruin anything.â
your heart breaks, âif youâd told me earlier i wouldnât have had to push my feelings so far down either.â
he looks into your eyes, the ones he wishes he could get tattooed onto the backs of his eyelids so he could stare at them forever.
âwhat do you mean?â he mutters.
âi love you too idiot, have loved you forever.â is the last thing you say before your lips are on his.
the kiss is electric, so full of years of longing and unspoken feelings it feels like you can finally breathe properly again. sukunas hands are everywhere, trying to literally climb into your skin as your hands come up to run through his hair, you tug on the crimson locks and that earns a satisfied groan from him. heâs leaving trails of kisses down your neck, on your cheeks, anywhere he can. and youâre moving towards the couch before you even know it.
your back hits the couch and sukunas lips are on yours again, his tongue grazing your bottom lip, wanting in. you feel his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth before the kiss is broken and youâre both left panting. sukuna hovers over you and lifts his shirt over his head exposing his tan chest, and abs. you trace over the few tattoos painted across his body, mesmerised.
âcareful, youâre drooling baby.â he smirks.
âshut up, iâm not.â you roll your eyes, leaning up on your elbows to remove your thin tank top.
you discard your shirt somewhere on the floor, leaving you in just your lacy bra and tiny pyjama shorts.
âfuckinâ hell youâre perfect..â he breathes, eyes taking in your figure.
âwhoâs drooling now?â you tease back.
âdamn right i am, please i need to taste you baby, please can i?â heâs already trailing down your body and sliding your shorts off.
he settles between your legs, fingers running along the waistband of your underwear as he leans in and licks a long stipe along your clothed pussy through the fabric. sukunas eyes blow wide and light up in pure ecstasy as he continues licking through the now soaked fabric.
ââŚfuckk, so good. who knew my best friend had such an amazing pussy.â he groans.
your legs wrap around his head, the sensation sending vibrations through your whole body.
âtake em off, sukuna, stop being such a t-tease..â you whine.
he removes his mouth from the soaked fabric, âdidnât hear the magic word in there baby.â
such a tease.
âp-please âkunaâ you manage to force out.
all his restraint disappears at the use of the nickname and he hooks his fingers under the waist of your underwear and drags them down your legs, the damp fabric sticky due to the mix of your arousal and his saliva.
he eats you out like heâs been starved for days, tongue plunging in and out of your sopping cunt, wet lewd noises fill the air. the pleasure is only added to when he adds two fingers, starts thrusting them in and out of you and his thumb starts circling you sensitive clit.
âmmâclose âkuna âm so close donât stop..â you moan, your legs beginning to shake around his head and your toes curl in the air.
âyeah? thatâs it, thatâs my girl, cum on my tongue baby, give it to me..â he rasps.
the vibrations against your pussy send you over the edge as you orgasm. sukuna doesnât stop, only continues eating you through it, lapping up all your juices with a satisfied moan.
he doesnât waste any time andâs already unbuckling his belt and pulling his jeans and boxers down, freeing his thick cock. and oh was he massive, his cock was girthy and a little curved, the tip flushed a bright red and already dripping pre down to the base. he jerk it a few times, smearing pre cum all over all whilst staring at you with that sultry look and those enchanting ruby eyes.
âholy fuck youâre big..â you didnât even realise you spoke aloud.
âyeah? donât worry baby i know you can take it.â he mutters, leaning down to catch you in another deep kiss.
he spreads your legs wider and starts lining his cockhead against your entrance.
âiâll go slow yeah? tell me if itâs to much okay baby?â he mumbled into the crook of your neck, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.
you nod, already feeling the stretch as he pushes in inch by inch, your back arches and your eyes snap shut as you feel sukuna fill you. he bottoms out and his forehead drops against yours, both of you panting.
âyou good? want me to move?â
you nod, the pain fading away and being replaced by pure pleasure and need.
he smirks, âuse your words baby, wanna hear you say please.â he moves his hips in little circles, teasing.
âf-fuck how much times are you gonna make me begâŚplease sukuna need you.â you plead.
âthatâs my girl.â he grins.
his hips start moving, slow thrusts at first then his pace picks up, brutal thrusts angled so perfectly they hit that sweet spot. you cover your mouth in attempt to muffle the lewd sounds youâre making.
ânah, donât do that baby, let me hear those cute noises, let everyone hear how good iâm making you feel.â sukuna grits out, gripping your hips so tightly youâre certain itâll bruise.
your eyes roll to the back of your head ad he continues thrusting and your hands fly to his back, scratching up and down trying to find anything to grip onto. sukunaâs completely rambling now, praise flying out every second, completely lost in pleasure.
âso so good, fucking pussyâs so tight and warm, so good for me arenât you? yeah fuuckk me.â
your release is close, but too fucked out to even form coherent sentences you can only babble and make little noises, âclose âkuna, so closeeâso deepâ
âyeah? me too baby, f-fuck, where do you want it?
âi-inside please, need you insideââ you moan.
as soon as those words leave your mouth both of you cum at the same time, sukunaâs hot seed spilling inside of you, and you soaking his dick.
he lets out a string of praise, âfuck i love you, love you so much, so perfect for meâ
and then he collapses next to you on the couch, pulling out and watching his seed drip onto the cushions beneath you.
â..you okay? i didnât hurt you or anything did i?â he asks, sitting up on one elbow.
âiâm perfect âkuna.â you press a light kiss to his cheek.
âgoodâlet me clean you up.â he jumps up and heads to the bathroom to get towels.
he returns and you sit up, allowing him to clean up the mess you two made off of you.
âcanât believe you couldnât tell i was in love with you dummyâ you poke him in the stomach.
âsame here baby, why do you think i always wanted you at those parties.â he grins back.
you laugh and put your pyjamas back on, sukuna does the same and you curl up next to him on the couch like you always do, except now things were way different and instead of that heavy burden you felt free, comfortable.
the sound of cars driving past in the distance and college kids laughing outside filled the air as you two sat there.
âyâknow..im looking forward to our sleepovers way more now..â sukuna says smugly.
âyou perv.â you canât help but chuckle.
âyeah youâre stuck with me forever now baby, maybe weâll even go to italy together.â
âoh gosh, what have i got myself into..â you playfully reply, rolling your eyes up at him.
âlove you y/n.â he kisses your forehead.
âlove you too idiot.â you reply.
and as the sun sets, you know youâre going to remember this summer for the rest of your life.
yay second fic done ! i really enjoyed writing this one lmk what you guys would like to see next <3
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synopsis : new town, new friends, new surroundings. your plan is to keep your head down and stick to yourself on campus. then your world is flipped when your eyes meet the most beautiful golden brown ones youâve ever seen.
~
!!read!! mentions of alcohol and drug use, slight slow burn, mutual pining, stupid miscommunication, angst! smut! comfort!
authorâs note : this is my first fic ever, so please tell me where thereâs room for improvement, iâve also never smoked before so there might be some inaccuracies i apologise, i appreciate any support, thank you!
you step onto campus for the first time, âcinderellaâ by mac miller playing in your cheap sony headphones; one of your favourite songs. nerves already starting to brew after overthinking all the possible outcomes that this semester in a completely new city could bring. as you look around, the sight of large friend groups is all you see, and you start to wonder what on earth you were thinking when youâd decided to move. then again, you knew exactly why. you couldnât stay in that town, same people, same shops, same sights everyday, it was driving you absolutely insane. so here you are.
about two whole laps around what seemed like a never ending fortress, youâd decided to admit to yourself you were lost and had to resort to your last and most embarrassing choice;ask for directions. you scanned the perimeter in hopes of finding someone who looked nice enough to help you. you spotted a brown haired girl on a nearby bench smoking a cigarette who you thought looked kind enough, so mustering up the courage you walk over to her as nonchalantly as possible.
âuhm excuse meâ
âoh hey,â the girl says, looking up from whatever she was reading on her phone.
âhey sorry to be a bother, but i was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the arts & humanities building?â
âoh girl of course, no worries, im actually headed there now anywayâ she says with confident tone.
âgosh thank you so much youâre my lifesaver seriously, thought i was gonnaâ die before i found my way around this placeâ, you say with a ghost of a laugh.
the girl lets out a small giggle, âdonât even mention it, iâm shoko by the way.â
ây/n, nice to meet youâ you politely return.
you guys fall into step next to each-other both on the way to the same building, you end up in a nice little conversation with shoko and to your surprise, you actually have quite a lot in common and share similar interests. maybe making friends wouldnât be as difficult as you imagined.
you finally reach the lecture hall after what feels like years of walking, maybe platform converse werenât the best choice of shoes, you think to yourself. you and shoko manage to secure seats towards the front of the room, close to the double doors where students begin to pile in and take their seats.
the lecture begins about ten minutes later, but you loose track of time shortly after that as your mind starts to wander while professor nanami rambles on about information youâre bound to forget in an hour. you notice shoko not really paying attention either, and instead filing her nails.
in the corner of your eye, you see the lecture doors open as a tall dark haired boy enters through the threshold ; his hair falling in uneven layers, carelessly pulled back into a half up half down, but still managing to look deliberate. his lean but built frame moves through the hall searching for an empty seat, you knew you were staring, but i mean who wouldnât be..? the boy was dangerously attractive, his sense of style ; grey sweatpants, grey hoodie and a black undershirt which you could see poking out from beneath, simple but effective. and his eyes, heavy lidded and brown - the same eyes that were now staring right back at you.
âholy shit.â you mutter to yourself
the expression on his face was hard to read, almost like he didnât want to give anything away. but the moment soon ends after he seems to spot a seat on the other side of the hall and goes to sit down.
âwanna know his name?â shoko smirks and turns to you completely.
âwhose name?â you respond with false confusion, knowing exactly who shes talking about but not wanting to make it obvious.
âuhm the guy you were literally drooling over the entirety of our lecture?â she slightly tilts her head and replies incredulously.
âokay for the record i totally wasnât droolingâ you try to hide the embarrassment written all over your face.
âcome onnnnn y/nâ, shoko says nudging your knee with her own, âi know for a fact youâre a little curiousâ
you cave âfine, fine tell me everythingâ you shift and face her completely, the lecture basically becoming you guysâ own gossip session.
you learned that the strangerâs name is choso kamo, large circle of friends but mainly hangs out with his two best friends since highschool : satoru gojo and ryomen sukuna. you tried to get more info out of her but her excuse was that âhe just keeps to himself, doesnât really say much just always lingering, observing.â
you couldnât help the curiosity that the beautiful stranger invoked in you. something about his honey-brown eyes pulled you in.
later that evening, after shoko walked you back to your dorm which luckily already contained most of your things thanks to the help of your parents, you made sure to save her number which the two of you had exchanged previously. you were glad to have made a friend so quickly, and shoko was a sweet girl, which made your previous worries of not finding someone you could rely on simmer down.
its not as if you didnât have any friends in your old town, its just that sometimes youâd feel like a burden at times or like you werenât as important to them as they were to you. youâve always had this problem, you care too much. its part of the reason you left, to find your people, people who care for you just as much as you care for them.
you decide its time to call it a night , so you change into your pyjamas, slip into bed in the middle of your small dorm bedroom, which youâd tried your best to make feel a little like home, and let the subtle sound of raindrops against the window stir you into sleep, although as you close your eyes and the tiredness threatens to pull you under the image of soft golden-brown eyes are all that you see.
âoh my god i need to stopâ you scold yourself and groan into your pillow.
you eventually drift off into slumber and suprisingly manage to not dream of the boy thatâs been on your mind since the lecture hall.
3 weeks later..
three weeks fly by fast but quite peacefully, and youâre actually enjoying it more than you thought you would. you and shoko have developed little routines of walking to your classes together, getting coffee, going shopping, binge watching animes together and doing other things you both enjoy. and you realise sheâs quickly become one of your best friends.
youâre both sitting under a tree near the front of campus debating on whether or not to have an indoor movie night at shokosâ place or go out shopping, when an unfamiliar voice coming from behind the both of you suddenly interrupts.
âorrrr you could scrap both of those terrible ideas and come to the party being at the frat this friday.â
shoko rolls her eyes and slightly grins as if she already knows who the voice belongs to.
you whip your head around to see two tall figures approaching the space where you and shoko sit, she gets up and walks towards them to meet halfway so you follow her lead.
âwhat do you need now satoru,â shoko retorted back, a hint of playful annoyance in her tone.
you recognise the guy with snowy white hair and piercing crystal blue eyes to be satoru gojo, member of the sigma chi frat on campus. and also well known for flirting with every girl he comes across.
âyoo shoko, hello to you toâ gojo teases back.
the boy next to him with amethyst eyes and long straight black hair that fell over his back like curtains, who you recognise as suguru geto; also a member of the sigma chi frat and one of satoruâs best friends, absentmindedly bounces his basketball on the ground.
they mustâve noticed your staring, because the boys both suddenly turn their attention to you.
âoh, and whoâs this?â gojo questions, a slight smirk forming on his lips.
âhm? oh iâm y/n, iâm new hereâ
âyeah figures, iâd remember that pretty face anywhereâ he playfully replies.
a small smile played its way onto your face at his words, so he does live up to the rumours, you thought to yourself.
ânameâs suguruâ the boy next to him introduces himself.
ânice to meet youâ you reply with a timid smile.
âso, y/n i see youâve managed to befriend our lovely shoko hereâ suguru speaks, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
you giggle, âyeah she practically saved me on my first day here, i owe her my lifeâ.
âyeah and you two actually rudely interrupted us in the middle of a very important debate, so if you could tell us what you need that would be greatâ shoko adds on, crossing her arms over her chest in attempt to gain some warmth due to the cool autumn breeze.
âyeah, yeah iâm getting there, but i was waiting for choso to get back from class first he should be on his way nowâ
and stupidly on cue just like some sort of movie, you see a tall figure calmly approaching from behind suguru and satoru.
your heart sinks to your ass. it was him, youâd recognise the silk like hair and sharp gaze anywhere. its as if time slows down as choso approaches, and you literally feel the atmosphere change.
he reaches where the four of you are standing and greets satoru, suguru and shoko with a subtle nod of his head, his hair slightly falling into his face in the process.
choosing to play it safe, and avoid making an even bigger idiot of yourself with your terrible staring problem, you decide to pretend to be distracted by the one of many bracelets on your arm, occupying yourself.
but you canât ignore the feeling of chosoâs unmoving gaze and low lidded eyes burning a hole into you.
shoko, deciding to take matters into her own hands, clears her throat and begins to introduce you.
âuhm, choso this is y/n, she moved here recently.â
you finally glance up, meet chosoâs eyes and manage to push out a pathetic, soft âhi..â in response to shoko.
he hums softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.
ânice to meet you.â
his voice is smooth, deep and sort of rough, and those four simple words that shouldnât have an affect on anyone make your face heat up, and your stomach starts doing that stupid fluttering thing.
satoru starts to speak again, something about a party he wants you guys to come to at the frat house on friday night, but itâs impossible to focus on anything heâs saying when chosoâs standing right there.
its not like heâs purposely doing anything, but his whole aura is distracting, suffocating in a good way. most people would call it intimidating, but it only makes you more and more curious.
youâre quickly snapped back into reality when shoko nudges your shoulder and speaks,
âsure whatever iâm cool with it, you down y/n?â shoko asks
âwhat- oh yeah cool, im downâ you said as calmly as possible, even though you had no clue what had been said in the last 5 minutes thanks to your wandering mind.
âsick, its gonna be fucking great you guys trust meâ satoru persists enthusiastically, his cerulean eyes lighting up even brighter in excitement.
you couldnât help but giggle at his enthusiasm, whilst shoko simply rolled her eyes.
âcalm down buddy,â suguru snorts, patting him on the back, steering him in the direction of their next class.
the boys begin to saunter away, striding with confidence like they own the place, and choso starts to follow shortly behind, until he tosses a look over his shoulder and says,
âsee you there y/n, lookinâ forward to it.â
you swear you see a smirk tug at his lips before heâs gone, catching up to suguru and satoru who were now play fighting in the middle of the walk way.
âwhat. the. fuck.â you whisper to yourself
shoko snorts at your comment, beginning to pack up her things that had been discarded on the ground.
âshoko. what did i just get myself into seriously, my heartâs going at three hundred miles per hour right now.â
âuhh, i donât know maybe a super amazing party with a ton of free alcohol? shoko replies, standing up and linking her arm in yours.
you shoot her a look to which she responds, âheyyy cmon, itâll be fun to loosen up a little yâknow, and plus choso will be thereâŚâ
she got you there, the thought of seeing him again excited you and you couldnât help but smile.
âugh im so fucked.â
friday 21:30
youâd been dreading this party the whole week, there was no particular reason except for the fact that you just had never really been a big fan of them; the loud music; the people; the bright lights, it was all just to much for you. shoko suggested that you get ready at her place in hopes of calming your nerves, so here you are.
you two were in shokoâs room, âcamerasâ by drake blaring through the speakers. youâd just finished getting dressed into your outfit, a black miniskirt, silver strapless top and black heels to match. shoko now helping you touch up your makeup before you leave.
âyouâre gonna talk to him right? shoko asks, looking in her makeup drawer for a lip liner of your shade.
you hum softly, confused as to who sheâs talking about, âhm- talk to whoâ?
âchoso of courseâ she replies in a âstate the obviousâ tone.
you scoff, âdude youâre kidding right? of course notâ
she raises her eyebrows and tosses you a look.
âwhat?â you question, confusion plastered across your face.
âno- nothing, nothing i mean its not like i could practically see the tension between you two out on campus a few days ago or anything.â shoko replies, finishing your makeup and standing to put on her black leather jacket, a nice addition to her outfit which was a pair of black flared leg jeans and a matching halter top.
âbro no way, i have no clue what youâre talking aboutâ guilt written all over your face earned a giggle from shoko.
âyeah weâll see about thatâ anyways câmon party girl weâre never gonna get there if we donât leave nowâ
she pulls you up from where youâre perched on the ground, and you two make sure you have everything and make your way out the door to leave.
you arrive at the party and .wow. its chaotic, a cheap bluetooth speaker is blasting shitty rap from the living room, the air humid and smells like overpriced tequila and weed and a bunch of guys are gathered around a beer pong table like its the olympics. as soon as you step through the threshold, you unsurprisingly spot satoru shotgunning beer out of a can with suguru right next to him. shoko grabs your hand and you both squeeze past couples making out and people swaying to the music until you reach where gojo and sukuna are.
âoh shitâheeey, you guys cameâsatoru slurs, obviously already drunk.
âparty started like 2 hours ago, howâs he already wasted?â shoko asks, mainly directing the question to suguru who seemed to be partially sober.
âfuck knows man, dude has a crazy low alcohol toleranceâ
âthe hell are you talking about bro, i do notâsatoru protests taking another sip of whatever mixture of cheap alcohol was in his red solo cup.
âwhatever manâstay here, iâm gonna show our guests around like the good host i am.â
suguru shows you around the frat house and youâre amazed by the sheer size of it, and by the number of people that were actually at the party. youâd been to a few parties here and there, but definitely none of this scale.
suguru leads you two over to the kitchen, cans littered across the ground, mysterious substances youâd much rather stay mysterious, spread across the countertop where in the middle lay a large bowl filled to the brim with a mix of fluorescent juices surrounded by a load of empty and half full cups.
suguru grabs a stack cups from somewhere in the cabinet beneath the counter.
âdrinks?â he offers, beginning to stir the concoction in the bowl.
âthat looks like it could give you at least five diseases,â you reply, eyeing the substance.
âyeah iâd be better off licking the floorâ shoko agrees.
he snorts, âhahâprobably, shitâs strong as fuck though, vodka & brandy.â
âgod, no wonder satoruâs about to pass out,â you reply, eyes trailing back over to where the man himself is now on top of the beer pong table.
âthink iâll just take a beer instead,â shoko decides, reaching for the fridge and grabbing two cans out the fridge and passes one to you.
âsmart ideaââk lemme get back to this idiot before he fucking breaks something, enjoy the party you twoâ suguru nods before stalking over to satoru.
âhey you okay y/n?â shoko shouts over the music which seems to be getting increasingly louder.
âyeah im good donât worryâkinda need the bathroom though, gonnaâ go look for it.â you yell back
âwant me to come with you?â
you smile, âno, no itâs all good trust me go enjoy the party iâll be right back,â
â âkay cool, iâll be in the living room, donât take too longâ shoko replies, already dispersing back into the crowd.
you trail up the stairs onto the second floor of the house, past another couple eating each otherâs faces off and a freshman passed out in the middle of the walkway. you crack open the beer shoko passed to you and take a sip feeling the warmth travelling down to your stomach.
youâve been walking around for what feels like forever and the combination of the booming music, fluorescent purple lights, and crowds of people were starting to overwhelm you. not to mention how much your feet were in pain thanks to the heels on your feet.
âhow big is this place, gosh,â you mutter to yourself in annoyance, downing the rest of your can of beer, discarding it somewhere on the ground, now feeling the faint buzz and warmth in your cheeks creeping up on you.
having had enough of walking around you decide to push open the next door you see at the end of the corridor, you stumble into what looks like a bedroom, not what you were looking for, but it was quiet and empty,and honestly that was a miracle in itself so you werenât complaining.
âugh finally,â you groan, shutting the door behind you and crossing the room to flop onto the bed on the other side.
you know its probably a stupid idea to crash in a random bed in a frat house of all places, but in your current state that wasnât your biggest priority, so you betray your mind and kick of your heels, fully laying back sighing deeply.
you begin to scan the room, its nicely organised and clean for a frat you thought to yourself. various posters decorated the walls; band posters; movie posters and other ones you donât recognise. amidst them all, one stood out to you in particular, it was a poster of one or mac millerâs albums, âthe divine feminineâ which also happened to be your all time favourite.
you hummed appreciatively, whoever this room belonged to has taste.
then just like that, again stupidly on cue, the universe answers your question when choso walks through the door holding a small bag full of snacks and lighting up what you think to be a blunt.
hes wearing grey sweatpants that sit low around his hips, not leaving much to the imagination, and a plain black t-shirt exposing his large biceps. his hair flowing loosely around his face, different compared to the rest of the times youâve seen himâhis hair normally tied up.
you finally realise what the hell is happening, that youâre seriously laying in chosoâs bed in HIS room.
âoh shit, iâm so sorry i literally had no clue this was your room,â you blurt out, quickly sitting up and scrambling to your feet.
choso laughs, the sound almost non existent ânah youâre good, dont worry pretty.â smoke curling in the air around him.
pretty. the pet name sending chills down your spine and heat straight to the space between your thighs. the can of beer youâd just downed not helping your case either.
your mind just completely blanks at that, and you two are just left staring at each other. choso watches you intensely, that sharp suffocating gaze once again burning holes into you. those light espresso shot eyes rake over your body slowly from head to toe. you suddenly feel exposed, like he could see right through you, clearly see all your flaws and imperfections.
you know itâs probably the combination of the beer and the fact you donât actually recall eating anything before you came (terrible idea) ,but you couldnât shake your anxiety.
âiâuh um i-i think im gonna go find shoko, yeah i need to find shoko sorry again, i didnât mean to like totally invade your spaceâ you ramble.
you go to stand up way too quickly, which you realise was a mistake because you suddenly get dizzy from the lack of food and mixture of alcohol and stumble over your feet, tripping over your discarded heels in the process.
choso quickly crosses the room over to you, discarding whatever he had in his hands, and steadying your frame.
ââshit woah, easy there y/n careful.â he slowly lowers you back down onto the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you so that heâs at a similar level to you.
the use of your name in his sentence sent butterflies straight to your stomach. did he seriously remember from that day on campus?
âyou remembered my name?..â you hadnât meant to speak aloud.
choso hummed, a faint sound âcourseâ i remembered.â
âyou okay though?â his voice which was normally coarse and rough, seemed to soften as he spoke to you, worry painting his features.
âmmâi think, yeah thanks. i probably just need food or something..â you say lightly.
âyou havenât eaten?â he questions, already standing up from his spot in front of you and reaching for the small black bag he was previously holding.
choso empties the contents of the bag onto the floor, a variety of snacks falling out and a few beers falling out, you also notice a pack of pre-rolls among them.
âsâ not real food, but itâll help.â he nods towards the pile
âyouâre sure?â you ask
he grins âiâm sure.â
you slide onto the floor opposite him, sitting cross-legged in attempt to get comfy. you notice a pack of your favourite chips and decide to settle for that.
âooh i love these, i havenât had them in so long.â you state, muffled from the chips that were now in your mouth.
you swear you see choso smile, faint but still there and you notice him nod, like heâs saving that information for later.
âhow come youâre not downstairs with everyone else? thought youâd be enjoying the party,â you ask in between bites.
he reaches forward for one of the pre-rolled joints and begins lighting up, humming in consideration before responding.
ânot really my typaâ thing yâknowâ too loud, to many people, i need to show my face though, frat rules, but after that i crash up here.â
you watch the way his lips fit around the pre-roll between his slender fingers, the way the smoke curls around him almost hypnotising.
âmmâyeah i get that.â you reply softly.
âyeah?â
you nod, suddenly aware of the sudden close proximity of you two.
choso notices your silence and speaks, âyou smoke?â he asks, not pushing just curious.
youâve smoked a little here and there, stress creeps up in mysterious ways sometimes and youâd found yourself looking for ways to relieve it.
âi used to, didnât want it to become a habit, but honestly i could use it right now.â you shrug, smoothing out your skirt, feigning nonchalance.
chosoâs now red rimmed eyes watch your movements carefully, studying your body language before replying.
âyeah? you sure? donât feel pressured sweetheart, jusâ wannaâ make you feel comfortable.â
you nod, your face heating up at his words, ââmhm, i promise, thanks.â
âaâight, câmereâ he replies, patting the space next to him, an invitation.
you scooch over next to choso, now you two were even closer than before, thighs touching ever so slightly. you could feel the heat radiating off his body and smell him, a musky and clean scent, it was intoxicating.
he reaches over and begins to light up, you expect him to simply hand it to you and let you do the work, but instead he turns towards you takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and places the cig between your lips.
âyeah thatâs it, now inhale for me,â choso drawls, his voice deep, and hypnotic the sound filling your ears.
you inhale slowly, closing your eyes letting the smoke fill your lungs, focusing on the feeling of the warmth and the feeling of choso watching you intently, carefully.
you notice he does that a lot, just watches.
âthere we go, atta girl, jusâ like that.â he says, removing it from between your lips.
you cough a little as you wait for the feeling to kick in. tipping your head back ever so slightly so itâs now resting against the wall behind you two. you listen to the music in the distance coming from the party, muffled behind the walls of the room you were in.
choso watches you as the high kicks in, the way your breathing shallows and you fumble one of the bracelets on your wrist, the way your muscles slowly relax. he never does this, ever. never lets random girls in his room or offer them free weed, shit who was he kidding he never even offers his friends free weed, so what the hell was different about you. something about you triggered the softness that was deeply rooted in him, the side of him that no one knew about except himself. and now you. he felt like he needed to shield you from harms way, protect you from any idiot who felt the need to hurt you. what the hell had gotten into him he thought, heâs literally known you for a week now. oh heâs so fucked.
his thoughts are then interrupted when you take the pre-roll from his fingers take another hit and ask, âyou like mac miller?â
âhmâoh hell yeah, dude practically got me through high school, it was rough.â he winces
you giggle at that, the sound catching chosoâs attention. âlooks like itâs kicking in huh.â he grins, the sound of your little laugh sending butterflies straight to his stomach.
you two sit there talking to each other about music and other pointless subjects,as you lose track of time, enjoying each otherâs presence passing the joint back and forth, chosoâs fingers grazing yours ever so slightly each time, you begin to wonder if itâs intentional or not. but the moment is soon interrupted when your phone begins to ring somewhere in chosoâs bed.
you jump up from your seat on the ground and spot your phone, you see shokoâs name light up on the screen with about 10 missed calls and multiple texts asking where you are.
âoh fuck..â you mutter to yourself, having completely forgotten you told shoko youâd only be gone a few minutes.
you pick up, âhey shokoâoh my god, no iâm fine seriously, i know, i know iâm so sorry i completely lost track of time. donât worry iâm coming now.â you giggle at something she says before hanging up.
âshoko freaking out?â choso asks, still sat on the floor, looking up at you with his now red rimmed eyes.
you huff, âyeah, kinda told her i was going to the bathroom like two hours ago.â
âuhm how much for the joint? i sort of smoked all of it sorry..â you ask, picking up your purse and searching it for any loose cash.
âits on me sweetheart, donât worry about itâŚjust next time you wannaâ smoke come to meâyeah? thatâll be payment.â choso replies a subtle smirk making itâs way to his face.
you smile âyeah alright, thank you choso.â
âno problem y/n.â he smiles back, properly this time.
dimples.
âokay i should head back, shokoâs literally losing her shit down there..â you say
âcool no worries, want me to walk you?â choso asks, getting up from his spot on the floor and walking over to you.
âno itâs okay donât worry, thanks iâll be fine.â
âalright then, iâll see you soon then, yeah?..â he replies softly.
âyeah. iâll see you soon.â you smile.
you donât know what came over you, probably the joint you just smoked, but you go on your tiptoes, reach up so your arms are around his neck and hug choso. he stiffens at first, probably shocked, then he relaxes and his arms come to rest around your waist.
âbye choso..â you say, close enough that he can feel your breath against the shell of his ear.
you let go and walk out the door, tossing a smile over your shoulder.
as soon as you leave choso flops onto his desk chair, your scent still lingering in his roomâsweet vanilla, and runs his hands down his face.
âholy fuuuck.â he huffs.
when you leave chosoâs room, youâre exposed to the party still raging and even more people than before, although with the help of the weed you smoked, you seem to be a lot more content as you drift down the corridors looking for shoko.
you head down stairs which you think you remember seeing, indicating youâre on the right track. you end up downstairs and head into the living room where you finally spot shoko, suguru, satoru and a red haired man, covered in tattoos, you donât recognise.
you walk over to the group, careful to not bump into anyone in the tightly packed room.
âoh my god y/n, where the hellâve you been? i genuinely thought you dipped,â shoko exclaims, you could tell sheâd been drinking.
âah, so this is y/n..â the redhead drawls, âiâm sukunaâ he turns his attention towards you.
âhi sukunaâ you giggle, definitely feeling the effects of the high.
âhow yaâ doinâ prettyâhow come we ainât met yet?â he smirks, definitely flirting.
âhey, hey earth to y/nâ shoko waves her hand in front of your face. âi was saying where the hell did you go?âwait a second are you fucking high?â
shoko stares intensely at your red glassy eyes, âoh my god, you are high.â
ââwhat? hm, oh no iâm not what are you talking aboutttt, maybe youâre the high one.â you giggle again, definitely high.
âlooks like someoneâs been with chosoooo!â satoru singsongs, even more drunk than before.
âwhere the fuck are your shoes?â suguru comments, making everyone look towards the floor at your feet that in fact did not have the heels you arrived with on.
âwhatâoh shit i mustâve left them in chosoâs room on accident.â you huff.
âyou were in chosoâs room?!â they all exclaim except for satoru who simply states, âtold you so.â
you were about to explain yourself when again, suddenly choso approaches behind you holding the very heels in one hand. itâs like he had some sort of gift for showing up at the most perfectly imperfect moments.
âforgot your shoes cinderella.â
you turn around immediately recognising the deep voice.
you gasp, taking the shoes from choso. âthanks so much oh my goshâ
âpretty sure cinderella only lost one of her shoes.â sukuna says, sipping whatever was in his cup.
âryomen.â choso nods.
âkamo.â sukuna nods back.
you sense unspoken tension between the two, but honestly youâre already exhausted and not in the mood for any arguments so you decide not to bring it up.
ârightâŚwell i think me and y/n are gonnaâ get going, itâs pretty late and sheâs pretty fried.â shoko says, definitely sensing the same thing you were.
âyou ready to go?â she asks
âyeah, guess so.â
you all say your goodbyes, then you and shoko make your way to the front door.
âthanks for tonight choso, i appreciate itâ you say over your shoulder before leaving with shoko.
âsooooo, you gonna tell us what happened up in your room or nahâ satoru teases.
âfuck off bro.â a faint blush making itâs way up chosoâs neck.
you step out into the cool night air with your arm linked in shokoâs, still holding your heels which you hadnât even bothered to put back on.
âkayâ you need to tell me everything, y/nâ shoko squealed.
âwhat i need is some food first, iâm literally starvingggâ you groan.
âokay, okay weâll order in when we get to my place, but then you promise to tell me every little detail.â she squeezes your arm.
âfine, i promise..â you giggle.
when you two make it back to shokoâs dorm apartment, you immediately flop down onto the couch and the food arrives shortly after, you guys decided on chinese takeout. you guys start setting up the food on the low coffee table in the middle of the room.
âokay, now itâs story time, tell me everything.â shoko says, already getting comfy on the floor.
you sigh, âyouâre gonnaâ be disappointed itâs nothing that exciting..â
âso you two didnât fuck?â shoko asks in between bites of fried rice.
you almost choke on your water, âshoko what the hell?â
âwhat?â she grins, as if she just asked about the weather.
âno we didnât have sex shoko, sorry to burst your bubble.â you laugh.
you explain everything that happened to her not leaving out any details.
âso long story short, i accidentally found his room, ate his snacks and then we got high together, no biggie.â you reply, finishing the rest of your food.
shoko looks like you just told her youâve won the lottery. âyou say this like itâs not big news y/n,â
âuh yeah âcause itâs not big news shoko, it doesnât mean anythingâ
she raises her eyebrows âgirl, choso never lets anyone in his room, let alone give them free weed. heâs not much of a talker either, he must really like you, seriously.â
you hum at her words, considering.
âanyways lets get some sleep, youâll regret it in the morning if you donât.â
you and shoko head to her room and instantly jump into her bed, any of you too tired to even take of your makeup or get dressed, itâs big enough for the two of you so you donât mind sharing
she turns off the little night light on the bedside table before whispering âgood night y/n,â
you wake up the next morning, the sun peaking through the blinds, with a sour taste in your mouth and a pounding headache. you look over to see the bed empty where shoko was sleepingâsheâs probably already headed out for the day. you reach over to the bedside table and pick up your phone, saturday: â12:24â âshoot i slept in so late.â you mutter.
then you notice a notification from last night, â@c.kamo requested to follow youâ from instagram. you smile at that, something about the fact that you know he searched for your account made your heart flutter.
you accept the request, jump out of bed and head to the kitchen where you spot a note from shoko, a glass of water and tylenol on the counter. ârunning some errands, be back soon, knew youâd have a terrible headache â-shoko xxâ.
after you get out the shower and finish getting yourself ready for the day, feeling a lot better, you tug on one of shokoâs tank tops and pyjama shorts, since you hadnât packed a sleep bag or anything. youâre in the middle of making yourself toast when your phone lights up, another message from instagram.
[c.kamo]: yo sweetheart, u busy today? got something i wanna show u.
your stomach flipped, and you bit the inside of your cheek as typed a response.
[y/nsdiary]: r u genuinely curious or just tryna find a way to speak to me đ
[c.kamo]: typingâŚ
[c.kamo]: and wht if i said both?
you couldnât help but smile.
[y/nsdiary]: then iâd ask where and what time
[c.kamo]: oh yeah?
[y/nsdiary]: mhmm
[c.kamo]: surprise. and iâll pick u up @ 3pm that cool?
[y/nsdiary]: cool. iâll be waitingggg
[c.kamo]: alr, c u soon
now you were completely cheesing at your phone like an idiot, you suddenly felt like the happiest girl in the world.
you quickly finish your toast and write a quick little note for shoko, explaining
that you headed back to your dorm.
you wash the dishes, gather your stuff and head out shokoâs place back to your dorm.
when you get back to your place, itâs around 2:15 pm since you decided to walk and did some grocery shopping first, so now you had about 45 minutes since choso would be here.
you still donât know where the hell heâs taking you or what you got yourself into, but itâs choso, and honestly you donât know why but you feel a sense of safety whenever youâre near him.
you donât need to do much since you already fixed your hair, did your makeup and showered at shokoâs. you just need to pick out an outfit, so you head to your closet in your room and look through the selection of clothes.
you settle for a jean skirt and brown sweater to match your uggs.
thirty minutes later you receive another message from choso,
[c.kamo]: iâm outside.
[y/nsdiary]: okok coming
you quickly spray your favourite perfume, grab your purse and rush out the door.
you make your way outside your dorm apartments and you can immediately tell which car is chosoâs. itâs the subaru wrx thatâs completely blacked out.
you walk over to the car and get in the passenger side.
âhey pretty, you good?â choso asks, turning the stereo down which was now faintly playing one of âjojiâsâ songs.
âhi choso, iâm good thanks, thank you for picking me up.â you smile.
âof course sweetheart.âchoso says, the casual use of the pet names literally making your stomach do that stupid thing again.
he pulls out of the parking lot and starts driving. you watch the way his biceps flex as his hands grip the steering wheel, and the way his rings gleam when they catch the light.
âanyone ever tell you that you stare a lot?â choso smirks, glancing at you for a second before turning his attention back to the road.
ââhm? oh yeah sorry, itâs a bad habit i know..â you reply, a little embarrassed youâd been caught.
ânah donât be, i think itâs cute.â he says, a little more quietly now, still facing the road.
cute. you smile to yourself, gosh was choso making it hard to not fold right there and then.
choso pulls up somewhere downtown, by now the sun has practically set, leaving the sky painted in gold. he gets out and walks around the car over to your side, opens the car door and helps you get out.
âyou ready for the surprise?â
âyes! letâs go alreadyyyyâ you exclaim, excitement taking over.
choso leads you two down the road and you two stop outside little dimly lit store named âwestsider books and recordsâ. your face instantly lights up as you two enter. itâs like every single downtown record store youâve imagined whilst reading your little romance novels, tall shelves stacked to the top with different records, albums, tapes and even movies. then you turn to your left and see the classic literature section, and you just canât contain your excitement anymore.
âoh my god choso, this is amazing what the hell, how come iâve never seen this place before?â you squeal as your fingers glide over the thousands of different books littered across the shelves.
âyou like it? choso asks, a laugh escaping as he watches you pluck multiple copies of emily brontĂŤ, jane austen and charles dickensâ books of the shelves.
âoh i love it choso, seriously. howâd you even know iâd like this kinda thing?â you question.
ââah i donât know, took a wild guess.â he shrugs, knowing he was lying out his ass.
in reality, choso spent the whole rest of the night after you left the party, looking through your instagram likes and reposts, searching for anything heâd thought bring a smile to your face, just so he could see you the way you are now. eyes lit up with joy and rambling on about books heâd never even heard off. and honestly heâd burn the whole world for you if it meant he could hear you laugh and see you smile like this every day.
youâd already run off to the music section, squealing about seeing a fleetwood mac record somewhere.
âchoso look come over here, mac miller!â you spotted the same album
as the poster choso had on the wall in his room.
he walks over to you âoh yeahâwell spotted.â he grins, âyou thinkinâ about getting it?â
âmmâi donât know i really want this copy of wuthering heights,but i dont think i have enough for both right now. plus iâve been meaning to read it forever, i think iâll get the book instead.â you contemplate, looking between the record and the book.
âwe can always come back, right?â you ask, looking up at choso expectantly.
and oh the look in your eyes absolutely breaks his heart.
âyeah of course, sweetheart. whatever you want.â he replies, expression softening.
a moment of comfortable silence passes before you speak again, âokay iâm gonna go to the bathroom really quick, pretty sure i saw one when we came in. if i give you cash could you pay for me?â
âsure no worries.â he says.
âthanks, ill be right back,â you give him the money and rest of the things then go look for the bathroom.
choso waits to make sure youâre gone then pockets the cash you gave him and pulls out his own card. he couldnât let you leave without both the things you wanted.
he walks up up to the cashier âheyâ he hands the book over.
âhi there, anything else for you today?â the clerk asks, a young man, maybe in his early twenties.
âuhm yeah actually, could i get that record over there please?â choso points to the mac miller record you picked up earlier.
âyeah sure, would you like a bag with that too?â the clerk asks punching numbers into the card machine.
âyeah, thatâll be great thanks.â choso replies tapping his card and taking the bag back once the clerk is done.
âhave a nice rest of your nightâ the man says.
âyou tooâ choso returns.
you step out the bathroom soon after, and you two head back to the car.
once youâre back in, choso hands you the bag and reaches in his pocket fishing out the cash you gave him earlier, handing both the items back to you.
you look up at him confusion plastered all over your face, âchoso why do you still have the money how, whatââ
âi got it covered donât worry, and look in the bag.â he states cooly.
âwhat do you mean you âgot it coveredâ what are you talking abouââ
your voice catches in your throat as you look into the bag and pull out the same album you were looking at in the store.
âchoso what the fuck!â you exclaim, shock taking over.
choso simply smiles. that charming, gentle smile as he watches your reaction.
âwhy did you- how i-i donât get it..â your voice cracked as a singular tear fell, then another, then another.
not because you were sad or angry, or because he hurt your feelings, but simply because you couldnât believe that anyone genuinely cared about you enough to carry out such a kind gesture. your whole life, it was you doing these kind of things for people; people who wouldnât even think about doing the same for you and the worst thing is you wouldnât even think twice about doing it again, because you cared too much, couldnât stop caring. you knew it was stupid really, you did, but it was just part of who you are, but choso didnât know that yet which is why his expression completely dropped, worry etching itself onto his face.
ây/n? y/n, sweetheart whatâs wrong?â he said gently as possible, taking your face in his hands, closing the space between you two.
all you could do was sniffle and look up at him with so much admiration you thought your heart would burst.
âwhyâd you do this for me choso?â you whisper.
âbecause i care about you, a lot. and i thought it would make you happy, but if it didnât iâll take it back right now i promise, im sorrââ
âno, no choso it did make me happy, really happy, thatâs the thing. iâm not used to people doing nice things for me.â you interrupt, choso still holding your face in his hands like its the most precious thing ever, now absentmindedly rubbing soothing patterns into your cheeks.
his heart fucking shattered into a tiny million pieces at that.
âoh sweetheart, iâll give you everything nice thing you could ever want.â choso replies, so quiet that you wouldnât have been able to catch it if you werenât so close.
the two of you stay like that for a while, in a comfortable silence, your face in his hands, before you hit the road again.
when you reach your dorm apartment, choso walks you all up the stairs to your door and hands you your bag of goodies. you also give him your contact number so that you two donât have to keep texting on instagram.
âthank you choso, seriously you donât know how much it meant to me.â you say, fumbling with your bracelets.
âanytime y/n, iâd love to do it againâif you want of course and we donât have to go to the same placeâthereâs plenty of places..â chosoâs rambling now, something youâd never seen him do before.
you interrupt him with a light peck on the cheek, nothing intense but still enough to linger.
âiâd like that cho.â you giggle, testing out the nickname.
you can practically see the blush in chosoâs face when he says âgood night y/n.â
you and choso kept up this little routine, heâd pick you up from your place, take you somewhere nice, maybe smoke a little, then take you back home and walk you all the way up to your door. it wasnât official, wasnât complicated it was safe, easy.
everyone knew about it by now aswell, this little thing you two had going on.
yeah choso got pestered by the rest of the frat about it all the time, and yes shoko literally never shuts up about it, but you donât mind. thereâs just that feeling deep down, that worry settled deep in your stomach that if you were to ever become more, and something goes wrong, heâd be the one to get hurt. you could take it, you have taken it your whole life, but you donât want choso to go through that. ever.
you and shoko were getting ready for another party at the frat at your place this time, you never really were the most enthusiastic about then in all honesty, you didnât hate them, but youâd much rather be in bed reading a good book. the only reason you kept going was because choso said heâd start showing his face more, instead of being cramped up in his room, if you you promised to keep coming. so you two kept that little promise and youâd always end up on the couch next to him, curled into his side while he takes hits of the blunt, absentmindedly tracing little patterns into your arm, you two in your own little world, the chaotic energy of the party calmed by tranquil, safe aura.
âoh by the way, remember those girls from the other day?â shoko asks, finishing up her makeup.
ââhm, oh yeah, ugh those ones who wouldnât stop bothering me about the keychains on my backpack rightâ you scoff, the memory of you standing in the cafĂŠ line and some girls with âi peaked in high schoolâ type of energy asked you about the anime keychains on your backpack in such an infantilising manner, you thought youâd die right there and then, before shoko swooped in and saved you from embarrassment.
they were the type of girls who flirt with anyone and everyone who has power, the type who think theyâre better than everyone else because theyâre pretty. the kind of girls you steer away from.
âyeah those ones, you well please donât hate me, but they may or may not have practically cajoled me into getting them invitesâŚâ she winces, looking at you with a guilty expression on her face.
you toss her a look, âshoko.â
âi know, i know and im seriously sorry, but in my defence they literally wouldnât leave me alone, just kept telling me to âput in a good wordâ for them, their tiny little high pitched voices were driving me crazy so i caved.â
âsâ fine shokoâŚtheir voices are really annoying.â you giggle, not too bothered, you knew shoko had no bad intentions.
ââphew, thought you were gonna go batshit crazy on me, but hey you probably wonât even notice them since youâll be to busy snuggling up to choso,â she teases poking you in your side in the process.
âshut uppp, câmon lets goâ you pretend to be annoyed, though shoko doesnât miss the smile on your face.
you two get to the party and itâs packed as ever, the air already smells like weed, and throwback tunes are blasting from a bluetooth speaker, you guys walk over to the satoru, suguru and sukuna like you always do, routine by now.
âlook who decided to show up!â satoru yells over the music, holding a beer in his hand.
âwe always show idiot.â shoko replies, rolling her eyes.
you laugh, soon distracted as your eyes scan the room looking for a specific someone.
âlookinâ for kamo?â suguru asks, tossing you a knowing look.
âuh yeah, you know where he could be?â you ask, eyes still searching the room.
ânah, didnât say where he went.â
âthink he went to the store, said somethinâ about pickinâ up a few snacks.â sukuna butts in.
âoh, kayâ no worries, iâll wait for him on the couch then.â you reply, already sauntering off to your designated spot.
âsee yâall in a bit!â you shout over your shoulder.
âjust friends my ass.â shoko smiles, shaking her head.
you grab yourself a drink before heading over to the couch and sitting down. choso probably wouldnât take long, so youâd just chill here for now until he got back.
about ten minutes later, your peace is soon disturbed when two agitating little voices flood your ears.
âoh my godddd! y/n youâre actually here!â the voice squeal as they both sit down next to you.
fucking amazing.
on the other side of the party, choso arrives through the front door, silver chain dangling across his neck, wearing black baggy washed out jeans and a black hoodie. in his right hand he holds a small plastic bad, the contents containing all of your favourite snacks and extra of those chips you mentioned once. he wanted to stop at the store first before you came since he knows how hungry you get at parties. he spots his friends and heads over.
âyoâ
âay look who it is,â satoru says.
âyour girlâs been lookinâ for ya.â sukuna states cooly.
your girl. choso didnât even flinch at the words, in fact it felt natural to him, right.
ây/n?, where she at?â he asks.
âsaid she was headed over to the couch.â suguru replies, nodding in the direction of where youâre sitted.
âaigt cool, thanks. in a bit.â choso says, already heading in your direction barely even looking back.
sukuna scoffs, âlovesick puppies broâ
âtell me about it, dude practically has heart eyes.â suguru replies.
âhow long âtill you think they fuck?â satoru interjects, completely ruining the moment.
they both toss him a look.
âwhat? im just asking all the right questions??â he shoots back, holding up his hands in mock surrender.
youâre still sitting on the couch, smooshed in between the two girls who were now talking about something you seriously werenât listening or interested, you had completely tuned out waiting for choso to come so they finally had an excuse to leave. one of the girls dropped her lipgloss behind the couch and reached to get it, spotting choso approaching holding the back of snacks, and a lightbulb goes off in her head.
âsoâŚyou and choso, thatâs like real? she asks curiosity dripping from her tone.
that catches you off guard and you shrug, cautious.
âwhat?..yeah.â
the girl tilts her head, âhmm..really? i mean you just donât really seem like his type..â
ouch. that stung but you donât give them the pleasure of a reaction, youâd have dealt with a ton of girls like this and you learnt its better to just ignore.
the other evil twin spots choso in the corner of her eye and finally catches on.
thatâs when they time it perfectly. the other girl slightly raises her voice just enough so choso can hear it perfectly clear.
âso what is he to you? be honest.â
you hesitate. not because you donât know, not because youâre ashamed, but because you havenât really thought about that yet. you and choso had your own bond, it wasnât loud or flashy and it had no labels, but it was special, they wouldnât get it; wouldnât get how it feels when youâre with him. so you start to say,
âi-uh itâs um complicatedâ-
they cut you off before you finish speaking and repeat your words louder, âcomplicated.â the girl pouts.
âthatâs what we figured.â the other one cuts in.
they get up to leave, âhave a great rest of your night y/n.â one of the girls says in that mocking tone you hate.
chosoâs frozen the scene he just watched unfold replaying in his mind. the words you spoke haunting him, looping like an alarm. complicated. complicated. complicated. he doesnât even know why he feels so hurt, you were right werenât you? you two had never talked about becoming anything more than you were. friends. he had no one to blame but himself. but deep down maybe he just hoped that you would claim his as yours.
so instead of going up to you right there and then, telling you the truth that he doesnât want it to be complicated, he does what heâs best at. he leaves, goes cold, shuts you out and heads to his room.
you donât know what the hell just happened, but you just ignore it. the girls were obviously trying to get under your skin and you werenât going to let them ruin your night. you realise that choso still hasnât shown up, which you find odd, so you go look for the rest of the group.
âhey guys, choso still hasnât shown up..â
they all turn to you, ânah he came a while ago, we told him where you were. heâs definitely here.â suguru replies, confused.
âyeah, maybe try call him or something.â shoko adds, worry on her face.
âalright, okay.â you mumble and begin to walk away.
the air is suddenly too hot, your clothes to tight, and the music vibrating against your skull only worsens the headache starting to pound in your head. you weave through the tightly packed, sweaty bodies and pull out your phone to call choso.
straight to voicemail.
where the hell is he?
you then head to the one place you think he might be. as you climb the stairs and start walking down that familiar corridor, you see choso about to enter his room.
âcho!â you call out, as you speed up a little to reach him.
âwhere the hellâve you been, i was waiting for you..â you say, looking up at him a smile of relief crossing your face.
but his expression isnât the soft, gentle one he normally reserves for you. instead itâs cold and straight faced, he doesnât even meet your eyes.
âwasnât feelinâ it.â is all he responds.
âoh..thatâs okay, we can chill in your room if you want instead.â you reply, still smiling.
ânah itâs cool, iâll be fine on my own.â he coldly states, grabbing the doorknob and opening his door.
you quickly grab his arm before he steps in any further, âcho are you okay?..youâre being weird.â you say, concerned now.
then his next sentence is the final blow, âgod y/n, youâre being annoying, weâre not dating so give me some space alright?â
your heart sinks, you feel as if someoneâs just stabbed you right through the chest. you feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but donât want choso to see you cry so you let out a small âsorry.â before turning to walk away.
you immediately run down the stairs, tears threatening to spill. you donât want anyone to see you like this, not even shoko, so you quickly zip past the group in the living room to the kitchen where you spot the two girls, watching you, looking so proud of themselves. you donât even spare them a glance and run straight out the back door. into the chill night air.
you walk and walk and walk as far away from the house as you can get until you reach a bench on the sidewalk and finally allow yourself to break down. the tears flow like a river, but you canât help it you feel sick to your stomach because of chosoâs words. you donât know why he would say any of that, why he was so mad at you, but all your brain can tell you is âyou did something wrong.â âyou messed it upâ . and the thing that pissed you off the most, is the fact that you werenât mad at him at all. for some reason you couldnât muster up any hatred towards him. all you could do was sit, sob and feel sorry for yourself.
choso was fucking distraught. the look on your face as you apologised for nothing and walked away was something heâd never wish to see again. it broke his heart. and he was the one who had done it, he swore that he would be the one to put a smile on your face any chance he can, but now he was the one breaking your heart. he didnât deserve you, he knew that he didnât deserve nice things and thatâs why he pushed you away. in his mind this was his way of protecting you, making you hate him.
you walk home in sorrow, the sharpness of the night cold the only thing youâre able to feel. youâre empty, hollow like your soul had been sucked out of you and you were just a shell of a human floating around. you ignore the repeated buzz of your phone in your purseâit was probably shoko asking where you went. you loved her, but didnât feel like explaining the previous events to her right now, all you wanted to do was sleep.
you get home, kick of your boots at the door and run straight to the comfort of your bed, nose stuffy, head pounding and mascara all over your face you hide under the covers, and try to sleep. attempting to ignore the ache in your heart when you think of the boy with beautiful brown eyes.
the next few weeks are a blur, the day after your terrible night, when you donât show up to any of your lectures, shoko practically bursts your door downâmeaning she knocked so loud you woke up thinking your dorm was getting renovated.
shokoâs heart broke for you when you told her what happened. she said things like âyouâre way too good for him y/nâ âheâs an idiot for letting a girl like you goâ which you appreciated, you really did but you didnât want any of those things to be true. you didnât want to be too good for choso. you just wanted him.
and this is how it is for about three weeks, you wake up in the morning, the feeling of emptiness and exhaustion already taking over before you even get up. you text shoko âhey think im gonna stay in again, sorryâ and lay in bed scrolling for the rest of the day. you felt broken.
choso isnât any better. back at the frat, everyone notices it. the way choso rarely comes out of his room anymore, maybe to eat or something, but other than that itâs like he doesnât exist.
choso comes downstairs in the evening to make himself something to eat, sukunaâs also in the kitchen pouring some cereal.
âkamo.â he says.
choso glances up âhm.â
âthe fuck is goinâ on man, seriously.â he asks, abandoning his cereal and now fully turning to face choso.
âdunnoâ what youâre talking about.â choso replies, avoiding eye contact.
âbullshit. you know damn well. now i donât know what the hell happened between you ând y/n, but i do know you need to fuckinâ fix it.â sukuna spits, tone dead serious.
âyeah i just said that kamo, but i do know y/n cares about you. everyone knows it alright, we all see the way you two look at each other, the way you two gravitate towards each other. anyone who doesnât see it is an idiot, but if youâre jusâ gonna let go what you two have over some miscommunication then youâre the biggest fuckinâ idiot.â sukuna finishes, then takes his cereal bowl and simply walks off.
choso just stands there for a minute, gripping the edge of the counter. what the fuck was he doing? itâs like heâd been trapped in some sort of trance for the past few weeks and he just snapped out of it.
y/n. he thought. he needs to speak to y/n.
choso left whatever he was doing in the kitchen, grabbed his keys and ran out the door.
he arrives at your dorm apartments in no time, thoughts of you fuelling his speed, and rushes up the stairs through the corridor to your door. after a few seconds of contemplation he lifts his hand to knock.
you open your door fully expecting shoko, âone second shokââ your voice dies down in your throat at the sight of choso in front of you.
ây/n.â he breathes, like seeing your face was the best reward.
âchoso..â you say softly, immediately going to fumble with your bracelets on your wrist, a nervous habit.
choso canât think, he canât speak, he canât breathe, seeing you in front of him so vulnerable, so sad, so anxious. he could feel it in his heart. and oh how it broke.
youâre still looking down, avoiding eye contact when you hear it, so faint so quiet you think youâre imagining it.
a sniffle.
you instantly look up and meet chosoâs eyes, now glassy and filled with tears, staring right back at you.
your heart slices straight in two.
âoh cho, oh my god..are you cryingâ your body reacts before you do, leaning up on your tiptoes taking his face between your hands and leading him inside.
itâs like you can finally breathe again when he wraps his arms your waist and buries his face in your neck, like if he were to let go youâd vanish right there on the spot.
âmâsorry baby, so fuckinâ sorry, shouldâve never said any of those things, shouldâve never left you.â he murmurs into your neck, apologising over and over again.
âitâs okay cho,â you whisper.
âno, y/n sânot okay, nothinâ about how i acted was okay. after i heard you say we were complicated at the party, i was so hurt i completely shut you out, ând it wasnât okay.â he pleads, still sniffling into your neck, holding onto you like you were his life support.
you donât fully register his words until a few seconds later and pull back ever so slightly so that you can see his face fully, ââwaitâŚyou heard what i said that day?â you ask, your mind now putting the pieces together.
âthey wanted you to hear..â you whisper to yourself. âi didnât get to finish what i was gonna say, cho.â you say softly, wiping your thumb across the space under those golden brown eyes, getting rid of the tears.
he studies your face now, every little detail.
â i was going to say, itâs complicated because iâve never met someone who makes me feel like i really matter as much as you do cho, and im scared of messing that up.â you finally say, and itâs like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.
a moment of silence, and then :
âi love you, y/n.â
you freeze.
your breath catches and your whole body forgets what moving is.
âi-i what, huhâŚ?â you stutter as you watch chosoâs expression. his eyes blown wide, eyebrows slightly knitted together like heâs preparing for rejection.
âsay it again.â you say, needing to make sure you were hearing correctly.
he smiles.
âi love you y/n, knew i did ever since that day in the lecture hall.â
âyou mean it?â your ask, your voice so small.
âcourse i mean it, fuckinâ head over heels for you baby.â he replies.
and then his lips are on yours, kissing you slow, testing. the kiss filled with so many moments of longing and yearning, built up to this very moment. itâs soft at first, your hands make your way into chosoâs hair, his making their way to the hem of your pyjama shorts.
you tug a little and choso groans into your mouth, the sound sending vibrations through your body.
âshit, never leavinâ you ever again baby.â
you nip at his lower lip and before you know it, without you realising he carries you into your bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot and lowering your back onto the mattress.
he presses open mouthed kisses onto your neck, his hand trailing to the hem of your shorts. you whine at the touch. his fingertips keep grazing that spot so close to where you need it most, making your back arch.
âchoâŚâ you breathe, while he continues placing kisses on the sensitive spot on your neck. âchoso..â
âyeah? iâm right here sweetheart.â his fingers keep toying the waistband of your sleep shorts. âjusâ gotta tell me what you want.â
âpleaseâ you whine, squirming under his touch.
âplease what, baby?â he teases, whispering against the shell of your ear. âuse your words fâme.â
âplease cho, need you to touch me, want you so bad..â you sat, and his composure evaporates.
choso tugs your shorts and panties down, then all you hear is a sharp intake of breath.
âholy shit youâre fucking beautiful, so wet for me already. he murmurs, mesmerised as he drags a finger along your heat, collecting your slick before slipping a finger inside of you.
you moan, your brain fogged with the thought of choso, âmoreâ
you feel another finger slip inside your already soaking cunt, curling and pushing deeper against that perfect spot.
âângh, chosoâ you gasp, your thighs clench, as he starts curling and thrusting his fingers into you even faster.
âyeahhh, right there huh? you gonna cum on my fingers for me baby?â
his words pushing you over the edge, tears springing in the corner of your eyes as the coil in your belly snaps and you reach your climax, your sticky release coating chosoâs hand.
you fall limp on the bed, still breathing heavy trying to catch your breath, when chosoâs immediately on you again, âfuck youâre so perfect, so pretty fâme, canât believe youâre real.â he rambles, hands trailing under and up your shirt, kneading your breasts in his hands, still leaving kisses along your neck.
âoff, please.âhe begs, tugging on the fabric of your shirt. âwanna see you.â
you lift your tank top over your head and discard it somewhere on the floor.
choso does the same, then moves on to his bottom half, tugging his sweats and boxers down revealing his thick, hard throbbing cock. your eyes almost pop out of your head as you watch it slap against his stomach, tip already flushed and leaking, the vein on the underside pulsing.
âjusâ relax for me baby, okay?â he reassures you, kissing your forehead as he traces a path down to the apex of your thighs.
âfuuuckâ he breathes in as he pushes in deeper. âpussyâs so tight.â
he captures your lips again in a desperate kiss as he settles in. pure desire and need mixed into one.
choso fucks you slow and deep, hitting your cervix with every thrust of his hips. âcanât believe i almost lost you.â he groans, dragging you against him.
your lost in pleasure, the smell of choso, his body on yours, the sound of his voice, itâs intoxicating. and you wouldnât rather be anywhere else.
his pace gets quicker as you both reach your climax, your hands tangle in the bedsheets as you look for something to ground yourself with. you let out a string of moans as you and choso both come undone together. choso collapses down next to you, both of you panting trying to catch your breath.
âyou okay?â he asks, hand coming up to your face, thumb rubbing back and forth along your cheek.
âi love you too, choâ you reply, instinctively running a hand through his hair.
and as you two lay there in your bed, snuggled up under the covers, you stare into those honey brown eyes you love so much that are full of so much love, you know youâve found your person, the one youâve been looking for your whole life, someone who cares about you way more than you could imagine, and you are so grateful itâs choso.
you and choso pull up to the next frat party together hand in hand, head straight to you guyâs designated couch like normal, except this time you press a kiss to his lips and tuck your head into his chest. him tracing little patterns into your thigh.
âyo guys, take fuckinâ lookâwe miss a chapter or something?â satoru asks, his eyes practically popping out of his head staring at the two of you.
ânah, youâre just slow as shitâ suguru snorts.
âabout damn time.â shoko adds as you wave over at her, her smile contagious.
âyeah. saw it coming from a mile away.â sukuna agrees.
he wouldnât admit it, but deep down he was happy for choso.
synopsis : new town, new friends, new surroundings. your plan is to keep your head down and stick to yourself on campus. then your world is flipped when your eyes meet the most beautiful golden brown ones youâve ever seen.
~
!!read!! mentions of alcohol and drug use, slight slow burn, mutual pining, stupid miscommunication, angst! smut! comfort!
authorâs note : this is my first fic ever, so please tell me where thereâs room for improvement, iâve also never smoked before so there might be some inaccuracies i apologise, i appreciate any support, thank you!
you step onto campus for the first time, âcinderellaâ by mac miller playing in your cheap sony headphones; one of your favourite songs. nerves already starting to brew after overthinking all the possible outcomes that this semester in a completely new city could bring. as you look around, the sight of large friend groups is all you see, and you start to wonder what on earth you were thinking when youâd decided to move. then again, you knew exactly why. you couldnât stay in that town, same people, same shops, same sights everyday, it was driving you absolutely insane. so here you are.
about two whole laps around what seemed like a never ending fortress, youâd decided to admit to yourself you were lost and had to resort to your last and most embarrassing choice;ask for directions. you scanned the perimeter in hopes of finding someone who looked nice enough to help you. you spotted a brown haired girl on a nearby bench smoking a cigarette who you thought looked kind enough, so mustering up the courage you walk over to her as nonchalantly as possible.
âuhm excuse meâ
âoh hey,â the girl says, looking up from whatever she was reading on her phone.
âhey sorry to be a bother, but i was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the arts & humanities building?â
âoh girl of course, no worries, im actually headed there now anywayâ she says with confident tone.
âgosh thank you so much youâre my lifesaver seriously, thought i was gonnaâ die before i found my way around this placeâ, you say with a ghost of a laugh.
the girl lets out a small giggle, âdonât even mention it, iâm shoko by the way.â
ây/n, nice to meet youâ you politely return.
you guys fall into step next to each-other both on the way to the same building, you end up in a nice little conversation with shoko and to your surprise, you actually have quite a lot in common and share similar interests. maybe making friends wouldnât be as difficult as you imagined.
you finally reach the lecture hall after what feels like years of walking, maybe platform converse werenât the best choice of shoes, you think to yourself. you and shoko manage to secure seats towards the front of the room, close to the double doors where students begin to pile in and take their seats.
the lecture begins about ten minutes later, but you loose track of time shortly after that as your mind starts to wander while professor nanami rambles on about information youâre bound to forget in an hour. you notice shoko not really paying attention either, and instead filing her nails.
in the corner of your eye, you see the lecture doors open as a tall dark haired boy enters through the threshold ; his hair falling in uneven layers, carelessly pulled back into a half up half down, but still managing to look deliberate. his lean but built frame moves through the hall searching for an empty seat, you knew you were staring, but i mean who wouldnât be..? the boy was dangerously attractive, his sense of style ; grey sweatpants, grey hoodie and a black undershirt which you could see poking out from beneath, simple but effective. and his eyes, heavy lidded and brown - the same eyes that were now staring right back at you.
âholy shit.â you mutter to yourself
the expression on his face was hard to read, almost like he didnât want to give anything away. but the moment soon ends after he seems to spot a seat on the other side of the hall and goes to sit down.
âwanna know his name?â shoko smirks and turns to you completely.
âwhose name?â you respond with false confusion, knowing exactly who shes talking about but not wanting to make it obvious.
âuhm the guy you were literally drooling over the entirety of our lecture?â she slightly tilts her head and replies incredulously.
âokay for the record i totally wasnât droolingâ you try to hide the embarrassment written all over your face.
âcome onnnnn y/nâ, shoko says nudging your knee with her own, âi know for a fact youâre a little curiousâ
you cave âfine, fine tell me everythingâ you shift and face her completely, the lecture basically becoming you guysâ own gossip session.
you learned that the strangerâs name is choso kamo, large circle of friends but mainly hangs out with his two best friends since highschool : satoru gojo and ryomen sukuna. you tried to get more info out of her but her excuse was that âhe just keeps to himself, doesnât really say much just always lingering, observing.â
you couldnât help the curiosity that the beautiful stranger invoked in you. something about his honey-brown eyes pulled you in.
later that evening, after shoko walked you back to your dorm which luckily already contained most of your things thanks to the help of your parents, you made sure to save her number which the two of you had exchanged previously. you were glad to have made a friend so quickly, and shoko was a sweet girl, which made your previous worries of not finding someone you could rely on simmer down.
its not as if you didnât have any friends in your old town, its just that sometimes youâd feel like a burden at times or like you werenât as important to them as they were to you. youâve always had this problem, you care too much. its part of the reason you left, to find your people, people who care for you just as much as you care for them.
you decide its time to call it a night , so you change into your pyjamas, slip into bed in the middle of your small dorm bedroom, which youâd tried your best to make feel a little like home, and let the subtle sound of raindrops against the window stir you into sleep, although as you close your eyes and the tiredness threatens to pull you under the image of soft golden-brown eyes are all that you see.
âoh my god i need to stopâ you scold yourself and groan into your pillow.
you eventually drift off into slumber and suprisingly manage to not dream of the boy thatâs been on your mind since the lecture hall.
3 weeks later..
three weeks fly by fast but quite peacefully, and youâre actually enjoying it more than you thought you would. you and shoko have developed little routines of walking to your classes together, getting coffee, going shopping, binge watching animes together and doing other things you both enjoy. and you realise sheâs quickly become one of your best friends.
youâre both sitting under a tree near the front of campus debating on whether or not to have an indoor movie night at shokosâ place or go out shopping, when an unfamiliar voice coming from behind the both of you suddenly interrupts.
âorrrr you could scrap both of those terrible ideas and come to the party being at the frat this friday.â
shoko rolls her eyes and slightly grins as if she already knows who the voice belongs to.
you whip your head around to see two tall figures approaching the space where you and shoko sit, she gets up and walks towards them to meet halfway so you follow her lead.
âwhat do you need now satoru,â shoko retorted back, a hint of playful annoyance in her tone.
you recognise the guy with snowy white hair and piercing crystal blue eyes to be satoru gojo, member of the sigma chi frat on campus. and also well known for flirting with every girl he comes across.
âyoo shoko, hello to you toâ gojo teases back.
the boy next to him with amethyst eyes and long straight black hair that fell over his back like curtains, who you recognise as suguru geto; also a member of the sigma chi frat and one of satoruâs best friends, absentmindedly bounces his basketball on the ground.
they mustâve noticed your staring, because the boys both suddenly turn their attention to you.
âoh, and whoâs this?â gojo questions, a slight smirk forming on his lips.
âhm? oh iâm y/n, iâm new hereâ
âyeah figures, iâd remember that pretty face anywhereâ he playfully replies.
a small smile played its way onto your face at his words, so he does live up to the rumours, you thought to yourself.
ânameâs suguruâ the boy next to him introduces himself.
ânice to meet youâ you reply with a timid smile.
âso, y/n i see youâve managed to befriend our lovely shoko hereâ suguru speaks, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
you giggle, âyeah she practically saved me on my first day here, i owe her my lifeâ.
âyeah and you two actually rudely interrupted us in the middle of a very important debate, so if you could tell us what you need that would be greatâ shoko adds on, crossing her arms over her chest in attempt to gain some warmth due to the cool autumn breeze.
âyeah, yeah iâm getting there, but i was waiting for choso to get back from class first he should be on his way nowâ
and stupidly on cue just like some sort of movie, you see a tall figure calmly approaching from behind suguru and satoru.
your heart sinks to your ass. it was him, youâd recognise the silk like hair and sharp gaze anywhere. its as if time slows down as choso approaches, and you literally feel the atmosphere change.
he reaches where the four of you are standing and greets satoru, suguru and shoko with a subtle nod of his head, his hair slightly falling into his face in the process.
choosing to play it safe, and avoid making an even bigger idiot of yourself with your terrible staring problem, you decide to pretend to be distracted by the one of many bracelets on your arm, occupying yourself.
but you canât ignore the feeling of chosoâs unmoving gaze and low lidded eyes burning a hole into you.
shoko, deciding to take matters into her own hands, clears her throat and begins to introduce you.
âuhm, choso this is y/n, she moved here recently.â
you finally glance up, meet chosoâs eyes and manage to push out a pathetic, soft âhi..â in response to shoko.
he hums softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.
ânice to meet you.â
his voice is smooth, deep and sort of rough, and those four simple words that shouldnât have an affect on anyone make your face heat up, and your stomach starts doing that stupid fluttering thing.
satoru starts to speak again, something about a party he wants you guys to come to at the frat house on friday night, but itâs impossible to focus on anything heâs saying when chosoâs standing right there.
its not like heâs purposely doing anything, but his whole aura is distracting, suffocating in a good way. most people would call it intimidating, but it only makes you more and more curious.
youâre quickly snapped back into reality when shoko nudges your shoulder and speaks,
âsure whatever iâm cool with it, you down y/n?â shoko asks
âwhat- oh yeah cool, im downâ you said as calmly as possible, even though you had no clue what had been said in the last 5 minutes thanks to your wandering mind.
âsick, its gonna be fucking great you guys trust meâ satoru persists enthusiastically, his cerulean eyes lighting up even brighter in excitement.
you couldnât help but giggle at his enthusiasm, whilst shoko simply rolled her eyes.
âcalm down buddy,â suguru snorts, patting him on the back, steering him in the direction of their next class.
the boys begin to saunter away, striding with confidence like they own the place, and choso starts to follow shortly behind, until he tosses a look over his shoulder and says,
âsee you there y/n, lookinâ forward to it.â
you swear you see a smirk tug at his lips before heâs gone, catching up to suguru and satoru who were now play fighting in the middle of the walk way.
âwhat. the. fuck.â you whisper to yourself
shoko snorts at your comment, beginning to pack up her things that had been discarded on the ground.
âshoko. what did i just get myself into seriously, my heartâs going at three hundred miles per hour right now.â
âuhh, i donât know maybe a super amazing party with a ton of free alcohol? shoko replies, standing up and linking her arm in yours.
you shoot her a look to which she responds, âheyyy cmon, itâll be fun to loosen up a little yâknow, and plus choso will be thereâŚâ
she got you there, the thought of seeing him again excited you and you couldnât help but smile.
âugh im so fucked.â
friday 21:30
youâd been dreading this party the whole week, there was no particular reason except for the fact that you just had never really been a big fan of them; the loud music; the people; the bright lights, it was all just to much for you. shoko suggested that you get ready at her place in hopes of calming your nerves, so here you are.
you two were in shokoâs room, âcamerasâ by drake blaring through the speakers. youâd just finished getting dressed into your outfit, a black miniskirt, silver strapless top and black heels to match. shoko now helping you touch up your makeup before you leave.
âyouâre gonna talk to him right? shoko asks, looking in her makeup drawer for a lip liner of your shade.
you hum softly, confused as to who sheâs talking about, âhm- talk to whoâ?
âchoso of courseâ she replies in a âstate the obviousâ tone.
you scoff, âdude youâre kidding right? of course notâ
she raises her eyebrows and tosses you a look.
âwhat?â you question, confusion plastered across your face.
âno- nothing, nothing i mean its not like i could practically see the tension between you two out on campus a few days ago or anything.â shoko replies, finishing your makeup and standing to put on her black leather jacket, a nice addition to her outfit which was a pair of black flared leg jeans and a matching halter top.
âbro no way, i have no clue what youâre talking aboutâ guilt written all over your face earned a giggle from shoko.
âyeah weâll see about thatâ anyways câmon party girl weâre never gonna get there if we donât leave nowâ
she pulls you up from where youâre perched on the ground, and you two make sure you have everything and make your way out the door to leave.
you arrive at the party and .wow. its chaotic, a cheap bluetooth speaker is blasting shitty rap from the living room, the air humid and smells like overpriced tequila and weed and a bunch of guys are gathered around a beer pong table like its the olympics. as soon as you step through the threshold, you unsurprisingly spot satoru shotgunning beer out of a can with suguru right next to him. shoko grabs your hand and you both squeeze past couples making out and people swaying to the music until you reach where gojo and sukuna are.
âoh shitâheeey, you guys cameâsatoru slurs, obviously already drunk.
âparty started like 2 hours ago, howâs he already wasted?â shoko asks, mainly directing the question to suguru who seemed to be partially sober.
âfuck knows man, dude has a crazy low alcohol toleranceâ
âthe hell are you talking about bro, i do notâsatoru protests taking another sip of whatever mixture of cheap alcohol was in his red solo cup.
âwhatever manâstay here, iâm gonna show our guests around like the good host i am.â
suguru shows you around the frat house and youâre amazed by the sheer size of it, and by the number of people that were actually at the party. youâd been to a few parties here and there, but definitely none of this scale.
suguru leads you two over to the kitchen, cans littered across the ground, mysterious substances youâd much rather stay mysterious, spread across the countertop where in the middle lay a large bowl filled to the brim with a mix of fluorescent juices surrounded by a load of empty and half full cups.
suguru grabs a stack cups from somewhere in the cabinet beneath the counter.
âdrinks?â he offers, beginning to stir the concoction in the bowl.
âthat looks like it could give you at least five diseases,â you reply, eyeing the substance.
âyeah iâd be better off licking the floorâ shoko agrees.
he snorts, âhahâprobably, shitâs strong as fuck though, vodka & brandy.â
âgod, no wonder satoruâs about to pass out,â you reply, eyes trailing back over to where the man himself is now on top of the beer pong table.
âthink iâll just take a beer instead,â shoko decides, reaching for the fridge and grabbing two cans out the fridge and passes one to you.
âsmart ideaââk lemme get back to this idiot before he fucking breaks something, enjoy the party you twoâ suguru nods before stalking over to satoru.
âhey you okay y/n?â shoko shouts over the music which seems to be getting increasingly louder.
âyeah im good donât worryâkinda need the bathroom though, gonnaâ go look for it.â you yell back
âwant me to come with you?â
you smile, âno, no itâs all good trust me go enjoy the party iâll be right back,â
â âkay cool, iâll be in the living room, donât take too longâ shoko replies, already dispersing back into the crowd.
you trail up the stairs onto the second floor of the house, past another couple eating each otherâs faces off and a freshman passed out in the middle of the walkway. you crack open the beer shoko passed to you and take a sip feeling the warmth travelling down to your stomach.
youâve been walking around for what feels like forever and the combination of the booming music, fluorescent purple lights, and crowds of people were starting to overwhelm you. not to mention how much your feet were in pain thanks to the heels on your feet.
âhow big is this place, gosh,â you mutter to yourself in annoyance, downing the rest of your can of beer, discarding it somewhere on the ground, now feeling the faint buzz and warmth in your cheeks creeping up on you.
having had enough of walking around you decide to push open the next door you see at the end of the corridor, you stumble into what looks like a bedroom, not what you were looking for, but it was quiet and empty,and honestly that was a miracle in itself so you werenât complaining.
âugh finally,â you groan, shutting the door behind you and crossing the room to flop onto the bed on the other side.
you know its probably a stupid idea to crash in a random bed in a frat house of all places, but in your current state that wasnât your biggest priority, so you betray your mind and kick of your heels, fully laying back sighing deeply.
you begin to scan the room, its nicely organised and clean for a frat you thought to yourself. various posters decorated the walls; band posters; movie posters and other ones you donât recognise. amidst them all, one stood out to you in particular, it was a poster of one or mac millerâs albums, âthe divine feminineâ which also happened to be your all time favourite.
you hummed appreciatively, whoever this room belonged to has taste.
then just like that, again stupidly on cue, the universe answers your question when choso walks through the door holding a small bag full of snacks and lighting up what you think to be a blunt.
hes wearing grey sweatpants that sit low around his hips, not leaving much to the imagination, and a plain black t-shirt exposing his large biceps. his hair flowing loosely around his face, different compared to the rest of the times youâve seen himâhis hair normally tied up.
you finally realise what the hell is happening, that youâre seriously laying in chosoâs bed in HIS room.
âoh shit, iâm so sorry i literally had no clue this was your room,â you blurt out, quickly sitting up and scrambling to your feet.
choso laughs, the sound almost non existent ânah youâre good, dont worry pretty.â smoke curling in the air around him.
pretty. the pet name sending chills down your spine and heat straight to the space between your thighs. the can of beer youâd just downed not helping your case either.
your mind just completely blanks at that, and you two are just left staring at each other. choso watches you intensely, that sharp suffocating gaze once again burning holes into you. those light espresso shot eyes rake over your body slowly from head to toe. you suddenly feel exposed, like he could see right through you, clearly see all your flaws and imperfections.
you know itâs probably the combination of the beer and the fact you donât actually recall eating anything before you came (terrible idea) ,but you couldnât shake your anxiety.
âiâuh um i-i think im gonna go find shoko, yeah i need to find shoko sorry again, i didnât mean to like totally invade your spaceâ you ramble.
you go to stand up way too quickly, which you realise was a mistake because you suddenly get dizzy from the lack of food and mixture of alcohol and stumble over your feet, tripping over your discarded heels in the process.
choso quickly crosses the room over to you, discarding whatever he had in his hands, and steadying your frame.
ââshit woah, easy there y/n careful.â he slowly lowers you back down onto the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you so that heâs at a similar level to you.
the use of your name in his sentence sent butterflies straight to your stomach. did he seriously remember from that day on campus?
âyou remembered my name?..â you hadnât meant to speak aloud.
choso hummed, a faint sound âcourseâ i remembered.â
âyou okay though?â his voice which was normally coarse and rough, seemed to soften as he spoke to you, worry painting his features.
âmmâi think, yeah thanks. i probably just need food or something..â you say lightly.
âyou havenât eaten?â he questions, already standing up from his spot in front of you and reaching for the small black bag he was previously holding.
choso empties the contents of the bag onto the floor, a variety of snacks falling out and a few beers falling out, you also notice a pack of pre-rolls among them.
âsâ not real food, but itâll help.â he nods towards the pile
âyouâre sure?â you ask
he grins âiâm sure.â
you slide onto the floor opposite him, sitting cross-legged in attempt to get comfy. you notice a pack of your favourite chips and decide to settle for that.
âooh i love these, i havenât had them in so long.â you state, muffled from the chips that were now in your mouth.
you swear you see choso smile, faint but still there and you notice him nod, like heâs saving that information for later.
âhow come youâre not downstairs with everyone else? thought youâd be enjoying the party,â you ask in between bites.
he reaches forward for one of the pre-rolled joints and begins lighting up, humming in consideration before responding.
ânot really my typaâ thing yâknowâ too loud, to many people, i need to show my face though, frat rules, but after that i crash up here.â
you watch the way his lips fit around the pre-roll between his slender fingers, the way the smoke curls around him almost hypnotising.
âmmâyeah i get that.â you reply softly.
âyeah?â
you nod, suddenly aware of the sudden close proximity of you two.
choso notices your silence and speaks, âyou smoke?â he asks, not pushing just curious.
youâve smoked a little here and there, stress creeps up in mysterious ways sometimes and youâd found yourself looking for ways to relieve it.
âi used to, didnât want it to become a habit, but honestly i could use it right now.â you shrug, smoothing out your skirt, feigning nonchalance.
chosoâs now red rimmed eyes watch your movements carefully, studying your body language before replying.
âyeah? you sure? donât feel pressured sweetheart, jusâ wannaâ make you feel comfortable.â
you nod, your face heating up at his words, ââmhm, i promise, thanks.â
âaâight, câmereâ he replies, patting the space next to him, an invitation.
you scooch over next to choso, now you two were even closer than before, thighs touching ever so slightly. you could feel the heat radiating off his body and smell him, a musky and clean scent, it was intoxicating.
he reaches over and begins to light up, you expect him to simply hand it to you and let you do the work, but instead he turns towards you takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and places the cig between your lips.
âyeah thatâs it, now inhale for me,â choso drawls, his voice deep, and hypnotic the sound filling your ears.
you inhale slowly, closing your eyes letting the smoke fill your lungs, focusing on the feeling of the warmth and the feeling of choso watching you intently, carefully.
you notice he does that a lot, just watches.
âthere we go, atta girl, jusâ like that.â he says, removing it from between your lips.
you cough a little as you wait for the feeling to kick in. tipping your head back ever so slightly so itâs now resting against the wall behind you two. you listen to the music in the distance coming from the party, muffled behind the walls of the room you were in.
choso watches you as the high kicks in, the way your breathing shallows and you fumble one of the bracelets on your wrist, the way your muscles slowly relax. he never does this, ever. never lets random girls in his room or offer them free weed, shit who was he kidding he never even offers his friends free weed, so what the hell was different about you. something about you triggered the softness that was deeply rooted in him, the side of him that no one knew about except himself. and now you. he felt like he needed to shield you from harms way, protect you from any idiot who felt the need to hurt you. what the hell had gotten into him he thought, heâs literally known you for a week now. oh heâs so fucked.
his thoughts are then interrupted when you take the pre-roll from his fingers take another hit and ask, âyou like mac miller?â
âhmâoh hell yeah, dude practically got me through high school, it was rough.â he winces
you giggle at that, the sound catching chosoâs attention. âlooks like itâs kicking in huh.â he grins, the sound of your little laugh sending butterflies straight to his stomach.
you two sit there talking to each other about music and other pointless subjects,as you lose track of time, enjoying each otherâs presence passing the joint back and forth, chosoâs fingers grazing yours ever so slightly each time, you begin to wonder if itâs intentional or not. but the moment is soon interrupted when your phone begins to ring somewhere in chosoâs bed.
you jump up from your seat on the ground and spot your phone, you see shokoâs name light up on the screen with about 10 missed calls and multiple texts asking where you are.
âoh fuck..â you mutter to yourself, having completely forgotten you told shoko youâd only be gone a few minutes.
you pick up, âhey shokoâoh my god, no iâm fine seriously, i know, i know iâm so sorry i completely lost track of time. donât worry iâm coming now.â you giggle at something she says before hanging up.
âshoko freaking out?â choso asks, still sat on the floor, looking up at you with his now red rimmed eyes.
you huff, âyeah, kinda told her i was going to the bathroom like two hours ago.â
âuhm how much for the joint? i sort of smoked all of it sorry..â you ask, picking up your purse and searching it for any loose cash.
âits on me sweetheart, donât worry about itâŚjust next time you wannaâ smoke come to meâyeah? thatâll be payment.â choso replies a subtle smirk making itâs way to his face.
you smile âyeah alright, thank you choso.â
âno problem y/n.â he smiles back, properly this time.
dimples.
âokay i should head back, shokoâs literally losing her shit down there..â you say
âcool no worries, want me to walk you?â choso asks, getting up from his spot on the floor and walking over to you.
âno itâs okay donât worry, thanks iâll be fine.â
âalright then, iâll see you soon then, yeah?..â he replies softly.
âyeah. iâll see you soon.â you smile.
you donât know what came over you, probably the joint you just smoked, but you go on your tiptoes, reach up so your arms are around his neck and hug choso. he stiffens at first, probably shocked, then he relaxes and his arms come to rest around your waist.
âbye choso..â you say, close enough that he can feel your breath against the shell of his ear.
you let go and walk out the door, tossing a smile over your shoulder.
as soon as you leave choso flops onto his desk chair, your scent still lingering in his roomâsweet vanilla, and runs his hands down his face.
âholy fuuuck.â he huffs.
when you leave chosoâs room, youâre exposed to the party still raging and even more people than before, although with the help of the weed you smoked, you seem to be a lot more content as you drift down the corridors looking for shoko.
you head down stairs which you think you remember seeing, indicating youâre on the right track. you end up downstairs and head into the living room where you finally spot shoko, suguru, satoru and a red haired man, covered in tattoos, you donât recognise.
you walk over to the group, careful to not bump into anyone in the tightly packed room.
âoh my god y/n, where the hellâve you been? i genuinely thought you dipped,â shoko exclaims, you could tell sheâd been drinking.
âah, so this is y/n..â the redhead drawls, âiâm sukunaâ he turns his attention towards you.
âhi sukunaâ you giggle, definitely feeling the effects of the high.
âhow yaâ doinâ prettyâhow come we ainât met yet?â he smirks, definitely flirting.
âhey, hey earth to y/nâ shoko waves her hand in front of your face. âi was saying where the hell did you go?âwait a second are you fucking high?â
shoko stares intensely at your red glassy eyes, âoh my god, you are high.â
ââwhat? hm, oh no iâm not what are you talking aboutttt, maybe youâre the high one.â you giggle again, definitely high.
âlooks like someoneâs been with chosoooo!â satoru singsongs, even more drunk than before.
âwhere the fuck are your shoes?â suguru comments, making everyone look towards the floor at your feet that in fact did not have the heels you arrived with on.
âwhatâoh shit i mustâve left them in chosoâs room on accident.â you huff.
âyou were in chosoâs room?!â they all exclaim except for satoru who simply states, âtold you so.â
you were about to explain yourself when again, suddenly choso approaches behind you holding the very heels in one hand. itâs like he had some sort of gift for showing up at the most perfectly imperfect moments.
âforgot your shoes cinderella.â
you turn around immediately recognising the deep voice.
you gasp, taking the shoes from choso. âthanks so much oh my goshâ
âpretty sure cinderella only lost one of her shoes.â sukuna says, sipping whatever was in his cup.
âryomen.â choso nods.
âkamo.â sukuna nods back.
you sense unspoken tension between the two, but honestly youâre already exhausted and not in the mood for any arguments so you decide not to bring it up.
ârightâŚwell i think me and y/n are gonnaâ get going, itâs pretty late and sheâs pretty fried.â shoko says, definitely sensing the same thing you were.
âyou ready to go?â she asks
âyeah, guess so.â
you all say your goodbyes, then you and shoko make your way to the front door.
âthanks for tonight choso, i appreciate itâ you say over your shoulder before leaving with shoko.
âsooooo, you gonna tell us what happened up in your room or nahâ satoru teases.
âfuck off bro.â a faint blush making itâs way up chosoâs neck.
you step out into the cool night air with your arm linked in shokoâs, still holding your heels which you hadnât even bothered to put back on.
âkayâ you need to tell me everything, y/nâ shoko squealed.
âwhat i need is some food first, iâm literally starvingggâ you groan.
âokay, okay weâll order in when we get to my place, but then you promise to tell me every little detail.â she squeezes your arm.
âfine, i promise..â you giggle.
when you two make it back to shokoâs dorm apartment, you immediately flop down onto the couch and the food arrives shortly after, you guys decided on chinese takeout. you guys start setting up the food on the low coffee table in the middle of the room.
âokay, now itâs story time, tell me everything.â shoko says, already getting comfy on the floor.
you sigh, âyouâre gonnaâ be disappointed itâs nothing that exciting..â
âso you two didnât fuck?â shoko asks in between bites of fried rice.
you almost choke on your water, âshoko what the hell?â
âwhat?â she grins, as if she just asked about the weather.
âno we didnât have sex shoko, sorry to burst your bubble.â you laugh.
you explain everything that happened to her not leaving out any details.
âso long story short, i accidentally found his room, ate his snacks and then we got high together, no biggie.â you reply, finishing the rest of your food.
shoko looks like you just told her youâve won the lottery. âyou say this like itâs not big news y/n,â
âuh yeah âcause itâs not big news shoko, it doesnât mean anythingâ
she raises her eyebrows âgirl, choso never lets anyone in his room, let alone give them free weed. heâs not much of a talker either, he must really like you, seriously.â
you hum at her words, considering.
âanyways lets get some sleep, youâll regret it in the morning if you donât.â
you and shoko head to her room and instantly jump into her bed, any of you too tired to even take of your makeup or get dressed, itâs big enough for the two of you so you donât mind sharing
she turns off the little night light on the bedside table before whispering âgood night y/n,â
you wake up the next morning, the sun peaking through the blinds, with a sour taste in your mouth and a pounding headache. you look over to see the bed empty where shoko was sleepingâsheâs probably already headed out for the day. you reach over to the bedside table and pick up your phone, saturday: â12:24â âshoot i slept in so late.â you mutter.
then you notice a notification from last night, â@c.kamo requested to follow youâ from instagram. you smile at that, something about the fact that you know he searched for your account made your heart flutter.
you accept the request, jump out of bed and head to the kitchen where you spot a note from shoko, a glass of water and tylenol on the counter. ârunning some errands, be back soon, knew youâd have a terrible headache â-shoko xxâ.
after you get out the shower and finish getting yourself ready for the day, feeling a lot better, you tug on one of shokoâs tank tops and pyjama shorts, since you hadnât packed a sleep bag or anything. youâre in the middle of making yourself toast when your phone lights up, another message from instagram.
[c.kamo]: yo sweetheart, u busy today? got something i wanna show u.
your stomach flipped, and you bit the inside of your cheek as typed a response.
[y/nsdiary]: r u genuinely curious or just tryna find a way to speak to me đ
[c.kamo]: typingâŚ
[c.kamo]: and wht if i said both?
you couldnât help but smile.
[y/nsdiary]: then iâd ask where and what time
[c.kamo]: oh yeah?
[y/nsdiary]: mhmm
[c.kamo]: surprise. and iâll pick u up @ 3pm that cool?
[y/nsdiary]: cool. iâll be waitingggg
[c.kamo]: alr, c u soon
now you were completely cheesing at your phone like an idiot, you suddenly felt like the happiest girl in the world.
you quickly finish your toast and write a quick little note for shoko, explaining
that you headed back to your dorm.
you wash the dishes, gather your stuff and head out shokoâs place back to your dorm.
when you get back to your place, itâs around 2:15 pm since you decided to walk and did some grocery shopping first, so now you had about 45 minutes since choso would be here.
you still donât know where the hell heâs taking you or what you got yourself into, but itâs choso, and honestly you donât know why but you feel a sense of safety whenever youâre near him.
you donât need to do much since you already fixed your hair, did your makeup and showered at shokoâs. you just need to pick out an outfit, so you head to your closet in your room and look through the selection of clothes.
you settle for a jean skirt and brown sweater to match your uggs.
thirty minutes later you receive another message from choso,
[c.kamo]: iâm outside.
[y/nsdiary]: okok coming
you quickly spray your favourite perfume, grab your purse and rush out the door.
you make your way outside your dorm apartments and you can immediately tell which car is chosoâs. itâs the subaru wrx thatâs completely blacked out.
you walk over to the car and get in the passenger side.
âhey pretty, you good?â choso asks, turning the stereo down which was now faintly playing one of âjojiâsâ songs.
âhi choso, iâm good thanks, thank you for picking me up.â you smile.
âof course sweetheart.âchoso says, the casual use of the pet names literally making your stomach do that stupid thing again.
he pulls out of the parking lot and starts driving. you watch the way his biceps flex as his hands grip the steering wheel, and the way his rings gleam when they catch the light.
âanyone ever tell you that you stare a lot?â choso smirks, glancing at you for a second before turning his attention back to the road.
ââhm? oh yeah sorry, itâs a bad habit i know..â you reply, a little embarrassed youâd been caught.
ânah donât be, i think itâs cute.â he says, a little more quietly now, still facing the road.
cute. you smile to yourself, gosh was choso making it hard to not fold right there and then.
choso pulls up somewhere downtown, by now the sun has practically set, leaving the sky painted in gold. he gets out and walks around the car over to your side, opens the car door and helps you get out.
âyou ready for the surprise?â
âyes! letâs go alreadyyyyâ you exclaim, excitement taking over.
choso leads you two down the road and you two stop outside little dimly lit store named âwestsider books and recordsâ. your face instantly lights up as you two enter. itâs like every single downtown record store youâve imagined whilst reading your little romance novels, tall shelves stacked to the top with different records, albums, tapes and even movies. then you turn to your left and see the classic literature section, and you just canât contain your excitement anymore.
âoh my god choso, this is amazing what the hell, how come iâve never seen this place before?â you squeal as your fingers glide over the thousands of different books littered across the shelves.
âyou like it? choso asks, a laugh escaping as he watches you pluck multiple copies of emily brontĂŤ, jane austen and charles dickensâ books of the shelves.
âoh i love it choso, seriously. howâd you even know iâd like this kinda thing?â you question.
ââah i donât know, took a wild guess.â he shrugs, knowing he was lying out his ass.
in reality, choso spent the whole rest of the night after you left the party, looking through your instagram likes and reposts, searching for anything heâd thought bring a smile to your face, just so he could see you the way you are now. eyes lit up with joy and rambling on about books heâd never even heard off. and honestly heâd burn the whole world for you if it meant he could hear you laugh and see you smile like this every day.
youâd already run off to the music section, squealing about seeing a fleetwood mac record somewhere.
âchoso look come over here, mac miller!â you spotted the same album
as the poster choso had on the wall in his room.
he walks over to you âoh yeahâwell spotted.â he grins, âyou thinkinâ about getting it?â
âmmâi donât know i really want this copy of wuthering heights,but i dont think i have enough for both right now. plus iâve been meaning to read it forever, i think iâll get the book instead.â you contemplate, looking between the record and the book.
âwe can always come back, right?â you ask, looking up at choso expectantly.
and oh the look in your eyes absolutely breaks his heart.
âyeah of course, sweetheart. whatever you want.â he replies, expression softening.
a moment of comfortable silence passes before you speak again, âokay iâm gonna go to the bathroom really quick, pretty sure i saw one when we came in. if i give you cash could you pay for me?â
âsure no worries.â he says.
âthanks, ill be right back,â you give him the money and rest of the things then go look for the bathroom.
choso waits to make sure youâre gone then pockets the cash you gave him and pulls out his own card. he couldnât let you leave without both the things you wanted.
he walks up up to the cashier âheyâ he hands the book over.
âhi there, anything else for you today?â the clerk asks, a young man, maybe in his early twenties.
âuhm yeah actually, could i get that record over there please?â choso points to the mac miller record you picked up earlier.
âyeah sure, would you like a bag with that too?â the clerk asks punching numbers into the card machine.
âyeah, thatâll be great thanks.â choso replies tapping his card and taking the bag back once the clerk is done.
âhave a nice rest of your nightâ the man says.
âyou tooâ choso returns.
you step out the bathroom soon after, and you two head back to the car.
once youâre back in, choso hands you the bag and reaches in his pocket fishing out the cash you gave him earlier, handing both the items back to you.
you look up at him confusion plastered all over your face, âchoso why do you still have the money how, whatââ
âi got it covered donât worry, and look in the bag.â he states cooly.
âwhat do you mean you âgot it coveredâ what are you talking abouââ
your voice catches in your throat as you look into the bag and pull out the same album you were looking at in the store.
âchoso what the fuck!â you exclaim, shock taking over.
choso simply smiles. that charming, gentle smile as he watches your reaction.
âwhy did you- how i-i donât get it..â your voice cracked as a singular tear fell, then another, then another.
not because you were sad or angry, or because he hurt your feelings, but simply because you couldnât believe that anyone genuinely cared about you enough to carry out such a kind gesture. your whole life, it was you doing these kind of things for people; people who wouldnât even think about doing the same for you and the worst thing is you wouldnât even think twice about doing it again, because you cared too much, couldnât stop caring. you knew it was stupid really, you did, but it was just part of who you are, but choso didnât know that yet which is why his expression completely dropped, worry etching itself onto his face.
ây/n? y/n, sweetheart whatâs wrong?â he said gently as possible, taking your face in his hands, closing the space between you two.
all you could do was sniffle and look up at him with so much admiration you thought your heart would burst.
âwhyâd you do this for me choso?â you whisper.
âbecause i care about you, a lot. and i thought it would make you happy, but if it didnât iâll take it back right now i promise, im sorrââ
âno, no choso it did make me happy, really happy, thatâs the thing. iâm not used to people doing nice things for me.â you interrupt, choso still holding your face in his hands like its the most precious thing ever, now absentmindedly rubbing soothing patterns into your cheeks.
his heart fucking shattered into a tiny million pieces at that.
âoh sweetheart, iâll give you everything nice thing you could ever want.â choso replies, so quiet that you wouldnât have been able to catch it if you werenât so close.
the two of you stay like that for a while, in a comfortable silence, your face in his hands, before you hit the road again.
when you reach your dorm apartment, choso walks you all up the stairs to your door and hands you your bag of goodies. you also give him your contact number so that you two donât have to keep texting on instagram.
âthank you choso, seriously you donât know how much it meant to me.â you say, fumbling with your bracelets.
âanytime y/n, iâd love to do it againâif you want of course and we donât have to go to the same placeâthereâs plenty of places..â chosoâs rambling now, something youâd never seen him do before.
you interrupt him with a light peck on the cheek, nothing intense but still enough to linger.
âiâd like that cho.â you giggle, testing out the nickname.
you can practically see the blush in chosoâs face when he says âgood night y/n.â
you and choso kept up this little routine, heâd pick you up from your place, take you somewhere nice, maybe smoke a little, then take you back home and walk you all the way up to your door. it wasnât official, wasnât complicated it was safe, easy.
everyone knew about it by now aswell, this little thing you two had going on.
yeah choso got pestered by the rest of the frat about it all the time, and yes shoko literally never shuts up about it, but you donât mind. thereâs just that feeling deep down, that worry settled deep in your stomach that if you were to ever become more, and something goes wrong, heâd be the one to get hurt. you could take it, you have taken it your whole life, but you donât want choso to go through that. ever.
you and shoko were getting ready for another party at the frat at your place this time, you never really were the most enthusiastic about then in all honesty, you didnât hate them, but youâd much rather be in bed reading a good book. the only reason you kept going was because choso said heâd start showing his face more, instead of being cramped up in his room, if you you promised to keep coming. so you two kept that little promise and youâd always end up on the couch next to him, curled into his side while he takes hits of the blunt, absentmindedly tracing little patterns into your arm, you two in your own little world, the chaotic energy of the party calmed by tranquil, safe aura.
âoh by the way, remember those girls from the other day?â shoko asks, finishing up her makeup.
ââhm, oh yeah, ugh those ones who wouldnât stop bothering me about the keychains on my backpack rightâ you scoff, the memory of you standing in the cafĂŠ line and some girls with âi peaked in high schoolâ type of energy asked you about the anime keychains on your backpack in such an infantilising manner, you thought youâd die right there and then, before shoko swooped in and saved you from embarrassment.
they were the type of girls who flirt with anyone and everyone who has power, the type who think theyâre better than everyone else because theyâre pretty. the kind of girls you steer away from.
âyeah those ones, you well please donât hate me, but they may or may not have practically cajoled me into getting them invitesâŚâ she winces, looking at you with a guilty expression on her face.
you toss her a look, âshoko.â
âi know, i know and im seriously sorry, but in my defence they literally wouldnât leave me alone, just kept telling me to âput in a good wordâ for them, their tiny little high pitched voices were driving me crazy so i caved.â
âsâ fine shokoâŚtheir voices are really annoying.â you giggle, not too bothered, you knew shoko had no bad intentions.
ââphew, thought you were gonna go batshit crazy on me, but hey you probably wonât even notice them since youâll be to busy snuggling up to choso,â she teases poking you in your side in the process.
âshut uppp, câmon lets goâ you pretend to be annoyed, though shoko doesnât miss the smile on your face.
you two get to the party and itâs packed as ever, the air already smells like weed, and throwback tunes are blasting from a bluetooth speaker, you guys walk over to the satoru, suguru and sukuna like you always do, routine by now.
âlook who decided to show up!â satoru yells over the music, holding a beer in his hand.
âwe always show idiot.â shoko replies, rolling her eyes.
you laugh, soon distracted as your eyes scan the room looking for a specific someone.
âlookinâ for kamo?â suguru asks, tossing you a knowing look.
âuh yeah, you know where he could be?â you ask, eyes still searching the room.
ânah, didnât say where he went.â
âthink he went to the store, said somethinâ about pickinâ up a few snacks.â sukuna butts in.
âoh, kayâ no worries, iâll wait for him on the couch then.â you reply, already sauntering off to your designated spot.
âsee yâall in a bit!â you shout over your shoulder.
âjust friends my ass.â shoko smiles, shaking her head.
you grab yourself a drink before heading over to the couch and sitting down. choso probably wouldnât take long, so youâd just chill here for now until he got back.
about ten minutes later, your peace is soon disturbed when two agitating little voices flood your ears.
âoh my godddd! y/n youâre actually here!â the voice squeal as they both sit down next to you.
fucking amazing.
on the other side of the party, choso arrives through the front door, silver chain dangling across his neck, wearing black baggy washed out jeans and a black hoodie. in his right hand he holds a small plastic bad, the contents containing all of your favourite snacks and extra of those chips you mentioned once. he wanted to stop at the store first before you came since he knows how hungry you get at parties. he spots his friends and heads over.
âyoâ
âay look who it is,â satoru says.
âyour girlâs been lookinâ for ya.â sukuna states cooly.
your girl. choso didnât even flinch at the words, in fact it felt natural to him, right.
ây/n?, where she at?â he asks.
âsaid she was headed over to the couch.â suguru replies, nodding in the direction of where youâre sitted.
âaigt cool, thanks. in a bit.â choso says, already heading in your direction barely even looking back.
sukuna scoffs, âlovesick puppies broâ
âtell me about it, dude practically has heart eyes.â suguru replies.
âhow long âtill you think they fuck?â satoru interjects, completely ruining the moment.
they both toss him a look.
âwhat? im just asking all the right questions??â he shoots back, holding up his hands in mock surrender.
youâre still sitting on the couch, smooshed in between the two girls who were now talking about something you seriously werenât listening or interested, you had completely tuned out waiting for choso to come so they finally had an excuse to leave. one of the girls dropped her lipgloss behind the couch and reached to get it, spotting choso approaching holding the back of snacks, and a lightbulb goes off in her head.
âsoâŚyou and choso, thatâs like real? she asks curiosity dripping from her tone.
that catches you off guard and you shrug, cautious.
âwhat?..yeah.â
the girl tilts her head, âhmm..really? i mean you just donât really seem like his type..â
ouch. that stung but you donât give them the pleasure of a reaction, youâd have dealt with a ton of girls like this and you learnt its better to just ignore.
the other evil twin spots choso in the corner of her eye and finally catches on.
thatâs when they time it perfectly. the other girl slightly raises her voice just enough so choso can hear it perfectly clear.
âso what is he to you? be honest.â
you hesitate. not because you donât know, not because youâre ashamed, but because you havenât really thought about that yet. you and choso had your own bond, it wasnât loud or flashy and it had no labels, but it was special, they wouldnât get it; wouldnât get how it feels when youâre with him. so you start to say,
âi-uh itâs um complicatedâ-
they cut you off before you finish speaking and repeat your words louder, âcomplicated.â the girl pouts.
âthatâs what we figured.â the other one cuts in.
they get up to leave, âhave a great rest of your night y/n.â one of the girls says in that mocking tone you hate.
chosoâs frozen the scene he just watched unfold replaying in his mind. the words you spoke haunting him, looping like an alarm. complicated. complicated. complicated. he doesnât even know why he feels so hurt, you were right werenât you? you two had never talked about becoming anything more than you were. friends. he had no one to blame but himself. but deep down maybe he just hoped that you would claim his as yours.
so instead of going up to you right there and then, telling you the truth that he doesnât want it to be complicated, he does what heâs best at. he leaves, goes cold, shuts you out and heads to his room.
you donât know what the hell just happened, but you just ignore it. the girls were obviously trying to get under your skin and you werenât going to let them ruin your night. you realise that choso still hasnât shown up, which you find odd, so you go look for the rest of the group.
âhey guys, choso still hasnât shown up..â
they all turn to you, ânah he came a while ago, we told him where you were. heâs definitely here.â suguru replies, confused.
âyeah, maybe try call him or something.â shoko adds, worry on her face.
âalright, okay.â you mumble and begin to walk away.
the air is suddenly too hot, your clothes to tight, and the music vibrating against your skull only worsens the headache starting to pound in your head. you weave through the tightly packed, sweaty bodies and pull out your phone to call choso.
straight to voicemail.
where the hell is he?
you then head to the one place you think he might be. as you climb the stairs and start walking down that familiar corridor, you see choso about to enter his room.
âcho!â you call out, as you speed up a little to reach him.
âwhere the hellâve you been, i was waiting for you..â you say, looking up at him a smile of relief crossing your face.
but his expression isnât the soft, gentle one he normally reserves for you. instead itâs cold and straight faced, he doesnât even meet your eyes.
âwasnât feelinâ it.â is all he responds.
âoh..thatâs okay, we can chill in your room if you want instead.â you reply, still smiling.
ânah itâs cool, iâll be fine on my own.â he coldly states, grabbing the doorknob and opening his door.
you quickly grab his arm before he steps in any further, âcho are you okay?..youâre being weird.â you say, concerned now.
then his next sentence is the final blow, âgod y/n, youâre being annoying, weâre not dating so give me some space alright?â
your heart sinks, you feel as if someoneâs just stabbed you right through the chest. you feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but donât want choso to see you cry so you let out a small âsorry.â before turning to walk away.
you immediately run down the stairs, tears threatening to spill. you donât want anyone to see you like this, not even shoko, so you quickly zip past the group in the living room to the kitchen where you spot the two girls, watching you, looking so proud of themselves. you donât even spare them a glance and run straight out the back door. into the chill night air.
you walk and walk and walk as far away from the house as you can get until you reach a bench on the sidewalk and finally allow yourself to break down. the tears flow like a river, but you canât help it you feel sick to your stomach because of chosoâs words. you donât know why he would say any of that, why he was so mad at you, but all your brain can tell you is âyou did something wrong.â âyou messed it upâ . and the thing that pissed you off the most, is the fact that you werenât mad at him at all. for some reason you couldnât muster up any hatred towards him. all you could do was sit, sob and feel sorry for yourself.
choso was fucking distraught. the look on your face as you apologised for nothing and walked away was something heâd never wish to see again. it broke his heart. and he was the one who had done it, he swore that he would be the one to put a smile on your face any chance he can, but now he was the one breaking your heart. he didnât deserve you, he knew that he didnât deserve nice things and thatâs why he pushed you away. in his mind this was his way of protecting you, making you hate him.
you walk home in sorrow, the sharpness of the night cold the only thing youâre able to feel. youâre empty, hollow like your soul had been sucked out of you and you were just a shell of a human floating around. you ignore the repeated buzz of your phone in your purseâit was probably shoko asking where you went. you loved her, but didnât feel like explaining the previous events to her right now, all you wanted to do was sleep.
you get home, kick of your boots at the door and run straight to the comfort of your bed, nose stuffy, head pounding and mascara all over your face you hide under the covers, and try to sleep. attempting to ignore the ache in your heart when you think of the boy with beautiful brown eyes.
the next few weeks are a blur, the day after your terrible night, when you donât show up to any of your lectures, shoko practically bursts your door downâmeaning she knocked so loud you woke up thinking your dorm was getting renovated.
shokoâs heart broke for you when you told her what happened. she said things like âyouâre way too good for him y/nâ âheâs an idiot for letting a girl like you goâ which you appreciated, you really did but you didnât want any of those things to be true. you didnât want to be too good for choso. you just wanted him.
and this is how it is for about three weeks, you wake up in the morning, the feeling of emptiness and exhaustion already taking over before you even get up. you text shoko âhey think im gonna stay in again, sorryâ and lay in bed scrolling for the rest of the day. you felt broken.
choso isnât any better. back at the frat, everyone notices it. the way choso rarely comes out of his room anymore, maybe to eat or something, but other than that itâs like he doesnât exist.
choso comes downstairs in the evening to make himself something to eat, sukunaâs also in the kitchen pouring some cereal.
âkamo.â he says.
choso glances up âhm.â
âthe fuck is goinâ on man, seriously.â he asks, abandoning his cereal and now fully turning to face choso.
âdunnoâ what youâre talking about.â choso replies, avoiding eye contact.
âbullshit. you know damn well. now i donât know what the hell happened between you ând y/n, but i do know you need to fuckinâ fix it.â sukuna spits, tone dead serious.
âyeah i just said that kamo, but i do know y/n cares about you. everyone knows it alright, we all see the way you two look at each other, the way you two gravitate towards each other. anyone who doesnât see it is an idiot, but if youâre jusâ gonna let go what you two have over some miscommunication then youâre the biggest fuckinâ idiot.â sukuna finishes, then takes his cereal bowl and simply walks off.
choso just stands there for a minute, gripping the edge of the counter. what the fuck was he doing? itâs like heâd been trapped in some sort of trance for the past few weeks and he just snapped out of it.
y/n. he thought. he needs to speak to y/n.
choso left whatever he was doing in the kitchen, grabbed his keys and ran out the door.
he arrives at your dorm apartments in no time, thoughts of you fuelling his speed, and rushes up the stairs through the corridor to your door. after a few seconds of contemplation he lifts his hand to knock.
you open your door fully expecting shoko, âone second shokââ your voice dies down in your throat at the sight of choso in front of you.
ây/n.â he breathes, like seeing your face was the best reward.
âchoso..â you say softly, immediately going to fumble with your bracelets on your wrist, a nervous habit.
choso canât think, he canât speak, he canât breathe, seeing you in front of him so vulnerable, so sad, so anxious. he could feel it in his heart. and oh how it broke.
youâre still looking down, avoiding eye contact when you hear it, so faint so quiet you think youâre imagining it.
a sniffle.
you instantly look up and meet chosoâs eyes, now glassy and filled with tears, staring right back at you.
your heart slices straight in two.
âoh cho, oh my god..are you cryingâ your body reacts before you do, leaning up on your tiptoes taking his face between your hands and leading him inside.
itâs like you can finally breathe again when he wraps his arms your waist and buries his face in your neck, like if he were to let go youâd vanish right there on the spot.
âmâsorry baby, so fuckinâ sorry, shouldâve never said any of those things, shouldâve never left you.â he murmurs into your neck, apologising over and over again.
âitâs okay cho,â you whisper.
âno, y/n sânot okay, nothinâ about how i acted was okay. after i heard you say we were complicated at the party, i was so hurt i completely shut you out, ând it wasnât okay.â he pleads, still sniffling into your neck, holding onto you like you were his life support.
you donât fully register his words until a few seconds later and pull back ever so slightly so that you can see his face fully, ââwaitâŚyou heard what i said that day?â you ask, your mind now putting the pieces together.
âthey wanted you to hear..â you whisper to yourself. âi didnât get to finish what i was gonna say, cho.â you say softly, wiping your thumb across the space under those golden brown eyes, getting rid of the tears.
he studies your face now, every little detail.
â i was going to say, itâs complicated because iâve never met someone who makes me feel like i really matter as much as you do cho, and im scared of messing that up.â you finally say, and itâs like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.
a moment of silence, and then :
âi love you, y/n.â
you freeze.
your breath catches and your whole body forgets what moving is.
âi-i what, huhâŚ?â you stutter as you watch chosoâs expression. his eyes blown wide, eyebrows slightly knitted together like heâs preparing for rejection.
âsay it again.â you say, needing to make sure you were hearing correctly.
he smiles.
âi love you y/n, knew i did ever since that day in the lecture hall.â
âyou mean it?â your ask, your voice so small.
âcourse i mean it, fuckinâ head over heels for you baby.â he replies.
and then his lips are on yours, kissing you slow, testing. the kiss filled with so many moments of longing and yearning, built up to this very moment. itâs soft at first, your hands make your way into chosoâs hair, his making their way to the hem of your pyjama shorts.
you tug a little and choso groans into your mouth, the sound sending vibrations through your body.
âshit, never leavinâ you ever again baby.â
you nip at his lower lip and before you know it, without you realising he carries you into your bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot and lowering your back onto the mattress.
he presses open mouthed kisses onto your neck, his hand trailing to the hem of your shorts. you whine at the touch. his fingertips keep grazing that spot so close to where you need it most, making your back arch.
âchoâŚâ you breathe, while he continues placing kisses on the sensitive spot on your neck. âchoso..â
âyeah? iâm right here sweetheart.â his fingers keep toying the waistband of your sleep shorts. âjusâ gotta tell me what you want.â
âpleaseâ you whine, squirming under his touch.
âplease what, baby?â he teases, whispering against the shell of your ear. âuse your words fâme.â
âplease cho, need you to touch me, want you so bad..â you sat, and his composure evaporates.
choso tugs your shorts and panties down, then all you hear is a sharp intake of breath.
âholy shit youâre fucking beautiful, so wet for me already. he murmurs, mesmerised as he drags a finger along your heat, collecting your slick before slipping a finger inside of you.
you moan, your brain fogged with the thought of choso, âmoreâ
you feel another finger slip inside your already soaking cunt, curling and pushing deeper against that perfect spot.
âângh, chosoâ you gasp, your thighs clench, as he starts curling and thrusting his fingers into you even faster.
âyeahhh, right there huh? you gonna cum on my fingers for me baby?â
his words pushing you over the edge, tears springing in the corner of your eyes as the coil in your belly snaps and you reach your climax, your sticky release coating chosoâs hand.
you fall limp on the bed, still breathing heavy trying to catch your breath, when chosoâs immediately on you again, âfuck youâre so perfect, so pretty fâme, canât believe youâre real.â he rambles, hands trailing under and up your shirt, kneading your breasts in his hands, still leaving kisses along your neck.
âoff, please.âhe begs, tugging on the fabric of your shirt. âwanna see you.â
you lift your tank top over your head and discard it somewhere on the floor.
choso does the same, then moves on to his bottom half, tugging his sweats and boxers down revealing his thick, hard throbbing cock. your eyes almost pop out of your head as you watch it slap against his stomach, tip already flushed and leaking, the vein on the underside pulsing.
âjusâ relax for me baby, okay?â he reassures you, kissing your forehead as he traces a path down to the apex of your thighs.
âfuuuckâ he breathes in as he pushes in deeper. âpussyâs so tight.â
he captures your lips again in a desperate kiss as he settles in. pure desire and need mixed into one.
choso fucks you slow and deep, hitting your cervix with every thrust of his hips. âcanât believe i almost lost you.â he groans, dragging you against him.
your lost in pleasure, the smell of choso, his body on yours, the sound of his voice, itâs intoxicating. and you wouldnât rather be anywhere else.
his pace gets quicker as you both reach your climax, your hands tangle in the bedsheets as you look for something to ground yourself with. you let out a string of moans as you and choso both come undone together. choso collapses down next to you, both of you panting trying to catch your breath.
âyou okay?â he asks, hand coming up to your face, thumb rubbing back and forth along your cheek.
âi love you too, choâ you reply, instinctively running a hand through his hair.
and as you two lay there in your bed, snuggled up under the covers, you stare into those honey brown eyes you love so much that are full of so much love, you know youâve found your person, the one youâve been looking for your whole life, someone who cares about you way more than you could imagine, and you are so grateful itâs choso.
you and choso pull up to the next frat party together hand in hand, head straight to you guyâs designated couch like normal, except this time you press a kiss to his lips and tuck your head into his chest. him tracing little patterns into your thigh.
âyo guys, take fuckinâ lookâwe miss a chapter or something?â satoru asks, his eyes practically popping out of his head staring at the two of you.
ânah, youâre just slow as shitâ suguru snorts.
âabout damn time.â shoko adds as you wave over at her, her smile contagious.
âyeah. saw it coming from a mile away.â sukuna agrees.
he wouldnât admit it, but deep down he was happy for choso.
synopsis: your final exam starts in an hour. you and sukuna have a lot to talk about after last night. ~ 3k wc
18+ frat!kuna x fem reader, smut, shower sex, morning sex, doggystyle, fluff, established relationship, a smidge of hurt/comfort. art by su2kuna on twt !
Series Masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 + jjk masterlist
you wish you could say you wake to soft rays of sunlight filtering through sukunaâs shades. that the idle chirp of the birds outside is the first thing your brain registers, and not the loud, grating noise of an alarm ripping you from your much needed sleep.
you slowly blink your eyes open, head pounding with uncertainty.
sukuna shifts in bed next to you, tattooed arm still wrapped snug around the dip of your waist. there's something so undeniably domestic about the way he lays next to you. unguarded, like you've been doing this for years.
sukuna takes a moment to look at you, and long, thick fingers cling tighter to you, digging into your skin like he's afraid you're not real.
âwoah, mornin.â he grumbles, voice gravelly with sleep. he fishes his phone out from under the pillows to silence the alarm, nuzzling into your hair like an oversized housecat.
you hum, letting him rub circles into your bare back. the house is silent save for the hum of the AC jammed into his window. summer would be in full swing in just a couple weeks.
you wonder how he'll look in his graduation robes. if he'll swap the cap and tassle for the hat he loves so much. if he'll watch you walk across stage and cheer.
the thought of it flips a switch in you. somehow, every detail of last night finally registers. how he held you, touched you, fucked you. every millisecond of your time together seems to flash in front of your eyes at once, stunning you like a deer in headlights.
sukuna taking your virginity was the least confusing thing about all of this. what you can't seem to fully grapple with is the side you saw of him last night. the gentle, needy boy laying in bed next to you and the boisterous ladies man you thought you knew from class didnât even seem like the same person.
shoko wasnât going to believe a single word of this.
âthought we could shower before the final.â he mumbles sleepily, red eyes heavy with adoration. âyou sleep okay?â
alarm aside, you slept more than okay. your body aches in the best way, sore in places youâd never even considered before heâd all but folded you in half last night. you clench your thighs together as your brain catches up to what heâs just asked you, face falling flat when sukunaâs words register.
ââŚfinal?â you ask.
he cocks a brow at you, tracing a path up your cheek with his thumb. sukuna fishes his phone back out to pull up his email, dangling the message in front of your face like a pendulum.
your seminar final has been rescheduled two days ago, leaving you with about 50 minutes to get up, get dressed, and get your ass down to the lecture hall.
you feel sick. sukuna must notice the way your face pales because two strong hands rub over your arms gently like itâll keep you from imploding.
âyou didnât see the email?â he asks, sounding perplexed.
"clearly not." you hiss, scrambling onto the floor to sift for your clothes and belongings. who's reschedules a test on a friday? you suppose you can't be too surprised, all things considered. the last 24 hours were more than enough to change your outlook on what was possible at this school.
"fuck, where did your phone go?
"can you call me?" you ask hurriedly "i think my phone died."
sukuna huffs, trying to fight a smile.
"i don't have your number, baby." he chuckles, feet planting themselves on the floor with a dull thump. he joins you on the ground with a huff to help you sort through the pile of your shared clothing.
âfucked your stupid last night, huh?â
he grins lazily, fangs contrasting against the flush of his kiss-bitten lips. you can still see the faint outline of a love bit on his shoulder, tiny little indents in the shape of your teeth pairing perfectly with he thick black lines inked all over his bod.
"guess we skipped that step." you laugh shyly.
the looks he's giving you right now says it all. sukuna's entire universe might as well revolve around you.
you'd discuss the specifics of whatever this was later. you spot phone in its hiding place under his bed. sukunaâs already reaching for the device by the time you unlock it, saving his info and then making a beeline for the ensuite bathroom.
âyou coming?â he offers.
â
you both get zero preparation done. unsurprisingly.
between the warm spray of the shower and the feeling of sukunaâs hands rubbing soap dangerously close to your ass, recalling even a second of material from the last 3 months doesnât exactly come easy.
sukunaâs soap smells like pine and citrus. that woodsy scent that sticks to his blankets at night and fills your head with unmentionable ideas. you feel ridiculous right now, eyes rimmed black with the watery remnants of last nights makeup.
the view isn't half bad though.
sukuna almost looks taller like this. bigger in all the right places, with soap running down the lines of taut muscle that lead toward his hips. you watch him work the soap out of his hair from the corner of your eye in a way that nearly feels voyeuristic.
it still hasn't hit that you can just... touch him. he'd probably love it too judging by the look he shoots you.
âcan you quiz me?â you need to distract the both of you before you venture into something you can't come back from. you turn away from him, furiously scrubbing your face and neck under the stream.
âyou think i know enough to quiz you?â he jokes. turning away from him might not have been the smartest idea, because his hands are right back to playing the swell of your bottom.
sukuna was a dream incarnate. undeniably hot, surprisingly sweet when he wants to be, but youâd be lying if you said he wasnât the biggest distraction to both of you right now. you wouldnât graduate if you didnât pass this exam.
his palm cracks hot right against the side of your ass. the way the skin jiggles there must do something for him, because heâs already leaning down to mouth at the nape of your neck, groaning low and heavy in his chest.
âyou drive me crazy, you know that?â
âgod, this isnât funny.â you seethe. sukuna hums, still dealing out soft, fleeting little kisses that make your stomach go fuzzy. âweâre gonna fail this class.â
âwho didnât check their email this weekend? huh?â he purrs. you his cock twitch heavy against your thigh. âlet me help you relax.â he whispers.
you ponder his offer for a brief moment, letting him feel you up through palmfuls of soapy bubbles. his pink locks hang heavy across his forehead.
you feel your resolve crumble. sukuna smiles into the curve of your shoulder like heâs won a game only heâs in on.
âten minutes. and then weâre leaving.â you warn.
the stretch is a little easier than it was last night, filling you up in the most delicious way.
sukuna lets you adjust, still mouthing at the skin of your shoulders. large, tattooed fingers lie gently across your mound, middle and pointer toying with your soapy clit.
he thrusts once, twice. experimenting with the pace while you stand with your palms against the tile.
"fuck, high fit." he hisses. "made for me. all of me."
you're already halfway there from his voice alone, body vibrating with the force of every thrust. his dick is hitting spots in you that you weren't even aware existed. you don't know how you ever survived without the feeling of him buried inside of you.
âcanât have my girl stressed for this exam, can I?â he purrs.
âyour girl?â you breathe.
âfuck yeah.â sukuna spits, slapping the meat of your ass with a shaky groan. âall mine.â
"no one else's?" you want to hear him say it again. for him to claim you in more ways than one right here in his bathroom.
"im close." you warn, knees wobbling with exertion. sukuna only growls, hiking your leg up with a steady hand and an arm thrown over your chest for stability. you let him fuck you through your orgasm, gasping when he pulls out after and blows his load on your lower back.
"shit, don't move." he tells you, keeping you from turning to face him. you feel like a doe on stilts, legs wobbling uncertainly.
"we have like thirty minutes." you whine.
"I know, I know. I just.. wanna watch it." sukuna admits. "wanna watch it drip down." he runs his fingers through the mess, swearing appreciatively as the shower stream washes it away.
"perv." deep down, something in you hopes he presses you against the tile and fucks you a second time.
"I know." he laughs, patting your sore ass gently. "c'mon let's get cleaned up."
â
the walk downstairs is all nerves, and zero coordination.
sukuna had toweled the both of you off in record time, helping you into a pair of his mismatched clothes and a pair of slides to avoid the embarrassment of showing up in your soiled party attire you'd left on his bedroom floor.
the pair of you make the trek down the hall, past the other bedrooms with your breaths held. you can hear faint snoring behind a few of them if you really try.
the stairs prove to be the biggest obstacle, groaning with every step you take. the house feels unnaturally silent compared to the state it was in only hours ago.
sukuna pads his way into the kitchen, pulling you in tow. you flinch when a figure comes into view, standing just as tall as sukuna with inky black hair.
"could've been a little quieter y'know." he huffs, pouring himself a mug of coffee at the counter. you'd go as far as saying he nearly looks proud of sukuna.
neither of you speak, standing idle in the middle of the kitchen like a pair of idiots. sukuna's neck is flushed pink.
"this one won't shut the fuck up about you." he gestures vaguely at sukuna.
"really?" you laugh.
"took him like four shots before he was ready to come up to you last night."
"ok. alright." sukuna cuts in, making a beeline for the fridge to try and find you something to eat. "thank you, toji."
the stranger laughs, toasting his mug at the pair of you like he's giving you your blessing.
"wait." you giggle. I saw you licking fireball off the ground last night."
"dunno, might've been me." he mutters into his coffee. this time it's toji's turn to be embarrassed.
"he doesn't even go here anymore, y'know." sukuna adds in, adding fuel to the fire.
you look back at his roommate with a laugh held behind your hand, brow raised as if to ask for an explanation.
"had a kid junior year." toji shakes his head fondly, like he's recalling something beautiful. "took a leave of absence, but, y'know. I've still got my room upstairs."
"we've got pledges that would kill for that bed." sukuna mumbles, shutting the fridge with a hearty sigh. "no food here, let's just eat after."
you nod, waving a quick goodbye to toji before you're out the door, speed walking to the other side of campus with a purpose.
"do you really talk about me that much?" you blush.
"megumi's turning two soon." sukuna tells you, embarrassment written across his face. "he'd like you a lot."
you assume he means toji's kid. still, you pry.
"four shots just to come up to me. interesting."
"you make me nervous." sukuna huffs, quickening his pace a bit. "y'know. you're pretty. you.. smell nice. like all the time." he trails off quietly.
you don't even realize your hands are intertwined until you feel his fingers tighten around yours.
"you make me nervous too." you admit, squeezing back.
âgod, i tried to distract myself yâknow.â he starts, scratching behind his neck. the way he emphasizes the word distract has you raising a brow gently. you try not to recall all the times youâd seen him in line at the dining hall, girls dripping off of him like flies to honey.
sukunaâs face stills as soon as the admission leaves his mouth. he closes his jaw with an audible clack.
âsorry, bad coping mechanism.â he admits sheepishly. âin my defense, i thought you didnât like me.â he throws his arms out wide with a pleading look.
you try and will down your jealousy, exhaling a breath
âno, youâre right. we werenât even together then.â you reason.
this time itâs you who stills. fuck.
together. like, together together.
sukunaâs eyes widen at the slip.
âyeah? like me and you?â he asks.
you recognize the look in his eyes. itâs the same one heâs given you last night. so full of adoration. like you hold the world in your palms.
âi wouldnât mind it.â you offer.
âweâll take it slow.â he tells you, bringing your knuckles to his lips to press a final kiss there.
it's quiet for a bit. you take a moment to take in the scenes around campus. picnic tables full of friends hard at work, dejected students filing out of classroom buildings after their exams. something in your stomach sours at their expressions. sukuna pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your hairline.
"we'll be fine." he tells you. you nod hopefully.
the lecture hall is dead silent by the time you both arrive. the proctors already lined up at the front, arms crossed over their chest as they take in the packed room.
you manage to find two seats in the back corner of the room and settle in, side by side like you've been every week for the last three months. only this time, youâre in his clothes, and heâs sporting indents of your teeth under his sweatshirt. crazy how life works.
itâs feels bittersweet knowing this is the last time youâll ever sit here together. even so, youâre hopeful knowing youâll be walking out of class a lot closer than you were yesterday.
the proctors make their rounds down every aisle. you accept your copy of them exam, handing sukuna his with a soft smile. he takes it, fingers brushing yours before pulling back slightly. like being in this room again is making him shy. in a way, you kind of feel shy too, head resting in your palm as you try not to notice the way heâs looking at you.
you think forward to graduation again as you flip your test packet over. maybe he'd have you wear his hat while he walks the stage. the thought of it stokes a fire in your chest.
â
itâs noon when you both emerge from class, heads pounding and stomachs wailing. sukuna all but drags you to the dining hall with a carefree grin on his face, rambling on about how unbelievably easy it all felt.
âfour shots just to talk to me, i donât think i can let go of that.â you joke.
âi shouldnât have let him talk to you.â sukuna grumbles, shoveling another bite of food into his awaiting mouth. he kicks his foot up against yours under the table, all bark and no bite. you kick back softly.
you talk about everything under the sun until the street lights come on. sukuna doesn't live that far from you out there in the real world. he promises to take you out on a real date after finals. maybe a trip this summer if the two of you can book it in time.
synopsis: there is no doubt that mr. geto is an exceptional dancer, and a kind instructor. you have no doubt, either, that the perverse, voracious need you have for him is unrequited. of course, he calls you little dove and watches you dance low-lidded and teases you with innuendo, but surely he doesn't mean it...right?
pairing: ballet instructor!geto x ballerina!reader
a/n: it's been so long since i've posted a full length fic! i'm sorry and i love you all and please open your holes to me so i may place this fic there
18+! mdni <3
masterlist
~~~~~~~
mr. geto is nothing like the instructors you despised as a teen.Â
you can remember walking to your car after your first lesson with him and pressing your forefinger to the tender crest of your ear, marvelling at the lack of ringing there. you were used to shrill yelling, to the echo of it against the mirror and back again, to higher and stretch and reach bellowed into your bones.
but mr. geto, it seems, is exceptionally thoughtful about how his sound carries, speaking only as loud as necessary to be heard by the furthest dancer from him. the register of his voice makes the floor thrum and your knees twitch and he seems to notice these things, take stock of them, adjust.Â
he does not use his hands, either.
all other ballet instructors at your company use their fingers to adjust the body, to create the proper lines. you are completely familiar with fingertips in the crease of your knee, along the slope of your navicular, down your spine: it is not uncomfortable, not anymore, and it is in service of this art you have devoted your life to. you donât mind. and in the dead of night when your duvet feels heavy over your waist and thighs you think that you wouldnât mind, in particular, if he used his fingers to adjust your body.Â
but he simplyâŚdoesnât. he uses the shapes of himself, his own arms and torso, the extension of his own legs, to compose his requests of his dancers. higher, stretch, reach, he murmurs to the group of you, extending himself into position and showing you.
and a part of you likes that a great deal; there is no sense of injustice with him, no upset that he is asking something of you that he cannot himself achieve. you and the rest of the dancers watch as his twists and bows, displaying himself to guide through the moves, and itâs such a striking thing to behold that you canât bring yourself to mind.
still, his beauty is the hardest part of being his student. the cording of his muscles, the sleek ink of his hair, the lithe curvature of his movements, itâs torturous. all at once you want to dance as he does, want to make your audience feel as he makes you feel, want him to shed himself of all professionalism and touch you somewhere irrevocable. you feel terrible and silly wanting it, wanting him, but thereâs no helping it, you think.
and anyway, you insist that this wanting you indulge in in the dark isnât dangerous. there is no oxygen for it in the studio, nothing to nurture your fantasies, and so you have to believe that they will wither and die with time.Â
of course, while you tie the ribbons of your pointe shoes around your ankles in the empty studio, you pray this fantasy death will happen sooner rather than later. itâs completely exhausting to be so constantly wondering what his cock feels like, and mr. geto likes to remind you that exhausted is no state to dance in.
you love arriving to the studio early like this. before the room is overtaken with the smell of sweat and resin, you can breathe in the marley flooring and stretch your legs wide, grateful. you seek out lonely moments to appreciate how rare it is that youâve succeeded in ballet enough to make a living from it; you close your eyes and get overdramatically philosophical, and itâs a privilege. you love it.
and yes, fine, it secures mr. getoâs first five minutes in the studio for yourself. this cannot be helping your attempt to suffocate your wanting, you know, but then heâs walking through the door draped in fine linen and hair pulled messy to the crown of his head, and you go boneless.
âgood morning, dove,â he calls over his shoulder, turned away from you as he sets his things down.
you donât remember when he started calling you that, and you donât know if he uses it with other dancers, but god how can you blame yourself for getting sticky for him when he addresses you that way?
âgood morning, mr. geto,â you call back, trying to sound lazy with the dawn as you continue stretching. you watch your fingers splayed on the floor, the borders of each vinyl panel, anything other than his strides towards his seat at the front of the room.
he plops rather unceremoniously down, legs spread slightly and head tipped back as he groans something truly criminal. you can feel something hot and biting between your legs but you try to ignore it, looking up at him.
âexhausted is no state to dance in,â you say with a smile.
he does not lift his headâyou wonder if he wants to cause you pain by forcing you to watch the curved tilt of his throat and jawâbut you can see from the movement of his cheeks that he is smiling a little.
âiâm not dancing, dove, you are.â
you roll onto your back and starfish out, sufficiently limber. âwhat sort of terror will rain down on us today?â
he does look down at you then, lip still curved enough to look like a smirk, and when his head tilts just slightly you die a little death. âterror? iâm never terrible, i know iâm not.â his fingers make a soft sound against his thigh as he taps on it mindlessly. âyouâll like the combos today.â
you canât help but bark a little laugh. âyou donât mean that. thatâs something you only say when theyâre hard.â
a chuckle pushes out through his nose. âyes, i know.â and then, matter-of-factly, he adds, âyou like it hard.â
and god you try not to draw attention to the innuendo in that comment. just as he says it the doors are pushed open with a low thunk and the rest of the dancers come filtering in, and so you have every possible opportunity to be normal and professional and not silly and terrible, but you are a silly and terrible woman, so your chest stutters on your next breath. and he watches.Â
you choose to believe, for your health and happiness, that he still couldnât quite discern what your reaction was, or why it would have happened. but you cannot deny the fleeting scent of smugness on him, or the way his jaw twitches when his eyes flit to you between greeting your colleagues.Â
he must be, you decide as you come to take your place at the barre, a cruel and unusual man who has recognized your unrequited lust and wants to punish you for it.Â
yes, that must be it, you assure yourself.Â
the rest of class is excruciating. all the typical torment of watching the man whose bones you are so desperate to jump contort himself into beautiful shapes is mounted further by the way he watched you this morning, the way his head dropped to the side just so to see you fluster for a moment.Â
you try to channel it into the combos. as you travel across the room, you work to carve the feeling from your chest and toss it outwards, anywhere else. your legs burn with your leaping and turning but you push harder, hoping youâll reach some critical point at which the physical soreness of your muscles eclipses the fluttering behind your navel, but you canât quite catch it. and every time you hope you might be close, you feel your fingertips just grazing a moment of forgetting, you catch his eye again, and something hungry pulses in your stomach.
you probably need to get fucked. you definitely need to get fucked, actually, because youâll ruin all your leotards if this continues.Â
sweat shines down your body by the time class is finally, mercifully over, and the plan has already solidified then. youâll go out tonight, youâll get well and sufficiently railed, and at long last you will be able to address your fucking ballet instructor properly.Â
even collecting your bag from the floor makes your muscles scream. your steps drag as you shuffle about, removing your pointe shoes and slinging your purse over your shoulder in the waning light of the day.Â
âwas that your attempt at proving me wrong?â
you straighten, inhaling sharply. when you look over your shoulder, itâs only you and mr. geto in the studio again. heâs standing in the threshold now, body leaned against the door as he watches you finish packing.Â
fuck.
normally you might relish this sort of attention from him, but at this point you feel overfilled with the smoke of your desperation and you need to breathe. you need to go to the club and release some of this pent up sexual energy. you need to get out before you spread your legs for him in front of the fucking mirror.Â
you try to laugh lightly, but it sounds tired and reedy. âyeah, i guess not.â shrugging a little, you add, âcouldnât help it.â and you tried to use that tone of voice one uses when a conversation is over, for the first time since meeting him hoping he simply turns and leaves, but he stays static there, watching you.
you flounder, looking for anything else to say. you want to lighten the tension thatâs pulling your hips towards him, so you put on a wry smile. âiâll try less tomorrow.â
that makes him chuckle as he brings a hand up to massage one shoulder. inevitably you think of how it might feel under your fingers, how it might tense if you were riding him and he was using that arm to lift and drop you on hisâ
âi do have one note for you, actually,â he murmurs, and you try to mask the horror on your face as he begins walking towards you. âshow me your grand adage from the last combo.â
you hesitate a moment, clutching your purse tightly with one arm and opening your diaphragm so he doesnât see your lungs constrict. this is normal, you remind yourself, he is being a normal instructor.
and itâs true, this is normal, but he has abnormal sex appeal and you are abnormally tightly wound and and he has never adjusted you with his hands before. this is a terrible, horrible, grotesque idea, but what are you supposed to say? no?
you drop your things slowly at your feet, tracking the sweeping of his eyes along your movements. with your hands empty again you stand still a moment, surely looking as bewildered as you feel, but he nods slightly: go ahead.Â
you steady the soft tremble of your fingers as you extend your arms outwards, aligning your spine as your leg extends behind you. your core engages to keep your hips from tilting upwards, chin high to create a sloping line from your neck and down your torso. even though you do notâcannotâlook mr. geto in the eyes you can feel him watching, your muscles twitch when he assesses them, fluttering like little birds under your skin.
âyes, thatâs it,â he says, low, behind his teeth. he begins to walk around you, and if you didnât know any better youâd think he was trying to make you feel predated.Â
two things happen at once. you realizeâand the weight of it nearly buckles your knees and takes you through the floor of the studioâthat he is not going to show you want he wants by doing it at precisely the moment one long finger brushes the under side of your thigh. there isnât even anything promiscuous about where he grazes the fingerpad, but nevertheless you feel like an open wound, a nerve, only barely restraining a full body shudder at the feeling. what the fuck is he doing?
âyou can lift this higher.â
youâre almost thankful that you scoff on instinct; it makes you sound less affected by this than you are. âiâmâiâm trying, butââ
and then you really do shudder, hot and tacky from the nexus of your legs as his hand grips your thigh in full, pulling it a centimeter higher and watching your body absorb the movement to balance. your breaths puff sharp and you canât even attempt to stop them now.
his voice is no louder than a whisper but thereâs no breath in it, all timbre and sound. âthere, dove. hold that.â his hand pulls away torturously slow, and at such an angle that you feel the point of each fingertip as his palm falls away. you hope heâs spontaneously blinded so he canât see the goosebumps erupting down your arms, but instead he leans an inch closer to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, watching you strain to keep the position from just behind your shoulder.
âit makes it harder if you hold your breath.â you can hear the twitch of his lips in that and it makes it no easier for you to take in air, but you pull a trembling gulp of air in anyways. to please him, you suppose, because apparently thatâs all youâre capable of doing.
he hums in approval, âthatâs good enough, dove, thank you.âÂ
and no sooner do the words leave his lips are you dropping your leg and fleeing out the door, only barely remembering your bag.
~~~~~~~
youâre learning that your desperation for your ballet instructor is an exceptionally powerful tool.
earlier today, you pushed your body beyond its limit in the name of exorcising yourself of the curse of him. you were an outward force then, expanding and swelling and trying to expel the dark sweetness between your thighs.
now, haunting the neon shadows of this club in your highest, most painful heels, you think your desperation has a scent. you canât remember ever being looked at in this way; from across the dance floor and behind the bar and in a far away corner, you catch menâs glances, all of them wolfish and interested. they can tell you need to be fucked, immediately.
you select the largest specimen you can find; a hulking mountain of a creature with a scar down one side of his mouth. heâs not quite handsome in the way suguru is handsome, itâs a louder, more insistent sort of attractiveness, but nonetheless you eye fuck him until he approaches you, knowing his weight will feel nice enough from behind.
he grabs at your side when he arrives in front of you, sliding a paw down your lower back. âcome dance with me,â he rasps into your ear, and while normally youâd ask for the decency of exchanging names, tonight youâre sold.
you laugh as he tugs you into the fray, a throng of bodies pressed close and tacky with sweat. thereâs a strange relief as he settles behind you, strobes flaring in your vision and his thick fingers around your waist. you can already feel how this ends, something sloppy and vaguely grotesque but you donât even mind, youâre so coiled and greedy for this man you cannot have.
the music pulls you together and he grinds with you in time with it, pulling your ass against his jeans and twisting your hips back and forth.Â
he runs his nose down the slope of your neck, feeling how pliant your limbs move for him. âyouâre flexible, huh?â
with your head tilted back against his shoulder he brings one hand slowly up the front of your body, grasping loosely at your neck. you grin and nod into it, letting your eyes go hazy as you look up at the rigged lights and the rising fog.
youâre fucking soaked. you really would just like it if heâd bully his cock into you here in the middle of the dance floor so you can finally think straight, and youâre considering pulling him into the bathroom to do something truly indefensible against the dirty basin of a sink, but you feel his tendons tense around your throat and it makes you tilt your chin back down on instinct.
into your ear he asks, almost amused by what heâs seeing, âdâyou know him?â
your heart sinks.Â
whatever buoy you had wrestled between your arms was dissolving back into salt water, youâre slipping, youâre frantic, youâre looking across the dance floor and fucking suguru geto is there.
his hair is down and silky over his shoulders, which pull a white t shirt taut across the planes of his chest. you can see, even from here, the shadows of lean muscle, his bodyâs capacity for dance. the sleeves of his shirt are short enough that you can see, for the first time, the head of a snake tattoo peeking just below the hem.Â
fuck.
and no wonder your enormous dance partner figured you knew each other; the way heâs looking at you is lethal, a sharp slice of a stare from across the room, a pointed watching. his lips twitch when he sees you notice him, something conspiratorial and entirely his own there. it looks as though heâs holding a live animal in his mouth, sly and coy and biting down on a moving thing behind his tongue. a single, sinewy hand lifts from his side and he waves.
fuck fuck fuck.
in a fleeting out-of-body event, you can appreciate the hilarity of this moment. it pulls a sound from your throat, almost a laugh, almost a scoff, too, and you stumble slightly out of the hold of the man behind you. âiâwell, yeah, actually.â you have no idea what look youâre wearing, but when you turn to face your dance partner, it makes him chuckle under his breath.Â
âyou uh,â he scratches at his scar with his thumb, âyou wanna go over there?âÂ
heâs teasing youâthis much is obvious to youâand so much of you is desperate to tell him no, iâd like to stay right here, and grip to the veins of his forearms and let him take you home. but then you think of mr. getoâs hands along your thigh as he adjusted it and itâs almost like he has you between his fingers again, towing you towards him.Â
âiâiâm sorry, i just think i should go andââ you gesticulate behind you, vaguely, reaching for something dignified to say, âand say hi.â a failure of the highest order.
the man in front of you laughs again, deep and from his stomach this time. heâs already tilting his body away from you, already letting you go, already sensing that the smell of your pussy was meant for the long-haired figure a few feet away. âyou go right ahead, ma,â you think if he wasnât so huge a person, his laughing would sound like giggling, âiâll be fine.â
the sight of him slipping away from you makes you nauseous. youâre watching your own failure, all six feet and four inches of him, dissipating again into the sea of people, already under the manicured fingers of other women who arenât waiting to arch for someone who essentially equates to their boss.
but thereâs something secret and sweet to watching him go, too. standing resigned on the dance floor, accepting whatever honeyed trap fate has set for you, you can unburden yourself from this taxing process of trying so hard not to embarrass yourself. yes, you think, i will simply embarrass myself, and maybe whatever follows wonât feel so excruciatingly painful.Â
geto watches you carefully as you slink to his table. he keeps the muscles in his face slack, neutral enough to obscure the meaning from his expression, but the faint pull of his jaw reminds you of this morning, of after class. despite yourself, you align your body properly as you take the six odd steps to stand at his feet, extending your legs the way you know heâd want in the light of day.Â
he smells like musk and something botanical when you get close enough. you hope you donât smell like your own slick.Â
âit was sort of deja vu, watching that,â he begins. even under the beating of the music he refuses to shout, voice unfurling from behind his lips and just barely reaching your ears.
you wrinkle your nose a little. âhow do you mean?â
the ice in his drink chimes with a flick of his wrist. âwatching you dance.â
you tilt your head back and forth, feigning some sort of consideration. âno, i think this might be different.â
heâs smiling enough now that you can almost see his teeth. the part of you that is desperate to be cautious screeches that heâs playing with you, he doesnât want you, but with each tip of your skull you can feel that voice liquifying. you hope it slips out your ear.
âhow so?â he asks.
you do your best to keep a straight face. âwell, for one, i donât want your notes.â
he looks almost joyful to spit this back at you: âoh i have a few, actually.â
your laugh is too breathy and real to truly hear it against the ambient noise of the room, but he tracks it anyway, swishes his ice again. âyouâre unqualified, unfortunately. this type of dancing isnât your expertise, mr. getoââ
âsuguru,â he interjects. âsuguru here.â
your thighs twitch, almost stinging with need now, but you steady yourself with a breath, humming, âokay, suguru, this type of dancing isnât your expertise. i only accept edits from experts.â
âi might surprise you, dove.â
you run your tongue along the front of your teeth. heâs asking you to play, you think, and so you raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin the way he does when he wants you to begin.
âwell,â he takes a fraction of a step towards you and you match it backwards, pushed by the heat of him and the smell of his cologne, âi think you moved a little too quickly.â
youâre moving entirely in tandem now, him forward and you back, all the way until your head bumps a wall. cornered like this, he eclipses almost your entire line of sight, a vignette of dark hair.
âthe part when you tilt your head back here,â and he gestures to his shoulder, âthatâs the best part. you fell straight into it.â
something shudders up your legs and you squeeze them together, desperate for a moment of anything against the swelling button between them.
âthey need to wait longer for it. makes it better.â
his smirk is slowly fading, something more intimate making space for itself across his mouth. if he recognizes the irony of this, he doesnât show it, demanding simply: âshow me.â
you have half a mind to gape at him, at what heâs offering, but instead you turnâstupid, whorish thingâas he asked, pressing yourself slowly to him. when your ass bumps against his pelvis he groans low. heâs rock hard against you, and a gasp moves up your windpipe but he has his free hand on your chin first, forcing your head back to his shoulder.
contorted like this, his nose grazes your cheek, his breath filtered into your ear. you whine, feline and soft, and he hums in return.
âyeah, itâs good, huh?â and he ruts his hips slightly into yours to emphasize his point, nosing your cheekbone. âso you have to start somewhere else.â
the hand on your chin falls away, moving to the small of your back where it bends back for him. he pushes his thumb to your spine, and then the rest of his palm, bending you forward at the waist. your hands come up to brace on the wall and you let your forehead fall there, too, letting the cool concrete tether you to whatever sanity you have left.
he exhales like veneered restraint watching you tilt, feeling the extra push of your thighs against his cock twitching in his pants. âyes, dove, like that.â he grinds against you in earnest then, dragging the clothed shaft of him over the globes of your ass. âhe should work for it a little.â
he pushes again and you moan fully. it leaps from the wall to his ears and it earns you another drag, his fingers bruising against your waist.
âand then,â his composure is dwindling, you can hear it, and he ruts again, âonce heâs worked up,â he drags the hand at your hip up your side, around your front, between your breasts to arch you back to him again. your back bows taut and impossible to meet him, head falling immediately to his shoulder this time, eyes squeezed shut. you wonder if your slick is running down your legs now, or if itâs still pooled in your panties. he finishes into your ear, âthen you come up here.â
you wiggle your hips against him, needy, and he grunts. âwhat did he say to you?â he grits out.
your capacity to think is low, practically panting like heâs already inside you. âhuh?â
âwhen he had you here, he said something that made you laugh, i wanna know what it was.â with his hand fanned across your stomach he can pull you tight against his thrusts.
âh-he, he said iâfuck suguru, i-â
âcome on, little dove,â he coos.
your eyes flutter open to find him watching you, purple eyes skidding across your skin. âhe said i was flexible,â you huff.
he smiles like heâs going to eat you. âoh yeah? and did you tell him itâs because your mr. geto stretches you?â
your fists bunch and pull against the wall. youâre certain he can feel you clenching through your dress. your mr. geto, jesus. ân-no,â you breathe.
âoh, that cuts deep, dove,â he tuts, but he fucks against your ass again anyway, âi work so hard to stretch you open and youâre not giving me credit?â
you find yourself with the fleeting and miraculous wherewithal to laugh, light and towards the ceiling. âiâll tell him next time, then.â
that makes suguru laugh, too, the both of you almost manic with the truly absurd suggestion that you would ever be touched by anyone else.
you feel very suddenly like a stray dog at his doorstep, scrap-fed by his hand, bony and waiting for something warm to be tossed out again. the fear that he doesnât mean this the way youâre taking it, that he wants you only briefly, chokes you still.
âare you drunk?â you ask him.
he lets you feel the frenetic pattern of his breathing against your neck. âno.â
and then even smaller, you canât help it: âare you messing with me?â
slowly, he brings the hand with his drink up, extending his forefinger out around your front. itâs cold from the glass as it taps on your chin once, twice, and then drags down the line of your throat. âno.â
and you arenât quite sure how you would describe what you feel move through him then, a trembling sort of shake, maybe, but as it buzzes through his hips he thrusts the momentum up into you. later, you would come to realize this was the sensation of him, at last, deciding something he could not take back.
âi think you left something with me at the studio today,â he murmurs. the electricity of knowing you did not leave something at the studio takes hold of your ribs and tugs. âyou left in such a rush.â
âi think you know thatâs youâre fault, suguru.â
he smiles small into the side of your face. âyes, i know.â a finger brushes under the swell of your breast. âi can drive you there to come get it.â
youâre beginning to squirm in his hold now, the beastly thing between your thighs drooling in full, usurping control of your limbs. âhavenât you been drinking?â
and suguru is all too pleased to bring his glass to your lips, tipping it slowly onto your tongue.
heâs drinking fucking sparkling water.
he isnât even tipsy.
youâre nodding before you can even gulp enough air to say yes.
~~~~~~~
you barely make it out of his car before heâs on you. pressed against the passenger door, he kisses you like he wants to reach inside and pull out a rib. itâs teeth and tongue and your mewls in his mouth, and it makes him pull one leg up around his hip to grind slow against your clothed pussy.
he strokes his tongue along yours as he guides you to the front door, bucking into you when you bite down soft on his bottom lip.
âfuck,â he pants. âget inside.â
seeing the studio at night is strange. the moonlight glints off the mirror, bathing the room in silver streaks. stranger still is hearing geto come in behind you, locking the door with a low snick.
he passes behind you like a memory, stepping just to graze your back and shoulder before pulling away and towards his usual seat at the mirror. âstand center floor for me, dove,â he instructs.
your body moves without much thought. itâs so easy to do as he says here, to pervert the habit of following his directions as you stand at the center of the vinyl.
suguru runs a hand across his jaw, over his lips, watching you stand static as asked. you know how lust blown your eyes are already because you can see the black depth of them in the mirror behind his head. âstretch for me,â he sighs.Â
a strange confidence feeds and swells in your belly, something alight and excited as you bend at the waist. your movements are no more salacious than they normally are, simple contortions to warm your hips and thighs, but you slow them enough to match the moment. your dress, too, heightens it; the hem teases the curve of your ass, your swollen mound, tight against you in ways your dance clothes arenât. geto has sharpened the air to a fine point, and you teeter on it.
your head flips over, legs softly bent and then straight again, swishing open and closed. between each movement you glance up at him, swallowing thick at the shadow behind the tent in his jeans, the clench of his fist as it approaches his length. when you open your legs past second position and bend to stretch between them, he moans, unashamed, and you can tell from the lilt of pain in it that heâs stroking himself over his pants now. your pussy nearly opens in this position, faced away from him, and you feel the fever say his name.Â
âyour middle split now, dove,â he grips himself like he means to strangle, tipping his head back against the mirror to watch you over the bridge of his nose, adding, âplease.â
with your hands splayed on the floor, you drop simply into it. when your clit bumps the cool flooring you whine in your throat, settling your weight. suguru is stroking himself in earnest over the denim when you peer up at him. âuh huh,â he pants, âand bend the knees now, just a little.â
your knees cant up and you tuck your tailbone, forcing your dress to ruck up around your hips and display, fully, the wet mess of your panties. the suffocated whine suguru sounds punches the air from your lungs, and you lean back onto your elbows behind you, looking to breathe, looking to survive for another moment.
you wish you could have a picture of the two of you this way; you entirely on display for himâand for yourself, too, as you cannot avoid your own reflection beside himâand your unflappably composed instructor, squeezing down the veins of his cock through the rough pull of his jeans, watching. and because you spend hours every day being directed by him, you know what he will ask you next before he even voices it, but you wait to hear it anyway.
âtouch yourself for me.â
your fingers fly to your clit, drawing slow circles around, crossing over to feel yourself jolt. your hole pulses and spits, and suguru growls like he can see it from halfway across the room. the utter relief of friction, fucking finally, makes you tip your head back, moaning wild into the still air.
but then you hear his lips part to say something and youâre pulling your head back straight, still circling over your clit and then your entrance, meaningless patterns over your thong that make your toes curl in your heels.
âyou know i never onceângh, fuckâhad the urge to adjust a student with my hands? i always hated that when i was in class,â he grits. with trembling hands, he begins to unbutton himself, pulling his cock out and tugging on it immediately.
god, heâs pretty. long and soft and leaning the way the rest of him leans, gliding between his fingers with the pearls of pre beading at his tip.Â
âbut i thought that if i,â he pauses to groan with you, âif i touched you once i could fucking forget about it.â
you speed your fingers with each word he says, each stroke of his hand over all eight inches of his cock. a far away voice registers that youâre whining, too, but your mind filters it away, tuned completely to suguruâs confession in the dark.
your smile is wry, and reveals as much as anything. âdid it work?â
he laughs then, almost at you. âno, you know what dove, it didnât reallyâhahâdidnât really work for me.â
your hips buck into your fingers, a buzzing coil now. âsuguru,â you begin, but he doesnât need to hear any more.
âi know,â he moans.
you have transcended his direction, you think, merged into him enough to comply without listening. heâs tearing his shirt and pants off as frantically as you tug your dress up and over your shoulders, and youâve only barely shimmied your panties down your legs when he arrives in front of you, completely bare. you think suguru geto, tacky with sweat and need and cock nearly swollen purple, has achieved his own pinnacle, descending to his knees to meet you.
and thereâs an ephemeral, fleeting moment, when you both simply watch each other in all the places youâve kept obscured for so long. his eyes circle over your tits, the pert peaks of your nipples, the gleaming of your slit. you track the snake tattoo from the bulge of his shoulder and around his back, pupils flitting between him and his reflection.
suguru takes hold of both your ankles on each side of his narrows hips, squeezing once, and then gliding them up, up, around your knee, along the inside of your thighs. it dawns on you that he knows exactly where to press, where each muscle begins and ends, because of how much he watches you flex and extend. your breathing comes labored and round, small yips and whines when goosebumps push into his fingers.
he canât help but tug your hips towards his bobbing cock when his hands arrive there. you squirm and twist to try and sink him inside but he holds you to the floor, jaw tight.Â
ânot yet, dove, i need to stretch you,â he grunts.
and youâre giggling before you can stop it. âyou use a lot of double entendre, is that on purpose?â
heâs smiling now, too, but more than anything you think its a wicked joy with how your mouth drops open as he circles two fingers around your entrance. your arousal is so hot and so everywhere that you think you can hear it dripping onto the marley.
âkeep your legs open.â he uses the tone of voice he employs during class and it only makes you gush more, but you do as he asks, tightening your outer thighs to hold yourself spread as he pushes two fingers inside.
âoh fuck,â you pant.
it seems to affect him in equal measure, cock twitching with each pull of his digits, lips parted ever so slightly. he scissors his fingers apart and back again, feeling along the inside of your walls, looking.Â
âahâyeah, yes, there,â you mewl, and he moans something sincere in turn. the pads of his fingers brush and swish along that spot and something behind your ribs is turning over, growing teeth. you whine out a small fuck and thatâs it: suguru is gone.
in a single motion, he pulls his fingers from you, breathes in your protest of a whine, and lowers his hips to run the ruddy tip of his cock over your clit, down, down. you run your nose along his forearm as he braces them on each side of your head, feeling the brush of his hair along your shoulder.
his mouth parts directly over your ear like this, and you feel his hand squeeze your left thigh. âlift this for me.â
and as you extend it up to hook over his shoulder, legs spread in almost a full split below his hold, he notches his head inside, a lewd pop that echos up your spine and between your ears.
suguruâs head drops to your shoulder as he bares his teeth. âfuuuuuuck jesus christ.â
youâre no better, winding your right leg around his left and bucking your hips to slide him home. he indulges you this timeâperhaps for the first time since meeting himâand cants his hips again. youâre so fucking wet and ready and open for him that he slides to the hilt that way, and both of you are reduced to animals then. the sounds between you are completely inhuman, and you canât tell where yours end and his begin.
and suguru fucks you like he teaches: not slow, but intentional, precise, every movement with an insurmountable sense of purpose.Â
and fucking bossy.
ângh yeah, squeeze me like that again, dove.â
âoh f-fuck, baby, align your hips.â
âc-can youâhaahâarch into me a little more? yeah, thatâs right.â
with each driving thrust of his hips you rub your clit along his pelvis, warmth spreading behind your belly button and down each leg. suguru never quite recovered from that first thrust, forehead damp and still at your shoulder as he groans directions into the soft skin there. and your hands grab anywhere they can reach: into the roots of his hair, down the planes of his back, along the slope of his ass to feel the muscles grind.
the friction his happy trail makes with your clit is driving you wild, youâre fucking close, and he can feel it in the way you pulse around him.
with the sudden capacity to mock you he coos gently, âoh, little dove, are you close?â
and you can only nod and pant and whine like a bitch in heat, the crest of your pleasure tapping leisurely on the wing of your shoulder, ready to round the corner.
âhahâyeah, i can fucking feel it.â he adjusts his weight to one arm so he can band the other around your back, pulling your tits flush to his chest. the leverage only grinds him harder into you and youâre nearly screeching with the pressure. he wants to kiss you and you want to return it, but your lips meet open, exchanging air to be puffed back and forth.
âmake a mess for me,â he encourages, each thrust more erratic than the lastâheâs close, tooâand every moan pitched higher. âcâmon, iâshit, unhâi wanna feel your pussy choke me.â
you come so hard you feel like youâre spinning, like youâre on stage, like thereâs some great applause awaiting you. it detaches from deep in your groin and pulses outwards, gushing arousal and cream over suguruâs cock and entirely fragmenting you, boneless as he fucks you through it.
âfuckfuckfuck,â he bites the juncture of your shoulder with your neck, âi made this body, dove. youâre mine, huh?â
and hearing it, even from his own lips, takes him over, too, hips stuttering to a stop as he growls wild, seed spurting inside you, warm. your name, your real name, unspools from his mouth, and it sounds like thank you.
part of you expects, sweaty and still and plugged with suguruâs softening cock, that a great shame will dawn upon you now. you think maybe you should feel ashamed for letting him fuck you here, raw, his student.
but as youâre whining into each otherâs mouths when he pulls out, as he smooths his hands over your stomach and thighs, as he kisses you again without the sort of demands he had before, the guilt doesnât arrive.
suguru watches you closelyâheâs good at that, youâve determinedâas he sits back on his haunches. you realize heâs waiting for that guilt to come, too.
âokay?â he asks softly.
you could laugh at him for that question, but you grin instead. âmhm.â
his chest unburdens a weight seeing that look on your face. you can see something gathering on his palate, too, something he likes the taste of.Â
and then he spits it: âthereâs a shower in my office bathroom.â
you really do laugh this time, full-bodied and sore and wet again.
~~~~~~~
you donât think youâve ever seen mr. geto with eye bags before. you donât think anyone has. though, you suppose he seems the type to prioritize his beauty sleep.
or, most of the time, anyway. you couldnât help that he wanted you again in the shower, and then at his desk chair, and then from behind with your knee propped against the barre, and thenâ
nobara bows into a pigeon stretch next to you, snickering as she assesses him in his seat. she heckles him: âexhausted is no state to dance in.â
your body seizes with embarrassment and delight all at once, and even though your chin drops to your chest as you stretch your hips, you can feel him watching you all the same.
nobara is watching you now, too, but you notice it too late. she stifles a giggle next to you. âis that a fucking hickey?â
~~~~~~~
thank you for reading !!! comments and reblogs always appreciated >:)
synopsis. you only meant for him to be your plug. he only meant to keep his distance. but one hazy night blurs the line, and nothing feels quite the same after.
âś tags â 11.2k words. 18+ only / minors dni, drug use (weed), plug!choso / dealer!choso, college setting, jealousy, emotional tension / crying, sexual content, making out, implied/briefly described sexual activity, touching, angst with comfort, hurt/comfort themes, soft domestic intimacy, mention of dropping out of school
âś author's note. sowwy i don't actually smoke so some of the references may be off. also i tried something new with the smut sooo lmk :3
you only started smoking because midterms made your chest feel like it was shrinking. you were never the typeânever the messy girl, never the troublemaker, never the one who wandered off at parties looking for the dealer with the red backpack.
you came to college to study, to get your degree, to do everything right. but stress creeps up in strange ways, and one night, after a chem exam that left your brain buzzing, you casually mentioned to a girl in your hall that you wished you had something to help you unwind. a week later, word got around. and then someone mentioned a name. not a full oneâjust âchoso,â dropped into conversation.
they said he didnât go here. didnât really go anywhere. they said he dropped out two years ago and started dealing just to keep himself afloat. they said he was intense, quiet, one of those guys you shouldnât look in the eyes unless he looked first. and you, being you, didnât think much of it. you had your little bubble: early classes, cheap ramen dinners, the soft hum of campus life that always made you feel like you were floating somewhere safe. you werenât scared of him. you werenât scared of anything, honestlyâat least not people.
but the night you finally reached out, your hands were shaking.
you didnât know what to expect when he texted back. his reply was blunt, almost cold, like he was doing you a favor heâd already decided he shouldnât.
yea. i'll pu. what building?
it made your stomach turn in a way you couldnât name. still, you sent him the address. you paced around your dorm, adjusting little things that didnât need adjustingâpushing hair behind your ear, tugging the hem of your shorts, checking the peephole even though he wasnât there yet. when he finally knocked, the sound was low, like he didnât knock often, like he was used to doors opening before he touched them.
you opened it to a boyâno, a manâleaning against the frame with his hoodie up, breath curling into the cool hallway air. he was taller than you expected, with dark hair falling over his forehead and heavy eyes that looked like theyâd seen years you hadnât lived yet. he wasnât intimidating the way people said. he wasnât icy or cruel. he looked⌠tired. and wary. like he was holding himself in, keeping every emotion tucked tightly under his hoodie so no one could use them against him.
for a second, he didnât speak. he just stared, eyes flicking down to your fuzzy socks and oversized t-shirt before dragging slowly back up to your face. it wasnât a creepy look; it was a stunned one, like he hadnât expected the person behind the door to be someone soft. someone warm. someone who smiled automatically when they were nervous.
âyou uh⌠you asked for a pre-roll?â he murmured, voice deeper than you thought itâd be. not rough, but quiet, like he didnât like wasting words.
you nodded, stepping back instinctively, letting him into your space without thinking. that was the first thing that hit him: you werenât scared. you werenât suspicious. you didnât make him stand in the doorway like everyone else did, whispering through the crack with quick hands and nervous eyes. you let him in. like you were letting in a friend.
your dorm wasnât pristine, but it was lived-inâmismatched blankets, an unfinished puzzle on your desk, notes scribbled across your whiteboard in pink marker. your scent lingered everywhere, warm and sweet and a little floral, like your laundry detergent tried too hard to be comforting. he didnât mean to breathe deeper, but he did.
you didnât notice him watching you. you went straight for your drawer, grabbing cash youâd set aside earlier, and you said something like, âsorry, i didnât know if i should text you first or wait orâ iâve never done this before.â you said it in one breath, embarrassed, cheeks warm, eyes wide in the kind of innocent panic he wasnât used to seeing. people usually came to him already high, already careless, already in their own world.
you were different. you were here. present. unguarded.
he almost softened right then.
he handed you the small bag, careful not to brush your fingers, even though your hair fell across your face in a way that made him want to tuck it back. âitâs fine,â he said. âyouâre good.â
you counted the bills clumsily, apologizing for making him wait, and he leaned against your desk, hands in his pockets, pretending not to look at the way you bit your lip when you were focused. he didnât realize he was staring until you looked up to hand him the cash, and his gaze snapped away like youâd caught him doing something unprofessional.
you gave a small, sweet smile and said, âthanks for coming. really.â
and that was the moment he fell. not the whole way, not yet. but something lodged itself in his chest, something warm and completely unfamiliar. he shouldnât have stayed longer after that. he shouldâve left the second you closed your drawer. he shouldâve walked out like he did with everyone else.
but you were still standing close, balancing on your toes to reach something on your shelf, humming under your breath like having him there wasnât strange at all. and he realized, too late, that you werenât just another customer. you werenât another name on his route. you werenât someone he could forget once he got back to his car.
you were the first person in a long time who made him feel like he wasnât doing everything wrong.
and that was where everything started.
it happens slowly, without either of you naming it. you text him again the following week, still using full sentences and polite phrasing, still overthinking your word choice like youâre emailing a professor and not hitting up a drug dealer.
hey! if youâre free later i was wondering ifâ
he replies before you even finish typing.
fs. time?
he tells himself he doesnât care what time you choose. he tells himself heâs just being efficient. but when you say after my 6pm class? he rearranges two other drop-offs without thinking, shuffling his whole night around just to make sure youâre last. he doesnât know why he does it. he tries not to think about it too much.
the second time he comes, you leave your door already cracked open like you were waiting for him. youâre on the floor by your bed, surrounded by open textbooks and pastel highlighters, hair tied up in a messy bun that keeps slipping. he steps inside, closes the door with his foot, and the soft click of it makes the room feel smaller than last timeâlike heâs intruding, like he shouldnât be here, like the warmth in your eyes when you look up shouldnât make his pulse pick up.
âsorry,â you say, brushing hair out of your face. âi lost track of time.â
you look flustered, overwhelmed, exhausted in that way college does to people, but you still smile at him like he makes things a little easier. he doesnât know what to do with that. people donât look at him that way. nobody smiles at him without wanting something attached.
he sits on your floor without waiting for an invitationânot because heâs comfortable, but because your dorm is too small to just stand awkwardly in the doorway. at least thatâs what he tells himself. he leans against your desk, hood pushed back, fingers drumming against his knee, pretending heâs bored when actually heâs looking at the color-coded notes spread around you, the scribbled little reminders on your whiteboard, the half-finished iced coffee on your nightstand thatâs more milk and syrup than matcha.
you hand him the money, careful not to touch his fingers. he hates that he notices the distance. hates more that he wants to close it.
youâre the one who breaks the silence this time. âdo you⌠ever study anywhere?â itâs a dumb question, but your voice is gentle, curious, like you genuinely want to know him.
he shrugs. ânot anymore.â
you lean back on your palms, legs stretched across the carpet. âdid you drop out for a reason?â you ask it softly, with no judgmentâjust pure interest, like youâre asking why he prefers certain snacks.
he freezes. itâs the first time a customer has treated him like a person, not a vending machine with shoes. he considers lying, giving you the blunt answer people expectâmoney stuff, or shit happened, or none of your business. but something about you makes the truth slip out instead.
âi wanted to go back,â he says quietly. âstill do. just⌠got stuck.â
you donât pity him. thatâs the shocking part. you donât give him the tight-lipped sympathy most people offer. you just nod, slow and thoughtful, and say, âthat makes sense.â
like heâs valid. like his story isnât something to hide. like your universe could hold space for someone like him without flinching.
he looks away before you notice the way his chest tightens.
the next week, you offer him a snack when he walks in. a little granola bar you said you liked. he cracks it open without thinking, the wrapper crinkling between his fingers as he sits cross-legged on your rug again. he asks how your exam went. you tell him you passed, then shyly admit you wanted to celebrate but you didnât have anyone to go with.
he chews slower, heart knocking against his ribs in a way heâs not used to. âyou donât have friends here?â he asks, trying to sound casual.
ânot really. iâm still figuring things out,â you murmur. âi came here alone.â
he nods, staring at your hands more than your face. itâs weird, how much he relates to that. weird how badly he wants to say same. he doesnât.
instead, he starts staying longer without noticing heâs staying longer.
he tells himself itâs because you talk too much. or because you always misplace your cash. or because youâre a little scatterbrained and he doesnât want you to get scammed by someone else on campus. convenient excuses. all lies.
the truth is simpler, quieter, harder:
he likes being here in your room.
in your warmth.
in the soft, lived-in corners of your life.
and youâyouâre so sweet it borders on reckless. you donât see the shift in his voice when he says your name. you donât notice the way he looks at your mouth when youâre writing something. you donât feel his gaze trace the curve of your shoulder when youâre reaching for your notebook. you just think heâs polite. calm. normal.
you think heâs safe.
heâs not.
not for you.
not for himself.
but you keep texting him whenever you want a break from your homework, and he keeps answering like he wasnât waiting for it. he keeps coming back, carrying too much inside him. little things start piling up:
he remembers your schedule.
he saves your favorite strain for you.
he brings a lighter because you always lose yours.
he walks you to your door even though he shouldnât.
he keeps your number pinned.
he thinks about you when he shouldnât.
and youâyou let him in without hesitation every single time.
a routine starts forming between you.
and neither of you realizes itâs becoming something you wonât be able to undo.
itâs late. later than he usually comes by. campus is quieter than normal, tooâthat soft quiet that happens after midterms, when everyoneâs too drained to party and too tired to pretend theyâre okay. your lights are on when he walks down the hall, a warm glow leaking under the door like youâre keeping the whole floor alive by yourself.
you open before he even knocks, as if you were standing right behind it, waiting for the exact rhythm of his footsteps to stop outside your room. your hair is damp, loose around your shoulders, and your oversized t-shirt hangs off one shoulder in a way that makes his breath catch before he can control it. you smell like soap, like you just showered, like comfort in a way he hasnât had in years.
âhey,â you say, soft and tired but trying to sound somewhat cheerful. âsorry, iâm kind of out of it. long day.â
you leave the door wide open, walking back toward your bed without looking to see if he followsâbecause you already know he will. it shouldnât mean anything. it shouldnât twist anything tight in his chest. but it does.
your room is dim, lit by a small lamp on your desk and the blinking light of your laptop. blankets piled up, notes scattered everywhere. you look like youâve been studying for hours.
he hands you the pre-roll and you take it with both hands, gentle, grateful. âi was gonna smoke alone but⌠if youâre not busy you can stay for a minute? only if you want,â you add quickly, almost shyly. âi just donât like being high by myself all the time.â
he knows he should say no. he knows this is the lineâthe moment he could still keep you in that safe box of âcustomer,â where things are simple, forgettable. but when you look at him with those soft eyes, tired and open in a way that makes you look younger than you are, something inside him gives.
âyeah,â he says, voice low. âi can stay.â
you smile like itâs nothing. like he didnât just lose a little piece of himself saying it.
you sit cross-legged on the bed, patting the empty space beside you without thinking. he hesitates before sittingânot because he doesnât want to, but because the mattress dips under his weight and your knee brushes his, and the contact sends something stupid and warm crawling up his spine.
you flick open the lighter he brought you last weekâthe pink one with a cute puppy on it, the one you said was cuteâand spark the pre-roll. the first inhale is gentle. you close your eyes as you exhale, shoulders dropping as the tension melts. he watches you for a moment longer than he should, the soft glow of the lamp catching the curve of your cheek, the way your lips purse around the inhale, the way your lashes flutter.
you catch him staring when you open your eyes again, and he looks away too fast, jaw tightening.
you laugh. âdo you actually smoke?â
he shrugs. âsometimes.â
âthen⌠here.â you hold it out to him, and he hesitates again before bringing his fingers close enough to yours to take it. your fingertips touchâbarely,he kind of touch that shouldnât matterâand he knows heâs absolutely fucked.
he inhales, slower than you did, eyes half-lidded as he lets it sit on his tongue before exhaling toward the ceiling. you watch him with your knees pulled to your chest, chin resting on them, eyes wide and hazy with warmth. he canât tell if youâre high already or if you just look at him like that naturally.
he passes it back. you take it, and something shifts. something subtle, invisible. your foot rubs gently against his calf, an absent-minded little movement like you forgot youâre touching him. your thigh presses closer to his. you lean into his shoulder every time you laugh, even though nothing is funny.
and he doesnât breathe right.
âyouâre really quiet tonight,â you murmur, leaning into him again without noticing.
âiâm always quiet,â he says, but it comes out strained, too raw.
ânuh-uh. not around me.â
that hits him too hard. he looks at you then, fully, and youâre already looking back, pupils wide, lips parted just a little, head tilted like youâre trying to study the shape of him. youâre close enough that he feels your breath against his cheek, warm with smoke and something sweeter. your fingers are on the edge of his hoodie, just resting there, like you didnât even realize you were touching him.
âyou okay?â you ask softly, brows pulling together.
he swallows. âyeah.â
youâre high enough that your thoughts spill out unfiltered. âi like when youâre here.â
you donât even hear yourself say it.
but he does.
he hears it like a confession. like something he has no right to want.
his throat goes tight. his hand twitches toward your cheek and stops halfway, trembling before he curls it into a fist.
you look at him, head tilted, lips close to his jaw. âchoso,â you whisper, as if calling him closer.
and he does. or maybe you do. maybe both. your forehead brushes his, and the room goes quiet except for your breaths mingling, warm and shared.
you could kiss him.
he could kiss you.
you're right there, mouths inches apart, your fingers curling in the fabric of his hoodie like youâre holding onto him for stability.
but he pulls back.
barely, just enough to stop the world from flipping.
your eyes blink open, confused, a soft pout forming before you can help it.
âwait please donât go,â you murmur, voice thick and sleepy, already leaning back into his shoulder.
he tucks you under the blanket you didnât realize you were sitting on. you sway, hazy, eyes drooping, and he lies you down gently, brushing hair from your face without letting himself linger too long.
you fall asleep with your hand curled in the fabric of his sleeve.
he stays until your breathing evens out and the smoke clears. he stays until he knows he can leave without waking you.
and when he finally stands, something inside him is burning.
because you probably wonât remember this.
but he always will.
the next morning you wake up warm, comfortable, head heavy with that soft cotton-candy fog that clings after a good high and good sleep. your blanket is pulled up to your chin, your hair is tucked behind your ear, and your lampâthe one you never remember to turn offâis dimmed to its lowest setting. you donât remember doing any of that, but you assume you mustâve. you always get sleepy after smoking. it makes sense.
you donât remember leaning into him.
you donât remember your lips brushing his cheek.
you donât remember asking him not to go.
you donât remember almost kissing him.
you just remember laughing and warmth.
and then nothing.
you go about your day like itâs any other, slipping into your classes, scribbling notes, grabbing a coffee that tastes too strong. you donât think to text him. you donât think anything was strange. you assume he dropped off, stayed for a bit, then left like always.
but for him, the world shifted.
and he hates that you donât feel it too.
choso wakes up in his apartment with the ghost of your weight still on his shoulder, your warmth still caught in the fabric of his hoodie, the memory of your voiceâsoft, hazy, saying please donât goâreplaying like itâs hooked under his ribs. he lies there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, trying to breathe past it. he tells himself it wasnât real. he tells himself you were high, tired, not thinking clearly.
he tells himself he shouldnât enjoy the memory.
shouldnât replay how your lips hovered over his.
shouldnât wonder what you wouldâve tasted like.
shouldnât crave the sound of your sleepy voice saying his name like it was soft around the edges.
but he does. god, he does.
and it terrifies him.
he canât stop replaying the way your fingers curled into his sleeve, like you were attaching yourself to him. he canât stop remembering how easily you melted when he tucked you in, how your knee brushed his thigh like it belonged there.
he thinks about how close he came to kissing you, how badly he wanted to, how the only thing that stopped him was the horrifying thought that you might wake up the next day and regret it.
and thenâjust because the universe enjoys ironyâyou text him that afternoon with a cheerful little, hey cho! do you have time later? :)
a completely normal text. a friendly, casual, innocent text.
you donât remember. he realizes it immediately.
his stomach drops. something ugly coils low in his chestâa mixture of relief and disappointment and a kind of aching he doesnât have a name for. he types back something short, something that doesnât reveal the way his pulse is hammering.
yea.
he stares at the word before sending it, jaw tight, shoulders tense, trying to swallow the sharp, stupid hurt fighting its way up his throat.
because he shouldnât be hurt. heâs your plug, not your boyfriend. he shouldnât want you to remember, nor should he care this much.
but he does.
the next time he comes by, he tells himself to be normal. to be distant. to protect himself. but when you open the door, smiling like you always do, wearing those soft lounge shorts and that faded shirt that hangs off one shoulder, his chest lurches like heâs stepping into last night all over again.
you donât blush. you donât act nervous. you donât even hesitate before turning your back to look for your wallet.
you just treat him like nothing happened.
and thatâs when the fear hits himâthe fear that he felt something you didnât. that he crossed a line in his heart before anything ever happened in reality. that he is falling for someone who sees him as comfort, convenience, company, but nothing more.
so he pulls back.
itâs subtle at first. something tiny that you feel without understanding.
he stands by the door instead of sitting on your floor. he hands you your bag with quick fingers, barely brushing your skin. he gives one-word answers. he keeps his hood up. he doesnât look around your room the way he used to. he doesnât ask how your classes are going.
he doesnât let himself linger.
when he leaves, the door clicks closed too fast. you stare at it for a moment, confused.
you tell yourself heâs probably tired. or stressed. or busy.
but something feels off, and it sits in your chest all night like a weight you canât shake.
the more you text him, the more distant he becomes.
you send him cute little updatesâa picture of your notes, a look what i cooked!!, a âdo you know how to use the laundry machine downstairs bc i think i broke it,â small things you used to joke aboutâand he replies with:
nice.
lol.
dk.
maybe.
at first you think heâs just having a week.
then you start wondering if heâs mad at you.
then you start wondering if you asked too much of him.
then you start wondering if you said something wrong that nightâthe one thatâs fuzzy around the edges.
he starts dropping off faster too. in and out. cash, bag, nod. gone. he doesnât look at you long enough for you to read him.
you donât understand why it hurts.
why your stomach drops every time he leaves too fast.
why you feel stupidly abandoned by someone who isnât even yours.
you just know something changed, and you canât figure out what it is.
but he knows. he knows exactly what changed. he let himself want you, and now heâs trying to pretend he doesnât.
it happens on a thursday afternoon, the kind where campus feels almost too bright. sunlight spilling across the quad, students wandering in that lazy between-classes haze, everything warm and golden in a way that feels like it doesnât belong to people like him. choso doesnât come to campus unless he has toâthe crowds, the laughter, the easy way everyone seems to exist here⌠it makes something in him twist a little. reminds him of everything he didnât get to finish. everything he had to let go of.
heâs here to drop off for some frat loser who always buys too much and tips too little. it should be quick. in and out. no thinking, no drifting, no looking around.
but then he sees you.
youâre standing under one of the big trees by the library, notebook hugged to your chest, sunlight catching in your hair in this soft, ridiculous way heâs never seen on anyone else. he freezes mid-step, half behind a bench, instinctiveâlike his body stops before he can think. you look⌠happy. brighter than heâs ever seen you in your dim dorm light. and then he sees who youâre talking to.
nanami.
even choso knows who that is. the golden-boy type. the clean-shirt, clean-grades, clean-future type. someone who walks like the world makes sense under his feet. someone who speaks with a calm certainty that people trust without question. someone who looks like he fits here perfectly, naturally, like college isnât a privilege or a second chance, but simply the next step in a life thatâs always gone right.
nanami stands straight, effortlessly put together in a button-down and slacks like heâs on his way to a job interview instead of an afternoon lecture. he listens to you talk with this intent, gentle focus, nodding at whatever youâre saying. heâs smiling a little.
chosoâs stomach drops.
he shouldnât care. he knows he shouldnât.
youâre allowed to talk to whoever you want. youâre allowed to have friends. youâre allowed to exist without him.
but watching you tilt your head toward nanami, watching your shoulders relax, watching the way you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he speaks⌠it hits choso deeper than anything has hit him in a long time. something ugly risesâjealousy, but also a hollow ache, the kind that reminds him exactly who he is and who he isnât.
nanami is your world. choso is your shadow.
nanami is the kind of man you marry. choso is the kind of man you hide.
nanami is future. choso is survival.
he sees you laughâa soft, shy sound youâve never made around himâand it knocks the air out of him. he clenches his jaw, drops the frat guyâs bag into his hand harder than necessary, and walks away fast, hands shoved deep in his pockets like heâs trying to hold himself together.
he doesnât hear anything the frat guy says. he doesnât think, doesnât breathe, doesnât slow down until heâs back in his car with the door slammed shut and his forehead pressed to the steering wheel.
he feels stupid.
pathetic.
like he let himself believe in something that was never his to begin with. he thinks of you falling asleep against him. the way your knee brushed his. your breath on his cheek. he thinks of how natural it felt to have you curled into him like you belonged there.
and now he canât stop seeing you leaning into nanami instead.
his chest aches in a way he canât name. something that whispers he needs to stop before he gets hurt worse. before he ruins something for you. before he makes things complicated for both of you.
he turns the car on just to drown the silence.
and in that cramped, overheated bmw interior, with the taste of jealousy still bitter in his mouth, he makes the decision heâs been avoiding since the night you fell asleep on him:
he has to cut you off.
itâs the only way to stop this feeling.
heâll finish tonightâs drop. maybe the next one too. but after that? he needs to step back. put a wall up. protect himself. protect you. make sure neither of you confuse comfort for something bigger.
he grips the steering wheel, knuckles blanching.
he tells himself itâs the right thing. the only thing.
he tells himself youâll be fine. youâll find someone like nanami. someone good. someone clean.
someone who isnât him.
he tells himself that cutting you off is protecting you.
but deep deep down, in the tired corners of his chest, he knows one thing with painful clarity: he isnât doing this for your sake.
heâs doing it because he canât stand the thought of loving someone who smiles at another man like that.
youâre not expecting him to come that night. heâs been pulling away for daysâshort texts, quick drop-offs, no lingering, no warmth. you told yourself he was busy, or tired, or dealing with something personal. but a part of you keeps replaying that hazy night in your mind.
you donât remember all of it, but you remember his shoulder under your cheek. you remember the warmth of him. you remember feeling safe. you donât know what that means. you donât know if itâs supposed to mean anything at all really.
youâre sitting on your bed, legs tucked under you, scrolling absently, when he knocks. itâs not his usual knockânot the quiet two-tap he gives when he knows youâre waiting. this one is firmer. like he's impatient and wants to get it over with.
you open the door, and he doesnât step inside.
he stands there in the dim hallway, hood up, shadows clinging to him like heâs trying to stay hidden inside himself. he doesnât look at you. not really. his jaw is tight, his shoulders stiff, and he holds the bag out like itâs something he needs to get rid of quickly.
âhere,â he says, voice low, rough around the edges.
you take it slowly, waiting for him to step in the way he always does. he doesnât move. doesnât cross the threshold. doesnât even shift his weight toward you. something cold sinks into your stomach.
âcho,â you breathe, trying to read him. âwhatâs going on?â
he shakes his head once, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder. ânothing.â
âyouâve been acting weird.â
âiâm fine.â
âyouâre not.â
the words slip out gentler than you intend, and they hit him harder than you realize. he closes his eyes for a secondâjust long enough for the hurt to flicker across his face before he hides it.
âthis is the last time,â he murmurs. âafter tonight, i canât come here anymore.â
itâs quiet. like heâs dropping a stone into your chest and waiting to hear it hit bottom.
you blink at him, stunned. âwhat? why?â
he steps back a little, like he needs space, like your confusion might pull him in if he stands too close. âitâs better if you⌠get someone else.â
you feel heat climb up your throat, not angerâsomething closer to panic, something sharp and confusing, because the idea of him not coming back feels wrong in a way you didnât expect.
âdid i do something?â you whisper. âjust tell me if i did. i can fix it.â
his expression twistsâsomething pained, something he tries to cover too late. âyou didnât do anything.â
âthen why are you leaving?â
âbecause i have to.â
you stare at him, throat tight, heartbeat climbing up into your ears in a way that feels humiliating and terrifying at the same time. he keeps looking everywhere but at you, like eye contact might break him open, like heâs scared of what heâll see reflected back.
you feel the burn behind your eyes before you can stop itâthat helpless, aching sting that comes when something matters more than you want to admit.
âthat isnât an answer,â you whisper again, voice trembling this time, the crack in it impossible to hide. âchoso, justâjust talk to me. please.â
his jaw clenches. he shakes his head like heâs trying to shut the whole conversation down, like he already made his choice and regrets knocking on your door at all. but that only makes the pressure in your chest worse, makes the words spill out faster than you can filter them.
âyou stay with me. you talk to me. youâre the only person who actually listens to me on this whole campus,â you breathe, the words flooding out warm and messy. âand now you just ignore me and pretend nothing happened? you act like iâm nobody? like none of this meant anything?â
your voice breaksâitâs quiet, fragile, barely held together by the thin thread of your composure.
âdid i not mean anything to you?â
his head snaps up at that, eyes wide, almost wounded, like the question hit him somewhere tender and unguarded. he opens his mouth, closes it, breathes through his nose like heâs trying to steady himself. âdonât,â he mutters. âdonât say it like that.â
âhow else am i supposed to say it?â you step closer, and he steps back again, like youâre dangerous, like youâre fire, like youâre something he shouldnât touch. âyouâve been pretending iâm just another customer and you know iâm not. you know you donât treat me like the others. you know you donâtââ your voice cracks again, softer this time, almost a whisper. âyou donât look at me like that unless it means something.â
he flinches.
and it hurts more than anything heâs said tonight.
âyouâre making this harder,â he mutters, running a hand over his jaw, pacing one step back like he needs distance just to breathe. âiâm tryingâfuckâiâm trying to protect you.â
your tears spill overânot dramatically, not shaking or gasping on the floor like on tv, just soft and helpless, like the kind you cry when you donât want to but you canât hold it in anymore. you wipe them away quickly, frustrated with yourself, but he notices instantly. his shoulders drop, something deep inside him twisting sharp and guilty.
âprotect me from what?â your voice is soft and broken and so painfully honest. âfrom you? because you werenât hurting me. youâre hurting me now.â
he squeezes his eyes shut like the words physically hit him.
âyou donât get it,â he says, voice strained and shaking at the edges. âyou donât understand what youâre asking.â
âthen explain it,â you plead. âplease. justâplease explain why youâre doing this. explain why you can look at me every week like youâre⌠like youâre waiting for something, and then suddenly you act like you canât stand being near me.â
he steps toward you this timeâonly half a step, but itâs the first time heâs moved closer instead of away. his breath comes out heavy, frustrated, the sound of someone whoâs been holding something inside until itâs bruised his ribs from the inside out.
âiâm not ignoring you because you donât mean anything,â he finally says, voice low and raw. âiâm ignoring you because you mean too much.â
you freeze.
the hallway seems to narrow around the two of youâthe dim light, the hum of someoneâs tv down the hall, the soft scent of your room still drifting out the open door. everything feels suspended.
âthat night,â he continues, swallowing hard. âyou leaned on me. you said things you didnât mean. you donât remember any of it. you donât remember how close you were, howâhow easy it wouldâve been to take advantage of you. i canât pretend it didnât fuck with me. i canât pretend i didnât want more than i shouldâve.â
you shake your head, the tears coming again, silent but steady. âyouâre pushing me away because i fell asleep on your shoulder?â
âbecause i almost kissed you,â he snaps, then looks instantly guilty for raising his voice. âbecause i shouldnât have wanted to kiss you. because i havenât stopped thinking about it. because i canât keep coming here and pretending youâre just someone i sell to. because i saw you talking to some guy on campus today and i realizedââ he cuts himself off, jaw tightening. âi realized i need to stop before i lose my mind.â
ânanami?â you whisper, stunned.
he shakes his head like the name itself bothers him. âit doesnât matter. the point isâi canât do this anymore. i canât keep wanting something i shouldnât want.â
your chest aches in a way that feels almost physical. âwhy shouldnât you want me?â
the question hangs there, trembling in the space between you.
he steps closer, barely, his breath catching like he doesnât know how to answer without falling apart right in front of you.
and the argument turns into something else entirelyâsomething full of things neither of you have said yet but both of you feel.
he freezes when your voice cracks, when your breath stutters, when the tears slip down your cheeks even as you try to brush them away quickly, embarrassed. something in him snapsâin that quiet, terrible way a person breaks when they see someone they care about hurting because of them.
âheyââ he breathes, stepping forward before he can stop himself.
you turn your face away, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand, but his fingers are already there, brushing gently under your eye. his touch is hesitant at first, like heâs afraid youâll flinch, like he doesnât think he has any right to touch you like this after everything he just said.
but you donât flinch. you lean into it.
his thumb sweeps the tear that hasnât even fallen yet. his other hand lifts, hovering by your jaw, trembling just the slightest bit before he lets his palm settle there. he exhales like heâs been holding his breath since the moment he knocked on your door.
âdonât cry,â he mutters, voice strained and quiet, like the words hurt him on the way out. âplease donât⌠not because of me.â
âthen stop pushing me away,â you whisper, breath shaking, eyes watery and wide. âstop acting like iâm nothing to you. youâre hurting me more now than you would if you justâjust told me the truth.â
his jaw clenches, eyes flickering over your face like heâs memorizing every expression, every tremble, every piece of you he told himself he had to forget.
he wipes another tear with the pad of his thumb, slower this time, like heâs scared to miss anything. âyou mean too much,â he says, almost under his breath. âthatâs the truth. thatâs the whole fucking problem.â
your lips part, a soft inhale catching in your throat. he watches the movement like itâs dangerous.
âand you donât even remember that night,â he says, his hand tightening in your sleeve again like itâs the only thing grounding him. âyou donât remember how close you were to me. you donât remember what you said. you donât rememberââ his voice lowers, raw and exposed. âyou donât remember how bad i wanted to kiss you.â
you swallow, the sound small and shaky in the quiet hallway. âi remember how i felt,â you whisper. âi remember feeling safe. i remember wanting you there.â
his breath catches.
and then you say itâthe thing that tips him.
âyou couldâve kissed me.â
his brows pull together, eyes darkening. âyou were high,â he breathes. âyou werenât thinking straight.â
âiâm not high now.â
the words hit him like a pulse under your skin. his hand on your cheek goes still. so does his breath.
the hallway feels close suddenly, like the air thickened around you both. you can hear his heartbeat, or maybe itâs your ownâfast and uneven, but loud enough to echo in the silence between you.
you step closer, chest brushing his hoodie, your voice barely above a whisper. âand iâm telling you right now that i wantââ
his hand comes up a little firmer against your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw like heâs grounding himself on the shape of you.
âdonât,â he warns softly, but itâs the weakest warning youâve ever heard. his voice cracks on it. âdonât say things like that unless you mean them.â
âi do,â you whisper.
his eyes close for a moment, pained, overwhelmed, undone. âyouâre killing me.â
âthen stop running,â you breathe.
your tears cling to his thumb. your fingers curl into his hoodie, pulling him closer without even realizing youâre doing it.
âchoso,â you whisper, soft and shaking, âkiss me.â
thatâs the moment he breaks.
he doesnât lunge at you, doesnât crash into you. he leans in slowly, painfully, like heâs been waiting months for this exact second and he wants to feel every fraction of it. his forehead rests against yours first, his nose brushing yours, your lips close enough that you feel the whisper of his breath.
his thumb strokes your cheek, gentle, reverent.
âiâm not going to be able to stop,â he murmurs, voice almost breaking.
âgood,â you whisper back.
and then he finally kisses you.
its warm and careful at firstâthe soft kind of kiss people give when theyâre scared theyâll break the other person if they push too hard. his lips move against yours like heâs memorizing them, his hand cupping your jaw, the other sliding to your waist like heâs terrified youâll slip away if he doesnât hold you close.
you make a small sound in your throat, and it tears a sound out of him in return, a quiet, ragged breath against your mouth like heâs been starving for this.
when he pulls back just an inch, his forehead still pressed to yours, his voice comes out rough and breathless:
âtell me to stop.â
you shake your head instantly, fingers tightening in his hoodie. âi donât want you to.â
his jaw flexesâa desperate, ruined little motion. âif i keep going⌠iâm not going to pretend anymore.â
âthen donât.â
he kisses you againâharder this time, deeper, like something broke open in him and thereâs no going back.
you donât even realize youâre moving until your fingers slide down his hoodie and you take a step backward, tugging him with you. the open door brushes your shoulder, the hallway air falling away as your room swallows the two of you whole. you donât break the kissâneither of you could, even if you triedâ but it shifts when you cross the threshold, deepening in a way that feels like giving in.
your back bumps the inside of the door and he presses into you, hands braced on either side of your head like heâs trying to keep the you steady. he kisses you slow and hungry, like every part of him is finally allowed to feel what heâs been choking down for months. his mouth is warm, his breath rough against your cheek when he exhales through his nose.
your fingers fist in his hoodie, pulling him closer, pulling him down, pulling him into you like youâve been waiting for this longer than youâre willing to admit. his body melts into yours, chest against chest, hips brushing yours in a way that sends heat curling low in your stomach.
he drags his thumb across your cheekbone, softer than any man like him should know how to be. âyouâre sure?â he whispers against your lips, voice trembling just enough to give him away.
âyes,â you breathe immediately, like the wordâs been waiting on your tongue. âi want you.â
he groans, and it vibrates into your mouth as he kisses you again, deeper this time, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, guiding you into him like he canât get close enough. he nudges the door closed with his foot without looking, the latch clicking into place, sealing the two of you into the dim warmth of your room.
you push gently at his chest, not to get away but to steer him, wanting him nearer, wanting him everywhere. he lets you guide him backward, letting your hands move over him like youâre learning him through touch alone. his hoodie is soft under your palms, but youâre already tugging at the hem without thinking, your fingertips brushing the skin beneath.
thatâs when his hands find your waist, both of them, fingers spreading over your sides like heâs holding something precious. he pulls you flush to him, your bodies fitting together like a thought heâs had a thousand times but never let himself voice.
âyou have no idea what youâre doing to me,â he murmurs against your jaw, lips dragging along your skin in a slow, reverent path.
your breath catches, your knees going weak for a heartbeat. âso show me.â
your words pull a sound from him. he dips his head to your neck, lips parting against your skin, breath hot where he lingers. he kisses there, slow, careful and hungry, his hands tightening on your hips like heâs finally allowing himself to feel everything heâs tried to bury.
he walks you backward toward the bed without breaking his mouth from your neck, each kiss warmer, deeper, more desperate than the last. your fingers slide under his hoodie again, feeling the heat of his skin, the tension in his stomach, the way he shudders when your nails drag lightly over him.
âtake this off,â you whisper, tugging at the fabric.
he lifts his head enough to look at you, lips swollen, chest rising unevenly. âyeah,â he breathes, voice rough. âokay.â
he pulls the hoodie off in one motion, tossing it somewhere you donât see. the sight of himâthe slope of his shoulders, the lines of his chest, the faint scars you never knew he had makes your breath falter. heâs beautiful in a way that feels sharp, like a truth you werenât supposed to stumble into.
your hands reach for him before you can stop yourself, palms gliding over the warmth of his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your fingers. he sucks in a breath at your touch, almost like he wasnât prepared for how gentle youâd be.
he leans down and kisses you again, slower this time, the kind of kiss that makes your chest ache. his hand slides up your side, under the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist. the contact makes you inhale sharply, your back arching into his touch before you can think.
âbed,â he murmurs against your lips, voice quiet but certain.
you nod, breathless, letting him guide you backward until the back of your legs hit the edge of the mattress. he kisses you again as you sink down onto it, his body following yours, hands braced on either side of your hips like he needs to hold himself back even as heâs hovering over you.
your shirt rides up when you fall back, exposing more skin to his hands, and his breath stutters when he sees you like that/
âyou remember now?â he whispers, thumb brushing your lower lip, eyes flicking down to your mouth like he canât help it. âbecause i need you to remember this.â
you reach up, fingers sliding into his hair, tugging him down to you again.
âi will,â you whisper. âi promise.â
and then his mouth is on yours again. choso kisses you like heâs been starving for months and finally let himself eat. not rushed, not in a messy sloppy wayâ just deep, slow, and consuming, like heâs learning the shape of your mouth from the inside out. his body eases over yours, one knee sinking into the mattress beside your thigh as his hands bracket your hips, fingers warm and steady even as the rest of him trembles with restraint.
you feel the weight of him. something youâve been unknowingly leaning toward for weeks. his chest brushes yours with every inhale, the warmth of his bare skin sinking through the thin fabric of your shirt. his breath stutters when your nails skim down his ribs, and he kisses you harder for it, teeth grazing your bottom lip before he sucks gently at the soft skin there.
you gaspâand the sound seems to break something deep in him. his hips press down instinctively, the rough drag of his jeans slotting against your inner thigh. itâs not direct, not intentional, but the friction steals a small, helpless sound from you that vibrates right into his mouth.
he pulls back just enough to look at youâand the sight of you beneath him almost knocks the breath out of his lungs. your hair is spread over your pillow, your lips are swollen, your cheeks flushed. when your eyes meet his, something inside him folds.
âyouâre soâŚâ he starts, then stops because the words hit his throat too hard. he shakes his head, brushing his thumb along your cheek instead, voice low and rough. âi shouldnât want you this much.â
âthen want me,â you whisper, fingers curling into the waistband of his jeans. âi want you too.â
he exhales shakily, like heâs been punched with relief.
your shirt rides up when he leans down again, kissing along your jaw, then lower, tracing the slope of your neck with his mouth. heâs slow about it, his lips brushing your skin like heâs learning every inch of you by memory, like he wants to carve the shape of you into his hands.
his fingers slide under your shirt, gliding up your stomach in a slow, searching path. the warmth of his palm makes your back arch, inviting the touch deeper, higher. he pauses right under your ribs, waiting like heâs giving you every chance to say no.
you lift your arms in answer.
his breath catches, a soft exhale against your collarbone. he grasps the hem of your shirt and pulls it off your body. the air on your skin is cool for a moment, but his body replaces the warmth instantly, pressing closer, kissing the new territory he just uncovered. his mouth trails along your chest, his hands supporting the small of your back to bring you up into him. each kiss gets slower, heavier, his breath warming your skin before his lips claim it.
he moves lower, kissing the center of your sternum, your ribs, the curve of your waist, his mouth brushing everywhere but the places that make your breath trip. heâs holding himself back until you thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, pulling him up.
âcho,â you whisper, breath shaking. âdonât tease.â
his smile is small. âbeen thinking about this too long not to.â
his hand drags down your side, settling on your hip before he dips his thumb under the waistband of your shorts. he looks up at you with a question in his eyesâone last chance for you to change your mindâand when you nod, he lets out a breath he didnât realize he was holding.
he slides your shorts down slowly, kissing the exposed skin as it appears, his hands guiding the fabric over your thighs like heâs unwrapping something fragile. when youâre finally bare under him, he pauses, eyes dragging over you with something between awe and hunger.
âfuck,â he whispers, voice barely holding together. âyouâre beautiful.â
you feel yourself flush, heat blooming deep and low, but before you can say anything heâs leaning down again, lips meeting the inside of your knee first, then higher, then higher still. his kisses grow warmer, slower, each one pulling a little more sound from you, until your fingers tangle in his hair again, holding on.
he presses another kiss to your inner thigh, then lifts his head, eyes dark and blown wide. âtell me what you want.â
your chest rises unevenly, breath quickening under his hands. âyou,â you whisper. âjust you.â
thatâs all it takes.
his lips move against yours like heâs trying to make up for every time he pretended he didnât want you. your hand slips under the waistband of his jeans, feeling the heat of him, the way his breath stutters against your mouth the moment your fingers graze his skin.
his whole body reactsâa low sound tearing from his chest as he kisses you again, deeper, harder, his hand sliding between your bodies to touch you for the first timeâ
his fingers find you like heâs been guided there by instinct aloneâslow at first, like heâs afraid to rush something thatâs been hanging between you for weeks. the pad of his middle finger grazes you, light enough to make your breath catch but sure enough that your hips lift toward him without you meaning to.
he swears under his breath, a quiet, ragged âfuckâŚâ pressed against your mouth as he feels how warm you are. how soft. how ready.
you kiss him harder, needing the solidity of him, needing him closer everywhere at once. your hand curls around the back of his neck, pulling him into you as his thumb strokes you gently, testing, learning, like heâs mapping you by feel alone.
your legs fall open without thought, your body answering him before you can speak. he notices immediately, his breath stuttering at the invitation. âyeah?â he murmurs, voice breaking as he noses along your cheek. âthis okay?â
âyes,â you breathe, the word slipping out on instinct. âmore.â
that ruins him a little.
his forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath shaking as he slides his hand lower. your name leaves him in a whisper.
he kisses down your throat as his fingers move with more purpose, spreading warmth through you in slow, dizzying waves. every sound you make pulls one out of him in return, like heâs tuned to you, like your pleasure lives under his skin.
âbeen thinking about how youâd feel,â he admits against your collarbone, voice raw. âhow youâd sound. didnât think iâd ever get to touch you like this.â
you thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, guiding his face back up so you can kiss him againâslow and open-mouthed, like youâre trying to pull the breath from his lungs. he groans into your mouth, the sound shivering down your spine when he sinks two fingers into you, careful but sure.
your back arches off the bed. his hand on your hip holds you steady, thumb brushing slow circles into your skin to soothe you through the stretch. âthatâs it,â he whispers, kissing your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. âyouâre doing so good.â
your thighs tighten around his hips, pulling him down against you as he movesâdeep and slow, matching the rhythm of your breath. your free hand slides down his stomach again, dipping under his waistband this time, feeling how unbearably hard he is for you.
the moment your fingers brush him, his whole body goes still.
his face drops into the crook of your neck with a low, shaken noise, his breath hot against your skin. his hips jerk into your palm before he can stop himself.
he exhales your name, his lips dragging over your pulse, his fingers stuttering inside you for the first time since he started. he kisses you again, slow and bruising and grateful, like he canât believe youâre saying yes to him.
âiâm tryingââ he breaks off with a shaky breath, kissing the corner of your mouth, ââto go slow. to be good for you.â
âyou are,â you breathe, rocking up into his hand. âyou feel good. cho, please donât stop.â
the plea destroys the last of his restraint.
a low groan shudders out of him as he kisses you, his fingers curling a little deeper, hitting a spot that makes your entire body seize and melt in the same breath. his hand on your hip tightens, holding you steady as he works you through it, his mouth swallowing every sound you make.
âthere you goâŚâ he whispers against your lips, voice thick with awe. âiâve got you. iâve got you.â
your legs tremble around his hips. your hand slips from his waistband to his side, gripping him, grounding yourself in the heat of his body as he keeps touching you like he can read your reactions before you have them.
âtell me what you need next,â he murmurs, breath warm and uneven against your lips. âwhatever you want⌠iâll give it to you.â
your chest rises sharply, heat swelling up your throat as your fingers curl into his hair again, pulling him impossibly close.
âi want you,â you whisper, voice shaking. âall of you.â
his breath catchesâbroken, reverent, undone.
and he whispers, barely audible, like heâs afraid of how much it means:
âokay.â
you feel him reach down, his fingers brushing yours as he works open the button on his jeans. he drags the zipper down with a shaky exhale, his forehead pressing to yours like he needs the contact to stay grounded. when he shifts, pushing the denim down his hips, you feel the heat of him through the thin fabric still separating you.
the closeness makes your breath jump. his, too.
he settles between your legs again, one hand sliding up your thigh, stroking softly like heâs coaxing you to relax for him. you open for him without thinking, your body answering him faster than your words can.
you guide his hips closer with your hands, the slow grind of him against you sending a warm shiver up your spine. he groans quietly, the sound buried in your neck as he presses a kiss there, then another, his mouth warm and open against your skin.
âgod,â he murmurs, breath uneven, âyou feel⌠i canât evenââ
âcome here,â you whisper, pulling him back up to kiss you.
he goes willinglyâletting your mouths meet again as he nudges your thigh with his knee, adjusting you, settling you, making sure youâre comfortable before he moves any further. his hand slips down your side, over your hip, his thumb brushing the soft inside of your leg in a slow, soothing pattern.
âtell me if anything hurts,â he murmurs, voice soft but strained, like heâs holding himself back by sheer force of will.
you nod, your hand sliding to the back of his neck, thumb stroking the small, tense spot at his hairline. âi trust you.â
the first press of him is slow, careful, his breath catching as he eases forward just enough to feel the resistance of your body welcoming him in. your fingers tighten on his shoulders; his hand finds your hip, steadying you, grounding both of you at once.
he pauses there, kissing you againâletting your body adjust to him, letting you pull him closer inch by inch.
you exhale a quiet, trembling sound against his mouth, and his whole body shivers.
âyou okay?â he whispers.
âmm,â you breathe, nodding. âmore.â
he lets out a broken noiseâand sinks into you slowly, inch by inch, like heâs trying to feel every millisecond of it. your nails curl into his back, your breath catching as the warmth of him fills you, stretches you, settles inside you in a way that feels inevitable.
when he finally bottoms out, he hides his face in your neck, breath shaking against your skin.
âfuck,â he whispers, barely audible. âyouâre perfect.â
you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and with that silent permission. your body soft and open around himâhe starts to move, like he wants to memorize the way you feel from the inside out.
your back arches off the bed, your hands sliding up his spine as he moves, each slow thrust sinking heat deeper into your body, your breath tangling with his, your mouths brushing with every shift of his hips.
âchoâŚâ you whisper, your voice catching.
he kisses youâlong, unbroken, like he canât bear to be anywhere but on your mouthâand his voice cracks when he answers: âiâve got you, baby.â
he moves over you with a careful kind of urgency, like every part of him is trying to memorize you at once. the room is warm with the soft hush of your breaths tangling together, his body settling into yours like it was always meant to fit there. each slow roll of his hips sinks you deeper into the mattress.
you feel every inch of himâhis warmth pressed along your chest, the solid brace of his forearm beside your head, the faint tremor in his thigh when you tighten around him. he kisses you without rush or hesitation, letting his mouth wander from your lips to your cheek, to your jaw, to the warm place below your ear, his breath catching there each time your body reacts to his.
time blurs. it becomes a stretch of heat and softness and the quiet, instinctive way your bodies keep finding each other. his hand skims your waist, your hip, then up your spine, guiding you closer with a tenderness that contradicts the weight of him moving inside you. your fingers trace the ridges of his back, the curve of his shoulder, the place where his breath stutters every time your nails drag lightly across his skin.
the pace shifts gradually, almost without noticeâslow at first, exploratory, reverent. then deeper, more certain, the kind of rhythm that comes from knowing the other person wants you just as much as you want them. his body melts into yours, chest brushing yours with every thrust, your legs tightening around him as heat curls steadily low in your stomach.
he loses himself in you in small ways: the way his hips stutter when you arch into him, the barely-there sound he lets slip against your throat, the way his hands keep roaming like heâs terrified of missing a single inch of you. your own breaths turn softer, faster, the tension building in slow waves that pull you higher each time he sinks into you.
minutes pass like thatâwarm, unbroken, the two of you moving together in a quiet, consuming rhythm that fills the room as much as your shared heat does.
eventually his control starts to fray. you feel it in the way his thrusts deepen, in the way his grip tightens on your waist, in the way his breath grows heavier against your shoulder. the air thickens with the rising tension in both your bodies, every movement drawing you closer to a precipice neither of you can hold off much longer.
your back arches, your hands slipping from his shoulders to the sheets, searching for something to hold onto as the pleasure crests sharplyâ almost dizzying. his body answers yours immediately, hips pressing deeper, pace faltering as he follows you into the fall.
the moment breaks over you in a rushâheat blooming fast and bright, your breath catching in his mouth as your body clenches around him. he shudders through it, his own release following only seconds behind, his body folding over yours as the tension snaps out of him in one long, shaking exhale.
the world goes quiet again.
only the soft weight of him against you, the slow drag of his breath at your collarbone, your hand brushing the back of his neck as both your heartbeats gradually settle.
for a long moment, neither of you move.
the room is dim, warm, and stillâtwo bodies tangled together, held in the soft afterglow of something that had been building for months.
you donât realize how much everything has changed until weeks later, when his apartment starts to feel more like a place you return to than a place you visit. it smells like himâthat warm, earthy scent that sits somewhere between cologne and dried herbs, mixed now with the faint sweetness of whatever candle you left burning on his counter last time you were over. your hoodie lives draped over the back of his couch. your hair ties collect on his nightstand. your half-finished iced coffees stay lined up by his sink like ghost versions of all the mornings youâve shared.
he never says âstay,â but he never asks you to go home, either. it becomes easy. so easy you donât notice the shift until youâre brushing your teeth in his bathroom with one of his shirts on, and he comes in behind you, kisses your shoulder in the mirror and says, âi like seeing you here.â
you like seeing him here, too. in his own space, in a place that finally feels like it belongs to both of you.
the first time you bring up school again, you do it carefully. his head is in your lap on the couch, one hand curled around your knee like he doesnât know heâs holding you. he looks tired in a way thatâs more emotional than physical, that old guilt sitting heavy behind his eyes.
âyou should go back,â you murmur, dragging your fingers through his hair. âyouâre smart, choso. you were good at school.â
he doesnât answer at first. just breathes, like your touch calms a part of him he still doesnât know how to name.
âi wanted to,â he says finally, voice soft. âi just⌠life happened. shit got complicated.â
you nod, thumb gently brushing his temple. âitâs allowed to be complicated,â you whisper. âbut it doesnât mean you canât start again.â
he looks up at you thenâeyes a little wet, a little overwhelmed, a little like heâs trying not to hope too hard. âyou think i can do it?â
âi know you can.â
he closes his eyes, and you feel his breath ease against your thigh, the kind of exhale people make when something inside them begins to loosen for the first time in a long time.
he applies the next week.
he gets accepted.
he tells you by showing up at your dorm with the letter in his shaking hands, trying to look calm even though his ears are red and his eyes wonât stop flicking to your face like he wants to see your reaction in real time. you scream, jump into his arms, wrap your arms around his neck, kiss him like youâre proud of himâbecause you are, more than anything.
he buries his face in your shoulder and holds you tighter than he has since that first night in your room, whispering, âthank you,â like youâre the one who took the exams and filled out the paperwork and wrote the essays.
but you didnât. he did.
you just lit the match.
nights in his apartment feel different now.
you still smoke togetherânot the way you used to, not because youâre lonely or stressed or hiding from the world, but because itâs become a part of your softness with each other. something shared, something gentle, something that makes the room feel like itâs breathing with the two of you.
you sit on the floor with your back against his bed, his legs bracketing yours as he sits behind you. his chin rests on your shoulder. his arms wrap around your waist, slow and easy, like heâs settling into something permanent. you spark a joint and bring it to your lips, inhale, exhale, then turn your head just enough to pass it to him.
he kisses your cheek instead of taking it at first, murmuring, âyou look cute when you focus,â making you laugh and shove your elbow lightly into his ribs.
âjust smoke, silly,â you mumble, smiling anyway.
he does, but not before brushing his nose against your neck, not before breathing you in like youâre the thing that unwinds him.
the two of you sit like thatâsmoke curling up like soft clouds around your heads, city lights drifting through his blinds, his chest warm against your backâand it feels impossibly normal. like this was always supposed to happen. like every moment before this was just a long hallway leading to his apartment floor, to his arms, to this shared quiet.
he presses a kiss to your shoulder, slow and unhurried.
âyou staying tonight?â he asks softly, even though he already knows the answer.
you turn your head just enough to meet his eyes, your lips brushing against his, the smoke still sweet on both your tongues.
âyeah,â you whisper. âiâm staying.â
and he smilesâsmall, real, a little in loveâresting his forehead against your cheek like he canât believe he gets to have this.
hi @dearjihyo
Š viixa. do not copy, translate, or reupload my works anywhere.
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heâs your slutty frat-boy-best-friend and youâre his sweet, bubbly angel* who has no idea that heâs been in love with you for months. he hasnât fucked a single soul since he realized his feelings, not one. pretending heâs fine while you curl up into his chest at parties like it means nothing is slowly driving him insane.
!!disclaimer!! best friends to lovers, soft slow-burn, mutual pining, best friends who donât know how to talk, and a love thatâs been there the whole time! angst!!!! comfort!
you get to the party and wow, its chaotic.
someoneâs shitty bluetooth speaker is blasting throwbacks in the living room, half the fratâs gathered around a beer pong table like itâs the olympics, and the air smells like weed and overpriced tequila. classic friday night.
you donât even bother knocking. just push open the front door, step over a passed out freshman in a toga, and make a move for the couch you always end up on.
and sure enough, heâs already there.
sukunaâs got one arm hung across the backrest, a red cup balanced on his knee, and the cockiest smirk youâve ever seen stretched across his face. his hairâs a mess, his shirtâs riding up slightly at the hem, and his rings glint every time he lifts the cup to his mouth.
you roll your eyes and collapse beside him anyway.
âtook you long enough,â he says, nudging your knee with his own. âi was about to send nanami on a little 'find y/n' errandâ
âmaybe i didnât wanna see your ugly face tonight.â
he grins. âliar.â
and you are. but you donât tell him that.
this is your ritual, your thing. it doesnât matter whose party it is, which fratâs throwing it, or how many people are packed into the house, you and sukuna always end up on a couch with the same kind of banter. same rhythm thatâs been beating between the two of you since freshman year.
you lean back, pulling your legs up to sit cross legged beside him. his thigh is warm where it brushes yours, and you try not to notice it.
âhow many girls have you hit on tonight?â you ask, reaching for his drink and taking a sip without asking.
he hums thoughtfully. âdefine hit on.â
you raise a brow. âsukuna.â
âwhat?â he says with mock innocence dripping from his tone. âiâm just being friendly.â
you scoff. âyouâre incapable of being 'just friendly'.â
âwow, you wound me.â
you shove his shoulder and he laughs, head tipping back, throat exposed and for a tick your brain stops thinking straight.
because sukunaâs hot. like, really hot. the kind of hot that should come with a big fat warning tag. he's got thick tattoos and a smile that pairs well with his sleepy bedroom eyes. he looks like every hot villan in those shitty old mtv cartoons.
and heâs your best friend.
your completely infuriating, manwhore of a best friend.
heâs the guy who once had a threesome during finals week and then showed up to study group with glitter in his hair. the one who keeps condoms in every coat pocket and probably knows the names of every bouncer on campus. the same guy who used to text you from girlsâ beds, complaining about how their playlists sucked.
and somehow, despite all of that, you adore him.
maybe because he listens when you talk too much, because he knows all your dumb fixations and lets you rant about them for hours. because no matter how many people he flirts with, he always ends up back here, next to you.
âyou thinking about me?â he says suddenly, smirking when you blink at him.
âi was thinking about how many diseases youâve probably caught.â you deadpan.
he throws his head back again and laughs, loud and unbothered.
âgod, youâre mean.â
âwhatever, you like it.â
âunfortunately.â
you nudge his leg with yours again, more gentle this time. the party rages around you, but this little bubble, this spot on the couch where itâs just the two of you feels untouchable.
youâve known sukuna for almost three years now. met him during your first week at university, at some wild frat party you barely remember. you were tipsy and rambling to someone about your favorite childhood tv show and he cut in just to mock your taste. and never left you alone after that.
heâs been a part of your life ever since. movie nights, drunk phone calls to your exe's. heâs there, always.
and somewhere along the way, you started telling him everything. even the stupid shit. especially the stupid shit. like how you spent two hours last night trying to get your cat to do a trick. or how youâre pretty sure your TA is in love with the guy who sits next to you.
you talk, and sukuna listens.
sometimes he teases. sometimes he gets this soft look like he doesnât even realise heâs staring, but then itâs gone. back to smirks and really unfunny sarcasm.
youâve tried not to think too hard about it.
youâre practically tangled up on the couch, like limbs and laughter and shared space all wrapped into one. sukunaâs arm is fallen over your shoulders and your head is tucked just beneath his chin, warm against his chest. his heartbeat is steady, slow, something grounding beneath your ear that feels like a secret only the two of you know.
itâs not flashy or dramatic. itâs the quiet kind of intimacy thatâs grown over late nights and early mornings, over inside jokes and too many half remembered conversations. itâs the softness behind his usual rashness the way his hand casually rests on your arm as if itâs the most natural thing in the world.
you reach up and thread your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. he tenses for a moment, then relaxes, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. âyouâre such an annoying pest,â he mutters, voice low and rough, but you catch the warmth underneath like a whispered promise.
âyou love it,â you say softly, you donât want to break the moment.
the party moves around you, loud, messy, chaotic, but it all fades into white noise. out here, pressed close to him, none of that matters. no flashing lights, no drunken shouts, no prying eyes.
just you and sukuna.
even after all the teasing and the bickering and the ridiculous banter, this is where the real stuff lives. in the easy silence. in the way your fingers find his hand without thinking. in the quiet understanding that youâre both exactly where you want to be, even if you donât say it out loud.
itâs the kind of closeness thatâs almost too much and not enough all at once, like your hearts are so tangled up they might burst, but you donât have to do anything about it. not yet.
because this is your truth. your safe place. the quiet love thatâs been hiding behind all the noise from the very start.
âyou see who maki came with?â he asks, breaking the silence.
ânah,â you say, glancing around. âwho?â
âsome guy named dan. total finance bro. talks like one of those alpha male podcasters.â
you snort. âholy fuck that's gross.â
âyeah tell me about it.â
you hum in agreement, stealing another sip of his drink.
âwhat about you?â you ask. âeyeing anyone tonight?â
itâs a casual question. one youâve asked a hundred times. but this time, he pauses.
ânah,â he says finally. ânot really feelinâ it.â
you frown. âyou? not in the mood to fuck? is the world ending?â
he shrugs, gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.
âmaybe iâm growing up.â
you snort. âyou literally mooned someone from a moving car last weekend.â
he grins. âgrowing up gradually.â
you laugh, and he looks at you again. and this time⌠he doesnât look away.
âyou know,â he says slowly, âyouâre kind of the only reason i come to these things anymore.â
your heart skips.
you try to play it off. âbecause iâm the only one who tolerates you?â
âbecause youâre the only one who gets me,â he says, voice low. quieter than before. âlike⌠actually gets me.â
you blink. your stomach flips.
but before you can respond, someone calls his name across the room.
he sighs and leans back, rubbing a hand over his face.
âhold that thought,â he says, standing. âgotta go break up whatever stupid shit gojoâs doing.â
you watch him disappear into the crowd, smiling as you watch his back muscles flex with each swing of his arms, you understood the appeal, he was a sexy man. in his own little fashion, he thought of you the exact same way, a drop dead gorgeous girl with a heart of gold, but youâd never even guessed he thought of you as such, after all, what would give you any sort of sign that he was into you when the latest rumour was that he was sleeping around with hot sorority chicks every weekend?
~
the partyâs died down hours ago. the house is trashed, half-lit, and still pulsing faintly with leftover bass through the walls. the beer pong tableâs been abandoned, someoneâs hoodie is hanging from the ceiling fan, and thereâs a questionable stain on the rug no oneâs talking about.
getoâs sitting cross-legged on the floor with a half-empty bottle of tequila, chosoâs sprawled on the loveseat looking like heâs already halfway to sleep, and gojoâs perched on the arm of the couch with a wine glass he definitely didnât bring himself.
sukunaâs nursing a beer. slouched in a worn-out recliner with his head tilted back, eyes closed, shoulders loose in that iâm relaxed but still kind of pissed way he always gets when heâs overthinking.
he hasnât said much since reader left.
âsukuna, man,â gojo starts, words slurring a little, âare you going fucking celibate? you havenât fucked a chick in damn near two months.â
geto snorts, tilting his bottle toward sukuna. âwhat, you give it up for lent or something?â
âmaybe he got neutered,â choso mumbles into a throw pillow.
gojo gasps. âdonât say that, thatâs so sad. think of all the women out there missing out.â
sukuna doesnât open his eyes. just raises his middle finger in their general direction and takes a slow pull from his drink.
âiâm serious,â gojo continues. âyou used to be the first one out the door with some girl pressed up against the wall. now youâre⌠what, sitting on a couch all night with your weird little bestie and dodging blowjobs like theyâre the plague.â
geto leans back, watching sukuna over the lip of his drink. âsheâs not just some bestie though, huh?â
that gets sukunaâs attention. his eyes crack open, dark and unreadable. âdonât start.â
ânot starting anything,â geto says, smirking. âjust saying. you used to be all about the sorority chicks with fake lashes and daddy issues. now youâre glued to sunshine incarnate.â
gojo lets out a bark of laughter. âplease. sheâs too sweet for him. sukunaâd ruin her. he needs someone who can keep up with the slut energy.â
sukunaâs jaw ticks.
choso blinks at the ceiling. âshe did bring cupcakes to the last pregame.â
âexactly,â gojo says, dramatic as ever. âsheâs, like, wife-coded. sukuna doesnât do wife-coded.â
âmaybe heâs bored,â geto says. âmaybe heâs finally fucked so many girls that his dick gave up and retired.â
that gets a laugh from the others, loud and easy.
sukuna doesnât laugh.
he doesnât say a word.
he just sits there, beer forgotten in his hand, staring into the dim space between the couch and the coffee table, jaw clenched, heart beating a little too loud in his chest.
because they donât get it. they donât know.
they donât know how it feels to sit beside someone who trusts you with everything and have to pretend you donât want to kiss them every time they smile.
they donât know what itâs like to want something real for once. something soft. something that doesnât taste like regret the morning after.
they donât know how long itâs been since heâs touched anyone else. how the thought of it makes his stomach turn. how no one else even registers anymore. how she ruined him for all of it without even trying.
and heâs not gonna tell them.
because they wouldnât believe him anyway.
so he just shifts in his chair, downs the rest of his drink, and says, flat and final, âmaybe iâm just waiting for the right girl.â
it shuts them up for a second.
then gojo laughs again and geto raises his brows like heâs not sure whether heâs joking, and choso mutters something about being too high for this conversation.
but sukunaâs not joking.
not even a little.
the teasing eventually fades, replaced by the quiet clink of bottles and the hum of low music someone forgot to turn off. chosoâs officially half-asleep, sprawled sideways across the loveseat with a blanket someone definitely didnât offer him. getoâs back to nursing the tequila bottle like it personally wronged him, and gojoâs now laying upside down on the couch, legs dangling off the back like heâs trying to cause a scene with gravity.
âso,â choso mumbles, voice thick and lazy. âthat mixer next weekend still on?â
âyeah,â gojo says without moving. âgammaâs throwing it with phi sig. should be decent. free drinks and better music than last time. theyâre renting actual speakers this time, not just hijacking someoneâs spotify on a jbl.â
âcan i bring shiu?â choso asks, blinking slow like it takes effort.
âyeah,â gojo says, waving his hand. âheâs in delta nu, right?â
choso hums something that might be a yes or might be the sound of sleep taking him.
sukuna sits up slightly, beer bottle still hanging from his fingers. âcan i bring y/n?â
gojo doesnât even hesitate.
ânah.â
sukunaâs jaw clenches. âwhy not?â
âyou know why not,â gojo says, finally flipping over to sit upright. âitâs a greek-only mixer. sheâs not in a frat or a sorority.â
âsheâs basically in this frat,â sukuna says, a little sharper than he means to. âsheâs at every party. she knows everyone. sheâs closer to you assholes than half the pledges.â
geto sighs, not looking up. âthatâs not the point. the chapters are paying for the event. they want it to stay within the system. itâs political.â
âitâs bullshit,â sukuna mutters.
âyou think i donât agree?â gojo says, more gently now. âi love her. sheâs our friend. but if one non-greek shows up, it opens the door for more, and then itâs a whole thing. alumni get pissy. mixers stop happening. and for what? a night where she already has better places to be?â
sukunaâs quiet for a second.
the air goes still.
because yeah, maybe you do have better places to be. youâre always buzzing around campus, always getting invited to every little thing. somehow youâve charmed everyone without even trying. the girl who bakes cookies for your friends and brings tupperware to parties. the girl whoâll sit and talk with a drunk freshman for forty-five minutes just to make sure she gets home safe. the one everyone trusts, everyone likes.
but youâre not one of them.
not on paper.
not enough to be invited.
and it stings in a way sukuna canât explain without sounding like he cares too much.
âshe wouldnât even care,â geto says after a beat. âshe probably wouldnât wanna go anyway.â
sukuna shakes his head slowly. âshe would. not for the party. just to be around us.â
âthen invite her to the after,â gojo says, too casually. âshe can come once the official stuffâs over. like always.â
and thatâs what gets under his skin.
like always.
like youâre some shadow they keep waiting in the wings. welcome, but not official. close, but not close enough. always there, always giving, and never asking for anything back.
but sukuna knows you.
knows youâd never say it hurts. never ask for an invite. never press your nose against the glass and say you want in. because youâre sweet. because you donât want to make a scene. because you think youâre lucky just to be included at all.
and maybe thatâs what kills him most.
sukuna doesnât respond right away. just rolls the bottle between his hands and nods once, like it doesnât bother him. like itâs fine.
but it does bother him.
because you've been at every party, every hangout, every busted-up couch gathering like this one. you're as much a part of this group as any of them, maybe more. you're the glue, the heart. the one person who always shows up and always makes it better just by being there.
and suddenly you're not allowed?
he gets it. he does. house rules. dumb frat politics. whatever. but still.
heâs never wanted to bring someone to one of these before. never even thought about it. but the second it came up, your name was already halfway out of his mouth.
and now itâs stuck there, burning.
gojo reaches over, clinks his glass against sukunaâs bottle. ânext time, yeah?â
sukuna forces a tight smile and tips his drink back.
âyeah,â he lies. ânext time.â
~
the next night.
itâs late when you hear the knock.
past eleven. campus is quiet outside your window, the kind of stillness that only happens after a long day of classes and too much caffeine. your desk lightâs still on, laptop humming, a playlist playing low as you scribble in the margins of your notes with a pink pen you definitely didnât borrow from sukuna and never give back.
you blink up at the sound, confused, and push back from your chair just as the front door swings open without waiting for you.
sukuna steps in, keys jingling between his fingers, sweat clinging to the collar of his black t-shirt.
âjesus,â you say, raising your brows. âyou ever heard of knocking?â
he shrugs, already kicking off his sneakers. âyou gave me a key.â
âfor emergencies. or bringing me food. this is trespassing.â
âitâs not trespassing if i live here part-time.â
âyou donât.â
âi do, emotionally.â
you narrow your eyes, watching as he kicks the door shut behind him and rakes a hand through his sweat-damp hair. he looks irritated. flushed. like heâs been fighting someone or about to.
âyou coming from a girlâs place or something?â you ask, trying to sound casual, but the words slip out a little more bitter than you mean.
he pauses, one foot halfway out of his sock.
âsomething like that,â he mutters.
it wasn't something like that. he'd been running, something he'd been doing a lot lately instead of his nightly rendezvous with his copious amounts of side chicks. after he went non intentionally celibate, he'd started putting the excess energy he wasn't using in basketball to do laps around campus.Â
but he couldn't tell you that. couldn't just say, 'yeah, i've been running marathons lately because my dick goes limp at the thought of even touching another women.' so he just chalked it up to whatever your mind was thinking.
you blink, surprised he didnât throw a joke at you or roll his eyes. didnât make a crack about what kind of position she had him in or if he should shower before sitting on your bed.
instead he just pulls off his shirt and flops down face-first into your comforter like heâs lived here forever.
you stare for a second at the smooth line of his back, the tribal tattoos, the way he exhales like your room is the first place heâs been able to breathe all day.
ââŚyou okay?â you ask, stepping toward the bed.
he grunts.
âgreat conversation,â you mutter, crawling up onto the mattress and poking him between the shoulder blades. âwhatâs with the dramatics, need to talk?â
he rolls onto his side, arm flung over his eyes, voice muffled. âiâm not allowed to bring you to the mixer.â
you blink. âhm?â
you knew of the mixer and you knew you weren't going, you weren't in a sorority.
âthey said no,â he says, finally lowering his arm just enough to squint at you. âstrictly greek. no exceptions. even though chosoâs dragging that freak shiu and heâs barely greek. and even though youâve been at more of our events than half the guys actually in the frat.â
you go try not to giggle at his display.
âi see,â you say. âitâs fine ryo. i didnât expect to go anyway.â
âyeah, well, i wanted you to,â he snaps, sharper than he means to. he cleared his throat abit embarrassed before continuing. âwas kind of the only reason i was looking forward to it.â
you stare at him, taken aback.
he groans and throws an arm over his face again. âgod. itâs so fucking stupid. i donât even wanna go if youâre not gonna be there.â
you sit beside him, folding your legs under yourself. "hey don't say that, i'm sure you'll get your entertainments worth with what're dumb thing gojos bound to do there."Â
he rolls his eyes but a smirk pulls at his lips.
âyou have to though, right?â you ask quietly. âfrat rules?â
he grunts again, bitter. âmandatory attendance. gotta show face, shake hands, do shots with people i fucking hate. canât just hang out with you like a normal person. itâs bullshit.â
you watch him for a second, hes clearly very upset on your behalf and it tugs at your heart to see him so sad for you.
the frustration in his shoulders. the tension still in his jaw. how tired he looks even though he wonât admit it. and how different heâs been lately, even if he tries to hide it.
itâs been weeks since youâve seen him leave a party with someone. months since youâve gotten a dumb flirty text from him at two in the morning about some girl with lip gloss and a sorority pin. instead itâs been this, late nights of cooking and movies at your place, quiet mornings where he'd crash on the couch, showing up sweaty and worn out without explaining why.
you donât know whatâs going on with him.
and you donât ask.
because heâs still your best friend, heâs still sukuna, you never know what's going on with men like him. not really.
even if you wish sometimes heâd let you see past all the noise and into whatever heâs keeping buried under his skin.
âyou could skip,â you offer after a long pause. âsay youâre sick.â
he lifts his arm just enough to peek at you. âand miss out on disappointing every alumni watching the insta stories? unthinkable.â
you laugh.
and he smiles, barely.
then closes his eyes again, and says, quieter this time, âjust wish it wasnât like this.â
you donât ask what he means.
you donât have to.
you watch him stew for another minute, sprawled on your bed like a kicked dog, jaw tense and brows furrowed. you can tell heâs stuck in his head again, spiraling over something he canât fix, so you do what you always do when sukuna gets like this.
you get up and go to the fridge.
âwhat are you doing?â he calls after you, but thereâs already the tiniest lilt of curiosity in his voice.
you peek back over your shoulder, smiling shyly. âmaking you un-grumpy.â
you return with a container of the cookies you baked the night before, still soft from the fridge, the chocolate chips slightly hardened but perfect for biting into. you plop back down beside him and wiggle the container in front of his face.
âi come bearing peace offerings.â
he raises a brow. âwhat are they laced with?â
âlove and all things happy and awesome,â you say sweetly. ânow shut up and open.â
you settle onto his knee, the position so familiar it doesnât even register as odd anymore. youâre perched sideways, comfortably pressed against him as you hold up a cookie to his mouth like youâve done a thousand times before with different snacks, different moods, different nights.
he sighs like heâs being tortured, but opens his mouth and lets you push a bite past his lips.
and then he goes still.
you try to hide your smirk. âgood, right?â
he chews slowly, then nods once, eyes flicking down to the cookie still in your hand. âfuck,â he mutters. âwhy are these better than the last ones?â
âbecause i added cinnamon this time,â you say proudly. âiâm a genius. a visionary. a baker ahead of my time. no need to lay it all on me at once.â
âyouâre a menace,â he says, reaching for the container and grabbing one for himself. he takes another bite, then leans his head back with a groan. âjesus christ.â
you beam, satisfied. âmood improved?â
he glances down at you, his arm sliding a little more securely around your waist, holding you in place like itâs just instinct. âa little.â
you twist to face him more fully, still sitting across one of his legs, knees bent and shoulder pressing into his chest. âwell, i accept your gratitude. payment accepted in the form of continued affection and possibly letting me pick the movie tonight.â
âyou say that like you werenât going to pick it anyway,â he says, but his voice has gone soft.
you donât move, just rest your cheek lightly against his shoulder. itâs quiet again, in that comfortable, lived-in way. his fingers drift absentmindedly along the hem of your shirt, not even thinking about it, and you feel the shift before it happens.
he sets the cookie down and wraps both arms around you, pulling you fully into his chest.
you blink in surprise as your face smushes into his neck, but your arms slip around his waist anyway, your cheek settling against his skin with a tiny, surprised smile.
this⌠isnât unheard of.
but itâs not common either.
not like this.
not this long, not this full-bodied, not this quiet. not this careful.
he doesnât say anything, and neither do you. just breathe in sync, slow and even, held together in the kind of closeness that feels like it means something more than either of you are ready to admit. it doesnât feel playful. it doesnât feel casual.
it feels like everything unsaid is pressing in between the space of your bodies.
and still, you donât pull away.
you stay wrapped around each other, soft and steady in the glow of your little kitchen light. the rest of the world fades out. no frat politics, no mixers, no rules. just your warmth against his chest, the scent of cookies on the air, and his heartbeat pressed right against your cheek.
you smile against him, a little giddy, a little shy, and squeeze your arms around him just a little tighter.
he squeezes back.
"such a softie."
"shut up."
~
friday night, gamma.Â
the musicâs already shaking the walls by the time sukuna and gojo pull up to the house.
the lights are low, the windows are glowing purple, and thereâs a line of girls on the front lawn taking pictures against the greek letters like theyâre on the fucking red carpet. half of them are laughing too loud, the other half are posing like theyâre about to sell flat tummy tea. itâs a mess.
gojo whistles low under his breath. âgod damn. they went all out tonight.â
sukuna says nothing, just shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and follows gojo toward the front door, already wishing heâd stayed in.
inside, itâs worse.
the house smells like weed, body spray, and some kind of mango-flavored vodka someone definitely spilled on the carpet. the bass is pounding. the lights are cycling through seizure-inducing colors. and the living room is filled wall to wall with girls in the tiniest outfits heâs ever seen.
crop tops so small theyâre practically bras, skirts that could pass for belts, dresses that ride up with every step. legs, boobs, glitter, perfume. like a scene out of a movie, only louder and stickier.
gojo grins, elbowing him in the side. âthis is what iâm talking about, man these chicks are drooling.â
âmhm,â sukuna mutters, eyes skimming the crowd without interest.
gojo keeps going, clearly amped. âlook at her, jesus. i could write a poem about that ass. might get it tattooed.â
sukuna hums, tuning him out. lets the words wash over him without meaning. heâs good at that now. nodding, smirking, pretending to be the guy they all think he is.
âoh my god,â gojo says again, eyes glued to another girl passing by in a see-through mesh top. âthis oneâs not even wearing a bra. sheâs doing the lordâs work.â
âpraise be,â sukuna deadpans.
gojo laughs, already drifting toward the drinks table like a moth to flame, eyes darting everywhere.
sukuna doesnât follow.
he stands near the door, shoulder against the wall, letting the party swirl around him. girls brush past him on the way to the kitchen, one of them flashing a smile he doesnât return. he watches two of them grind against each other like theyâre auditioning for attention, and someone tugs on his hoodie in passing, trying to get his attention.
he doesnât even blink.
because all he can think about is how quiet your apartment was last night.
how your laugh sounded when he tried to talk with his mouth full of cookie. how you looked sitting on his knee, eyes crinkling, fingers brushing crumbs from his shirt.
how easy it was.
how real.
and this? this feels like a joke.
he used to love this shit. the noise, the chaos, the attention. he used to thrive in it. let it fill him up, drown out all the parts of himself that didnât make sense.
but now it just feels loud.
pointless.
empty.
he pulls his phone from his pocket and checks it without thinking.
no texts.
youâre probably curled up on your couch right now with a mug of tea and some documentary about weird animals. maybe wearing one of your oversized sweaters. maybe thinking about him. maybe not.
he sighs, leans his head back against the wall, and closes his eyes for a second.
wishing, more than anything, that he was with you instead.
meanwhile...
your dorm was quiet tonight.
just the low hum of your mini fridge, the soft whir of the fan youâve wedged into the corner by the window, and the occasional clatter of your own movements as you putter around your tiny kitchen.
youâre barefoot on the tile, hoodie sleeves rolled up to your elbows, your hair pulled back haphazardly. the playlist you always turn on while baking is playing softly, the comfort stuff, the songs you donât have to think about. your body moves automatically, reaching for ingredients, measuring out flour and sugar like muscle memory.
but your mindâs somewhere else entirely.
you keep thinking about last night. about the way sukuna looked when he walked through your door, sweaty and annoyed and tired, like the world was grating against him. and how he softened when you sat on his lap and fed him cookies. how he looked at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth.
that long hug.
you can still feel it.
his arms wrapped around you, your cheek against his chest, the quiet warmth of his body pressed fully into yours like he didnât want to let go. it wasnât playful. it wasnât some joke. it felt like something else. something deeper. something youâre too scared to name.
you missed him the second he left.
you always do.
but tonight, it aches a little more. hell, it aches a hell of a lot.
because you know where he is right now. or, at least, where heâs supposed to be â at that mixer with gojo and the rest of the guys. shoulder to shoulder with every sorority girl on campus. probably surrounded by glitter and perfume and girls in backless dresses.
you try not to picture it.
you try not to imagine him pressed up against someone in a dark corner, hands on her hips, whispering something smooth into her ear. itâs what he used to do, after all. itâs what everyone still thinks he does.
youâve never asked.
but itâs easier to believe heâs still out there being sukuna, your charming, cocky, slightly feral best friend who fucks around and never gets attached. itâs easier than hoping for something more.
you sigh and lean your hands on the edge of the sink, staring out the window for a moment before pushing off again and turning back to the counter.
if he is out there right now, tangled up with some girl, then so be it. itâs not your business. heâs your friend. heâs always been your friend. and thatâs enough.
you shake away the little ache curling up in your chest and reach for the eggs.
he likes custard tarts.
you remember him mentioning it months ago, offhanded, when you were watching some cooking show together and he snorted at a pastry challenge. 'that shitâs easy,' heâd said, and then casually added, 'my grandma used to make those all the time. i could eat like five in one sitting.'
so youâre going to make him some.
you donât know if heâll even come by tomorrow, but if he does, itâll be waiting for him. warm, golden, sweet. something quiet to show him you were thinking about him, even if you wonât say it out loud.
you dust your hands with flour and start rolling out the pastry crust, humming under your breath, praying this suffocating guilt in your chest will soon subside.
back with the man of the hour.
the kitchen is hotter than hell.
bodies packed in tight, music thudding through the walls, the floor sticky with spilled drinks and god-knows-what. it smells like tequila, sweat, and cologne, like every mixer always does. sukunaâs perched at the corner of the counter with a half-empty shot glass in his hand, the burn of whatever cheap liquor theyâre using tonight still clinging to his throat.
heâs a few drinks in, not drunk, but warm. loose. not enough to forget, just enough to blur the edges.
âyo,â someone says, slapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. âyou still out here slaying or what?
itâs ino, one of the phi sig guys. bleach-blond, grinning like a golden retriever, drunk enough that his words are dragging a little.
sukuna doesnât answer right away.
he can feel the pause stretching. can feel the weight of it. because he knows exactly where this is going.
âwhat?â ino says, laughing. âdonât tell me the infamous sukuna went soft on us.â
heâs joking. mostly.
but nearby, sukuna catches gojoâs eyes.
heâs leaning against the wall with a drink in one hand, watching the conversation like a hawk. and when their gazes meet, gojo raises one brow, just slightly. the look is clear.
'just lie to them.'
gojo doesnât say it out loud, but he doesnât need to.
because sukunaâs got a reputation. one the fratâs leaned on for years, their golden weapon. their sexed-up, reckless, untouchable presidentâs right-hand menace. the one who sets the tone at parties, the one who doesnât hesitate to bang anyone, doesnât slow down, doesnât change.
and if word gets out that ryomen sukuna hasnât laid a hand on anyone in months, that heâs been skipping hookups to hang out with you in your tiny dorm room, baking cookies and trading sleepy smiles? well.
it wouldnât look good.
not for him. not for the frat. not for the image.
so he swallows the sick twist in his gut and flashes a grin that feels so disgustingly wrong on his face.
âyou know how it is,â he says smoothly, rolling his neck like heâs already bored of the conversation. âbeen busy. but yeah. still getting mine.â
ino laughs and passes him another shot, already leaning in. âanyone good?â
âcouple girls from chi o,â sukuna says, shrugging one shoulder. âblonde one â i forget her name. maybe claire? she was loud. pretty sure half the floor heard us.â
ino hollers and claps him on the back, and someone nearby chimes in with a âmy fucking guy.â
sukuna downs the shot.
he keeps going.
âhooked up with that junior from zeta last week too. the one with the snake tattoo.â
âmia?â ino gasps.
âyeah,â sukuna half lies, licking his teeth. âsheâs got this thing where she likes being choked. like, full hand, no hesitation. freaky as fuck, but she took it like a champ.â
thereâs laughter. back slaps. someone throws him another beer.
and sukuna plays along.
he leans into the scumbag act. tells them about how he made her beg. how he didnât even bother texting her after. throws in some bullshit about how she kept whining for round three and he just left.
and itâs easy, this was how he used to be after all.
his voice is smooth, confident, practiced. he says the words like heâs proud of them. like they donât taste like ash and piss in his mouth. like they arenât killing him from the inside out.
because the truth is, he hasnât touched anyone since he realized he was in love with you.
sure he's fucked those girl before, just not as of late.Â
no blonde named claire. no snake tattoo. no begging, no choking, no careless sex with strangers who mean nothing.Â
just you.
just the way you looked at him the other night, eyes wide and sweet while you perched on his knee. just the way you made him feel full with nothing but a bite of cookie and a laugh. just the way your arms wrapped around him without hesitation. like he was someone worth holding onto.
but he canât say that here.
he canât be that guy.
so he keeps lying. keeps playing the role. keeps smiling through the noise and the heat and the taste of someone elseâs expectations on his tongue.
and all the while, in the back of his mind, heâs wondering what youâre doing right now. if your ovenâs still on. if your hands are covered in flour. if youâre thinking about him too.
god, he hopes you are. safe away from this performative monster he's so carefully curated.
later.
things have gone off the rails.
the house is sweltering now, bodies packed in so tight you can barely breathe. musicâs still blasting, bass heavy enough to make your ribs shake, lights flickering red and blue and green over swaying heads. sweat slicks the walls, the floors are sticky with god-knows-what, and the air smells like beer, weed, and perfume way too sweet to be expensive.
sukunaâs sunk low into the couch in the middle of the living room, a drink sweating in his hand, head tilted back. his shirt sticks to his skin, his legs are spread, and his eyes are half-lidded, glazed over. heâs a few drinks deep, but not enough to be drunk, just enough to dull the headache thatâs been building since he walked in.
chosoâs next to him, nursing a blunt, and shiuâs perched on the armrest, scrolling through his phone with dead eyes.
âthis party fucking blows,â shiu mutters, not looking up.
âwasnât it your idea to come?â choso says.
âyeah, and i was wrong. fuck me.â
âeveryoneâs just trying to fuck each other,â choso says flatly. âlike aggressively. itâs like a brothel in here.â
âwith worse lighting,â shiu adds.
sukuna doesnât say anything. just watches the way two girls are sloppily grinding against each other on the floor, their drinks spilling down their arms, mascara already halfway down their cheeks. somewhere across the room, someoneâs moaning against the wall like theyâre getting railed in public, which, honestly, they probably are.
heâs halfway through zoning out again when it happens.
a blonde drops into his lap like a stone.
he barely registers her until sheâs already straddling him, arms looped around his neck, tits pushed up and glittering under the party lights.
âfound you,â she purrs, loud in his ear. her voice is syrupy sweet, her lips glossed thick and shiny. she presses a wet kiss to his cheek without waiting for permission, then trails her mouth down to his neck.
his body locks up. 'ew.'
she smells like candy and sweat. her lashes are so fake they look heavy. her nails scrape his shoulder through his shirt like sheâs trying to get a grip.
âyouâre sukuna, right?â she asks, already moving her hips in his lap. âheard youâre fun.â
he wants to shove her off.
wants to grab her wrists and tell her to get the fuck off him, now. because nothing about this feels good. nothing about this feels right. sheâs too close, too loud, too much. and all he can think is 'this isnât you.'
but then he glances up.
and he sees them.
those same frat guys he took shots with earlier, ino and the rest. watching him from across the room with wide eyes and cocky grins. waiting. expecting. this was what they wanted, wasnât it? the infamous sukuna he had bragged about not even an hour earlier. the legend. the sex god. theyâre watching like theyâre about to take notes.
and across the room, posted near the kitchen with a drink in hand, gojo is watching too.
his eyes lock with sukunaâs. one raised brow. jaw tight. a warning in his expression.
'donât fuck this up. just pretend.'Â he mouths.
this is his job, after all. the fratâs bad boy, their wild card, the one who never slows down. his reputation isnât just his anymore â itâs tied to the fratâs image, to the hierarchy, to the ego of every guy in this house who needs him to be that guy.
so sukuna doesnât shove her off.
he lets her kiss his jaw. lets her whisper something slutty in his ear, lets her press her tits into his chest and grind against him like theyâre already alone.
he lets her act like she owns him.
his hands rest loose on her waist. one slides down to her thigh, just for show. not tight. not real. just enough to make it look like heâs into it.
his skin crawls.
he doesnât smile. doesnât speak. he just sits there, dead behind the eyes, playing the part.
choso side-eyes him, a brow lifting. shiuâs halfway through another drink, watching the scene with a quiet kind of judgment.
sukuna doesnât flinch.
but inside, heâs somewhere else entirely.
heâs thinking about you.
your dorm. your stupid cozy couch. your face lighting up when he told you your cookies were perfect. your hands brushing against his. your warmth.
the way you held him like you knew.
and now heâs here.
pretending.
surrounded by noise and bodies and fake gold glitter. kissing strangers in front of an audience, playing the role of someone he hasnât been in a long time.
and all he wants is to be home.
with you.
the girlâs hands are everywhere.
on his chest, sliding under his shirt. in his hair, tugging hard like itâs supposed to be sexy. her mouth is hot and wet on his neck, and she keeps saying shit in his ear he canât even hear over the bass rumbling through the floor.
he doesnât want this.
hasnât wanted this from the second she crawled into his lap.
but now sheâs pulling him up off the couch, dragging him by the hand through the throng of sweaty bodies. sheâs laughing, shrieking something about going upstairs, or maybe back to her place, either way, her grip is iron and her intentions are clear. and people are watching.
he can feel the eyes on him.
guys slapping him on the back as he passes, grinning, nodding, giving him looks that say thatâs our guy.the same ones who were cheering earlier when she straddled him like a chair in the middle of the party. girls whispering, side-eyes thrown like confetti.
and gojo.
gojoâs standing near the bottom of the stairs now, cup in hand, watching sukuna get dragged toward the front door like some kind of prize.
they lock eyes.
sukuna hesitates for a beat.
gojo steps forward and claps a hand on his arm, grip tight for a second. he leans in, expression unusually serious beneath the usual shine of his grin.
âsorry, man,â he murmurs under the music. âi shouldnât have made you do all that shit.â
sukuna doesnât say anything. just nods once, jaw clenched.
âyouâre a good soldier,â gojo adds, half-joking, half-sincere. âbut you donât gotta burn yourself out for the frat.â
sukunaâs too tired to respond. the girlâs tugging on his arm again, fingers clawed around his wrist like she thinks heâll vanish if she lets go.
they step out the front door into the night.
the air outside is colder than it should be, sharp against his sweaty skin. it hits his lungs too fast. makes him dizzy.
she turns to him immediately, mouth already open. âso i live, like, five minutes away. unless you wanna go to yours? my roommateâs out, soââ
her hands are on his chest again. fumbling with the hem of his shirt, nails dragging over his stomach like sheâs mapping him out with zero permission. she presses herself into him, mouth seeking his again, clumsy and insistent.
and thatâs when it hits.
the disgust.
the wrongness.
the way it makes his skin crawl, makes his stomach twist. not because sheâs unattractive, not because sheâs done anything âwrongâ by frat party standards â but because sheâs not you.
and this? this isnât him.
he jerks away from her touch as she snakes her hand over the bulge in his jeans.
âstop.â
she blinks, confused. tries to laugh it off, like maybe heâs teasing. âwhat?â
âi said stop,â he snaps, stepping back. âjesus fucking christ.â
her face falls.
âyou canât justââ she starts, but heâs already shaking his head.
âgo." he almost yells. "go home,â he says sharply. âalone.â
her jaw drops like sheâs about to protest again, but heâs not listening. he turns, already walking, the cold air slicing through his clothes, his breath fogging up in the dark.
he doesnât look back.
the sounds of the party are muffled now, swallowed up by the night. but they still echo in his head. the music, the laughter, the voices cheering him on like heâs some kind of fucking mascot. the fake moans and the fake smiles and the way it felt to be watched like he owed everyone a show.
he lights a cigarette with shaking hands.
his stomach still feels sick.
and all he can think about, as the taste of cherry lip gloss lingers like poison, is how right it felt to be on your couch. how warm your kitchen was. how soft your hands were when you brushed his hair back from his forehead like he was something worth caring for.
he walks faster.
because if he doesnât get away from all this now, heâs not sure he ever will.
his footsteps echo off the pavement, sharp in the emptiness, and his lungs burn with every breath. the cigarette is still between his fingers, barely smoked, the ember flickering weakly in the dark.
he canât stop shaking.
his skin feels wrong. like somethingâs still crawling on it. like her hands are still there. he rubs his neck with the heel of his palm, hard, like he can wipe it off. the gloss, the heat, the fakeness of it all.
his stomach lurches.
he stops walking and bends forward instinctively, one hand on his knee, the other bracing against the cold brick wall of the nearest building. he spits once onto the sidewalk, tastes bile and tequila and something rotten.
he breathes through his nose.
in, out, in, out.
think of something else.
think of anything else.
but all he can think about is you.
the way you'd light up when you'd spot him on campus, how you'd always gravitate towards him at parties and hang outs. your stupid soft hoodie sleeves pushed up to your elbows, hands covered in flour, smiling like he was your favorite part of your day.
and god, all he wanted to was erase his entire past to start a clean, virgin slate with you.
he almost let some stranger girl touch him in a way he wishes only you would. he let her sit on him, kiss him, grab at him, and he didnât stop it. didnât stop it until it was nearly too late.
and for what?
some frat reputation?
gojoâs approval?
a bunch of guys who only know his name because of the stories he used to make up?
he could fucking vomit.
he dry heaves once, hard, and his whole body folds in. he grips the edge of a trash bin like itâll keep him upright, knuckles going white. but nothing comes up. just air and guilt and the way your name sits on his tongue like a bruise.
'youâre not even mine.'
he reminds himself of that again and again. youâre not his. youâve never kissed. never fucked. never even admitted how you feel.
youâre just friends. best friends, maybe. roommates in a different life. partners in crime when things are light.
but he knows what this is. knows whatâs happening to him.
youâve ruined him.
your gentleness. your kindness. the way you hold his face when youâre teasing him and donât even realize it. the way you hug him like heâs worth something. like you see him, all of him, and still choose to stay.
and now heâs here. shaking and fucked-up in the street, gagging over the ghost of a girl who doesnât matter, while you're sitting at home in your dorm when you could of been here with him, that way, he'd never of let another girl get close, he's speaks the night sitting on the porch, with you.
he sinks down onto the curb, elbows braced on his knees, cigarette hanging limp from his fingers. his vision swims, hot and sharp, his head tipping back to stare at the stars he canât even see through the city haze.
he shouldâve stayed with you.
he shouldâve just stayed home, with you.
his hands are trembling when he reaches into his pocket. he fishes blindly past his lighter, crumpled receipts, a folded-up flyer someone handed him earlier, until his fingers close around metal.
your dorm keys.
he pulls them out slowly.
they sit in his palm, warm from his body heat. a pink little charm youâd added dangles from the ring, a squishy cartoon animal he never bothered to learn the name of, even though you told him three times. it jiggles as he stares down at it, breath catching in his throat.
he clenches his fist around them.
tight.
like itâll keep him grounded. like itâll make you real again.
the night presses in around him. too quiet, too still. but that ache in his chest, the sour twist in his gut, it all starts to blur the second he stands up and starts walking.
~
your apartment smells like vanilla and nutmeg.
you pull the tray from the oven with slow, tired movements, fingers twitching slightly through the worn edges of your oven mitts. you place it carefully on the cooling rack, your shoulders drooping.
they turned out perfect.
golden brown, smooth custard centers with just the right shimmer. they look like something out of a recipe book. the kind of thing youâd proudly serve someone you care about.
someone who promised heâd come over this weekend.
someone whoâs probably in a strangerâs bed right now.
you press your lips together and exhale through your nose, eyes fluttering shut.
that ache in your chest still hasnât gone away. itâs not sharp anymore, not like earlier, when you imagined his hands on someone else, but itâs still there. dull. tight. like a bruise that refuses to fade.
you try to distract yourself. start wiping down the counter. humming softly. pretending.
and thenâ
bang.
a clatter at the door. a commotion, keys fumbling against the lock. your head snaps up, heart slamming into your ribs.
before you can move, the door bursts open.
a heaving sukuna stumbles inside.
heâs wild-eyed, flushed, sweaty, like heâs run the whole way here. his shirtâs wrinkled, his jacket half-zipped, one sleeve rolled up and the other down. his hairâs a mess. his knuckles are scraped.
he looks terrible.
and he looks right at you.
for one beat, just one, everything stops.
your eyes meet, and itâs like all the oxygen rushes back into the room. the ache in your chest disappears, the weight behind his eyes fades, the tension that was tearing both of you apart evaporates the second youâre locked into each otherâs gaze.
you smile first. a smile he so dearly loved to see.
small. instinctive. like it slips out before you can stop it.
and thatâs all it takes.
sukuna moves fast, like something in him finally gives out, and suddenly heâs in front of you, arms wrapping around your body like he needs you to breathe. his chest crashes into yours, hard, and his arms hook tight around your waist like heâs afraid youâll vanish if he lets go.
your hands flutter up, half-startled, and you steady yourself against his shoulders.
heâs holding you like heâs drowning.
âjesus,â you laugh softly, trying to ease the weight, âwhat, some girl give you blue balls or somethingââ
you donât finish the sentence.
because his grip tightens.
his arms squeeze harder, fingers fisting into the back of your hoodie like heâs trying to climb inside of you.Â
his face buries into your neck. and then you hear it.
a sniffle.
not a dramatic one, not obvious, not loud, but small and choked off, like heâs trying not to let it out at all.
your breath catches.
his body trembles once, a subtle shiver that passes through him like a quake, and suddenly your joke feels cruel, your smile falters, and your heart lodges somewhere in your throat.
your voice drops, softer than youâve ever used with him.
âryoâŚâ
you pull back just enough to see his face.
his eyes are glassy. rimmed red. lashes damp like heâs been holding it in for a while. and when he blinks, slow and heavy, a single tear finally falls, trailing down the sharp angle of his cheek.
your heart cracks clean in two.
like your body just knows, like it feels his pain before you can even register it, your own eyes burn immediately. you try to hold it in, but it stings anyway. wells up fast, like your chest doesnât know how to hold all the ache thatâs suddenly there.
he sees it.
his lips twitch, and he forces out a quiet, watery chuckle. âof course you're that kinda personâ he murmurs, voice thick. âthe type to cry when someone else cries. like itâs a reflex or something.â
you swallow around the lump in your throat. âi've only done it for you.â
that makes him go still.
your hand lifts to his cheek, thumb brushing just under his eye, and your voice trembles with the weight of it all. âbecause i care about you, ryo. so much. more than i can even explain.â
his breath stutters.
and for a second, he doesnât say anything.
he just looks at you, like youâre something heâs been waiting for his whole life. and then he smiles, soft and small and cracked open, and leans forward until his forehead is pressed to yours again.
you close your eyes.
you fall into each other like instinct.
your arms wrap around his neck again, and his circle your waist. tighter this time. not desperate. just sure.
you still donât know why heâs crying.
he hasnât told you anything. hasnât explained the bloodshot eyes or the tremble in his hands or the way he stumbled through your door like you were home.
but none of that matters.
because heâs sad.
and that makes you sad.
so you hold him. and he holds you back.
"y/n. i love you."
you freeze.
like your whole body forgets how to move.
his voice is quiet, broken at the edges, low and raw like it got scraped out of his chest just for you. you feel it before you even fully process it. like the words ripple through your bloodstream faster than they hit your ears.
you pull back just slightly, eyes wide, breath caught somewhere in your throat.
âh-huhâŚ?â
his gaze is already on you. steady. not flinching. his brows are pinched like heâs terrified, like heâs bracing for the worst, but his hands never leave you. they stay right where theyâve been, one at the small of your back, the other cradling your side like heâs holding something fragile.
âi love you,â he says again, firmer this time. âi think iâve loved you since the first time you told me about some weird show you liked and forgot to breathe because you were talking too fast. i didnât know it then, butâfuck, y/n. itâs you. itâs always been you.â
your eyes sting.
youâre not sure if youâre breathing.
his thumb rubs absent circles at your hip. his voice is shaking.
âi havenât touched anyone since i figured it out. havenât even looked at anyone like that. i tried to pretend it wasnât a big deal. i told myself i could just be around you like normal and itâd pass. but it didnât. it just got worse. everything felt worse without you.â
you press your lips together, hard.
your chest is aching so sweetly it almost feels like pain.
âyou donât have to say anything,â he adds quickly, eyes flicking over your face. âi know this is a lot. i justâi couldnât keep lying. not after tonight.â
you open your mouth, then close it again.
youâre not even sure what expressionâs on your face, shock? relief? some impossible mixture of everything youâve ever felt for him suddenly rising to the surface all at once.
but eventually, finally, your voice comes out.
quiet.
âsay it again.â
his brows lift.
you lean in closer, eyes shining. âplease. just say it one more time.â
he swallows.
and then he breathes it like a vow.
âi love you.â
you surge forward, arms around his neck, and kiss him like itâs the only thing youâve been trying not to do for months.
and this time, he doesnât tremble.
he melts.
like heâs been waiting his whole life just for this.
your lips part from his just enough to breathe.
his eyes are still closed, like heâs trying to memorize the way you taste, the way your fingers feel curled into the back of his neck. and you watch him for a second â the way his lashes tremble, the way his chest rises and falls like heâs never been kissed before.
and then you say it.
soft.
barely more than a whisper.
âi love you too.â
his eyes open slow.
like he needs to see your face to make sure itâs real.
and when he does, when he sees the truth of it in your eyes, your smile, the way your hand lingers over his heart like it belongs there, he laughs.
itâs small at first. breathless. disbelieving.
then you start laughing too.
and it bubbles out of both of you, giddy and bright, like itâs been waiting there under the surface all this time, the kind of laughter that spills into kisses, that makes your foreheads knock together, that leaves you smiling so wide your cheeks ache.
youâre both a little teary still. a little overwhelmed.
but it doesnât matter.
because when he kisses you again, deeper this time, fuller, with both hands cupping your face like heâs never going to let you go, itâs not heavy. itâs not hard. itâs not desperate.
itâs just good.
itâs just right.
like the floodgates have finally opened, and everything youâve both been holding back comes pouring out in warmth and wonder and wonder and wonder.
youâre still holding the edges of each other when he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips.
âyouâre it for me.â
and you smile.
because heâs it for you too.
youâre both still smiling, flushed and warm and tangled up in each other, when he suddenly sniffs the air.
his nose scrunches. he blinks. then his head slowly turns toward the counter behind you.
ââŚwait.â
you already know whatâs coming.
he sniffs again, exaggerated and dramatic, eyebrows lifting higher with every inhale. âis thatâ?â he gasps, stepping around you to look.
âyour favourite?â you finish, barely holding back your grin.
his eyes go wide. cartoonishly wide.
âyou made them?â
you nod, biting your bottom lip, and gesture toward the cooling tray like youâre unveiling the secret ingredient in a baking show. âfresh from the oven. made them for you, actually. figured you might come by afterââ
you donât even finish the sentence before he lets out the softest noise, like a choked gasp of joy, (very uncharacteristically cute for him.) and practically tackles you in a hug.Â
âyouâre so cute,â he says, spinning you around like itâs instinct, like youâre weightless. you squeal, laughing into his shoulder, clinging to him as he twirls you once in a giddy circle. âyou made me custard tarts? i could eat you up right here, i swear to god.â
âahh i see, so you're gonna eat me and the tarts? someone's getting greedy.â
âabsolutely.â
you laugh breathlessly, hands braced against his chest as he sets you back down. âgod you perv, did you have to ruin it?â
âsorry, sorry,â he mutters, grinning like an idiot.
he leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet, then cups your cheeks like youâre something precious and kisses you again, deeper, like he canât help it, like youâre his favorite dessert.
âalways wanted to thank you like this,â he murmurs against your lips. âfor all the stuff you do for me. the baking, the hugs, the late-night pep talks. all of it. i just never had the guts.â
you giggle, your hands sliding up his arms as you melt into him again.
and as he dips you backward like heâs about to marry you right there in your tiny kitchen, you decide the tarts can wait just a little longer.
ĘâşË Âť synopsis: your roommate and childhood best friend, yuji itadori, has two secrets he swears he'll drag to his grave: 1) he has a crush on you. 2) he's spider-man. spoiler: he's awful at keeping either.
ĘâşË Âť w.c: 18k, art cred: ig@/baaoozheăfluff, angst, smut, spiderman au, college au, living together, childhood friends, domestic fluff, cuddling, dogs, cooking together, kissing, tooth-rotting fluff, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), creampie, implied domestic abuse, happy ending.
ĘâşË Âť songs: playlistănotes: part 1, part 2, part 3 in wip!! i love spider-man and yuji so much like this actually feels like a proposal omg... ps: the playlist is like vibes i think this spider!yuji fic would totally have- hope you guys enjoy this little dump!!
Yuji Itadori has never wanted to be the centre of attention. Not even when he lands the biggest home run of the decade, or when he crosses another finish line first, smashing records the campus wonât stop bragging about.
As soon as the clock strikes seven, heâs gone.Â
No frats, no parties, no messy drama. In the kindest, nicest phrasing possible, heâs a dud. Heâll even disappear mid-conversation too, sprinting off with some sorry excuse of a âstudy session.â And if youâve ever seen his grades, youâd wonder how these âstudy sessionsâ even happen at all.
Well, he is a jockâand he is reciting his script for tomorrowâs anthropology presentation... Just with someone else hanging upside down beside him, cocooned in sticky white web on some cityside rooftop.
...Hold up. Rewind one hour.
Gunshots echoed, bullets ricocheting, and in the midst of this circus of a firework show, there Yuji wasâdodging clattering cans, cartons, and cereal boxes he was trying to save.
The robber, in his ridiculous ski mask, barreled through the aisles in his frantic craze with his crowbar.Â
âOut of my way!â he shouted, knocking over another pyramid of canned chickpeas.
Yuji smirked.
Suddenly, a web shot out from his wrist, and the robber yelped as the strand snagged his ankle, tripping him into innocent chips. Itâs almost pitiful as his arms flailed helplessly, packs crashing at the spectacle. With a grin, Yuji shot another string of white around the manâs torso.
âRelax! Iâm the friendly neighbourhood jockâwait, superhero! Friendly neighbourhood superhero!â
Though the robber still spun in place, tumbling like a washing machine on spin cycle,
âYou littleââ
Yuji fired again, webbing his arms and yanking him upright, Â
âOhhh, you like being dramatic? We can do dramatic.â
Another around the legs, another around the torso, and suddenly the man found himself dangling midair like a piĂąataâarms pinned to his sides, legs stiff as broomsticks.
A jar of olives bounced off his head for emphasis.
âPUT ME DOWN! WHAT IS THISâ?!â
With a swing from the shelf, Yuji landed with flair, crouching on a layered stack of cereal boxes as he grinned in amusement.
âRelax, dude. Youâre⌠uh⌠artfully suspended. Also, please stop moving, youâre making me dizzy.â
To his dismay, the robber still gyrated, knocking over carts and cans skittering across like tiny rockets. Thankfully, Yuji ducked just in time. With a sigh, he simply shot another web again.
âHold still! Or I swear, Iâllâwait, nope, Iâm not threatening you. Iâm⌠just trying to help! With style!â
So, fast-forward to now, and really, itâs just another Tuesday in 2010s New York.
âThe main cultural differences shape America inââ
âHey! Can you let me down already?!â
Yuji, eyes squinted, snaps his head toward the man, coins jingling from his pockets. But he isnât frowning at the robber⌠He just canât read his notebook properly, especially with the thin fabric over his eyes. Each word is blurred into hazy smudges of grey.
Sometimes, Yuji Itadori doesnât mind being the centre of attention.
Not when he's wearing the tight red-and-blue jumpsuit Nobara had stitched for him, seams puckered in all her nagging perfection.
Not when Megumiâs techâdefinitely not borrowed, not stolen from his labâglimmers faintly at his wrists.
And not when local news crews are scrambling to post grainy cellphone footage online, captions labelled with ridiculous, corny hashtags like #NYCSpidey, #OvercaffeinatedAcrobat, and #UnmaskThisGuy.
As soon as his last lecture of the day ends, he pulls down the mask, slips into the famous suit, and swings through the empire city that never sleeps.
Heâs not Yuji Itadori anymore. Heâs Spider-Man.
But tonight, though, he has an even greater problem than petty robberies and saving cats in trees. He has college.
âDude, can you keep it down? I have an assignment due tomorrow and Iâm stuck here babysitting youââ
Police sirens wail in the distance, cutting him off. And underneath his mask, he simply smirks, snapping his notebook shut as red and blue sweep across the graffitiâscrawled walls.
âAaand thatâs my cue.â
With a flick of his wrist, the man is left gaping, flailing uselessly as Yuji leaps from the ledge.Â
The moon hangs low and full tonight. In the midst of its glow, he arcs over streets, headlights glinting like glass, weaving in between scaffolding poles. Trash swirls in the gusts around him, while the faint scent of damp concrete lingers as he glides past flickering streetlamps.
The grids of blocks lie dark, the breeze sharp, yet every window glimmers with golden light; theyâre constellations scattered across the city that guide him home.
Even if what he does is nowhere near world-changing, heâs always reminded that the city is full of life, narratives. Every window, every golden light that spills through each pane of glass, hides a storyâa heartbeatâand that fact alone is enough to lessen the weight of his double life just a bit.
As always, while swinging past, his gaze skims the streets, searching through the blur of headlights and shadows. He finds you like clockwork. Trudging home, arms full of groceries: a paper bag with lettuce, a baguette tucked under your arm, and vegetables brimming atop. Youâre humming a song from your dangling earbuds, oblivious to the world around you.
He doesnât mean to stare, but when you live in the same flat, coming home at the same time he clocks out from patrol⌠well, itâs only natural he makes sure his crush roommate gets home safe, too, right?
âI wonder what sheâs making tonightâŚâ he mutters.
With one soft push, he slips his window open and dives back inside.
The wooden floor doesnât even creak under his landing, and the globe lamp atop his desk glows like a dim moon over scattered paper. He passes sticky notes plastered across his wall, zipping out his suit and tossing his book onto the bed. Stepping out, he flicks on the hallway lightsâand it isnât long before he hears the usual.Â
Your keys, the gentle click of the lock, and the first step you take inside, wrapped in the flatâs cosy warmth.
âWelcome back!â Yuji beams, hair tousled.
You nod back with a smile, shutting the door behind as you toe off your shoes. As you set the bag of groceries onto the kitchen island, you give him a smug smirk,
âDid you just wake up?â
His eyes dart away, guilty, all while he rubs the back of his neck. A sheepish chuckle escapes.
â...Maybe?â
You raise an eyebrow, sighing as he pulls a chair from the island.Â
Ever since you moved in together with your childhood friend, youâve learned three things about him: he eats terribly, naps like a cat, and will stare at you from the corner of the room with glassy, desperate eyes if he ever smells food.
And whether he admits it or not, you know when to drag him by the wrist, plop him down in front of a bowl, and pour him something warm. Youâve done it since high school. Youâre still doing it now.
Sure, heâs stubborn, but so are you, and tonight is no different.
âIâm just making some simple tomato soup,â you say, spreading the groceries across the counter.
The city skyline glitters faintly from behind him, setting aglow the twinkling fascination in his golden eyes.
âBecause youââ you tap his forehead with a finger, nudging him back, âare finishing your presentation script tonight. And Iâm helping you with it.â
His eyes widen.Â
âWhat?! How do you know about that?â
âIf I have to hear Megumi complain one more time about you cramming your share of the load,â you groan, washing the vegetables, âI might start seeing both of you in my dreams.â
âOopsâŚâ Yuji whistles, caught red-handed.
In the corner of your eye, you see him drift over as you slice the tomatoes.
âCan I help you cook then? Yâknow⌠as repayment?âÂ
You nearly slice the tip of your finger at the audacity, but his hands, as usual, catch your wrist before anything disastrous happens.
âYou?â
You turn to look at him, his smile as bright as ever.
âThe last time you offered, everything tasted bland.â
He pouts under your gazeâlips pursed, brows scrunched.
âIâll never learn if I donât try...â
A beat passes.
You sigh in resignation, and thatâs all he needs. Yujiâs already pumping his fists triumphantly in the air, snatching the spare apron hanging off the oven handle.
âLetâs goooo!â he cheers.
You giggle at his flippant victory cry, but you donât notice how his gaze lingers on you in the soft golden kitchen lightâthe curve of your eyes, the bloom of your cheeks. Heâs taller than you, so it goes unnoticed, hidden in the shadow between you.
âAnd this time, donât forget the salt,â you tease, stepping toward the pot.
âYeah, yeahâoh! Put on that Cowboy Bebop opening. Itâs been stuck in my head all day.â
You frown, eyeing the tiny apron stretched ridiculously over his frame. Your thumbâs already swiping across your battered iPhone 4, searching. When the first chord blasts, Yuji just stares.
âBased on how youâre holding that knife,â you chortle, âthis feels more fitting.â
ââŚYou think Iâm gonna break into kung-fu fighting?!â
You shrug mockingly, moving to boil the water as he sputters just beside you. And it isnât long before the kitchen settles into a cosy rhythmâthe chop of vegetables, the hiss of butter, the soft swirl of simmering brothâand of course, your constant two-minute interval scoldings.
âWâWhy are the tomatoes diced like that?â
âIâI swear someone did this on Hellâs Kitchen last nightââ
âI told you a little oil. Why is the pan half full?!â
âUhâŚâ
âIâm monitoring what kind of weird cooking shows youâre watching from now on.â
The soupâs fragrance fills the roomâsun-ripe tomatoes, roasted garlic, and basil blooming bright with butter. It smells like warmth, like home, and the little life youâve carved out together. Even Yuji stops mid-chop, knife still hovering in the air, just to inhale.
âHere you go,â you say, sliding the bowl toward him.
He drops into his chairâshoulders rolling, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips. He thinks you donât notice, but his fingers are still faintly red around the knuckles. The moment his eyes land on the bowl, something bright flickers in him.
The soup glows a deep orange-red, thick and velvety, droplets of olive oil shimmering across its sheen like tiny flecks of gold. Steam curls upward, brushing his cheeks, and in the dead of winter, the warmth blooms against him like late summer. Softening the night sky, brightening it like morning light.
When he takes the first spoonful, his eyes go wide.
Silence hangs in the room, but he just sets the spoon down gently, shoulders dropping another inch. He takes another bite, slower, and holds it in on his tongue. Under the table, his foot taps out its usual restless beat to a steady rhythm.
You have no idea what kind of day heâs had to be this hungry.
You donât see the scuff on the side of his shoe, from where he landed too fast on the rooftop across the street. Or the tiny tear at the hem of his sleeve, where something sharp grazed him. Or the way heâd winced when you turned away earlier, instantly straightening as if nothing had happened.
All you see is Yujiâsunshine, sweetnessâdevouring the soup as if itâs literally saving him. You quietly rest your chin in your hands, grinning while he inhales spoonful after spoonful, like itâs the single greatest thing heâs tasted all week.
âIs it good?â you coo.
He nods so fast his hair bounces, and a smear of soup ends up on the corner of his lip. He doesnât notice, but you do, and youâre giggling before you can stop yourself.
You turn toward the window, watching the city smear into streaks of gold and red, and in that split second, he lifts his gaze, eyes catching on you. His spoon pauses halfway to his mouth, suspended in midair, forgotten for the still of a heartbeat.
The moment his eyes land on you, his breath stumbles, chest rising too quickly in the quiet.
Goosebumps prick along his arms, and this time, it isnât from the danger his sixth sense is warning him of. Itâs from the way the skyline burns in your eyes, as if every light in New York decided to gather just to admire you with him.
He catches the soft amber strokes on your cheeks as your small smile curls like cotton-soft warmthâand underneath the dim neon glow, you look too gentle for the shadows, too bright for the night. For a breathless moment, he wants to steal you away. To borrow you from the world, and keep this evening tucked somewhere only for the two of you.
â...Letâs go see something.â
The words slip out before he can catch them.
You blink up at him, and the room instantly falls away, softened to all but a hush of the world.
âWhat?â
Heâs already getting up from his seat, draping his jacket over your shoulders as he takes your bowl. He reaches out your hand, and after a few seconds, you finally cave in. Leading you to the window, he pushes it open to the rushing cold air.
âWhat are youââ
âTrust me.â
He steps onto the fire escapeâs metal platform. You hesitate for only a heartbeat, then follow, fingertips brushing the cold iron railing. Halfway up, he glances back at you, and his smile spills across the dim rooftop glow. Brighter than Manhattanâs windows, brighter than the neon signs, and even more so than the giddiness in your chest.
Your heart stutters for a bit.
The hum of traffic drifts up from below, weaving through the gaps in the grating, and when you reach the rooftop, the wind tugs at your clothes, ruffling hair and jacket alike. Stretched beneath you was the entire glitter of New York ahead, a glowing chaos of gold veins and shadows.
You suck in a breath, clutching Yujiâs jacket tighter around your shoulders.
â...Itâs beautiful,â you whisper.
He doesnât look at the shimmering skyline, but only at you. The spark in your eyes catching the glint of distant lights. Sitting down, he pats away the dust beside him, pulling you down to follow him. You plop yourself down, knees brushing.
âRight? When things are heavy, I like to sit and just watch the lights from above.â
Giggling, you take the warm bowl from his hands, the heat spreading through your fingers and mingling with the steam curling like tiny ghosts between you.
âI didnât know you were also a rooftop climber.â
He flinches slightly, but you donât notice, lost as you are in the flickering tapestry of lights and the comforting weight of his jacket draped around your shoulders.
â...Thanks,â you murmur.
He tilts his head to your voice, and his smile blooms like a lantern in the cold fluorescent glow of the city. He notices the dark circles under your eyes, the slump of your shoulders while cooking, and the faint, heavy sighs. Time hangs between you, quiet.Â
âIs it because of your mother?âÂ
He doesnât mean to pry. He simply waits, patient and quiet.
Years ago, when he was fourteen and the weight of the world had abandoned him to debt and despair, it was you who had pulled him into the light.
You, who had brought him home, were pleading with your parents to let him stay, working alongside him through three jobs, shielding him from bullies, and carving out space for him in a world that had none.
And it wasn't because of pityâit was simply because it was right.
And that small, steady truth had been more than enough for him to realise, walking home together one evening, that life without you was unthinkable. Impossible.
But ever since that incident, Yuji spends his nights differently now, wondering if he even still has the right to be sitting next to you. Perhaps thatâs why heâs swinging across buildings now, a distraction to the ache he canât name. The tugging knot of fear that writhes from his core.
âMm⌠same old,â you murmur, eyes drifting to the golden veins of streets below, lids heavy.
âYou know Iâm always here for you, right?âÂ
You shift your gaze toward him. His brows crease, jaw tight, lips parted, as if heâs waiting for a question youâve buried too deep to speak. Yet your hands move betrayingly, fingers brushing against his, seeking him out over the coarse, cold brick beneath you.
He threads his fingers through yours with an ease so natural, it terrifies you. A knot coils low in your stomach, tightening with every heartbeat, your hand trembling beneath the gentle heat of his.
The wind tugs at your hair, lights flickering beyond the skyline like tiny stars. Amidst the faint hum of traffic and the electric scent of the city, each glow pulses, just like the racing of your heart.
You can feel it, the quiet certainty in his touch. You know he means it. You really do.
But even so, your lips betray you. They tremble against a single word, from the weight of too many nights spent replaying every thought, every fear.
â...Thanks.â
A fragile whisper, soft as paper, heavy as stone.
Somewhere far below, a taxi honks. Somewhere far above, a neon sign blinks. But in between both, itâs just the two of you. And even with all the uncertainty, the nights, and the unspoken truths that linger between breaths, you settle.
This litany of quiet is enough.
Itâs eleven o'clock out, the sun is stupidly bright, and you want to die. Likeâcrawl six feet under and stay burrowed in thereâdie.Â
âSee you tomorrow!â the woman calls as you leave, a paper bag of tangerines digging into your fingers.
You flash her a beaming smile, hiding your soul-rotting exhaustion. The doorâs jingle follows you onto the bustling sidewalk.
New York is already in full chaos mode. Yellow cabs are barking at each other, crowds are shoving downstream like human traffic jams, and tourists are wrestling with crumpled city maps like theyâre cursed.
When you glance up, you see the usual pigeons parading shop awnings, lined like entitled landlords. Scaffolding poles crisscross above you, towering between skyscrapers, and your earphones dangle uselessly around your neck.
No song is strong enough to fight the throbbing migraine pulsing behind your eyes, and itâs probably because you were up until 5:00 a.m. helping Yuji.
The memory punches you in the brain.
âWhy the hell is it blank?â youâd blurtedâbecause how else were you supposed to react to that monstrosity?
You were both on the living room carpet, his laptop glowing tragically atop the coffee table. Yuji jerked his head toward you, scandalised.
âUm, no? Thereâs the title slide, the body slide, and the bullet points. Itâs got everything it needs.â
You didnât need a degree to see all the ways that was a crime, and maybe youâre just a saintâthatâs what he thinksâbut you were already storming into your room, grabbing your laptop.
âOkay, youââ you pointed at him, âwrite your script. Iâm fixing your slides.â
His eyes widened, watching as you flipped open your laptop, copied the link, and sent it over.
âWeâll revise the whole thing on four, andââ
Bla bla bla⌠your words were already blurring into the mindless static of Yujiâs head. In that deserted hollowness of a brain, there was just awe.
The way your focus sharpened, the way your brows pinched, the way you sank into a task like the world around you melted away⌠it was the same look youâd had four years prior.
When both of you still worked for some cramped, greasy kitchen in Queensâand then, heâd been elbowâdeep in suds, wrist aching, sweat sticking his bangs to his forehead.
Suddenly, you burst through the door.
âWhat theââ Yuji had jumped, nearly dropping a plate.
You didnât even flinch at his shock. You were already rolling up your sleeves, sweeping half his stack of dirty dishes into your arms.
âNo wonder youâre coming home at ten every day,â you muttered, scrubbing. âI asked the manager how many extra shifts you took. Care to explain?â
Yuji immediately paused. Your eyes still stayed focused on your side of the sink, though. The plate in his hand, the steam, and the music drifting faintly from the restaurantâs old radio all seemed to stop.
âWe need the money,â he said gently, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a hopeful smile.Â
He reached to take the plate from you,
âCome onâhand it back. Itâs my responsibility.â
Your grip didnât budge. You just glared at him from under your lashes.
âWe promised not to keep secrets from each other,â you murmured.
Silence fell. Only the muted hum of jazz seeped in from the dining area, trembling throughout the fragile string in the air.
Then you whispered, almost too quietly for him to hear.
â...I donât want to stay home either.â
His chest tightened. You werenât supposed to say thatâyou werenât supposed to feel that kind of hurt, at least when he was by your side.Â
Yuji opened his mouth. Closed it. But after a few moments of still silence, he dug his fingers into his palms.
âWeâre moving out as soon as I get paid.â
Your head snapped toward him. And there it wasâthat boyish grin. The same one heâd given you at six years old on the playground, when he offered you half his juice box just after you scraped your knee.
âI checked our savings,â he said softly. âWeâll have enough by this month.â
Your lips parted. Your eyes widened. And when the realisation hit you, Yuji quickly stripped off his gloves and ruffled your hair with a warm, shaking laugh.
âNew York, angel. New life.â
Your throat tightened. Your heart stopped.
And before you knew it, your eyes were already watery, tears brimming at the edge.
He had prayed to every God he knew to do anything, to never see you cry again. That if sadness ever had to choose, it would pick him, and not you.
So when your tears finally spilt under the cheap fluorescent lights, he didnât hesitate. He simply pulled you in, arms wrapping around you as you clung to the back of his hoodie, shoulders shaking.
You choked on your own tears, finally surrendering to the dam of emotions youâd bottled all these years. He quietly kept his hold on you, whispering it again, breath warm against your ear.
New York. New life.
Flash forward four yearsâafter the spider bite, after the powers, after the secrets that clawed at his nightsâand some things never changed.
âAngelâŚâ he murmured, stunned all over again.
Sure, he saved cats, strangers and entire banks on his better days, but it came at the cost of everything else.
His friends all think heâs unreliable, a dud, and weirdly bad at showing upâcollege deadlines slipped, plans fell apart, and every time the hairs on his arms stood up, that electric buzz tingling in his bonesâhe had to go. He just had to.
He knew what happened when he ignored it, and even in the darkest of nights, he still hears the crackle of fire from the apartment next door.
But you stayed.
You always stayed.
He wanted to hug you.
To kiss you.
To press his forehead to yours and promise that heâd protect you from everythingâeven himself.
But he swallowed it down, locked it away where it couldnât slip out too easily.
And he just⌠smiled.
That boyish, earnest smile he never realises has the power to crumble all your walls.
Enough to also keep your whole world from collapsing. Enough to make you brave. Enough to make you trust him even when everything else in your life feels like itâs slipping between your fingers.
For as long as you can remember, itâs always felt like you and him against the world.
You know how he disappears every night, how heâs never on time for anything, how he comes back scraped or breathless or exhaustedâbut you never ask. You donât pry. You donât push.
Because Yuji is the one person youâd bend your whole life around if it meant easing his burdens. You trust himâyou trust him in a way that terrifies you. Youâve known him long enough to understand the softness of his heart, the way he tries to carry everything alone, the way he refuses to let people worry for him.
And you know, deep down, that heâd never hurt anyone.
Heâd never hurt you.
So you keep your silence with that one line heâs unknowingly drawn between you.Â
Even when you feel his gaze lingering on you longer than it should.
Even when goosebumps rise along your arms in the soft, living warmth of the room.
Even when you ache to reach out, to cup his face, to ask him why it feels like something is always slipping away.
Neither of you speaks. Neither of you steps forward.
Your fingers twitch at your sides, his hands clench slightly at his thighs.
Even when this fragile string youâre threading so carefully on is the very thing hurting you both.
Youâre slipping through the afternoon crowd like a loose page torn from a book, shoving past another tourist whose camera strap is swinging wildly. The air smells faintly of burnt bagels, exhaust, and wet asphalt from last nightâs rain. Metal trash cans clatter in the wind, lids rattling against their rims, and somewhere above, the faint screech of the subway reverberates from the tracks overhead.
Footsteps echo around you, tyres hiss against the wet asphalt, yet even in this city that never sleeps, your thoughts drift as you shuffle through the bustle.
I wonder how Yujiâs presentation went?
Hopefully well. Otherwise, youâll have to suffer through the hell of Megumiâs complaints for at least another month.Â
You yawn, squinting as your vision blurs slightly against the harsh reflection of the rising sun on glass skyscrapers. The traffic light clicks, the pedestriansâ signal flipping to red, but suddenly, your eyes catch something else entirely.
Something small, trembling, utterly out of place in the chaos. A golden-furred bundle curled in the middle of the crossing.Â
A puppy.
Your heart stutters.
Everyone sees it, yet no one moves. Cars keep rolling, and the pup curls in on itself, shaking so violently you can feel it even from the curb.
What the hell?
Your mind scatters in ten directions at once, tripping over every worst-case scenario. Logic screams, Donât run into traffic, so you're forced to stand thereâfoot tapping, throat tight, breath trappedâwaiting. As soon as the pedestrian light ticks green, your legs run before you can even think.
You sprint.
Your sneakers slap against the asphalt, the city blurring around you in a rush of horns and exhaust. With a quick drop of a crouch, breath heaving, you slowly stick out a hand for it to sniff, but it shrinks back, paws skittering against the cold pavement.Â
Itâs terrified. Of everything. The honks, the stomps, the chatterâNew Yorkâs roar is swallowing the tiny thing whole.
The pedestrian countdown crackles overhead, each tick like a punch to your ribs, and your heartbeat syncs with itâfrantic, stuttering, racing.
âItâs okay, itâs okayâŚâ you whisper.
But itâs not. Not even close.
You glance up.
Ten seconds left.
Fuck it.
You drop the paper bag. Tangerines scatter across the crosswalk, bumping under shoes, rolling into gutters as you sweep the trembling puppy into your arms. Its ribs flutter against your palms frantically. You whisper whatever calming nonsense you can manageâ
HOOOONK.
The blare is so loud it splits your thoughts in half.
Before you even fully straighten, the world explodes into white behind your eyes. You snap your head toward the sound.
A truck is barreling toward you.
Too close.
Too fast.
Your entire body locks. Thereâs no time to run, no time to scream. The world narrows to the shadow swallowing youâ
An arm suddenly clamps around your waist.
The ground vanishes, wind knifes past your ears. In a blink of an eye, youâre off the asphalt and slammed into the blur of motion.Â
The city snaps back into focus just as your feet touch down on solid pavement, and right behind you,
âWhoa thereâcareful!â
You freeze, heart slamming into your ribs.
You know that voice. Youâd know it in a thunderstorm, a blackout, a dream.
âYuââ
But when you whirl around, ready to scream at him, you freeze. The person holding you isnât Yuji.
Itâs Spider-Man.
The spandex, the mask, and the red and blue in all its stupid gloryâstanding right in front of you, fingers still trembling slightly where they had been gripping your waist. He slowly lets go of it, watching as you spin to face him, face shaken.Â
As more and more people start to crowd the two of you, theyâre lifting phones, shouting.
Itâs his voice. You know it.
But thereâs also absolutely no way that Yuji Itadoriâyour perpetually late, starving, ghost of a roommateâis the same Spider-Man plastered all over the Daily Bugle every day, busy saving lives.
You swallow hard.
ââŚThank you.â
He glances down, raising his knuckle for the shaking pupâand after a few sniffs, he boops its nose, its tail giving a tiny, shy wag.Â
âWhat a cutie,â he says softly. âIs this yours?â
He knows the answer. He shouldnât even be talking this much. But when you look up at himâstunned, scared, and shockedâhe stays.
You pause for a moment, brain short-circuiting before shaking your head.Â
He gestures gently.
âI can take him to a local shelter, if you want.â
What?
Your arms instinctively tighten around the pup, but after a few beats, the tension in your shoulders eases. With a hesitant nod, you slowly pass it overâand to your surprise, he holds the little thing way too gently, cradling it close to his chest.
Then, he asks,
âDo you want to come with us?â
Your head instantly perks up to him.Â
He wants you to come⌠with him.
Your heart thuds against your ribs, the cluster of crowds sending your brain into cartwheels now. Your fists are still against his chest, clenched, and after a few beats, you nod once.
â...Please?â you add, voice barely above a whisper.
Something in him melts.
âAlright,â he murmurs, hooking an arm around your waist with the pup. âNo tall skyscrapers this time, though. Gotta make sure I donât scare the pup.â
Before you can even process what heâs saying, a white web shoots out from his wristâ
And youâre fucking airborne.
âAAAAAâ!!â
Youâre screaming as the wind whips across your face, the ground blurring beneath your feet.
One awning leads to another, gilding just above the trafficâand somehow, that makes it even more terrifying; you can see the cars, the flashing lights, the stunned pedestrians filming you as you pass.
You cling to him like your life depends on it, your yell trembling amidst the racing wind as your arms stay wrapped tight around his neck. Meanwhile, this idiot is laughing. Laughing. And even the puppy is having fun, tail wagging like a metronome of betrayal.
You swear you can even see his tail wagging as well, burrowing your face even deeper into his neck as you shut your eyes.
âWHAT THE HELL?!â you shout, voice cracking.
The idiot of a vigilante only laughs harder, grip still strong on your waist.
He doesnât know how his heart nearly stopped when he saw you kneeling in front of the barreling truck. He doesnât know how close he came to losing his mind. And he doesnât know how many Gods heâd prayed for the shortest split second.
âPut me down, put me down, put me down!â Youâre sobbing into his neck, eyes glued shut as the wind smacks the hair into your face.Â
Finally, the world slows to a stop. He lands softly on the asphalt, and everything stillsâall but your trembling breaths. Shallow, shaky, and way too embarrassingly loud in your own ears.
He leans in, voice low enough that only you can hear it through the muffled city noise.
âWeâre here,â he whispers.
You refuse to move. Absolutely not.
Your face stays buried in the crook of his neck, arms locked tight, fingers curled stubbornly. He chuckles softly.
Cute.
The pup wiggles out from between you two, popping its head out. It yaps once, twice, and you slowly crack open one eye, hands weakly releasing their grip on his suit. A shaky breath leaves your lips as you finally peel yourself off him, stumbling backâonly for him to catch you again by the elbow.
âAnd we havenât even reached forty feet yet,â he teases, head tilted.
You glare weakly, voice hoarse.
âI am never doing that again.â
He doesnât even need to say anything; you can feel the smug grin through the mask.Â
With a soft spin on his heel, he steps past you toward a storefront wedged between two towering brick buildings. The sign above it is faded, chipped around the edges, and the doorâs chime jingles as he slips inside with the puppy nestled in one arm.
You stand there in the midst of the pavement, though, heart still thundering, sneakers planted on solid ground, and even if youâve touched the ground for at least a few minutes now, it feels like youâre still up there mid-swing.
The city moves like normal around you. Horns, footsteps, conversationsâit all feels muted, stuffed cotton in your ears. Youâre floating.
Absolutely floating.
A few moments later, and the chime rings again. He steps out⌠with the same puppy still in his arms. You blink as he gives a tiny shrug.
âSooo⌠turns out theyâre totally out of vacant spots right now.â
He glances at the pup, the critter innocently tilting its head.Â
âI can swing to another one, maybeââ
âIâll take him.â
The words leave your mouth before you even think them through, cutting through the fragile string of silence.
He looks at you, stunned. Youâre taking it in?
Before he can say anything, you crouch immediately, scratching the puppy under the chin as it whines into your palm, tail flailing like a fuzzy little helicopter.
Sure, why not?
Maybe Yuji will finally start showing up more. Maybe heâll actually help take care of it. Maybeâ
âUhâyou sure?â
All the while, Yuji, as mentioned above, is panicking to death in his head. Heâs not even there for half the night, how the hell is he gonna take care of it? But thereâs you, of course, so it canât be that bad, right?
âMhm,â you nod, scooping the warm ball of golden fluff against your chest. âLook, it loves me already!â
You giggle as it barks happily, tiny paws scrambling at your collar as it leans up to lick your jaw. Warm little breaths puff against your skin, sunlight breaking through the thinning clouds overhead, catching on its fur and turning it into a tiny halo of honey-goldâsoft enough to melt winter, blithe enough to quiet the city.Â
He goes still.Â
Of course, it loves you.
The breeze rolls by, threading through the loose strands of your hair, and he watches the sunlight kiss them the same way it kisses the dogâs fur, as if the two of you were made of the same warmth.
He doesnât say anything. Doesnât need to. The tilt of his head, the stillness of his hands, the way he forgets about the crowd, the noise, the cityâall of it betrays him.
Youâre shining underneath the bleeding sun, laughing even with the trembling puppy in your arms, and for one still second, the weight of what almost happened hits him harder than any fall heâs taken tonight.
Harder than any punch, any rooftop landing, any sprint through the freezing wind.
And he knows it. He knows exactly what that ache is.
âWhere do you live?â he asks, voice lower than before, too casual even to be casual.
Your gaze snaps to him. And the second you see the curve of his masked grinâsmug, obvious, and entirely too proud of himselfâyour stomach sinks.
âSoâŚâ he drawls, head tilting. âRound two?â
You groan, clutching the dog a little tighter like it might suddenly save you.
âGod, save me.â
âRoger that, Maâam.â
You smack his arm. He laughs.Â
And the sun, traitorous as ever, lights you up like something worth falling for.
The metal railing trembles as he steps onto your balcony, but unlike it, you donât steadyânot even after your sneakers touch the concrete. Your knees are still jelly, your stomach is still somewhere midair, and youâre pretty sure youâll never get used to this.
Frankly, youâre praying you wonât ever have to.
Behind you, the sun melts into winterâs edge, streaking the clouds with bleeding crimson.
âWelcome home!â
âThank you,â you breathe.
The golden pup squirms in your arms, and the moment you crack open the balcony door, it launches inside. You canât help but laugh as it bounds across the living room, sniffing corners, trotting in frantic circles, all while its tail wags with a delirious joy only pure innocence can have.Â
Youâre tiredâhe can see it. The slope of your shoulders, the soft drag of your steps, the yawns you pretend are subtle. Even your laughter sounds like itâs holding up the walls of a crumbling day.
He leans against the railing behind you, watching with a chuckle, and he knows he shouldnât linger, shouldnât risk even this much, but itâs you. And tonight, for reasons he canât name out loud, he wants to show you something special.
âHey,â he calls softly, âever wondered what itâs like sixty feet up?â
You turn. He stands there with his arms crossed, head tilted, grin smug enough to see even beneath the mask.
âYouâre kidding.â
He shrugs.
âYou look like you need a pickâmeâup. And I think I know just the thing.â
Before you can argue, his hands are slipped around your waist already, like heâs done this a million times before.
And somehow, like your body recognises him from somewhere you canât name, you donât pull away. You only lift a brow, smirking.
âLiterally?â
He huffs a boyish laugh and reaches past you to slide the balcony door shut. His gaze flickers to the puppy already curled on a cushion, drifting into a soft nap after its chaotic afternoon.
âThe vet said heâs trained and vaccinated. SoâŚâ His voice dips, playful. âIt wouldnât hurt if I steal you for a few minutes, right?â.
You pretend to think about it.
âMaybe.â
Maybe.
Damn, if he didnât have his stupid mask on, youâd see the way his whole face breaks into the most hopeless grin ever. God really does send his hardest missions to his strongest soldiers.
âHang on tight.â
He doesnât need to tell you twice. Your arms loop around his neck, and just as quickly as you can breathe, youâre suddenly up in the airâyou still canât help but scream at the sudden jump in height.
A strangled cry rips out of your throat as the city drops away beneath your feet. Heâs still laughing at the ridiculousness of your reaction, and for once in both your lives, youâre screaming with the sort of freedom that only comes with the wish of a shooting star.
You definitely feel like one, too.Â
Skyscrapers streak past, wind clawing at your clothes. Your face is buried in his shoulderâbecause looking down might as well kill youâbut even through your terror, a traitorous warmth swells in your chest.
He hears every sound you make, every breathless scream, and heâs stupidly amused. Even when your eyes are screwed shut from how fucking terrifying this is.
Finally, he lands on what sounds like concrete with a soft thud, steadying you before your knees can give out. Your fingers are still clutched to his suit, but he pries them off gently, turning you around.Â
You crack open one eye.
Then both.
And instantly, your breath catches.
The horizon is on fire.
The wild, bright yellow flame burns in the centre of the molten gold, every skyscraper splinting it in fractured sheets of amber and rose. And as it dips right across the water, your heart skips a beat, the sky bleeding with streaks of orange and bruised violet. Light scatters from the heavens, a shower that shimmers just across the horizonâs seaâa ramp of falling stars just for the two of you.Â
ââŚItâs beautiful,â you whisper.
The same words you told him the first time he brought you to the rooftop. He remembers. God, he remembers everything. He turns his head.
The horizon is burning in the distance, but he doesnât glance up. His gaze lingers on you, tracing the way the light brushes your hair, the tilt of your jaw, the slow inhale of your aweâand in that moment, the city, the sunset, the wind, nothing else exists.
You outshine every single drop of light in the bleeding sky, and he hates that he canât even tell you.
Something in your chest loosens, then gives. For one strange, impossible moment, the pressure of everythingâyour deadlines, your rent, your exhaustion, the heaviness of simply existingâfeels lighter.
You turn to him, smiling.
âThank you.â
The sun flares behind you, painting you in gold, and he thinks helplessly that even this sunset pales beside you.
His heart punches against his ribs, hammering hard enough to bruise.
He keeps his hands in fists so you wonât see them shake, nails digging into his palms, trying to anchor himself.
Because if he doesnât, heâll do something reckless.
âŚLike pull his mask up and kiss you under a dying sun.
He jabs a gloved knuckle against the glass of Nobaraâs bedroom windowâonce, twice, thriceâfast. Even muffled behind the mask, Nobara can recognise it anywhere. Especially when itâs coming from her window on the tenth fucking floor.
âKnock, knock! House of fabulous engineers and fashion icons! Hellooo?â
A muffled groan leaks from the glass.
The window slides open with a wet creak, and Nobara leans outâhair damp from a shower, hoodie half-zipped, face frowned. Sheâs literally one inconvenience away from shutting it on his fingers.
âWhat,â she deadpans, âthe hell do you want?â
Yuji straightens proudly, chest puffing out.Â
âGuess who just saved someone from a truck, carried them to a view thatâd make Van Gogh rise from the grave, and completely turned their day around! And they donât even know it was me!â
His words are tumbling over like runaway marbles, tripping out of his mouth in the sudden rush of excitement. Each breath fogs the inside of his mask, tiny clouds drifting up as he gestures wildly, eyes sparkling even behind the webbed veil.
From behind her, Megumiâs voice drifts, monotonous as ever.
âYou look like a five-year-old who drank too much espresso.â
Yuji spins halfway, giving him a thumbs-up.
âAnd you built the tech that made that possible! So technically, I am a caffeinated genius who saves people, soooooâyouâre the genius behind the genius!â
âObviously itâs about her,â Nobara says, arms crossed, one brow arched. âWhy else knock on my window like some homicidal pigeon?â
Yuji grins boyishly beneath the mask, tilting his head.
âBecause someone had to tell the people who made me this awesome that I did something awesome!â
He hops back onto the slick rooftop, landing with barely a splash. Rain glazes over the red and blue of his suit, gloves leaving faint smudges of rain, but he doesnât care. He crouchesâknees loose, fingers tapping, eyes flicking between Nobara and Megumiâand he rambles.
âYouâd be so proud. I got her out of dangerâlike, barely-saw-my-life-flash-before-my-eyes dangerâand she held onto me and we just⌠we ended up on this roof where the whole skyline looked like it was melting gold. And she laughed! And Iââ
His hand stills over his heart.
Nobara squints at him, expression softening for half a second before she ruins it deliberately.
âYouâre ridiculous. Just confess already.â
Yuji crouches lower, fists on his knees, eyes practically sparkling. The rain slides off his mask in thin streams, glossing over like small scattered stars. All the while, the skyline stretches behind him, windows blinking like constellations.
Heâs glowing too, like he canât hold all his giddiness inside.
Behind her, Megumi doesnât move, but thereâs a faint, reluctant curve tugging at the corner of his mouth. Theyâve both seen this a million times.
Yuji, hopelessly in love. Yuji, trying not to be obvious. Yuji, failing.
But then, he thinks of you, back in your apartment, probably waiting for him with that puppy curled on your lapâprobably wondering why heâs coming back late again.
His heart kicks.
Without warning, he shoots a web to the edge of the rooftop.
âOkayâgotta goâBYE!â
Before Nobara can yell, he launches himself into the storm-soaked night, flipping once, twice, and vanishing into the wind.
âYOUâLL HEAR ABOUT THIS TOMORROW, I SWEAR!â he hollers back, voice bouncing between the buildings.
Nobara sighs dramatically and shuts the window, all the while Megumiâs smirk survives exactly three seconds before he wipes it off.
As he disappears into the glittering darkness, the city continues to shine. But itâs obvious who heâs rushing home for, and somewhere below, the night hums with the secret only three people know:
Spider-Man Yuji Itadori is swinging through New York like a boy in love.
When Yuji comes back, heâs yelping in surprise when the little rascal of a pup rushes over to him. Its paws are already scattered across the wooden floor for a launched attack.
âWhat theâ?!âÂ
He picks up the pup in his arms, snuggling into it as you appear from the corner of the hallway, snickering at the scene.
âKiniro likes you already.â
It takes everything in him to bite back his laughter and act surprised. After all, he canât quite literally tell you he was the one saving you both just earlier today, right?
âI didnât know you brought back this little pup,â he giggles, letting it lick his face. âYou even named him?â
You sigh, plopping yourself onto the carpet.
âHe was in the middle of a pedestrian street. Thankfully, Spider-Man saved him.â
You pat your lap, Kiniro eagerly running straight back to you,
âThe animal shelter was full, though, but I think weâre stable enough to afford just another pet, donât you think?âÂ
Yujiâs already walking over to you, slinging his bag across the couch as he ruffles your hair.
âI can just pick up another job if you really want to.â
He doesnât miss that you donât include yourself in being saved, but he doesnât nag. All that matters is youâre safe and sound, and with the arrival of little Kiniro, your grin seems just a tiny bit wider.Â
âUgh, youâre not even home half the time,â you groan, tugging him down to sit next to you, âDonât.â
He smirks at your comment, simply shrugging.
âYou would not believe my day, though,â he starts, running a hand through his hair.
âCoach made us do sprints at 8 a.m. Eight. A. M. The sun was barely awake. I was barely awake,â he plops himself down beside you.
âThen I had to do that boring presentation for Anthropology.â
You snort.
âWhat about it? Did you actually, I donât knowânot screw it up?â
âOhhh, the presentation? Killed it. Destroyed it. Megumi totally knew you helped, too.â
You shake your head, smiling as he continues. With a soft sigh, you raise both hands behind you as you stretch out your sore arms.
âThank God. We still need to go grocery shopping, though⌠We donât have food for either him or us.â
âDo you want me to go?âÂ
Youâre already getting up, though.Â
âNah, letâs go together, like usual.â
He smiles. Yeah. Like usual.
So flash forward now, one hour laterâ
Heâs tossing all sorts of odd combinations into your trolley, and when heâs the one pushing it, that means youâre going to be barely stopping him from picking yet another pack of chips in the aisle beside.
Because, seriously, what kind of trolley has fruits, meat, chips and dog food all at once? Any other college student, he says. Well, you donât complain further, because youâre already busy thinking about what to cook for dinner.
Metal shelves press together like metro train commuters, all the while humming coolers whisper across aislesâstacked with the classic 99¢ ramen, chips, and plastic-wrapped bagels. The overhead fluorescent lights buzz faintly amidst the static hiss of the radioâs pop song, always a little too bright, and it cuts through the shuffle of tired locals grabbing dinner after work.
Both of you pass each aisle, and when he reaches up just one more time, he says, for the latest bag of chips, you slap his hands away. He gives you a pout, but you shoot it back down, eyes still peeled ahead, while the trolley miserably follows behind now.
âSo whatâs on the menu, Chef?â Yuji asks, arms on the handle.Â
âJapanese curry,â you hum back, already tossing the small sticks of chives into the trolley behind.
His eyes glisten at the thought of it, his mouth watering already.Â
âYou always make the best dinners.â
With a mere huff and the slightest curl of your lips, you refuse to turn back to face him. You can already feel the piercing stare of awe on your back, but it does little to keep the budding brim of pride at bay.
Because honestly speaking, thatâs all you need.
When the tiny 2010s New York apartment smells like onions sizzling in butterâwarm, sweet, it seeps both into the walls and your mind that youâre actually home.
The window above the stove rattles a little every time a subway roars somewhere underground, but inside, itâs just the two of you, moving around the cramped kitchen like you both have a hundred times.
âYouâre cutting them too big,â you tease, nudging his elbow as he chops another carrot chunk.
âTheyâll shrink in the pot!â he fires back, puffing his cheeks. âPlus, big pieces are funner to chew.â
âThatâs not how carrots work.â
âSure it is.â
You break into laughter, and he falters into the same grin behind his ever-so-bravado.Â
Before you can turn back to the stove, his hands slip around your waist from behind, pulling you just close enough that your back warms against his chest. Itâs second nature to him by nowâbut somehow, this time, his touch reminds you of someone else just earlier this afternoon.
âHeyâhey,â you giggle, trying to stir the pot while he sways you side to side, âIâm gonna spill the roux.â
âThatâs the plan,â he murmurs, chin gently resting on your shoulder as he watches the stew bubble.Â
âTeamwork, right? Iâm moral support.â
âMoral support doesnât usually involve hugging me every five seconds.â
He gives a soft, guilty hum.
âHmm. Guess Iâm extra supportive.â
Outside the window, the streetlights of early-night Manhattan cast a warm orange glow across the counter, mixing with the flicker of your old fluorescent kitchen light, and somewhere below, a taxi honks, someone yells. Your radioâs playing the classic pop songs on repeat rotation this week, and inside, tucked within the mellow warmth, thereâs just the soft simmer of curry and the occasional clatter of utensils.
Yuji leans forward to peek into the pot, arms tightening around you as if he canât help it.
âThat smells so good,â he says, voice a little softer now.
You feel your cheeks warm more than the stove ever could, but you still shove him with your hip anyway.
âThen set the table, you sap.â
He laughs boyishly before finally letting go. Grabbing bowls, heâs humming off-key to the radio, and when you glance back at him, his sleeves are already rolled up. He plates the curry bubbling behind you, and the two of you settle snuggishly into the couch, blanket tossed over both of your legs.
As usual, Yuji sits close, stretching his arm along the backrest so that he can tug you closer whenever he feels like it. Heâs already rambling off into the darkness, and long before you know it, youâre both talking over the show more than actually watching it.
âBut, uh⌠lunch was good,â he adds quietly.
âAte outside. Weather felt nice. I kinda wished you were there, though.â
He doesnât look at you when he says it; Yuji seldom does things like this. He just rubs the back of his neck, cheeks burning pink.
âYâknow⌠campus stuff is better when youâre around,â he murmurs.
âFeels less like Iâm just running around all day and more likeâŚâ
He pauses, searching for the word.
ââŚIâm just living day-to-day.â
You snort.
âYouâre such a dork.â
âA dork who had a rough day,â he huffs, nudging your knee with his.Â
You card your fingers through his soft pink hair despite yourself, and he melts instantly, like heâs been waiting all day for this. At some point, the warmth of the curry settles into your stomach, the weight of his arm drapes heavier against your shoulders, and your eyelids grow heavier with each second.
His heartbeat is steady, right under your ear, and beneath the warmth, you donât even notice when your bowls slide onto the coffee table. You just fall asleep tucked into his side, wrapped in his hoodie and the low hum of the city outside the window.
He simply watches, and somewhere, underneath the warmth of the quiet, his hand stops just a beat from tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
You donât know how long youâve slept, but when the sudden, distant siren of an ambulance cuts through the silence, you wake. The apartmentâs dark except for the TVâs dim blue, and your headâs still snuggled against the couch cushion, but Yuji isnât there.
His spot is still warm, yet the empty bowls are already in the sink.
âYuji?â you whisper, sitting up as the floor creaks softly beneath your bare feet.
Silence echoes, and only the faint late-night wail follows through the room, the ticking of your clock.
It's dead midnight.
Outside your window, a breeze seeps softly from the fire escape. The curtains shift, and you turn to read the single sticky note pasted on the coffee table, scribbled in his ever-so messy handwriting:
âSorry. Something came up. Didnât wanna wake you.
Be back soon :)â
You run your thumb over the smiley face, feeling the echo of warmth where heâd been.
You donât know why he disappears every night.
But for now, all you know is the apartment still smells like curry and himâand the couch feels just a little too big without his arms around your waist.
Dawn breaks as gold washes over the pavement, daylight spilling into the still-waking streets. Youâre shuffling along beside Yuji, shoulders brushing now and then. In both your hands are cups of cocoa from the corner cart, each crowned with a swirl of whipped cream he swears is just âthe best in the city.â
Steam lifts from the paper cup, curling into the damp morning air, all the while streets still glisten from last nightâs rain, passing headlights shimmering in fractured streaks. Inhaling, the air smells of salt and roasted peanuts, tinged with the sweet bite of chestnuts toasting somewhere behind you.
âYouâre going to burn your tongue if you sip that too fast,â you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow.
He sticks his tongue out at you, laughing even harder when you snort back at him. You simply shake your head as he bumps your shoulder, grinning.
The crowd hums around you, a river of people rushing with purpose, but you walk slower than usual, matching his pace. His hair catches the sunlight in golden highlights, and as he turns to glance over at you, the corners of his mouth tilt when he notices you staring.
âAnd youâre gonna spill your drink if you keep staring,â he laughs, holding out his hand.Â
You giggle, letting him grab your wrist gently, tugging you just slightly forward as you step over a puddle. His warmth lingers a second too long, and as the sun rises a little higher, he watches you sip from your cupâeyes soft and warm.
Kiniroâs barking as well, his leash wrapped just around Yujiâs knuckles.Â
Yuji gives it a little tug, but for a split second, his shoulders tense. Heâs distracted for a moment, silent.Â
Thereâs a siren somewhere uptown. A horn blast. Something sharp flickers across his expression before he smooths it away.
You pretend not to notice. Instead, you just nudge your shoulder into his again.
âYou okay?â
He grins.
âYeah. Yeah, Iâm good.â
But his fingers tighten just slightly around your wrist.
You tilt your cocoa toward him.
âTrade?â
He huffs a relieved laugh.
âFine, but only because I know mine has more whipped cream.â
You swap cups, and his shoulders loosen, the tension in his jaw melting away.
The warmth of the moment softens the city around youâright up until your phone buzzes. You glance down, frowning.
âDid you eat yet?â
âAre you really out with him again?â
Your chest tightens. No matter how far youâve moved, her messages still slice like winter wind. You shove the phone deeper into your pocket, just as Yuji starts rambling about some comic he swears he didnât dream up.Â
âEverything okay?âÂ
Itâs his turn this time, unaware of the text buzzing under your coat. You nod in response, though, forcing a smile.
âYeah⌠just distracted.â
He doesnât probe, and you just follow him down a narrow side street, fire escapes shadowing over cracked sidewalks. The city hums with distant trains, honking taxis, and the usual rumble of early traffic. He twirls you once in the crosswalk, and for a brief moment, your worries fade. Laughter bubbles up easily, sunlight spilling through breaks in the buildings.
Everything is gold.
You donât even pass five blocks before you hear the sudden strum of a guitar, faint from a musician tucked just beside a subway entrance, tin cup right at his feet.Â
Yujiâs eyes sparkle instantly like a kid spotting magic.
âDance battle?â he asks, grin stretching mischievously.
You nearly choke on your cocoa.
âExcuse me?â
âYou heard me.â Heâs already bending his knees, taking a fighting stance. âYou. Me. Right here. Winner gets bragging rights for life.â
You groan, trying to pull him away, but the way he bounces on the balls of his feet, the laughter in his voice, makes it impossible to resist.
And before you know it, both your cups are set on the window ledge just beside, and heâs twirling you gently in the middle of the sidewalk, weaving through the small cluster of pedestrians staring in a mix of confusion and amusement.
âYuji! Stop, Iâllââ you squeal, laughing so hard your stomach hurts.
He only snorts harder, spinning you until your hair whips across your face and you bury your head against his shoulder.
âYouâve got moves,â he teases, voice softening. âBetter than I thought.â
When the music shifts to a slower melody, he doesnât let go. His grip on your waist pulls you closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours, eyes half-closed. The rest of the city fades, and in the midst of it, thereâs only the pulse of your laughter, the warmth, and the soft brush of his breath against your cheek.
For a second, it feels like the world stopped just to let him hold you.
Everything melts away, and time stills.
Thenâhe freezes. The sparkle in his eyes dims.
âIâI gottaââ he starts, pulling back slightly, fingers brushing yours.
You frown, confused. This isnât the first time heâs bailing midway, and suddenly, the warmthâs twisting with the usual tension.
âWhat?â Your voice cracks. âWhere are you going?â
He bites his lip, hesitating.
âSomething came up⌠Iâll be back as soon as I can. Promise.â
Before you can argue, heâs already turning, weaving through the crowd and quickly disappearing like heâs done so a hundred times. You watch, heart sinking, as the tide of bodies swallows him.
Your phone buzzes thenâagainâin your pocket.
Your stomach knots, all the while the sweetness of the morning is turning brittle at the edges.Â
You frown at the screen, fingers trembling slightlyâanother message.Â
You take a breath, lukewarm cocoa in your hand, and look back down the street where Yuji vanished.
For a heartbeat, the world was quiet.
Almost enough to drown out the buzzing phone. The crawling ache.
Almost.
The campus is loud as usual, and your bag is slung lazily over your shoulder. Itâs field day, and Nobaraâs perched by your side like a hawk.
Field day always turns the campus into a festive frenzyâmusic blasting, banners everywhere, and the smell of grass and sunscreen wafting with the crispy fry of food from student stalls. The sunâs golden light is just enough to dust everything with a warm edge, shedding the tiniest bit of warmth amidst the early winter, but your chest still feels tight, and every cheer from the bleachers is just another headache pulsing beneath the last.
Your fingers curl around your bag strap.Â
âYou better scream your lungs out for him,â she says, flipping her hair as the two of you shuffle through clusters of crazed students.
âHe made me promise Iâd drag you here even if you tried to run.â
You roll your eyes with a huff of disbelief, but still, your chest warms at the mention of him. In the midst of it, Nobara pauses.
âHey, you okay, though?â she asks, nudging your side. âYouâre quieter than usual.â
âIâm fine,â you say, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat.Â
The football field is already swarmed by the time you reach it. Voices rise and fall like crashing waves, bleachers trembling under stampeding students trying to get good seats. You spot Megumi standing near the edge in all his emo glory, stretching like heâs prepping for a battlefield instead of just another friendly match.
He sighs when he spots you and Nobara, but you donât miss how the corner of his mouth twitches just a bit upward.
âTold you sheâd come,â Nobara smirks.
He mutters something along the lines of âYeah, yeah, whatever,â but his eyes flick briefly toward the locker tunnelâwhere Yuji should beâŚ
And right on cue, the man himself bursts out.
Yuji comes sprinting with his helmet in hand, hair ruffled, grin stretched wide enough to split galaxies. His jersey clings to his shoulders, the number glowing against the sunlight. Heâs sprinting across the grass like his body was built for thisâshining, bright, unstoppable. His hair catches the morning light like rose-gold flames, the soft pink of it glowing warm against his skin.
But heâs late again, and not just a littleâten minutes behind schedule. Yet no one seems to mind except you.
Your chest twists. The familiar pang rises again.Â
The moment he notices you, he practically trips over his own feet from how fast his attention snaps your way.
âThere you are!â he calls, waving the helmet wildly above his head.
Nobara snorts. âLord, heâs so lovesick it physically hurts.â
You pretend not to hear her.
Yuji jogs up to the fence separating players from spectators, leaning against it with both forearms as if he canât stop himself from getting closer. His breath comes out quickly from the run, but his grin is wide and bright.
âYou made it,â he says too eagerly.
âWe always make it,â you scoff, nudging your bag up your shoulder. âDonât disappoint us.â
âYesâyes, Maâam,â he salutes, cheeks pink. âIâm gonna win extra hard now.â
Behind him, the team captain shouts his name. Megumiâs barking at him,
âIf you miss the huddle again, Iâm making you run laps.â
Yuji jumps, jolting upright.
âComing!â
But before he turns, he reaches outâfingers brushing yours through the fence. Just a fleeting drag of warmth, but enough to leave your pulse scrambling.
âIâll look for you after every play,â he says sheepishly. âSo⌠donât leave, okay?â
Nobara rolls her eyes so dramatically she might strain something. âHeâs going to combust.â
Youâre definitely not telling her you just might too.
Yuji runs back to his team, helmet tucked under his arm, shouting something stupidly upbeat that gets the whole bench laughing. The field hums with energy, sunlight bouncing off jerseys, the grass almost glittering.
The game commences.
And Yujiâitâs like he was born for this.
Heâs fast. Focused. And ridiculously competent.
Every time he steals the ball, the crowd roars. Every time he dodges someone twice his size, Nobara shrieks. And when he scoresâan impossible curve just inside the goalpostâhe swings both arms up, searching the stands until he locks eyes with you.
He beams like you just handed him the universe.
And the whole world feels goldenâsunlight, victory, thrill. Megumi is yelling instructions, Nobaraâs screaming insults at the opponents, and Yujiâs just there in all of his radiant gloryâshining without even trying.
Itâs warm. Itâs bright. Itâs alive.
Youâre cheering too, but your smile still falters, tight around the edges. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your bag strap.
But for nowâ
Yuji wins.
And he looks at you like youâre the reason he did.
He barely hears the final whistle over the roar of the crowd. One second, heâs sprinting across the field, cleats kicking up dust, teammates shouting his nameâ
And the next, heâs tearing off his helmet and running straight for you.
You barely get a sound out before he crashes into youâarms around your waist, lifting you clean off the ground in a dizzying spin. His laugh bursts warm against your neck, almost boyish in how free it is.
âYou saw that, right? You saw that, right?â he breathes, grin blinding, forehead pressed to yours as if he needs proofâneeds youâto make it real.
Nobaraâs whooping behind you. Megumiâs pretending not to stare, and heâs shoving his hands in his pockets like he didnât just sabotage two passes solely so Yuji could score. The field is a riot of noiseâwhistles, cheers, the brass band warming up againâbut all of it blurs around him.
Yujiâs still holding you there, thumbs brushing your ribs. The pink of his hair, the warm brown of his eyes, the soft grin that always pulls at the corner of his mouth. His hair brushes your forehead when he leans in.
A voice cuts through the crowd.
âCongratulations, you all! What a play!â
Itâs a senior guy from another teamâsomeone charming, loud, the type Yuji knows people tend to gravitate to. He jogs past, tossing you a quick smile like itâs nothing.
âYou were cheering SO loud,â he tells you, laughing. âHonestly, I think you were louder than the team.â
Yujiâs smile twitches.
The guy just continues, leaning in a bit too close,
âYou coming to the afterparty? Nobara said you mightââ
Yuji steps in without thinking, placing a hand on your back.
âOh,â the guy says, blinking. âHey, Itadori. Great game, man.â
âThanks,â Yuji answersâbut something in his eyes dims.
Nobara simply smirks with a cross of her arms.
His eyes flick back to you. Quick. Searching.
Did you smile back? Did you think the guy was cool? Did youâ
Suddenly, the team crowds around himâslapping his back, grabbing his shoulders, shouting over each other, and youâre both separated from the wave of intrusion.
âYouâre coming with us tonight, right?â
âYo, weâre buying you dinner!â
âWeâre gonna replay that touchdown like a hundred timesââ
Yujiâs flustered, overwhelmed. His chest is heaving, and sweat trickles down his forehead. He doesnât like the sudden attention, and he keeps looking back at you over their headsâchecking, making sure you havenât drifted away in the crowd, but he loses you just as quickly as they came.
Megumi sighs, nudging him.
âGo,â he mutters. âWeâll catch up.â
And thatâs all he needs.
He practically breaks out of the huddle just to run over to youâsoft murmurs of apologies as he bumps into someone elseâs shoulder.Â
Everything else is noise to him, and it isnât long until he catches the familiar sight of the back of your head again.
He settles beside you, still breathless. His fingers hover, then hook lightly around your wrist, tugging you closer.
âYouâre walking with me, right?â His voice drops.
âPlease?â
Nobara wiggles her eyebrows.
âYou two are disgusting,â she groans, then pats your shoulder.
âIâm getting drinks. Donât do anything gross while Iâm gone.â
She disappears. Megumi drifts off too, yelling something at a teammate.
And suddenly, itâs just you and him again.
The air is warm from the sun, the grass glittering with confetti. His hand is still curled around yours.
âIâm really glad you came, yâknow.â
You smile softly.
âOf course I did.â
âAnd⌠that guy earlier,â he adds too casually, âDo you⌠know him?â
There it isâthe tiny crack in his voice.
And something sinks in your stomach. Youâre exhaustedâraw beneath the skin. And youâre way too tired to explain the history heâs scarred you. Not today. Not after this win. Not when heâs glowing like a sun you donât want to dim.
So you answer gently,
âNot really. Donât worry about it.â
Yujiâs silent.
But you can feel the tension humming beneath his ribs as he tries to read your face. After a few steps, he murmurs, barely audible,
âHey, so⌠did you really cheer that loud?â
You grin.
âYeah. For you.â
âThen why do you look so tired?â he asks.
Your steps falter. âIâm fine.â
His brows pinch. He looks at you closely.
âYou donât have to say âfineâ just because you think itâs easier,â he says. âI can handle it. Whatever it is.â
But your mind is still tangled from the morning, from the noise, from everything you havenât wanted to burden anyone with. You look away.
It shouldâve been easyâYujiâs arms around you, the campus buzzing with leftover cheers, Megumi shouting something smug in the distance, Nobara somewhere in the corner of your eye. Everything is loud, and warm, and safe.
But Yuji doesnât see the phone screen still lighting up in your pocket.
He doesnât notice how your fingers have been curling in on themselves, and suddenly, the sunlight feels too bright. Your pulse crawls up the back of your throat, and softly, without meaning to, youâre muttering under your breath.
âYouâre not even here half the time. How are you gonna handle it?â
He catches it too, but he doesnât say anything. You donât even know he heard it.
Heâs been either late or disappeared midway through the last three times you hung out. Last weekend, he ditched you mid-dance, and you told him it was fineâof course it was fineâit just stung more than you want to admit, and today, he barely made it to field day on time.
Something about helping someone, getting caught up, you werenât even sure.
You donât want to be another thing that drags him down.
âItâs nothing. You donât have to worry about me today. Youâve got more important people to celebrate with.â
Yuji stops walking altogether. The shift is smallâbarely a misstep on the pavementâbut it feels like the ground trembles.
âWhat?â he asks quietly.
âEveryoneâs congratulating you. You should enjoy it. You donât need to be glued to me.â
His face falls in slow motion.
âIs that⌠what you think? That Iâm only here because I feel like I should be?â
You donât answer fast enough, and your silence hurts him more than any shouted insult couldâve. The tension that holds in the air now is unbearable.
His face contorts into a frown.
âSeriously?â he murmurs. âI just ran straight to you after the biggest game of the semester, and you think I wouldnât choose you?â
His voice wavers, and you quickly shake your head, tilting your head to look at him.
âYuji, thatâs notââ
âNo, itâs okay,â he says, stepping back, eyes darting everywhere except your face.Â
âYujiââ His expression ruins you, and now, you wish more than anything but to take back your words.
He swallows hard.
âI get it."
There it is.
The crack in the glass. The place where he breaks. You reach out for him, but all he does is step away.
âYou know I didnât mean that, I was just tiredââ
âIâm sorry,â he whispers.
The cheering behind you erupts, but the world between you stills. The stadium burst into cheers for the next round of the competition, and his teammates are shouting his name, waving him over for the afterparty.
âYuji! Letâs go!â
He hesitates.
Because he wants to stay, and you can see that. But still, he pulls his hand back.
âIâll be right back, okay?â he says, smiling the way he always doesâthe one that makes your chest warm and ache and twist all at once. âPromise.â
You just⌠nod. Itâs easier than saying youâre not sure you believe it anymore.
And even in the blinding afternoon sun, the warmth he leaves you with still feels cold.
The bleachers, the crowd, the pats on his backâthey all drift into nothing.
Nothing matters.
Not when guilt claws at him with each step he takes further from you. He canât stop himself, though.
He doesnât deserve you, and even when he sees the faltering pain in your eyes, when it seems like heâs ripped your whole heart out, even when he didnât mean toâ
He should walk away from you.
You deserve better.
But when the hair on his skin stands, the jolt of every nerve in his system sparking up, the dread of what heâs always feared crawls back up into him.
He runs straight back to you.
You slowly step away from the crowd, letting the chatter fade into the background. The noise of the campus stadium and cheering grows distant, muffled, yet every step feels heavier than the last. Your bag drags against your shoulder, but truthfully, thatâs not even whatâs weighing you down.
Each breath catches in your chest as you walk through the shortcut through the science wing. Home. You just want to go home now.
The afternoon sun glares against the metal supports of the demo tents. You barely notice them. Instead, your mind is wrapped up in everything, and you hate that you even feel this way. Hate that even until now, every time you think youâve grown to be logical enough, your heart always gets the better of you.
Your steps echo softly within the hollow of your mind, seconds stretching into minutes, minutes into hours. You donât even know how long youâve been walking. How far youâve wandered. All you know is that youâre all aloneâboth literally and in your head.
A loud metallic groan rips through the air.
Suddenly, the metal pole just above the building snaps. Thereâs no thought, and only the sudden, sickening realisation that itâs coming down.
Oh.
You just stand there, memories flashing through your eyes in replay.
Yuji flashes through your eyes.
This is itâ
But suddenlyâall you see is a blur of red and blue.
Your chest slams against a familiar chest, and the world flips upside down for a heartbeat. Air screams past your ears. The pole crashes behind you, scattering debris, a deafening clatter that reverberates in your bones.
You gasp, clutching him, every nerve ending on fire. Pain lances through your arm where the pole grazed you, and your knee scrapes against the pavement as he manoeuvres you away.Â
The wind tears at your hair, and even in the chaos, your mind reels.Â
âYou⌠you okay?â His voice is low, urgent, but behind the mask, it trembles.
Itâs Spider-Man.
But you canât answer. Your body shakes, each blink glowing hotter and hotter as the weight of everything finally crashes.
âIâIââÂ
You canât finish.
Your throat tightens, and you simply break in his arms.Â
His grip tightens, swinging you back toward a safer alleyway, ignoring the chatter, the noise, and everything else.
âItâs okay⌠youâre okay. Iâve got you,â he whispers, and somewhere in the midst of it, his voice cracks.
âHey, look at me. Justâjust look at me,â he lowers himself beside you, knees hitting the cold concrete, his hands closing around yours with a trembling gentleness.Â
You choke on a breath, shaking your head furiously, face buried in your arms.
âI canât⌠I canâtââ
His voice softens, frays at the edges.
âPlease. Breathe. Just breathe.â
The tears spill faster, hot and relentless. Youâre folding in on yourself, small and shaken, and the words slip out in pieces you canât hold back.
âIâYuji⌠I canât⌠I justâŚâ Your voice quivers. âI donât want to be a burden. I donât want toââ
âYouâre not!â he almost shouts, but it cracks, breaking down into a whisper.
âDo you hear me? Your life matters. It matters.â His breath trembles.
His hands cup your face now, fingers digging into the sides of your jaw as he kneels beside you.
âAnd if no one else can keep you safe, then I will. I will. So donât everâever say that again.â
Your sobs shake all the way through you, and he pulls you into him, arms banding around your body, holding you. Even then, the panic still claws at your ribs. He presses his forehead to yours, his voice barely holding itself together.
âIâve got you. Just⌠just trust me. Do you want to go home?â
Youâre sobbing into his chest now. Your ribs are aching, your shoulders throbbing, and youâre stuttering in shallow gasps, yet somehow, with the last tiniest bit of strength left in you, you manage a nod.
His arms wrap around you again, lifting you gently. The wind roars past as he swings, your body cradled against his chest. The city blurs into streaks of silver and orange, but none of it grounds you. Everything still bites.
By the time he lands on your balcony, your legs buckle, and he sets you down with a quick turn away. Like he thinks he should leave. Like he thinks heâs the problem.
Your chest caves in.
âI canât⌠I donâtââ you whisper, and then, with trembling fingers, you grasp his wrists.Â
He freezes, panic flashing behind the mask.
You tug him down to your level, breath shaky, heart ricocheting against your ribs.
You look up at him, heart pounding so loudly you can barely hear the storm around youâand for the first time, Yuji wants nothing more than to rip off his mask. Right here. Right now.
Because trust has always felt like something he wasnât allowed to have⌠yet here you are, the one constant in the chaos of his double life, holding onto him like heâs the only steady thing in your world.
The home he was never sure Yuji Itadori deserves, not when Spider-Manâs saving lives, all the while Yuji is running late for another hangout somewhere else.
The slope of his jaw beneath the mask, the shape of his shoulders beneath the soaked suit, the faint scent of detergent he always uses at home. Youâre exhaustedâtired of the uncertainty, tired of the guessingâeverything about him feels almost too familiar.
It breaks something loose inside you.
âYujiâŚ?âÂ
Your voice is barely more than a breath, but to him, it lands even harder than lightning.
He freezes.
He doesnât breathe, doesnât even move a muscle.
Not even when your fingers slide to the edge of his mask, and in a heartbeat of terror and clarity, you pull it up.Â
Your world stops.
The way his voice cracks in the exact shape of Yujiâs kindness, the way he whispers comfort with words only Yuji has ever spoken to you. The way he knows exactly how to hold you, just like Yuji did when you both danced in that one street.
And now, seeing himâwet-faced, trembling, eyes glassy with fear and reliefâit hits you like a punch straight through the ribs.
âYâYouâŚâ His voice breaks. âIâm sorryâI was going to tell you, I swear, I justââ
You donât let him finish.
You lean in and kiss him. Desperate, shaking. Relief, anger, and love all at once.
Fearâthat you couldâve lost him before you ever got to say any of it.
He goes stiff with shock⌠then melts with a shaky exhale, pulling you so close your feet practically leave the ground.
âYou⌠youâre alive,â he whispers into your hair as he pulls back slightly, forehead resting against yours.
âI thoughtâGod, I thought I lost you.â His voice cracks as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, arms still locked around you.
Your fingers curl into the back of his suit.
â...Donât go.â
He lifts his head, tears dripping down his cheeks. His forehead presses to yours, his breath shuddering.
âStay. Please.â
Youâre whispering, shaking. He looks at you for a secondâand it doesnât take another until his lips crash into yours again.
The floorboards creak. The air is heavy. Kiniroâs sleeping somewhere in the kitchen, but your legs are wrapped tight around Yujiâs waist now. Heâs holding you up, fingers digging into your thighs.
âWaitââ
He cuts you off with another kiss as he stumbles into the living room, lights still off. Your hands gently clutch the back of his suit even tighter. Your kisses are sloppy, frantic, and desperate. He quickly yanks his mask off, throwing it straight at the couch while he lifts you like nothing with one hand.
âSorry,â he mumbles, but heâs already back to nibbling your bottom lip, working his way up to your breathless gasps.
âMm⌠Yuji,â Your fingers lace through the pink threads of his hair, ruffling through them as something pools just beneath your stomach.Â
The door rattles behind you as he pushes it open with your back against it, a creak rattling across, and when he does pull away, a drool lingers just between the two of you, and he looks up at you, lifted, like the most gorgeous angel ever. You pant, hand grasping his clothed bicep, as he presses a thumb under your chin, tipping your head further back.Â
Heâs wanted this for the last five years of his life, and now here you areâlost in it and in his armsâhe just might explode into a million pieces.
âI love you,â he peppers even more kisses, agonizingly dragging a trail from your chin, all the way up to your drooped eyelids, hazy, muzzy even as your breath heaves with each gasp. âSo fucking much.â
Your heartâs also pounding loudly, and even when he plops you down on his bed, you refuse to let go. You watch as he fumbles the unbuttoning of your clothes, and you tilt your head back as he trails even more wet kisses from your face. His knee slides right between your legs.
Goosebumps trail each time his lips meet your skin, and his fingers are still gripped tight onto the flesh of your thighs. His bed, his taste, your head is so intoxicated with him, itâs driving you insane. Even inhaling the fresh lemon detergent of his sheets makes you nuzzle against it, whining as he plants yet another kiss on your neck.
âSlow down,â you sigh, threading your fingers through his hair as he trails down to your stomach, nails scratching his scalp as he nuzzles into your touch, kissing the thin fabric separating you from his desperate mouth.
But as drunk as he is, lost in the whirlwind of your moans driving him insanely, unbearably hot amidst the cold air, he pauses for a second.
Just above your stomach, he slowly turns to look up at you.
â...Are you okay with this?â
He looks up at you like heâs worshipping a goddess, because even in all your dazedness, youâre drop-dead gorgeousâeyes glossy, lips curled, breath panting.
âMhmâŚâ
He instantly snuggles his face into your stomach, making you giggle,
âWhat theâYuji!â
Every kiss feels like worship, his mouth tracing shakingly down the insides of your thighs until he reaches the heat between them. With a gentle press of his hands, he nudges your legs apart and slips your pants down your hips, letting them fall away completely.
He goes utterly still.
God, he thinks, itâs so fucking pretty. And even though heâs never done this before, not really, heâs seen enough, learned enough, to know what to do.
His thumbs glide through your slickness and gently spread you open, baring every trembling part of you to his stare. The cold whisper of air makes you shift and whimper, embarrassment warming your cheeks. You donât see it, thoughâthe way his gaze drops, dark with want, his breath nearly catching at the sight of you.
Slowly, he leans in, breath warm against you before his tongue draws a long, deliberate lick through your folds. He canât help but utter, a low, hungry groan rumbling from his chest.
âFuck⌠taste so sweet,â he mutters against you, hips pressing hard into the mattress as if he canât help himself.
âYujiââ
Your back bows off the sheets in an instant, a startled cry slipping out as your thighs snap around his head. But he only growls softly in response, arms locking around your legs to hold you open for him. He doesnât stopânot for a secondâas he devours you, messy yet greedy, drinking down every drop of your sweet slick.
His throaty groan vibrates straight through you, sending shivers up your spine. Your jaw falls open, eyes fluttering shut as you melt back into the mattress.
"You're so beautifulâ so..." He canât help itâcanât help melting into your taste.
His mouth grows sloppier, jaw loosening so he can slurp louder, tongue moving with sprouting confidence. He circles your clit again and again, then dips lower, pushing his tongue clumsily but tenderly into your heat. His lashes brush his cheeks as he moves, muddled and klutzyâyet careful, and worshipping you with every greedy stroke.
Your fingers glide down your stomach, trembling as you reach for him, burying your hand in his hair. Your nails drag lightly across the nape of his neck as you tug him closer, guiding him deeper between your thighs. He groans into you, then pulls back only long enough to slick his fingers with his tongue before rubbing your clit in slow, deliberate circles. He watches your slick drip down, following the trail with dark, dilated eyes.
Your tongue slips out, thumb brushing your lower lip as you look down at him. The sight alone makes him shudder.
âAre you okay?â he murmurs.
Heat flares over your cheeks, but you nod with a soft, breathy hum, lips parted as he lowers his mouth again. He laps at your folds slowly, savouring you, sweet warmth spilling over his tongue while he keeps his gaze on you.
âMhm⌠YuâŚâ you breathe, a small moan escaping as your lids grow heavy again.
Something warm blooms in his chest at the sight of you weakly squirming, voice all soft and sweet, and he dives back to your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive bud until your moans climb higher, your hips jerking. Heâs rutting subtly into the mattress.
âYuâahh, Iâm gonnaâgonna cumââ
Your legs tremble, thighs trying to snap shut on instinct, but he only tightens his arms around them, holding you open as his mouth works you through itâpushing you right to the edge.
And then youâre falling.
Your jaw drops slack, tongue lolling slightly as stars burst behind your eyelids. You gasp out a broken âHaaghââ all the while, soft, desperate moans spill from your lips.
The sound you make has him tensing all over again, breath catching as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your inner thigh. His eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, watching the way your lashes flutter, and how your body trembles with the aftershocks he pulled out of you.
He stares like heâs mesmerised.
And in the heat of it, he just canât stop himself.
His thumb finds your clit again, pressing lightly, and your words dissolve into breathy whines. He's talking you through it.
Watching as your pretty lashes kiss your cheeks as your hips lift, chasing more, and he gives it to youâsliding a finger inside with a low, desperate sound.
âYour voice⌠fuckââ he groans, the sound almost a plea.
You yelp, grip tighteningâone hand buried in his hair, the other fisting the sheets.
Then he adds a second finger.
He hums as your walls stretch around him, giving you barely a heartbeat before heâs thrusting them in and out, building pace. Your eyes go wide, back arching sharply, nails sinking into his bicep as he peppers kisses up your neck.
âIâY-Yujiâahh, pleaseâI just cameââ Your voice breaks so sweetly it nearly kills him, and maybe he should give you a second to breatheâbut heâs already kissing down your chest, already pulling your top up without you noticing, clumsily unclasping your bra with unsteady fingers.
Heâs dreamed of tasting you like this for years.
His tongue drags over your nipple, lips closing around it as his fingers keep working you open, and all he can thinkâwatching you squeeze his arm, bury your face in his shoulder, thighs trembling around his wristâis how heartbreakingly cute you are, and how intoxicatingly soft your breasts feel.
Your legs shake as he finally pulls his fingers out, and he pops them into his mouth, sucking them clean while staring right at you in all his dazed hunger.
Your lips part in silent awe, chest rising and falling as you watch him. He reaches for his suit, unzipping it and letting it fall to the floor. His hands fumble with his boxersâslow, torturousâand you canât tear your gaze from the dark shape straining against the fabric.
When it slips free, your breath catchesâyour heart stutters.
Itâs fucking huge.
Your pupils blow wide, a tiny sound catching in your throat. He gathers the pre-cum on his thumb, spreading it over the swollen head before settling beside you on the bed.
âOkay, angelâŚâ he exhales, voice shaking, âthink weâre⌠goodâŚâ
Your face burns, dizzy with need. His lips find yours again as he rocks his cock through your slick folds, coating himself, teasing you both. You grind up instinctively, but he pulls back with sudden panic in his eyes.
âShitâcondomââ
You cut him off.
âIâm safe.â
He freezes. Looks at you once, and his fingers tremble. Both of you are flushed, breathless, then he kisses you againâharder, desperate.Â
âI fuckinââ heâs gasping through each clumsy kiss, âfuckâI love youâso fuckinâ much.â
The wordsâmessy, breathless, dripping with sincerityâturn your mind to nothing but mush. By the time he settles back between your thighs, lifting your legs high around his waist, youâre already trembling. A slow, burning stretch blossoms inside you as he presses just the head of his cock in.
âTell me if it hurts,â he murmurs.
âNghâYujââ you start, but he kisses you before the rest can leave your lips, fingers threading through your hair with such tenderness it makes your chest ache.
âYouâre, urgh, doing so well⌠YeahâŚâ He watches in fascination at the lewd scene of your cunt taking in his cock. âFuckâso fuckinâ goodââ
He's panting, eyes fixed on where your bodyâs parting around him. Heâs only seen stuff like this on his phone, but it doesnât compare to the real thing, and the sight alone makes him choke on a groan.
Your moan breaks loose, higher and needier as he rocks his hips, inching in deeper. Youâre tightâso tightâand the mix of pressure and pleasure has you clinging to him, whining when his hand squeezes your thigh.
âI-Itâs okay, angelâfuck, b-breathe,â he huffs, eyes squeezing shut as a low groan rumbles out of him. âIâm not gonna last like this, baby.â
The name hits you like a sparkâyour body involuntarily clenches around him, and he notices instantly. He lifts his head despite the sweat trailing down his temple, a breathless, smug little smile tugging at his lips.
âYou l-like that, baby?â he teases, voice cracked and warm. His hand cups your chin, guiding your gaze back to him as he pants through the ache.
âY-YujâŚâ you whisper, gasping as he sinks in deeper.
You nuzzle instinctively into his palm, stroking your cheek.
And fuckâyou canât expect him to hold back when youâre kissing the rough heel of his hand like that.
He canât doesnât wait for you to adjust fully. His mouth crashes onto yours, tongue greedy and eager as he kisses you like heâs drowning. His knees shake as he digs into the mattress, all before he slowly thrusts forwardâeach controlled drag burying more of his thick length deeper inside you.
You cling to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders, into the hard cut of muscle beneath his skin, and he grunts at the sting, hips rutting deeper, each movement slow and heavy enough to make your breath stutter.
You feel everythingâevery ridge, every pulse, every maddening inch of him, and your moans twist into soft, breathy cries, mixing with his low, guttural groans against your lips.
You donât even hear how the roomâs engulfed with nothing but the lewd squelches now, his hips softly plapping against you, grunting in your ear whenever you unintentionally clench around him.
Your soft whines turn into sweet cries, and his eyes dilate in awe, cheeks flushed as your vision blurs. Your wet lips part, crying his name over and over, and with each cry, you can feel him somehow grow even larger as he kisses your cervix like heâs addicted.
âAnghâwait!â you whine, grasping his nape, back arching as he continues his torturous pace, the burning yet filling stretch leaving you breathless.
Your mind is scrambled, completely lost to the pleasure as you try to adjust, but heâs already slowly picking up his pace. And it didnât matter how pathetic your whines got, or how much you came, because he was just kissing you with worship, kissing every part of you like youâre heaven itself, tongue peeking into your mouth again.
Each kiss makes your womb drop lower, and heâs hooked with how every time he tries to pull, youâre sucking him back in.
âItâs too muchâYujâPleaseââ and heâs also whimpering right above you.
âHaahâFuck, fuck, Iâm close, babyââ his lips part, groaning when you instinctually clench around him again.
He swallows each pathetic whine of yours and vice versa as he grunts into you with every thrust, panting against each other.
Your mouthâs dangling open with trails of drool, and each time he whispers sweet praises of how gorgeous you are, you canât help but string out moans and whimpers, filling the thick air of his bedroom.
âYouâre taking me⌠so well⌠â
You can hardly squeeze any comprehensible thoughts out of you, and your head falls back against him, strength slipping away, hips quivering as quiet whimpers escape you.
âHnngh, Y-Yujiii..."
âCan I cum inside?â
âM-Mhmm,â
You agree instantly, breath catching as your body betrays you. Youâve forgotten long ago, anyways, how to resist him.
A certain shiver ripples through you, and Yujiâs pace picks up even more, breath even heavier for the release he's been saving just for you, his whole life.
âBaby,â He pleads. âFuck, baby, pleaseâLook at me,â
The same strong hand on your jaw softly tilts your head to turn, and your eyes meet his dilated pupils,
âCan you feel that? Feel what you do to me? What youâve been doing to me, baby? Nghââ
You feel him rolling the rest of his cock deeper inside you while heâs whimpering, and all at once, the air seems to leave your lungs as he slides his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. Before you can even register whatâs happening, heâs standing with you in his arms, the weight and closeness leaving your heart racing.
"Does this feel better for you?â
Better for you? As if. Your legs go weak in his arms, trembling as your body twitches now with every subtle movement he makes. Youâre completely at his mercy, breath catching and chest rising and falling faster than you can control. Tiny, messy traces fall from your lips, dripping out onto the floor with soft, nasty splatters like your other mouth down below.
He spreads you out wider, aims sliding beneath your thighs, and fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. You feel like youâre simply floating, all whilst he hauls you up and down his cock, leaving you helpless as you sink back into everything heâs sliding desperately into you.
âN-Ngh, Yujââ Your voice catches, eyes misting as he burrows closer into the crook of your neck.
A deep, almost dizzying warmth pulses through you, and suddenly, it all bursts. Your hands claw at his back, squirming and desperate for the grounding presence of him. He huffs against your skin as well, breath ragged. His voice drops eager, and you feel it shiver straight through you.
âHaah⌠Iâm so close.â
All you can do is tremble around him, giving a slow, lazy nod, lost in the crazed intensity between you.
Heâs spilling every rope of cum inside you, and even through it, he doesnât stop. He keeps a slower, gentler pace, thrusts kissing your cervix even more like heâs thanking you, same as how heâs peppering your face with kisses now.
"YujiâŚ"
He pants softly in your ear, plopping his cock out tiredly from your hole and onto your bed below. Both of you are still heaving, your bodies stay pressed tightly together.
You murmur from underneath his weight, voice muffled against his shoulder, and it makes him melt as he still holds you close.
âI love you so much... Fuck, Iâm sorry I acted like a jerk,â he whispers, gazing into your tired, adoring eyes. âIâll jump off a cliff if I ever make you cry again.â
You laugh, playfully punching his arm. With a quick peck to his nose, youâre already readjusting so you can straddle him again.
He traces a finger gently along your lips, a little grin on his face.
You raise a brow.
âWhat?â
âCan we umââ he leans in for a quick kiss, âCan we try doggy style now?â
Okay, cross his weird cooking showsâyouâre monitoring his weird porn stash too.
Everything aches when you wake up. Your arms are stiff and your legs are all sore, peppered with bite marks and faint crescents from last night. Sunlight filters through the peeping blinds, painting golden stripes across the bed, but thatâs not the only weight youâre feeling on top of you.
Yujiâs arm is draped over yours now, warm and comfortably heavy. Heâs sprawled on his stomach beside you, hair a chaotic mess, eyelids shut, face practically buried in the pillow. You shift slightly, wincing at the soreness, and his eyes snap open like heâs sensed you awake.
Under his breath, a groan escapes him, followed by a tilt of the head as he glances at you, face squished adorably into the pillow.
The memories of last night hit you like a freight train, and your face instantly blooms scarlet.
âGood morning,â he whispers, lips curling into a smile.
ââŚMorning,â you croak, voice hoarse.
He instantly breaks into laughter, rolling lazily onto his back beside you while you frown at him, still too self-conscious.
Your gaze drifts over him unconsciously, eyes tracing over last nightâs scratches on his broad back. The little ridges where his elbows pressed into you, his chest rising and falling from sleep and⌠other marks. His ears are pink, warm under the sunlight, and he buries his face into your hair, all snuggled with you. Both of you stay like that for a few heartbeats, breathing each other in, disbelief lingering like the soft haze after fireworks.
Eventually, you reach for your phone, which youâd carelessly tossed on the bedside table yesterday. But when the lock screen lights up, your heart nearly jumps out of your throat.
âWhatââ Yuji murmurs, groggy and confused.
âI have class in thirty minutes!â you gasp, scrambling off the bed despite the soreness. âI cannot miss this one!â
His eyes instantly widen, and before you can blink, heâs already on his feet. He rushes over to your side, scooping you into his arms as he carries you to the shower.
âIâll get your clothes, hold on!â he calls, and just like that, heâs darting to your room, leaving you blinking and flustered.Â
The showerâs warmth does little to soothe the ache of your limbs, but you linger just long enough to pull the towel tight around yourself. When you finally do open the bathroom door, you freeze.
Spider-Man. In. The. Flesh.
Heâs standing there, folded clothes in hand, looking every bit like the superhero he is. Though the awkward, nervous smile beneath it? 100% Yuji. You pause, staring, and when you finally reach for your clothes, you whisper a hurried thanks, cheeks burning.
He gives a little wave back at you.
Youâre not telling him thanks, this time, thoughâwhen fast-forward five minutes, youâre in the air, soaring past skyscrapers, strapped in some ridiculous ghost mask he bought last Halloween.
Your stomach flips every time the wind picks up, hair whipping across your face, and the city below blurs into dizzying streaks of light. When you eventually land in a quiet alleyway, youâre gasping for breath, legs trembling, and he finally lets go of your waist. You glance at your watch.
Ten minutes leftâcue panic.
You start to turn and dash, but canât resist sneaking one last glance over your shoulder. Yuji simply stands there, chest heaving, mask slightly crooked, head tilted. He's waving you to get moving already.
But you canât leave it at that. You run back, grab his clenched fists gently in one hand, and lift his mask just slightly to plant a quick peck on his lips.
âThanks,â you whisper.
And before he can say a word, youâre offârushing back into the bustle, heart hammering, adrenaline still sending quivers through your shaky legs.
"Oh my god...."
He dramatically leans back against the cold alley wall, sliding down slowly while clutching at his own head beneath his zipped get-up.
His suit definitely needs an upgrade from Megumi, he thinks, because youâd left him totally knocked out.
And right now, his brain is half-filled with how easily you just slipped awayâthe other half overclocking on how he's so, so down bad for you.
Somewhere above, a pigeon coos from above, judgmental in its stare.
Class has barely ended when your phone buzzes. The hallway is in its usual chaosâsneakers squeaking across scuffed linoleum, laughter ricocheting, backpacks slung over shoulders. Youâre juggling your bag, your water bottle, and an overdue sense of exhaustion as you pull out your phone, fully expecting a group chat notification or a calendar reminder.
But then you see the name on the screen. Yuji.
Yuji: look at the manhattan bridge :))
Your brows knit, but curiosity wins, and you turn toward the tall window overlooking the city, breath fogging faintly against the cold glass. The sky is rinsed in a soft apricot glow, dripping over the skyline like spilt honey. Its golden hour tints with warmth, enough to melt even the sharpest edges of steel and glass.
And thatâs when you see it.
Strung between the beams like frost, shimmering in the golden, like itâs snared a wandering cloud amidst the bleeding skyâthree words are strung across the Manhattan Bridge in enormous, gleaming webs.
Each letter was woven thick, looped around half a dozen times so they wouldnât blow away in the wind.
Your eyes widen.
No way.
I LOVE YOU.
Your heart skips violently, and your breath stumbles out of your chest in a gasp.
A stupid, giddy laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it, and your hand flies to your mouth as if you can physically push your stunned smile back in.
âIdiotâŚâ you whisper.
Around you, other students press against the windows, whispering, pointing. Someone mutters,
âBrother did a whole Hollywood signâŚâ
âIs Spider-Man in love?? With who??â
Your phone buzzes again.
Yuji: empty classroom, east wing. the one w the broken light. hurry! :(
You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to fight off the warmth spreading through your chest as you practically float down the hallway. Your steps are light, your face is on fire, and your heart's busy doing backflips inside.
By the time you reach the forgotten old classroom in the east wing, your pulse is sprinting. The door sits slightly open, the flickering ceiling light casting lazy pulses of brightness across the desks like itâs trying, yet failing, to stay conscious.
You push the door open.
And there he is.
Yuji stands near one of the desks, mask pulled back and tucked into his hood, pink-peach curls mussed from the wind.
His cheeks are flushed, hoodie slightly crooked, and even though heâs leaning like heâs been waiting forever, he probably swung here mere seconds just before you arrived.
How do you know that? Because the flowers in his hands look like they've just gone through hell and back.
When he sees you, something in him softens so completely it makes your breath catch.
âHey,â he says, smile tugging gently at the corners of his mouth.
Itâs so pure, so bright, it almost tricks you into thinking he didnât just do something as insane as webbing a literal confession across a whole bridge.
You let out a breathy laugh as you approach him.
âYuji⌠you webbed the entire Manhattan Bridge.â
He rubs the back of his neck, practically glowing.
âIâuhâwanted to make sure you saw it?â He winces. âAnd that you didnât think I was joking.â
His voice gentles.
âI mean it.â
Before your brain can even catch up with your racing heart, he reaches out. His hands slip like usual to your waist.
He looks at you like sunlight through glass, stars folding into themselvesâunfathomable heaven of devotion graced into every line of his expression.
âYou ready to go home?â he asks softly.Â
You wrap your arms around him.
âYeah,â you whisper, and his forehead drops to your shoulder in the tiniest, softest surrender.
He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as you giggle and ruffle his hair.
âI love you too, silly.â
Outside, the sun sinks slowly behind the skyline, ember light scattered across the room as it catches on a stray fleck of web on Yujiâs sleeve. It glows like silver fire as he lifts you effortlessly, stepping toward the window. You simply cling to him, heart soaring as he pushes the pane open and the cool wind rushes in.
With a soft laugh, Yuji leaps, both of you cutting through the evening breeze as the city roars beneath.
Taxis honk, trains rattle, pedestrians shout, but everything muffles the moment his arm curls tighter around you.
With him, flying feels safe.
With him, the city feels small.
With him, the skyline with I LOVE YOU strung across it feels like the only world that matters.
He steals a glance at you mid-swing, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
New York watches as he swings past skyscrapersâand this time, he isn't alone. He holds you like he has nowhere else to be but by your side, basking in the afterglow of a love he had written across the skyline just for you.Â
Petals float below from the two of you, and you say his words back. Barely louder than the wind, but just enough for him, and only him, to hear.
It's what youâve found between this litany of quiet youâve both settled into:
âHome.â
(wip) part 2 ŕŞââ´ just when the spider that bit yuji back then brings more trouble, your past decides to catch up too.