I LOVE THIS SM 😩😭

Enemies/ACADEMIC Rivals to Lovers (yes, that trope specifically) always ALWAYS makes me so happy AAAAAAA especially as a nerd haha

worth the wait a nerdjo fic

pairing ⸺ nerd/academic rival/rich boy!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you abhor your academic rival, satoru gojo. he's a cocky asshole that you fight with constantly for the spot at first place. but when you finally discover what's underneath all those lame sweaters of his with a once in a blue moon visit at the gym (spoiler alert: he's not a scrawny nerd), you'll be fighting your severe attraction to the man who makes your life a bit harder. and maybe fall in love with him, too, in the process.

warnings ⸺ smut, f recieving oral, praise, he makes you beg for it lol, p i v sex, making out, angst if you squint, a lot of fluff, college AU, nerd!gojo, reader gets insecure sometimes and is treated horribly by her discord mod TA/research advisor, typical misogyny/sexism in STEM fields, but gojo defends her!!!, sleeper build gojo with a happy trail because im a slut, the good old pining and yearning i like. art by @/deltapork

a/n thank u to all my beta readers for editing part of this for me :3 happy valentines day!!!

general masterlist

You blink at your paper.

98.

You suppose you should be happy—it’s a graduate level physics class, anyways. For a moment, you stare at the red markings of the TA that graded it, as if willing an error in the one problem you made a mistake on could make it go away. 

2+2=5.

You exhaled sharply, almost fighting back tears. You’d think you could avoid simple arithmetic mistakes, but apparently doing tensor products comes easier than simple addition to you. Shoving your backpack on your chair, you stuff in your laptop and the test haphazardly, not caring that it’s going to get messed and crumpled up in your backpack after your folders and binders jostle around. Fuck that test.

You wouldn’t normally act as if the test had personally wronged you—trust, you were not going to get that heated were it any class. But because of this one class, one person, you knew it was coming. The inevitable.

"Better luck next time." The voice, drenched in smug satisfaction, slithered through the air behind you, his voice and demeanor like a slimy, slimy snake. 

Your jaw tightened, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you turned around. And there he was—Gojo Satoru, the bane of your existence, a plague upon your academic record, a walking, talking statistical anomaly who somehow managed to be both infuriatingly brilliant and aggressively insufferable.

He leaned against the desk beside yours, glasses sliding down just enough to reveal the glint of those ridiculously blue eyes. He crosses his arms while they’re covered in that ridiculous, ugly sweater he’s wearing—he’s probably going for the old money aesthetic, but he doesn’t need to know he gives off more “finance bro that helps billionaires evade taxes,” or whatever finance bros do.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you sniff, pretending to act nonchalant while you grab your backpack, swinging it roughly on your shoulder like it was the weight of your grievances against him.

"The test." Gojo unfolded a crisp sheet of paper with the kind of theatrical flourish reserved for revealing royal decrees. A perfect 100, circled in bold red ink.

Your stomach twisted. This is what those two points meant. Two stupid, meaningless, soul-crushing, rage-inducing points.

"Guess that makes it… what, five to three this semester?" He tapped his chin, pretending to count, as if the score wasn’t already seared into your brain like an irreversible branding. "My lead, obviously. But hey, if you ever need tutoring, I could always squeeze you in."

You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration. “I wouldn’t want to impose on the time for any of your hobbies. After all, when will you get the time to watch anime? My 5000 Year Old Girlfriend is Stuck in a Twelve Year Old’s Body, was it?”

He presses a hand to his chest in mock hurt, as if your words had truly pierced him through his chest. “Tut, tut. After all this time, I’d think you’d have my anime preferences memorized since you’re so obsessed with me. It’s Digimon, not whatever pedophilic shit you think I jerk off too.” He pauses, and then his voice drops into a conspiratorial whisper. “But you know Fred, the grad student TA that holds recitation every Wednesday? I just know he’s probably a Discord mod of a server that sends, like, daily tentacle porn. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on the Megan's law registry either.”

Now, you have to hold back your smile because Gojo has a point. Fred is not just any TA. Fred is the grad student that mentors you on a research project; the program’s super selective, so when you realized you got him, you couldn’t just back out and give up the opportunity. However, Fred isn’t just a weird–-he’s sooo handsy with his greasy ass hands, so you accept any and all Fred slander. Because he’s your research advisor, you can’t wait to finish the project any faster. He probably would be into underage girls, but you don’t need to express your approval to Gojo, or worst of all, let him think he’s funny. God knows that would get into his head. “Yea, yea. Whatever. Anyways, I hope you have fun with your Pokemon—”

“Digimon.”

“—or whatever. I’m leaving. Some of us have things to do. Later, Gojo.”

You turned on your heel, lest Gojo hook you in with another taunt. 

Maybe you needed to blow off some steam, if you’re allowing yourself to lose to Gojo. 

Worst of all, it’s become a streak, like two times in a row—one on this quiz, and the other on the midterm a few weeks back. Your mind goes back to the last women in STEM recruiting event you had went to, and, how, in the middle of taking a bite of the delicious margherita pizza they offered, you registered that the woman in the panel had insisted that what helped her power through her PhD and dickwad supervisors was by exercising. Her fervor over pilates could almost qualify as a cult pitch, but it made you pause at the moment. Before you continued to further engorge yourself on the food offered on the charcuterie board. 

But maybe it was time to hone your focus in, and some sweaty endorphins might help you get just that. 

You’re not really surprised the demographic at your university’s gym looks like the way it does. After all, not only was it renowned for its academics (from all the nepo babies like Gojo whose families donated buildings and had like four generations of alumnus), but it was also a Division I school. So not only was the gym packed but it was packed with men.

As you walked in the hallway towards the room that contained weight machines, gym bag slung over your shoulder, you eyed the glistening backs of the (D1, mind you) men’s swim team through the glass that separated your path and the swimming pool. 

Wow, those Speedos really hugged their asses. You imagined Gojo in one, and almost snorted. Rich boy nerd Satoru definitely didn’t  learn how to swim; his family’s mansion probably had a twenty year old personal lifeguard that Gojo lost his virginity to, or something. Regardless, he would squint in his silly swim goggles, the exact antithesis of sex appeal while his glow-in-the-dark eyes lit up the pool while he stroked, cheeks puffed like a pufferfish.

Regardless, the smell of testosterone that hits you when you enter the weight area is almost nauseating, and, if you’re honest, a little intimidating. You’re not exactly the fittest of people, so you quickly speed walk past the grunting and sweaty men at the squat machines and barbells, avoiding eye contact and praying furiously that none of them perceive you.

 When you reach the dumbbell stands, you hunch over, taking random light weights. Then, you pretend you know what you’re doing while jumping every so slightly whenever anyone comes in six foot distance of you. It’s only when another girl comes in to grab a weight (and when she bends over, you definitely ogle her ass in a way that would get you slapped if you were a man) that your gaze removes itself from where it was focused on the 2.5 lb dumbbell you were previously bicep curling with. To see him.

The glint of ivory hair is unmistakable—you’ve basically gotten off to the fantasy of razoring it off in his sleep. His blue eyes are bored, pretty boy face framed in glasses. Now, he’s giving teenage boy turned to Andrew Tate after a breakup. Black sweatshirt and sweatpants that are too small, because they cling to his legs in a form-defining way. He’s walking over, hands in his pockets, to a barbell station. Slaps some guys on the shoulder as he goes through, gets a lot of daps. 

Which is weird to you, because you only the Gojo inside your physics class, not outside. He’s a fucking nerd—a loser that spends his time beefing with you, so why is he so popular when he gives you the time of day?

There are three dimensions to gaining alpha status, or whatever they call male popularity. You have to be 1) rich, 2) really physically fit, or 3) just really charismatic. Considering that Gojo—in all his clothing—-looks like a twink moreso than ripped gym bro, it’s definitely not dimension two. So you conclude that it’s because he’s rich and probably throws yacht parties so these ripped guys don’t push him into a locker, or something.

When he finally reaches his destination, you smirk to yourself. With that scrawny build underneath all those loose sweaters, you know he’s only going to be able to lift the bar, no plates. After all, he was warming up. insulting Gojo in countless of ways by taking jabs at his physique mentally, so you barely register that he’s grabbing for the hem of his sweatshirt, peeling it up—

To reveal his bare torso.

Your first thought: Wow, he has huge bazonkas.

That has easily got to be one of the most built physiques you’ve seen at your college so far. His pectorals basically pop out out of his torso as he moves to grab plates. First, he grabs a really big plate—you’re not a gym expert, so you wouldn’t know the weight—and stacks it. And stacks another. And another. And another, until you’re sure it’s definitely more than your bodyweight.

As you’re staring at him in awe, your 2.5 lb dumbbells hang limply by your sides, abandoning all pretense of training to openly gawk at the clench of his biceps, the sweat rolling down his temple, and the set of his jaw as he stares holes into the bar. And by the way there’s heat creeping up your cheeks you realize one thing:

You’re screwed.

“You know what?”

You keep your eyes on your notes firmly, refusing to look at Gojo sitting right next to you. You don’t know why he always chooses to sit next to you on recitation, really—it’s not like you’re receptive to his company. After all, he could be doing other things—like metaphorically sucking a TA’s dick by talking about their research, where Gojo probably knows more about the TA’s research than they do themselves. 

From your periphery, you notice Gojo pouting, then scooting his chair (dragging it, so it makes a god awful screeching noise against the floor tiles that has you cringing) until he’s so close that he slings an arm on the back of your chair and leans in closer and closer. You’re fighting to keep your eyes on your notes, face heating up traitorously until you feel his breath fan across your neck because he’s just so close.

“Rude, ignoring me. Look where that got you.” He then points to a problem on your paper, one you were currently working on. “You’re doing that wrong.”

You finally turn to glare at him, but he’s closer than you anticipated, his face just inches from yours. His grin is all sharp edges and knowing amusement, and it makes your stomach flip in a way you refuse to acknowledge.

“I’m not doing it wrong,” you argue, despite the creeping suspicion that, okay, maybe you did mess up somewhere.

“Oh, really?” Gojo drawls, tilting his head slightly. “Then why is your integral off by a factor of two?”

Your eyes snap back to your notes, scanning through the equations—and, dammit, he’s right.

You huff, begrudgingly erasing the mistake. “Whatever.”

“You know, you should really be thanking me,” Gojo muses, still leaning way too close for comfort. “If I weren’t here, who knows how many mistakes you’d make?”

“She’d have me,” comes a greasy voice, and you have to fight the tears in your eyes that arise when Fred (the aforementioned pedophilic TA and your research advisor) comes, his moldy cheese stench following him as he takes a seat from across you and Gojo. You grudgingly turn your face away from where it was so close to Gojo’s to look at him and sigh inwardly. At least Gojo’s face was prettier to look at.

“Hi, Fred,” you smile tightly, willing him to go away. “We’re good here, so you can help out other students—”

“How was your weekend?” He instead replies, and you wince. Stealing a quick glance at Gojo, it seems that his jaw and posture are uncharacteristically tense. 

“Lot of work for the class and for, uh, our research,” you respond, nodding and averting your gaze to your paper and feigning working on a problem so that he would get the hint.

Fred, unfortunately, does not get the hint. Instead, he leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes too focused on you. “You really ought to take breaks, you know. You can give me the code late. Someone as cute as you shouldn’t stress so much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

Your fingers tighten around your pencil, your skin crawling at the way his tone veers into something too familiar, too patronizing. You open your mouth to give a clipped response, but Gojo beats you to it.

“Oh? Didn’t know you were an expert on skincare, Fred,” Gojo drawls, his voice deceptively light. His arm, which was still resting on the back of your chair, shifts just slightly—not quite pulling you in, but making his presence more noticeable. “Though, if we’re giving out advice, maybe you should take your own. I mean, stress must be rough on you too, right? All those late nights grading papers, staring at screens. Takes a toll.”

Fred bristles, but Gojo just smiles lazily, pushing up his glasses as he tilts his head. “Actually, you know what? Maybe we should all focus on our own business. Like, say, teaching, instead of weirdly hovering over students. Crazy thought, huh?”

You swear you see the muscle in Fred’s jaw twitch, but he forces out an awkward chuckle, shifting uncomfortably. “Right, right. Just looking out for her.”

“Don’t worry,” Gojo interrupts smoothly, now fully leaning into your space, his arm draping a little lower behind your chair, “I think she’s got plenty of people looking out for her already.” His voice is soft, but there’s an undeniable edge beneath the words.

Fred lingers for a second too long, but finally, he mutters something about helping another student and stands, walking off with an air of forced nonchalance.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, slumping slightly in your seat. Gojo hums beside you, his fingers tapping idly against the back of your chair.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he teases, but there’s something in his tone that’s softer than usual. He then makes a show of stretching, raising his arms. His sweater rides up a bit, exposing his lower abs and peeks of white that has you averting your gaze, the heat creeping up at his proximity once again. Then, his arm back on your chair. Weirdly, you find that you don’t mind it.

You sigh, resigned. You’ll figure out these feelings later. “Yeah. Thanks, Gojo.”

But you don’t immediately go back to your work, because Gojo suddenly hunches down and whispers in your ear. “Yea, I definitely saw an underage anime girl sticker on his laptop.”

Your responding snort is so loud everyone turns to look at you and Gojo, who is now sporting a mischievous and satisfied smile.

It starts with a single drop, fat and cold where it splats against your wrist. You glance up from your phone just in time to see the sky split open.

“Shit,” you mutter, stuffing your phone into your bag. The library doors shut behind you with a heavy clang, sealing away the scent of old books and the quiet hum of studying students. Outside, the air is thick with the petrichor of freshly fallen rain, and within seconds, the pavement is slick, puddles forming in the uneven cracks of the sidewalk. The streetlights reflect off the wet ground, casting fragmented golden glows against the darkening sky. You’d been studying to grind for the upcoming assignments; after all, to rival Gojo is a no small feat. It’s just unfortunate it seems to take you thousand times more effort than it does for Gojo.

“Guess we’re stuck together, huh?”

You don’t have to turn to know who it is.

Satoru Gojo, standing beside you under the library’s narrow overhang, wearing that insufferable grin like he’s amused by the entire situation. Like the rain personally fell from the sky just to give him an opportunity to bother you.

“I’ll take my chances,” you say flatly, shifting your bag on your shoulder. But as you peer past the downpour, your stomach sinks. The rain is merciless, an unrelenting sheet of water stretching as far as you can see. There’s no way you’re making it back to your dorm without looking like you took a fully clothed shower.

Gojo hums, pulling something out of his bag. You blink when he flicks open a half-broken umbrella, the metal ribs slightly bent like it’s barely holding itself together. He gives it a little shake, sending droplets flying, before glancing at you with a smirk.

“Well?” He lifts a brow. “Wanna be smart about this?”

You do not want to be smart about this. You want to wait out the rain or make a break for it. But the storm shows no signs of letting up, and the thought of walking through it alone makes you hesitate.

Reluctantly, you sigh. “Fine. But I get most of the cover.”

“Hey, sharing is caring.” He tilts the umbrella slightly, just enough to make a point.

With great reluctance, you step closer. The moment you do, you regret it.

Gojo is warm. Even in the damp, chilled air, he radiates heat, standing so close that his sleeve brushes against yours. He smells good, too—like expensive laundry detergent with a faint undercurrent of something sweet, something distinctly him.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead as the two of you start walking. The rain pounds against the umbrella, droplets cascading off the edges, and with every step, you’re hyper-aware of the way Gojo moves beside you—loose-limbed, annoyingly graceful, a stark contrast to the crooked metal above your heads.

“Man, this thing’s on its last leg,” he muses, tilting the umbrella just slightly. Water dribbles off the side, landing directly onto your shoulder.

“Gojo!” you yelp, recoiling as the cold soaks through your shirt.

“Oops.” He does not sound remotely sorry.

You glare at him, but before you can snap back, he shrugs off his jacket and—without preamble—drapes it over you.

You freeze.

It’s warm, still carrying the heat of his body, and it smells so much like him—clean, sweet, dizzyingly familiar. Your brain short-circuits.

You force yourself to breathe, keeping your gaze firmly ahead. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say, voice tight.

“I wanted to.”

Something in his tone makes your stomach flip. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and—

Damn him. Damn him.

Water drips from his bangs, clinging to the sharp edges of his jawline, sliding down the curve of his throat. His shirt sticks to his skin, fabric clinging in a way that reveals the toned lines of his arms, the broad plane of his chest. He’s watching the rain, the usual teasing glint in his eyes softened into something contemplative.

You swear your eggs just recently got released, for you cannot help but avoid your ever going attraction to Satoru Gojo except the age-old excuse: ovulation. Your mind wanders to how his arms would feel around your head, to lay on his chest, how he’d be able to manhandle you, force you to take it—

But you’re snapped out of your inappropriate thoughts by what he says next.

“You know,” he says, voice quieter now, “I like this. Just us, no grades, no competing.”

You pause.

He says it so simply, so easily, like it’s nothing at all. But the words settle deep, curling somewhere warm inside you, and you don’t know what to do with them.

So you do what you do best: you shove them away, bury them beneath years of rivalry, of late-night study sessions fueled by caffeine and stubbornness, of sharp words and sharper glances.

You roll your eyes, forcing a scoff. “Don’t get used to it.”

But even as you say it, your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, holding it a little tighter.

It’s been a week since you saw Gojo. He had dropped you at your dorm in a surprisingly gentlemanly way, and you had insisted on returning the jacket only after washing it, to be courteous. What you didn’t mention was how you kept repeatedly smelling it in your dorm whenever you got a reprieve from your roommate’s eyes because Gojo smelled like expensive cologne and he did one thing most nerds / physics majors don’t do: shower. This fact, unfortunately, made you more attracted to him because the bar is truly in hell.

You’ve concluded that these…feelings can’t hurt you and that it isn’t real, like a beefy and shirtless Gojo-looking demon that’ll jump and surprise you from under your bed. So you move on your life, caught in the ever perpetual slog of studying and researching. 

Thus, you find yourself at the library once more.

The night hums low around you, quiet except for the occasional shuffle of paper and the distant hum of the library’s espresso machine (only librarians could use it, however. you fervently thought that was a form of elitism, but you digress). You’re at the corner table, the one by the window, where the dim light pools just enough to illuminate your notes but not enough to make you feel like you’re being studied under a microscope. You think you’re alone—until you aren’t.

You don’t have to look up to know it’s him.

Satoru Gojo is hard to miss, even when he’s not trying. He slides into the chair across from you with the kind of ease that makes it seem like he belongs there, like he was always going to end up sitting across from you tonight. His hair is tousled, white strands falling forward in a way that makes him look softer under the warm light. His glasses are perched low on his nose, a rare sight given that he usually has them pushed up like some kind of pretentious scholar.

The two of you don’t speak.

It’s surprising, really. Gojo never runs out of things to say, whether it’s an obnoxious quip or some unnecessarily insightful observation that makes you want to throw your textbook at his face. But tonight, he just pulls out his own notes, taps his pen against the edge of his lips, and starts reading.

You should focus on your own studying, but something about this—this silence, this late-night haze, this tiny moment carved out of time—makes your mind wander. You steal glances when you think he won’t notice. His brows furrow when he’s concentrating, his jaw tightens when he’s stuck on something, and when he exhales, it’s this slow, measured thing, like he’s trying not to get frustrated. He’s just—

He’s just really there.

You’ve spent years defining Gojo as your rival. Your competition. The person standing in your way at every academic milestone. And yet, somehow, somewhere, he’s slipped into something else, something harder to define. Because you’ve seen him like this before—when he’s so focused that he forgets the world around him, when he bites his lip in thought, when he gets so caught up in something that he mutters under his breath without realizing it. And for the first time, it dawns on you: you don’t actually hate it.

You don’t hate this comfortable silence. This moment of peace, a white flag waving lazily between you both.

The hours blur. The café starts to empty. Your notes turn into background noise. It’s late, and the warmth from inside lulls you into something dangerously close to comfort.

A soft sound breaks through the quiet.

You glance up and freeze.

Gojo’s head has tilted to the side, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. His hand is curled loosely around his pen, and his breathing has evened out. He’s asleep.

For a moment, you don’t move. You barely breathe.

Gojo, asleep, is not something you’ve seen before. He’s always in motion, always buzzing with energy, always running his mouth about something. But right now, he’s still. His long lashes cast faint shadows over his cheekbones, and the tension he always carries—the cocky bravado, the smirking sharpness—is nowhere to be found. He just looks… peaceful.

Cutie.

What?

The thought slips in so quickly, so effortlessly, that it nearly makes you jolt. But when you look at him again—head tilted just slightly, glasses slipping down his nose, breathing slow and even—you can’t deny that the word fits. He looks like a lazy cat napping in a sunbeam, limbs loose, utterly unguarded. It’s so unlike him that you find yourself staring, caught in the contrast.

Your fingers twitch. Before you can stop yourself, you reach forward, slow and hesitant, to push his glasses back up his nose. But you catch yourself just before you touch him, as if the warmth of his skin might burn. Your hand hovers in the air for a fraction of a second too long, and then—

You pull away.

Your heart is pounding. It’s fine. It’s nothing. You just need to get out of here.

You gather your things quietly, glancing back at him one last time before slipping out the door into the cool night air. The moment you step outside, you take a breath, deep and shaking. The world feels different now. You feel different now.

Because for the first time, it isn’t just that you find Gojo attractive.

It’s that you care.

And you don’t know what the hell to do about it.

The gym, once again, smells like sweat and overpriced protein powder.

You don’t know what’s possessed you to come here today. Maybe it’s because you keep telling yourself that you need to exercise more, or maybe it’s because you need to take a break from studying before your brain melts. But deep down, if you’re really being honest with yourself, you know the real reason.

Gojo is here.

You spotted him the first time by accident. You were on the treadmill, barely jogging at a pace that wouldn’t embarrass you, when you caught a flash of white hair across the gym floor. And there he was—dressed in a fitted black sleeveless top and joggers, casually loading plates onto a barbell.

And he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

It was a stupid, inconsequential detail, but it made all the difference. Without them, he didn’t look like the annoying academic rival who constantly got under your skin, flashing his smug grin as he beat you in exams by the smallest possible margins. He looked… sharp. Unfiltered. Effortlessly attractive in a way that made your stomach tighten in ways you didn’t like.

You’d seen him in his regular clothes before, of course. You knew he had broad shoulders and long legs, that his body wasn’t just a lanky frame hidden behind layers of sweaters. But here, in the gym, watching him roll his shoulders as he prepped for another set—it hit differently. He was lean but muscular, his arms flexing as he adjusted his grip on the bar, and for some godforsaken reason, you couldn’t look away.

You shouldn’t be watching him. You should be focusing on your own workout, pretending you don’t care. But the way his shirt clung to his back, the way his forearms tensed, the way he exhaled sharply as he lifted—

You’re so screwed.

You force yourself to look away, grabbing the smallest dumbbells available and curling them in what has to be the weakest excuse for a workout imaginable. You’re barely paying attention to what you’re doing, too busy sneaking glances at Gojo between sets. It’s pathetic, but at least no one else is watching you.

Or so you think.

Because then she appears.

A girl.

Tall, toned, and effortlessly gorgeous, with sleek hair pulled into a high ponytail. She strides over to Gojo with a confidence you could never dream of and smiles at him, saying something that makes him laugh. Her ass is definitely bigger than yours, and she’s in this coordinated, cute, pink set, looking like she walked straight out of a fitness TikTok. You can’t hear what they’re talking about over the sound of weights clanking and some obnoxious EDM song blasting through the speakers, but you can see it. The way she leans in, the way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way Gojo—

—smiles at her. That easy, lazy grin he always wears when he’s teasing you, except this time, it isn’t for you.

Your grip tightens around the dumbbells, something ugly curling in your chest. It gets worse when she gestures toward the squat rack, and Gojo nods before moving behind her, hands hovering just slightly as she sets up for a squat. You watch as he spots her, one hand resting lightly on her lower back, close enough to correct her form but far enough to be polite. He’s focused, watching her movements carefully, murmuring something that makes her laugh before she drops into another rep.

Your stomach twists.

This is stupid. You have no reason to be feeling this way.

It’s then that it hits you—you can have your silly little academic rival moments with Gojo, but, in the end, you’re just a footnote in his story, a fleeting challenge in a life where everything already belongs to him. He quite literally has generational wealth; he’s not going to spend his life buried in grant applications or clawing for recognition in a field that demands twice the effort for half the reward. He’ll be the one funding the research, sitting at the head of the table, making decisions that shape the future. And you? You’ll be one of the many who struggle just to be in the same room.

He’s the guy who spends his vacations on yachts or private islands—not just surrounded by wealth, but by people who belong there. Girls who glide through life with the same effortless ease as him, girls who don’t second-guess if they deserve to be in the spaces they occupy. Girls who don’t have to fight for their place at the table because it was always set for them.

Girls that are his equal—equally attractive, equally smart, equally rich.

Not you.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look away, but the image is burned into your mind. The easy way he talks to her. The way she tilts her head when she listens. The way he doesn’t even know you’re here.

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

But you do.

You grip the dumbbells tighter, exhaling sharply. Then you put them back, pick up your water bottle, and walk out of the gym before you do something stupid.

The office is too small. Too suffocating. Too filled with the weight of unspoken words and the sharp-edged smile of Fred, the TA, as he leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together.

"You know," he begins, voice sickly sweet, "I really expected more from you."

You sit stiffly in the chair across from him, your hands curled into fists in your lap, nails digging crescents into your skin. Your heart pounds, but your face remains carefully neutral. You've been called into his office under the guise of "academic guidance," but you know better. You always know better.

"I don't know what you mean," you say, keeping your voice even.

Fred exhales dramatically, shaking his head. "Come on. You and I both know you're barely keeping up in this project of ours."

You grit your teeth. You're not barely keeping up. You're giving him your work at the highest level, at its best. But Fred—Fred has always had a way of twisting things, making you feel small, insignificant, like your achievements are nothing more than accidents.

“I think my progress speaks for itself,” you respond tightly. Mind you, while he was supposed to be your mentor, you’ve done 80% of the work.

But you think Gojo’s defense of you ran deep into Fred’s heart because by the way he’s sleazily smirking at you, you know he’s trying to get back at you.

He smirks. "Your progress? Sure, you’re smart. But you think that’s enough? You think anyone’s going to care about a girl like you when there are people out there who don’t have to struggle to be exceptional?" He leans forward, voice dropping into something conspiratorial. "You’re wasting your time. The best you can hope for is being someone’s assistant. Maybe a glorified research grunt if you’re lucky. Just like for me."

Your stomach twists. You shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t care. But the words burrow deep, hitting a place inside you that already doubts, that already wonders if you’re nothing more than a temporary obstacle in a world built for people like Gojo Satoru—people born brilliant, born wealthy, born effortless.

Fred’s eyes flick over you, assessing, smug. "You’re working yourself to the bone for what? You’ll never be at the top. Not really."

The bitterness of the situation really dawns on you—Gojo’s the one who took a jab at Fred last week, not you. But you’re the one who’s left to deal with its consequences. You’re not going to assign blame and lament that it’s not Gojo in this office dealing with him. It was in your defense, after all. 

But Fred’s words remind you. You’ll never be at the top. At Gojo’s level, who’s at the top without even seeming to put in effort.

You’ll never be his equal.

You stand abruptly, shoving your chair back so hard it scrapes against the floor. "If that’s all, I have work to do."

Fred chuckles, leaning back, clearly pleased with himself. "Sure, sure. Don’t say I never tried to give you advice."

You don’t respond. You just walk out, gripping your bag so tightly your knuckles turn white, the echo of his words following you down the hall, settling in your bones like lead.

The hallway is too bright. Too loud. Too full of people who don’t know that you’re on the verge of crumpling in on yourself like a dying star.

Your breath feels too shallow, too quick, and there’s a weight pressing down on your chest that no amount of rationalizing can shake off. It’s not even your meeting with Fred—just a slow accumulation of stress and exhaustion and frustration that’s settled deep in your bones. A grade lower than expected, an upcoming deadline you’re nowhere near prepared for, a general sense of drowning no matter how hard you try to keep up. It’s all too much, and your hands are starting to shake from how tightly you’re gripping the strap of your bag.

You just need to get out of here. You need air, space, something.

But, of course, the universe has a cruel sense of humor, because when you round the corner, you slam straight into Satoru Gojo.

“Whoa—”

Your balance is already precarious from the way you were rushing, and the impact sends you stumbling. For a split second, you think you might actually fall—your ankle twists awkwardly, the world tilts—and then there’s a strong hand gripping your wrist, another bracing against your back, steadying you before you can hit the ground.

You don’t process what happens immediately. Your mind is still stuck on too much, too fast, can’t breathe, and it takes you a second to realize that Gojo is holding you upright, his hands firm but careful, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and concern.

“Jeez, what’s the rush?” he teases, but his voice lacks its usual careless lilt. He’s searching your face now, eyes narrowing behind his glasses, and that’s when you realize: you must look as bad as you feel.

Shit.

You jerk away from him, a little too fast, a little too sharp. “I’m fine.”

Gojo doesn’t look convinced. “You sure? Because it kinda seemed like you were about to pass out on the spot.”

“I said I’m fine.” You adjust your bag over your shoulder, shifting your weight onto your other foot, ignoring the faint throb in your ankle. “Go bother someone else.”

Most of the time, that’s enough to send him off with an exaggerated sigh and a smirk. But not today.

Today, Gojo just stands there, watching you like he’s trying to piece something together—like you’re a problem he wants to solve. He doesn’t press, not yet, but the silence stretches, and it’s unbearable, because you can feel the weight of his gaze, and you don’t want to be seen like this. Not by him.

So you give him a tight nod in dismissal, and walk away.

There’s a knock at your door. You frown because you didn’t expect any visitors, and you’re in your sleepwear. Regardless, you pad your way lazily and open the door.

To see Gojo.

What the fuck.

He’s drenched in the glow of the hallway light, looking entirely too at home despite standing on your threshold. His hair is still slightly damp from the rain, white strands falling over his forehead in careless disarray. He’s not wearing his glasses.

"Why are you here?" you demand, gripping the doorframe, willing your voice to stay steady.

He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly. “You’re holding my jacket hostage.”

Oh. Right.

You make your way to your wardrobe, where the now-cleaned jacket hangs neatly on a hanger. Grabbing it, you hand it over to Gojo, who’s standing at your threshold while eyeing the insides of your dorm, as if trying to take in what your living space looks like. You shove it into his chest, stepping back like the heat of it burns. "Here."

Gojo takes it, but instead of leaving like a normal person, he lingers, running his fingers over the material like he’s checking for something. Then,, he lifts a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it in that way that only makes his biceps flex, his lean muscles shifting beneath his shirt. You hate that you notice.

A beat passes.

"You know," he muses, far too casually, "you seemed a little disheveled back there."

Your stomach twists. "It's not a big deal—"

"—Bullshit." His voice cuts through yours, sharp and immediate. He shifts, stepping just the tiniest bit closer, his tone losing its usual teasing lilt. “You’re lying. I saw what you looked like. What happened?”

“It's none of your business,” you say, stiffening. “Nor is it a big deal, really.”

Gojo exhales, something heavy in the sound. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for once, they aren’t filled with their usual mirth or mischief. Just something searching, something that makes your chest ache in a way you don’t have the strength to deal with right now.

"You always do that," he says, softer now, but no less intense. “Act like no one’s supposed to care. Like you’re carrying the world alone.”

Your fingers curl into your palms. Your lips press together. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to acknowledge the way his words settle too close to the truth.

And then, quietly, Gojo asks, “Do you not consider me your equal?”

You swallow.

Your silence must be enough of an answer because something shifts in his expression. It isn’t anger exactly, but it’s something close—something bitter and disappointed and aching all at once.

"You’re the one who shuts me out, you know." His voice is sharp now, edged with frustration. "You act like I'm the one keeping you at a distance, but every time I try to get close, you push me away."

Your throat tightens. “Why do you even care?”

Gojo lets out a breath, his head tilting just slightly, eyes scanning your face like you’re something he’s trying to figure out. Then he laughs, quiet and humorless.

“You really don’t know?”

“I—” Your voice wavers. “What do you mean—”

“For a girl so smart, you sure do act stupid.” He steps forward then, closing the space between you just enough to make you want to back away, but your feet don’t move. His voice drops lower. "Do you think I talk to you because I give a fuck about physics?"

Your brain short-circuits. “What—”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I give zero fucks about the class or any class, trust me. I have better things to do than to try to aim for 100s on every test."

Your heart is pounding now, too loud, too fast. “Then why—”

"God," he exhales, tipping his head back, like he's debating whether or not he should even say it. Then, after a beat, he looks at you again, and whatever is in his eyes makes your stomach flip, makes your breath hitch.

Something in your chest lurches, but before you can even process it, he huffs a laugh—like he’s just remembered something ridiculous.

"You didn’t even look my way the first week," he says, eyes flicking over your face, searching. "I could tell you only cared about anyone that could challenge you. Like, it wasn’t even until I did better than you on the second midterm that you even talked to me."

You open your mouth, then close it, heat prickling at the back of your neck. Because—yeah. He’s not wrong. You had ignored him, dismissed him as just another overconfident rich kid who thought he was smarter than he was. It wasn’t until he proved himself, until he became a real obstacle in your path, that you bothered to acknowledge him.

Gojo smiles, but it’s not cocky this time—it’s small, almost rueful. "And then you looked at me like I was finally real. Like I existed."

Your breath hitches.

He shrugs, eyes dropping for a brief second before snapping back up to yours. "So, yeah. Maybe I started trying harder. Maybe I cared about all those stupid tests because it meant I got to see that fire in your eyes, that I got to be the one you were pushing against." He rubs the back of his neck, his biceps flexing in a way that would usually annoy you, but right now, you’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

Gojo stares at you for a long moment, gaze unwavering, like he’s daring you to say something—anything.

Your chest feels too tight, your pulse erratic, and you don’t know what to do with the way Gojo is looking at you—like you’re something precious, something worth holding onto.

But he’s wrong. He has to be wrong.

“You can’t like me,” you whisper.

Gojo frowns, expression shifting. “What?”

Your throat clenches, and before you can stop it, heat pricks at your eyes, blurring your vision. “You can’t like me,” you say again, voice cracking. “I can’t even match you.”

Gojo's face slackens, his teasing demeanor completely gone.

"You do everything so effortlessly," you force out, your fists clenching at your sides. "It’s so infuriating." A shaky breath escapes you, and you shake your head, looking down. “So why would you even want this? You make me feel this way, and I—I hate you for it.”

For a second, there’s only silence.

Then, Gojo exhales softly.

“Is that what you think?” His voice is so gentle it makes something inside you ache.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Gojo shifts, stepping forward slowly, carefully, like you’re something fragile. And then—then he reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your wrist before curling around it, grounding you. “It’s not effortless,” he murmurs. “I try so hard. You just don’t see it because I don’t want you to.”

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice is quieter now, something dangerously close to vulnerable. His fingers twitch at his sides. "I care because it’s you."

You shake your head, still not understanding, still unable to believe it.

Gojo watches you for a moment, then exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You act like I just woke up one day and decided to like you.” He huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no real amusement in it. “Do you know how long I’ve been stuck on you? How infuriating it was, realizing that no matter how much attention I got, the only person I wanted it from was too busy treating me like an obstacle?”

Your breath catches.

“I tried everything,” he continues, voice rougher now. “Teasing you, annoying you, beating you in tests, losing to you in tests. It didn’t matter what I did, because you—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “You only saw me when I gave you a reason to compete.”

Your fingers tremble slightly at your sides. You don’t know what to say, don’t even know what you can say.

And suddenly, everything—the teasing, the constant pestering, the way he always had to be around you—it all clicks into place.

Your heart hammers in your chest, and before you can second-guess it, before you can even think, you surge forward and kiss him.

It’s a mess of a kiss—too rushed, too desperate, all clashing teeth and uneven breaths—but Gojo groans softly against your lips, like he’s been waiting for this. His hands are on you immediately, one slipping around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as he presses you flush against him.

You’re dizzy. Overwhelmed. But it’s good. It’s him, and you don’t want to stop.

When you finally pull away, breathless and unsteady, Gojo is grinning, his lips slightly swollen.

“Worth the wait,” he murmurs, eyes shining.

You avert your gaze, fully blushing now. “But I—” You take a look at him, then hide your face in your hands. “I’m a stalker.”

“Maybe I’m into that.”

“No,” you bemoan. “I’ve stalked you at the gym, and I—” Your voice drops into a shameful whisper. “You were good. Like, stupidly good. Like, making everyone stare at you good.”

His lips twitch. “You were staring too, huh?”

You glare at him, but he just grins, all teeth, clearly eating this up.

“I hated it,” you insist, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “I hated that you’re already smarter than me, that you already have all these advantages, and then—and then you also have that? Like, it’s just unfair. You’re unfair.”

Gojo is silent for a second, and you think you’ve screwed up, but then exhales a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You are so cute.”

“Stop it!” you whine, but you don’t protest when he pulls you closer and locks your lips with his another time. You clutch the front of his shirt, drag your hands on his chest, his arms, everywhere. Then, you guide his to firmly clutch your ass, to which he freezes.

“We can stop here. We don’t have to do anymore than this, and—”

But you interrupt him, slamming your lips against his once more. Grabbing him by the shoulder you pull him into your room and slam the door behind you, pushing him against the door. “Fuck no.”

He laughs breathlessly, then continues to switch your position, now you against the door. “Thank god. Now, jump.”

You do, and you almost moan at how easily he grabs you in his arms, your legs straddling him. It’s like you weigh nothing to him as he carries you over to your bed and manhandles you into it, following not long after.

When he gets on top of you, he maintains eye contact as he pulls your shirt over your head, trailing kisses down to your neck, the valley of your breasts (but not before giving each of the girls their own tender kiss), and your stomach. With his eyes boring into you, he slowly, teasingly drags the pants you were wearing down your legs until you’re just in your panties.

You let out a noise, and he coos. “I know, I know, baby.” He gives you a gentle kiss on the top of your mound, and you clench, squirming from the contact. “Let me take my time, though.”

He gently, but firmly, lays a hand on your hip as he starts licking the crotch of your panties. It’s truly maddening—the sensation is there, but you oh so wish his skilled tongue was meeting your skin, bare and electric.

He’s taking his time laving, ravishing your taste, but you’ve had enough. “Gojo, please,” you sob, throwing your head back and grinding further into his tongue, which he welcomes. “Stop teasing.”

“Mmmm,” he pretends to think, all while focused and looking only at your crotch, now rubbing your clit in small, miniscule circles. “I can, but,” and now he’s just mocking you, with the way he adopts a babying tone, “I think you’re going to have to beg for it.”

You groan in frustration as a response, but he only clicks his tongue as his fingers reach and finally rid you of your panties. He spreads your folds with two fingers, his face oh so close to your bare pussy. But instead of finally giving you what you want,  he clicks his tongue, pouting as if you’re the one forcing him to be a bastard. “Yea, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to earn it.”

Before you can respond, he holds out his tongue and inches his face even closer to your bare folds until you can feel his warm breath over it. “You just have to say please.” Then, he ahhh-s, as if holding his tongue out to a doctor and says, “Look I’m so close—ahhh.”

You can only plead with him. “Please, Gojo.”

“No, it’s Satoru to you now, baby.”

“Satoru, please eat me out.”

He smiles. “Yeaa, that’s my girl.” And proceeds to eat you out in a way that has your toes curling.

He acts like a man eating his last meal on death row. It’s the masterful combination of laving over your folds, kissing your clit, and groaning and making noises that has you inching closer and closer to your orgasm. When you tell him, you’re close, he does exactly what he’s supposed to do—keep doing what he’s doing, same spot, same tempo, same pressure.

With a cry of his name, you come quickly, and he takes your writhing hips and their motion like a champ, easing you through it. When you feel the all-too-familiar feel of over sensitivity, you grab his hair and pull him towards your face, kissing him tenderly. 

He maneuvers his huge frame to lay down next to you, and you fall easily into a gentle embrace. It’s a comfortable silence, as he burrows his face into your chest and you stroke his hair gently.

Gentler than how you’ve ever treated him.

It’s this thought exactly that you voice to him. “You know,” you muse softly. “I was such a bitch to you.” This gets his attention, because he moves from where he was comfortable (your boobs) to look at you in alarm. “Like, I was always mean, and like acting all high and mighty—”

“Whatever you think you did, it was hot,” he interrupts you, grinning boyishly. “Like damn when you insult me I get all fired up—”

“Satoru!” You laugh, shocked, looking down at him. “You’re crazy.”

“Yea,” he winks. “Crazy for you.”

You smile softly at that, biting your lip. “I mean, I get that.” You feel his curious gaze rove over you and heat creeps up your neck as you confess, “Like I was stalking you at the gym. I saw you one time, and um. You definitely have a sleeper build.”

He hums. “I get that a lot.”

“Yea,” you blurt. “you’re really hot. Like you have really big arms, which I definitely didn’t notice in all those sweaters you wear. You could definitely throw me around.”

Silence.

When you look down at him, he’s looking at you mischievously. He sits up, takes off his shirt, and says, “Want to test that theory?”

The both of you test the theory, indeed—it’s a nice nod to your guys’ academic, theoretical physics roots. But instead of some theory involving dark matter or quantum physics debated while in class, this theory takes all night to prove.

general masterlist

a/n special thank you to @purplegemadventures ily pookie <3 we were discussing how a lot of fics so far have made seem nerd gojo really cute and shy but we tried to envision a shit eating sassy diva just like hidden inventory arc <3 like what that one anon said i need my gojo to be a little annoying cocky (but cute) bastard (or, i quote, "your gojo makes me want to oil his scalp and give him an aggressive head massage and mess his hair up"). ANYWAYS props to that one anon that dropped the "nerd gojo with sleeper build" and my beloved @tiramisuandlove i love you forever

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots!

Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? - G.S.

Synopsis. There were two things missing in the scene in front of you: 1. The aphrodisiac chocolate your friends had given as a gag gift last Christmas that had been hidden away in the back of your refrigerator. 2. Your dear fiancé.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected sex, Satoru’s blindfold gets used, overstimulation (male + female), lots of cum, aphrodisiac sex, multiple rounds, making Gojo Satoru cum in his pants, breaking the bed, mating press, pet names (my girl), swearing.

Word count. 3.0k

A/N. Can you tell it’s ovulation week. Art by @_3em on X.

Ah~ It’s the 21st century, they should really make these curses self-exorcizing. 

It’s been a long day of dealing with countless curses and five droning clan meetings (all of which he missed, oops). Now, Satoru loiters around your shared penthouse apartment - waiting for you to come back home from work.

Hmm, maybe he’ll quickly drop by and see what the first years are up to? He probably didn’t have a class right now. 

But first, Satoru grins, opening the refrigerator to grab at the secret stash of sweets all the way in the back - something sweet.

---

It was odd to step into a tense silence suffocating your home - usually used to being met with whines of “how dare you take so long!” and “you won’t believe what that emo kid did today.” as soon as you walked in through the door.

Was Satoru running late on a mission today?  

It wasn’t surprising, the man had to be everywhere - it’s not like he always has the time to teleport and welcome you home. Yet, you still couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off as you made your way into the kitchen.

Cursing whoever invented the work week, the cold air of the refrigerator hits you as you open it to grab a drink, wondering when your fiancé will be home.

Wait.

Tired brain distinctly noting the lack of that familiar flash of hot pink, you double-take as you glare at the back of the refrigerator - as if willing it to materialize in front of you. Where was that?

“That” being the gag gift your friends had given you last Christmas to playful wolf whistles. Some large slab of “aphrodisiac chocolate” - probably normal chocolate - that you’d skeptically thrown in with your secret candy stash for a rainy day. 

Satoru had ransacked your goods again, you sigh. But if he was home…then where was he?

“Toru? Are you home?” you call out in confusion, only to be met with a deafening silence. 

Concern etched on your face, you set the drink down to look for Satoru, footsteps thumping against the hardwood floors at each tense step. 

Approaching the bedroom, a low, unmistakable moan filters through the heavy door. Satoru.

Heartbeat racing and worry coursing through you, you cautiously push the door open - only to be met with a sight that makes your heart stop.

There, sprawled across your bed in just his boxers, a delicate flush spread enticingly along his sculpted body, was your Satoru. 

Something about this scene felt more than a simple evening nap. The air was heady and thick with something. Maybe it was that familiar hot pink wrapper lying empty at the foot of the bed. Maybe it was the way Satoru’s usually vibrant eyes were half-lidded, curtained by his tousled hair. 

Or maybe it was his hand squeezing the large outline of his achingly hard cock through his boxers. Circling the dark spot around his leaking tip. Massaging his heavy balls. Teasing. 

“You’re home‘ he rasps out, voice strangled and snapping you out of your trance. 

“Wha- yes. Toru, what happened?” you sputter out, eyes locked on the way his cock twitched animalistically at the sound of your voice.

In the blink of an eye, Satoru’s gotten up from the bed, muscled arms caging you against the wall. His rock-hard erection presses into your front, precum smearing through his boxers against your work clothes.

“You’re home.” he repeats, sounding as strained as if he were about to snap any second. Losing his sanity with each breath that fans your hair.

You could feel the pulsing of your cunt as your eyes flit from the sheen of sweat decorating his body to the blindfold haphazardly hanging off his neck. Satoru finally raises his eyes to look at you.

Oh, he’s already lost his sanity.

Pupils blown, those blue eyes you love now a lustful black - a predatory glint in them that made a carnal part of your cunt twitch. His mouth spreads into a wolfish grin, teeth bared as if ready to eat you up. 

A shiver runs down your spine.

“Toru…you okay?”

“You’re home.” he breathes out, as if a prayer. 

“Satoru.”

The simple call of his name sealed your fate.

The buttons hit the ground before you realize what he’s doing. Ripping your shirt off, pulling off your bra, fisting your clothes in his hands as if it killed him to see you clothed. 

Too impatient - too starved - to remove your skirt, he pulls it to shreds off your hips.

“Woah- slow down there.” you squeal as he drops to Satoru knees, biting down on the thin fabric of your soaked panties, tugging with his teeth. You know he’ll buy you ten more to replace what he’s torn, but jeez where was the decorum?

“Can’t” he slurs, peeking up at you with dazed eyes. Was your Satoru even here with you?

“What?” 

“Can’t stop.” he murmurs lowly, voice sending vibrations to your twitching cunt. 

And before you know it, sharp teeth bite around your panties, ripping them to shreds. Looking up at you with hooded eyes, miles away, grinning devilishly around the soaked fabric in his mouth. 

Shit, what have you gotten yourself into.

Despite your thobbing pussy, you soothe “Now, Toru. Why don’t we just-”

“Shut up.” he mutters. And he does - words catching in your throat as Satoru dives nose-deep into your dripping cunt. Hot tongue urgently lapping at your juices, as if a man dying of thirst..

Nose rubbing your pulsing clit in rough circles, he breathes you in so sinfully, letting out a throaty groan as he does. He bullies his tongue past your dripping folds, stretching you, dipping in and out of your quivering entrance. Over and over. In and out.

You were losing your mind with each rough push of Satoru’s warm tongue. Dizzying pace forcing lewd whimpers out of your mouth that mix with the squelches of his mouth on your pussy. 

You buck your hips desperately into his face, and amidst his merciless abuse on your cunt, you barely notice the way he presses his body against yours. 

Shit, so this is why he’s so fucking feral - Satoru’s cock was painfully hard, swollen and throbbing against your leg. Fuck- you weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

He grind his hips into you, precum soaking your bare legs. With a low whimper at the back of his throat, Satoru’s tongue fucks you in a way you knew he wanted to with his cock right now. Rough and unrelenting.

Maybe it’s the harsh abuse of his mouth on your swollen lips, nose catching on your clit just right. Or maybe it’s the feeling of your slick dripping down the corners of his mouth, onto your thighs and mixing with the precum of his aching erection. 

Before you can even register it, you’re cumming all over Satoru’s mouth, grip tight on his white locks and hips riding his pretty face.

Greedily lapping at your quivering cunt, he moans as his eyes roll to the back of his head at the sweet juices pooling around his tongue. 

In the back of your mind, you recognize the feeling of Satoru’s warm cum smearing against your leg. Did- Did Gojo Satoru just come in his underwear while eating you out?

Sinfully, he licks at the mixture of your juices dripping down your legs, eyes closed as if tasting a delicacy. He was going to be the death of you.

As soon as your high bates, Satoru stands to his full height. Towering above you with eyes that looked like he wanted to positively eat you alive.

“T-Toru…are you okay?” 

But your fiancé stays silent, throbbing erection still straining painfully against his wet boxers as he shoves you against the cold wall. Rough hands on your hips, presenting your dripping cunt to him and arching you to his will.

A large hand smacks the wall beside your head, plaster crumbling under his strength. Shit, if he keeps going at this pace then nothing in the house will survive Satoru - including you. 

You feel the cum-soaked fabric of his boxers grinding against your ass, his hands pulling and groping every bit of skin he can reach.

“Toru, take it off.” you whine out, words dripping in lust.

You don’t need to tell Satoru twice. With grace that he wouldn’t give your clothes, his boxers are on the ground, painfully hard cock hitting his abs. 

You can feel the slick dripping down your legs as you look behind your shoulder to see one hand wrapped tightly around his large cock. Pulling in slow, languid motions up to the furiously flushed tip. His heavy balls twitch as he thumbs the prominent vein along the side.

“I want-”

You can’t even finish your sentence before Satoru’s bullying his massive cock into your snug cunt. Plush walls desperately trying to adjust to his size as he sheaths himself in your hot core. 

You moan at the delicious stretch of your pussy. It’s not like you haven’t done this before - yet, where Satoru was usually suave in sex, right now it was replaced by pure, feral need. With his tip kissing your cervix as he pushed animalistically into your cunt - you didn’t know if you’d make it out alive. 

“Hah- Toru it’s too big. Ah! I can’t-.”

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed. 

Satoru presses into you inch by fucking inch, groaning at the tight ring of muscles trying to both push him out and suck him in desperately. It was so animalistic.

It seems Satoru’s body moves before his mind, hips fucking into your dripping pussy recklessly. Harsh thrusts, not even pulling all the way out to ram into you as he usually does - as if he can’t bear to part with your wet core. His balls sting your cunt as they smack against you at his unforgiving pace, strings of slick and cum connecting him to you.

“Ah- So good f’me, my girl. Always- so good.” he gasps out at the heavenly feeling of your dripping cunt sucking him back in at each thrust. “Hngh! Mmm more. I need more. Need it so bad.”

Hands arching your back into him now grope the expanse of your skin, before wrapping around your body to lift you off the floor. 

“Ah! Toru, what- hngh-” you choke on your words at the new angle. 

Satoru’s body bows into you, cock still slamming inside you at a feral pace midair. Not even a hair’s breadth between your bodies. 

With one hand he forces you to look up at him, capturing your lips with his in a searing kiss. Pretty mouth sucking your tongue as he did with your cunt.

If you were in a better state of mind, you’d notice the slight glow tinging his lustful eyes. The electricity thrumming through his fingers. Yet you already knew - Satoru was absolutely losing it.

Your feet dangle off the ground as he holds you securely, length reaching impossibly deeper inside you. Prominent vein grazing that one spot over and over.

“Hngh- Oh my god, Toru. S’too much!” you pull away to whine. 

“Open your mouth.” he murmurs raspily. As if body on auto-pilot, your mouth opens, tongue lolling out for what he was about to give.

Satoru’s stream of spit is warm on your tongue, making you clench around his merciless cock. He lets out a drawn-out groan, eyes boring down at you, holding a glint of the same insanity he has when he exorcizes curses, “My nasty girl. Can’t get enough of you.”

You moan at his words, hands reaching behind you to grab on the blindfold dangling on his neck. “Toru more-” you gasp out, your tight grip causing him to bow his head with a groan, cock twitching ferally. 

“Fuck! More? You fucking want more?” he groans out, voice wrecked with pleasure. 

You let out a yelp as his teeth dig into your neck - hard enough that you were sure you’d have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up. Yet, your grip on his blindfold never waves, pulling him closer as he fucks roughly into your snug cunt. 

Ass burning at the friction of his pelvis. Pussy dripping onto your bedroom floor. Unforgiving. Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. “Ah! Toru s’good.” 

You both cum with strangled gasps. A low keen at the back of Satoru’s throat, and he’s pumping hot ropes of cum into your awaiting pussy. Tears stinging your eyes at your sensitivity, all you know is a wave of pleasure as you ride out your climax on the ramming of his hips and the how full you are of his seed.

His hand still draws hurried, desperate circles on your clit. You squeal at the overstimulation, tears clinging to yours lashes. “Toru- hngh!” you can barely get out the words, his hips slamming into yours mercilessly as Satoru milks his cock desperately on your quivering pussy. 

“Shut up. You said you wanted more. You’re gonna get more, my little slut.” he mutters carnally.

Ah, you can’t do this. You were going to fucking pass out.

“One- more.” he moans.

Your thighs clench around him, pushing your plush walls deeper as he lets out raspy whimpers with each thrust. “Hah- hngh.” 

“Shit- Toru I’m-” Your climax hits you with a jolt, body twitching in pain and pleasure from the oversensitivity as your cunt flutters around his cock - not even being able to tell when Satoru’s orgasm ends and when yours starts. 

You feel a tear hit your shoulder, overstimulation too much for his poor cock as his seed coats your walls once more. It drips out of you, forming a pool on the floor as he pulls out - for only a second before you’re thrown on the bed. 

Orgasm-hazed brain barely having time to register what is happening before Satoru stalks towards you from the foot of the bed. Unhurriedly approaching you as you scoot towards the headboard.

Your pussy jumps exhaustedly at the sight of him - eyes darkened and narrowed at you like a predator that has spotted his prey. A devilish smirk stretches across his swollen lips, glossed prettily with spit and slick. 

Toru, I-I don’-” you words slur out. 

“One- one more, my girl. Please.” Satoru whimpers, throat shot from what transpired just before. His cock twitches, glistening with cum and slick, dripping onto the fresh bedsheets. 

As he looms closer, you wonder how the fuck Satoru was still holding up - was this all because of the chocolate? You have half the mind to wonder whether he was using reversed cursed technique to keep you both alive.

You mewl deliriously at the feeling of your legs being thrown on his shoulders. Eyes blown and face flushed your favorite shade of pink, he licks a long stripe up your ankles, voice cracking as he moans sinfully. 

Satoru’s flushed tip teases your entrance, dragging along your swollen folds. Fuck. Shit. Maybe you wouldn’t even mind dying if it was with his cock rammed in your snug cunt.

Barely even lucid, he thrusts harshly into you - your tight entrance readily sucking up his flushed tip. You both hiss at the sensitivity. Surely, one of you was going to pass out. 

Hand moving to grasp the blindfold around his neck, you pull him to you. Your hamstrings burn in protest as Satoru bends down to attach his lips with yours, moving down until you were folded in half. 

Tongue tangling with yours, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, fiery with an intensity that made you unsure if either of you would make it out of this alive. 

Heartbeat roaring in your ears, you don’t notice the crack! of the bed and neither does Satoru. Too caught up in desperately reaching whatever number orgasm it was this night. 

Moans incoherent, your body convulses, nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back as the bed creaks in protest. A strangled groan leaves his mouth, cock throbbing inside you - or maybe that was your quivering cunt. At this point you really didn’t know anymore. 

“Shit- ah! Fuck. I’m- M’cumming. M’cumming. Hngh- cumming!” he whines out, voice ragged and breathing unstable. Delicate tears streak down his face, dripping onto your quivering body below him. Salty.

You can only let out exhausted whines, too fucked out to form any proper sentences.

Hot seed gushing inside you again, it overflows out of you, cunt dripping and too full to take anymore. Yet, Satoru still fucks into you until he sees stars and his poor cock is cumming dry. You can barely even feel your climax, distant tingles and the only thing on your mind being Satoru Satoru Satoru. 

The air leaves your lungs as he collapses on top of you. Skin flushed and sticking to yours. Body twitching as his poor cock neverendingly shoots blanks inside of you. Which number was this even?

That’s when you black out.

Floating in and out of dreams of blue, blue skies and mini Satorus running around, you wake up with a start. Well, as much of a start as you could with your entire body aching as if you got run over by a truck - and then an entire zoo after.

Bleary eyes taking in your surroundings, you distinctly realize that you’re spread out on the living room couch. 

What happened.

“Hey, you okay?” a hoarse voice sounds from beside you. You could barely recognize it as your fiancé’s, words jagged from…whatever it was before.

“You…are you okay?” you rasp out, raising a brow exhaustedly. Satoru chuckles sheepishly, tenderly smoothing over the blanket placed on top of you. What a change from before - are you sure this is the same guy?

“Well…the wall is crumbling, we broke the bed, and I’m pretty sure my dick won’t work again for the next couple years.” he gets out in one breath. At your silence, he continues “And I think my favorite blindfold is out of commission.”

“...wow.”

“Wow.” 

“You lecher, you ate from my secret stash, didn’t you?”

“...”

A few days later, opening the refrigerator, you’re met with a wall of hot pink. A sticky note on top reading in Satoru’s hasty scrawl, “This time you take one too :D”

A/N. Wrote this while watching The Garfield Show.

Plagiarism not authorized.

I WAS SHOCKED, STUNNED, GAGGED BY THIS REVELATION, THIS PLOT TWIST 😩 it was pookie this whole time 🫣 bit sad by gojo ending but the twist was 😳 THIS IS GOING TO MY HOLY GRAIL FICS TF🥹

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 56.5 || The Alternate End

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, angst, & a tinge of fluff.

[ { A/N } ] ➤ This is also the last chapter. Also, please note that you can't read this ending without the official one as they go together. (Here)

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——ANOTHER TWO MONTHS OF peace is what you experience after the burning of the journal. When you went home that day, you found yourself having this bittersweet emotion in your heart for Gojo.

Sure, you’d miss him in some weird twisted way but, at least you were both happy going your separate ways. Truly happy. Seeing as you went out of your way to ask Geto to keep you updated on Gojo’s mental health every now and then, the man didn’t lie when he told you he was happy because, well, he was.

Geto told you how Gojo walks around like a thousand tons of weight have been lifted off of his shoulders and you were beyond relieved to hear that.

As for you, well, you were ecstatic every day because you had a boyfriend who constantly put your mind at ease and a smile on your face. Just as you surprise him from time to time, he reciprocates with gifts every now and then— oftentimes he would purchase roses for you, always purple and always beautifully arranged for you.

He was the best boyfriend you could’ve ever asked for and you can’t imagine yourself ever wishing for anything or anyone more. Nothing could ruin your peace with Choso Kamo.

Or so you thought…

At the end of the day, why would you have feared anything when all the threats to your relationship were gone? Choso knew you’d slept with Sukuna, he knew you’d seen multiple other guys, and he knew you’d fallen for another man at one point so, how could things have come to… this?

With your back quite literally up against the wall, eyes angled fairly upward at a man who’s just told you such incriminating information you’ll never know what to do with, you’ve never been more scared in your life.

Should you have seen this coming? Was there any way for you to prevent this?

This ruins everything. Everything that was once confusing no longer clouded your mind as the words recently spoken to you hung heavily in the air.

Why now? Why is it that you have to experience this now?

You didn’t need to know this. Maybe Gojo was right all along— perhaps it was better you stay in the dark because you don’t want to face this reality.

This meant so much. Everything was a lie. Or, almost everything was a lie? Too many questions would come to you and it felt like you had so little time to find answers because all the answers were there— the dots were all connecting and everything, unfortunately, made sense.

Damn you Gojo Satoru. He truly is the bane of your existence, the headache you could never get rid of and the heartache you didn’t fucking ask for. 

You were happy. You and Choso were happy but now that can’t continue, can it? Not with the information you just received, no.

That bullshit happy ending you thought you earned had crumbled right before your very eyes— all because of one little conversation and one simple sentence.

Damnit Choso, of all gas stations he could’ve stopped at, it had to be here. Here where you run into someone whom you’d rather walk on legos than speak to…

It could go so bad, so very bad. Because why does he know? Why does he choose to tease you about dating Choso? Shit could get ugly all too quickly, all he’d have to do is walk out the door and approach your boyfriend.

But then again, all of this chaos was unexpected. One should probably start from the beginning.

Well, not the actual beginning, that’ll be received another time. Instead, the beginning of this cursed interaction.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

It was summertime-, the month of June to be specific. You and Choso have been dating for a total of four lovely months.

The moment summer kicked off, you and Choso were with each other twenty-four-seven, a completely inseparable pair.

And it’s with this boyfriend of yours that you planned to go on a little road trip with for roughly a week. It was supposed to be this cute thing that you guys did to start your summer off.

He’d saved up some money and so had you, especially after you’d long since finally gotten that paid internship of yours-, which was heavenly by the way. The pay was better than the average job and all you had to do was be this cute campus therapist.

In all honesty, you got lucky since you knew a decent amount of professors who helped you land this internship. But, all that aside, the plan now was to spend the first week of summer with your boyfriend on the road.

And the start of said trip was wonderful, you two had driven to the next state over so, of course, you weren’t expecting anything to occur the way it did…

He stopped at a gas station to fill up, y’know, nothing unusual. It was hot and you wanted to grab snacks for the road, more than you already had— a decision you’d come to later regret as you truly had more than enough snacks in the car.

But, your greediness got the better of you and you were telling Choso you’d be right back with a small wave to him before skipping your way inside the station.

You had on some shorts and yet another one of Choso’s sweatshirts, a relaxed expression plastered over your features as you entered the store. There were quite a few people inside but you paid no mind to most of them, simply wanting to grab your desired snacks and head back to your boyfriend as soon as possible.

There was some song stuck in your head so you were humming that to yourself as you dipped down one of the isles, the gas station being rather large and the selection of food items being more than you were expecting.

Your eyes lit up as you spotted something yummy and leaned down to grab it, the buzz of your phone making you halt as you redirected your focus to that. Choso had texted you and told you to grab him some chips, to which you liked his message, and went back to your selection.

There was so much to choose from but you had half a mind to just get everything, especially since Choso gave you his card and never really cared how much you spent on it.

He was such a hard worker and you adored him for it. Ever since the whole thing where he realized his competition was rather wealthy Choso has been working like crazy to be able to spoil you as he once said he wished he could.

Hell, around your wrist right now was the bracelet he’d gotten you the day he asked you if he could be your boyfriend— the item turning out to be rather pricey as it's adorned in pretty expensive jewels.

You told the man that money isn’t the way into your heart and that you’d love him even if he didn’t buy a bunch of stuff for you but, he doesn’t really listen and spoils you anyways. However, when you remind him that he needs a certain financial standpoint in order to one day win custody over Yuji, he does relax on his spending.

So, as you stand here wondering what snacks you want, you do come to the conclusion of just swiping up everything you want. 

Happily humming to yourself, you grab item after item before you receive yet another text. Sighing, you shove most of the items under your arm in an awkward hold to check your phone and it’s just another text from your boyfriend. This time he asked you to get him something to drink.

Then, he followed that text by offering his help, to which you told him you got it. Later, you’d grow thankful for such a decision.

Somewhere through your shopping, you swipe up a basket, surprised there even were any as you dump all your items inside. The last few things you needed to grab were the drinks so you headed to the back of the gas station where all the cold stuff was located.

Choso had requested something rather specific but you skimmed over it so, you had to pull your phone back out to see what exactly he said again. With the device in one hand and the basket in the other, your eyes were downward as you walked and a light yelp left your lips when you walked right into someone.

Your forehead bumped into someone’s back and fuck was their physique rock solid. It was okay that you ran into them at first but then, your body went rigid before you even looked up. This scent just flooded your nose, a scent that was accompanied with memories— the sudden thoughts bringing fear to your heart as you looked up. This person’s cologne reminded you of Sukuna…

But, when you laid eyes on black hair, you realized you had nothing to worry about. Sighing in relief, “Sorry,” You hum sweetly.

A chuckle. A sickening familiar chuckle hits your ears and that’s when you bat your eyelashes, recognizing the familiar markings that decorate the lower half of his neck, leading down to other parts of his body you’d once explored.

Oh. It seems your assumption wasn’t wrong at all. This is, in fact, the man you thought it was as he begins to turn to you and frighteningly familiar maroon-shaded eyes snap down to your smaller frame.

Your breathing picked up and you nearly dropped the basket in your hands in pure shock. It was like something out of a fucking movie the way Sukuna stood before you, a terrifyingly attractive smile spreading across his face as he’d recognized you by the sound of your voice before laying eyes on you.

“Well,” He begins, his voice putting you in an immediate daze as you recall so many regretful moments with this man, “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart-,”

“Don’t fucking call me that,”  You spat immediately, sucking in a deep some of air into your lungs and attempting to stand your ground.

Sukuna arches a brow and your eyes shift up slightly to study how he’s dyed his hair black and how it’s grown out a bit more in certain places. Damn the way he’s still painfully attractive, not that you were checking him out of course, but still.

A scoff leaves his lips, the same ones you regret ever placing your own upon, “Oh, she’s feisty now?” He snickers, “To what do I owe the pleasure of you being so upset with me for? Hm?”

Sukuna turns to face you and tips his upper half closer to you, the action making you stumble back a bit.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you scowl, “Don’t act all confused and innocent you abusive piece of shit,” You snap, a mix of disgust and anger vexed onto your once calm expression.

Sukuna seems taken aback by your words, eyebrows raising and shock taking over his expression. Certainly, he hadn’t heard you correctly just now? It takes him a long moment to process what the fuck you just said to him. 

His eye twitches as he gathers all the necessary information in his head, “I see,” Sukuna hums lowly, “So he told you, huh?”

“Obviously,” You huff before moving to step past him, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have no reason to be speaking with you right now-“

His bulky arm extends outward to his side, blocking you from walking past him and forcing you to come to an abrupt halt in your steps. “I wonder… Did you tell him?” Sukuna questions vaguely.

With an annoyed groan, you turn your head to him, “Tell him what?”

“That you’re a whore who’s fucked his brother,” Sukuna clarifies, voice dropping lower and his words coming off harsher.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes, “Yeah, he knows, I told him.”

You weren’t even surprised Sukuna knew you were dating Choso— hell, by now, nearly everyone knew. After all, despite Choso being rather shy, he’s more well-known than he cares to admit.

“Hah,” Sukuna scoffs, “And he’s still with you?”

“Of course he is,” You reply, tone cold, “Now, if you’re done bothering me with such a meaningless conversation, I’d like to leave.”

“See, that’s the thing, sweetheart,” Sukuna voices out slowly before leaning to your ear, “I’m not done.”

You’re repulsed by his sudden closeness, “What else is there for us to talk about? Okay we had sex one time, that’s in the past and I’m dating your step-brother now, literally what else is there for you to say to me-“

“Y’know, you’re so much more entertaining than I initially thought you’d be,” He claims suddenly, smirking a bit, “If only you’d agreed to be my weekly fuck— life would be sooo fun right now.”

You blink in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about, Sukuna?”

“I mean,” He leans away from you suddenly and lets out that wicked laugh of his, “Don’t get me wrong, the list was fun but it would’ve been so-“

“The what?” You cut off, chills running down your spine in reaction to what he just brought up.

Sukuna cocks a brow and steps past your now still frame, “Did I stutter? I said the list was fun.”

“What list, Sukuna?” You breathe out as he walks behind you, entering the aisle to your left.

“Oh y’know,” He shrugs as he casually reaches for a bag of chips, “The F*ck List,” He quotes. “That’s the name you guys decided on, no?” Sukuna asks all too casually as if he didn’t reveal that he not only knows about the list but also the name you and Gojo had explicitly shared between only each other.

Did Gojo tell Sukuna about it? Why would he do that? What the hell-

Sukuna starts laughing and it makes you flinch because he’s suddenly close to you again, lips near your ear, “Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” Sukuna taunts.

Sweat has built up along your skin and your heart is pounding as questions flood your brain. Why does Sukuna know about the list? Why is he bringing it up right now? How long has he known about it? Is this a part of the secret Gojo’s been keeping from you?

Was it never just Gojo from the beginning but two people conspiring that sick and twisted game for you? What-

The sound of Sukuna snapping his fingers makes you jump yet again, “Oh don’t get distracted now. What happened to all that anger of yours? All that confidence?”

You gulp, “I… I’m not sure what you’re talking about Sukuna, but-“

“Oh please don’t lie about this, you’ll only make it all the more difficult for yourself,” Sukuna warns suddenly before walking past your still frozen body and heading toward the nearby fridge, “Instead, if you have questions, ask. I’m not Gojo, I’ll actually answer them.”

Heavy breaths leave your lips and you’re almost too frightened to speak, “H-How… W-Why do you-“

“Ahhh, hear that?” Sukuna cuts off, smiling so happily at the tremble in your tone, “That, sweetheart, is the sweet sound of fear.”

You gulp, “Sukuna, how the fuck do you know about the list?”

He tuts and shakes his head, “Now now, if you want answers,” Swiveling back around to approach you, Sukuna walks slowly toward you before leaning his face to yours and backing you up against a nearby wall, “You’ll talk to me nicely, got it?”

Your upper lip twitches in annoyance, “Fuck you.”

“I’m not sure your boyfriend would be too happy hearing you ask me to do such a thing,” Sukuna taunts.

“Answer my damn question, asshole,” You spit out.

He scoffs, “Either you fix your fucking tone with me or you’ll end up right where this all started.”

“What?” You huff out, confused.

“I’m sure the school would love to see their little therapist fucking herself like the desperate whore she is, wouldn’t they?” Sukuna threatens with a tilt of his head.

Is he… Is he referring to the initial video that caused this whole mess? Your eyes widen like crazy and you could feel your hands trembling slightly, “W-What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Let’s not act all innocent now,” Sukuna hums, “You know what I’m talking about but if you want to test me, I can have it sent to everyone you know and love before you even have time to process it.”

A shaky exhale leaves your throat, “O-Okay, fine. What… What do you want from me now, Sukuna?”

“Oh?” He smirks, “I don’t want anything from you now, sweetheart. You’ve completed your task,” Sukuna claims as he stands straight up but steps even closer to you, his body practically pressing against yours, “Although, you did have a question for me, yes?”

Your mind is a mess and you nearly forgot what the hell your question to him was since you have so many. It takes a second or two but you soon recall, “Yeah… How… How do you know about the list?” You ask timidly.

There it is again, that wicked and all-knowing smile. A sinister expression is plastered across Sukuna’s features and he cackles, “How do I know about the list, you ask?”

An arm is raised to the wall, right beside your head as Sukuna leans down so that his face is right in front of yours, his lips practically on yours due to how close he forced himself. You were worried to even breathe too hard, the tight proximity threatening the very fabric of your relationship with how one wrong move could lead to Sukuna’s lips on yours.

“Sweetheart,” Sukuna whispers so softly, so chillingly, “I know about the list because… well…”

His eyes meet your fearful ones and you blink in anticipation. The words that leave his lips have your breath caught in your throat and your heart on edge.

Sukuna simply tilts his head and his breath caresses your lips as he whispers, “I made it.”

mlist || official ending ||

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

AAAAAAAAAAAAA IM SOFT 🤧🤧🤧

“do you think we're soulmates in every universe?” 

you ask, snuggling up to sukuna, on your king sized bed — you had been served dinner and sukuna bas gone through his reports and duties as king, and now it was his sacred time with you.

“we aren't in this one.” he scoffs, wrapping his arm around you.

you pout at him, mildly offended but you expected nothing less from the ‘heartless’ king of curses, “what makes you say so?”

“i don't believes in such foolish nonesense.” he says simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“it's not foolish nonesense.” you argue, tracing lines on his chest absentmindedly, admiring his sculpted form.

“and what makes you say that?” he asks, mocking your earlier question.

you smile at him, “i mean, do you not feel a connection between us? a binding of souls? i know you love me and i’m sure you know that we are meant to be in every universe.”

“don't put words in my mouth, woman.” he huffs, caressing your shoulder.

you laugh — you know that while he might have not said it before, he most definitely thinks and feels it.

and it's true, sukuna had first fallen for you for your otherworldly beauty, and had chosen you for marriage, and that was that for a while until he started falling for you.

you, your laugh, the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about something that you love, the way you always showered him with loving words and affection that was always so foreign to him.

but he slowly started getting used to it, even reciprocating it in his own way.

“whatever you say, ryo.” you finally say, smiling sheepishly at him before blowing out the candle and rolling on your side, “goodnight.”

“hm.” he huffs, wrapping all four arms around you before slowly drifting into sleep, his mind swarmed with thoughts about how your souls could possibly be tied.

foolish thoughts, for him maybe, but maybe it was also true

because, sometime, centuries later, in the middle of tokyo in a small business coffeeshop, sukuna meets you — the all time business ceo, falls for the loving and bubbly batista who always left him notes on his morning coffee.

and he falls for you all over again.

BAD HABIT ft. BULLY! SATOSUGU

— minors dni, perverted!+bully! satosugu, uh light fluff? (mostly in the bonus?), mostly satoru x reader, fantasizing about smut (gojo), prob inaccurate college rep idc <3, pet names (princess, darling), explicit language, suggestive comments, some recording/photography, one mention of blackmail

summary; suffering exhaustion beneath a pile of college projects and exams wasn’t enough, now you’re stuck tutoring the most annoying men in the world. couldn’t hurt to take a little nap during it

wc 3.1k ??

The last few weeks have been long, nerve-wracking. It seems all your professors have co-conspired together to drop some kind of test or project, all worth a large portion of the grade and all due in the next month. Your nightly 8 hours of sleep have dwindled to a measly four, and of course, to top it all off, now your Bio Chem teacher has donned you the responsibility of tutoring Gojo and Geto indefinitely.

They had to have something to do with this, you just know it. Call it a wild hunch but there’s no way, of all the people in that class, a lot of which have higher grades than yours, that the professor would ask you to tutor Gojo and Geto. Maybe they slipped a few hundreds in the teacher’s hand or appealed to his emotions. Knowing the theatrics of Gojo, he probably gave the man big, puppy-dog eyes and crocodile tears during his fake pleas of ‘please, sir, we really want to pass this class!’.

A light knock on your door drags you out of your thoughts, followed by the familiar voice of a white-haired pest. “Knock, knock!”

You’ve been dreading 5PM since yesterday, the time they, and reluctantly you, had agreed on. Demanding they come to your dorm was akin to putting acid on your tongue, but going over to theirs like Geto’d offered would be like walking into the lion’s den.

They await you within the hall, and Gojo perks up immediately at the sight of you. He unwraps himself from Geto’s shoulders, and your suspicions that they don’t really need your knowledge only grow when you notice they’re both empty-handed, not a book or worksheet or even a flash card in sight. Though you can’t dwell on it for too long as Gojo’s immediately barging into the room.

“Princess, good to see ya!,” comes his boisterous greeting. “Nice place ya got here.” Entwined in his teasing compliment is a conniving tone; Gojo examines the various pink decor of your bedroom. “Should come by more often.”

“Negative.,” you snap with furrowed brows, terse and patience already wearing thin at Geto’s languid pace through the door.

He nears Gojo to study the photo album adorning your tack board, leaving you to prepare by getting out the needed textbooks. You ignore their childish whispers, giggles, points at the various pictures that contain you and your friends, though it causes a bout of unease to settle in your stomach. Hopping onto the tall bed, you scoot until your back’s to the wall, placing down a recently-made stack of notes and the class’s assigned textbooks. It’s a short hunt for the page you desire, somewhere lost in the middle because this professor jumped from subject to subject so often.

You clear your throat to signal it’s time to begin. “Okay. So–“

Already you’re off to a bad start as the textbook disappears from your grasp, now suspended above Gojo’s head, far out of your reach. “This looks super bo-oring!”

You spring away from the sheets, landing with a soft ‘thud’ and instantly move to crush his feet, or kick his knees in, or have him hunched over with a punch to the stomach, but your movements are halted by Geto’s sudden grasp on your waist. Head jerking to the side, you shoot him your deadliest stare, nails steadily sinking into his unfortunately clothed forearms.

“Let go.,” you bark and he doesn’t move a muscle.

“Pft. Aren’t you adorable?,” he murmurs into your neck, tone bathed in condescension. “Just relax, he’s joking.” Against your wriggling and squirming, Geto backsteps to the shiny wooden desk in your room, still clinging to your waist. “Have a seat, it’d do you some good to calm down a little.”

And before you know it, he’s descending into the cool comfort of your chair, dragging you with him to rest in his lap. Gojo slams the book shut and approaches your restrained, restless form, grinning wildly the whole time. He pushes you back to recline atop his friend, thoroughly amused at your continuous flailing. A round of delighted laughter leaves Gojo’s lips, especially at the childish kick of your legs that don’t reach the floor from your position.

“Would you let fucking go of me?,” you huff between grunts, only to be met with Geto’s thoughtful hum.

“I might when you relax.,” he finally speaks.

You twist around in Geto’s lap to jab an enraged finger at his broad chest, a disdainful scowl painted across your features. “Did you two come here to play, or did you come here to learn?”

Gojo reaches out to ruffle your hair, smirking when you slap his hand away. The book precariously wobbling on his fingertips begins to fall, caught by him at the last minute before it hits the floor. “Can’t we do a little bit of both?”

Your toes brush the rug as you scramble forward in Geto’s lap, promptly ignoring the growing hardness you feel on your behind. “If you two aren’t gonna take this seriously then get out of my room.”

Geto chuckles as Gojo heaves out a loud sigh, and holds the textbook out to you. “Fine, jeez, you’re such a little buzzkill.”

You leap up from Geto’s lap and snatch it back. “Shut the hell up and sit down.”

Tension seeps away as they obey without question. Geto claims your swiveling desk chair as Gojo flops down on the huge, pink carpet covering majority of the floor, and you settle back onto the bed, flip again to the designated page and begin going over your plans for today’s tutoring session. You can feel two pairs of eyes burning into you, but opt to just concentrate on dumbing down the material for them.

Gojo zones out immediately as you dive into the information. Ocean blue eyes catch onto the curves and dips of your body and admire the cute loungewear you have on. Snug, white shorts that hug your skin and ride up the crease of your plush thighs. He studies the curve of your ass long enough to realize he can spot pink panties barely showing through the translucent fabric. With the way you’re sitting, knees midway pulled to your chest, Gojo can see the outline of your pussy, and blood rushes to his dick as his mind goes haywire. Gojo visualizes a different scenario, one where he spikes that stupid textbook into the floor and fucks you senseless. He can imagine perfectly the look on your face as he pins you to a mattress, voice wavering through false bravado as you whine through plump lips at him to move. Complaining even though your rounded thighs are rubbing together to ease the ache of your cunt, a damp spot forming in the crotch of your shorts as Gojo peppers kisses along your neck. The view of your beautiful tits with perked nipples rubbing against his chest and driving Gojo insane until he rips the thin layers off, both the panties and shorts together to leave your glistening pussy bare for him, ready to be ravaged and abused by his cock–

“Gojo.” He hears his name, but it’s like someone calling him underwater. “Gojo.”

A sharp kick in the ribs and he’s at full attention. Geto snickers at him, still swiveling back and forward in the leather chair, and Gojo looks over to meet your sharp dagger of a glare over the textbook.

“It’d be nice if you could focus on me and not waste my time.,” you sigh in utter annoyance.

Gojo grins that boyish smile, one that makes you want slap it off his face but maybe also makes your heart stutter a tad. “Oh-ho, babe, I‘m always focused on you.”

His statement brings a warmth to your cheeks, but you’re an expert at pretending around Satoru Gojo. Rolling your eyes, you huff and backtrack on a couple paragraphs in an effort to catch him up. Less distractions for him to latch on to.

“I think I’d focus more if I wasn’t so lonely down here.,” he interrupts to sulk in your direction.

The look you give is like one a mother gives a disobeying child. “Okay? No one told you to sit down there.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth, especially since Gojo perks up at the sentence. “Oh, inviting me to sit on the throne with you, princess?”

Eyes widening in disbelief, you try to sputter out a ‘no!’, but Gojo’s already sprung up and leaping into bed next to you. “No takebacks!”

You frown, brows knitted as he gets a little too comfy, squishing your favorite stuffed animal in his arms and blinking a wide-eyed look at you. Geto eyes you two and continues slow swirls in the chair, getting slightly dizzier with each rotation, but at least he’s actually been taking in the information you’ve explained. Not that he needs your tutoring, he’s up there with you as one of the top students in this particular class. But it’s hard not to read your lips when he’s been shamelessly ogling them the past ten minutes.

Sighing in defeat, you allow Gojo to curl up next to you. It’s easy to feign his attention and he pretends to read over your shoulder, though his mind is anywhere but in this textbook. If anything, this was far worse. Being in such close proximity, your alluring scent threatens to drag him deeper into your space. Instead of focusing on your body or, you know, the material, now all Gojo can concentrate on is pinpointing the ingredients of your shampoo. It’s so familiar, right on the tip of his tongue…vanilla? Maybe, but he can also catch hints of strawberry in there somewhere. Perhaps if he was a little closer…

“Can you back off a little?,” you snap at him. “Damn, you’re almost on top of me.”

Gojo smirks. “I can be actually on top of y-“

“Anyways you two can look over this.,” you ignore his flirtatiousness and stand up to get away from him. “Since you apparently know this more than me. I don’t even get why y’all asked for tutoring if you weren’t gonna listen.”

And before Gojo can object, you teeter towards the edge of the bed, land on the soft rug, and head towards the mini fridge for a much-needed drink of water. It’s bad enough you were asked to tutor them when they clearly don’t care for it, but for them to actually come and then waste your time, too? Egregious. You have half a mind to kick both of them out and tell the professor they don’t need anyone’s damn help, much less yours.

You bend over for a cold water bottle, and in the few seconds it takes you to grab it, you swear you hear the faint sound of a camera click behind you. Quiet noises follow after, almost like they’re trying to have a conversation without you noticing, but it’s silent as you turn around to continue the lesson. They’re so fucking weird. Whatever.

Drawing near the bed, you steady a hand and make ready to hop back into place, only for a strong pair of hands to hoist you up and set you on the edge. You let out a soft ‘oh!’, sincerely taken aback, and turn to look at Gojo, who’s readjusting back into his original spot like nothing has happened.

“What?,” he asks. Something about the nonchalant upturn of his lips is different than his usual smirk. Something more genuine and less smug.

Doubt clouds your vision, tugs the corners of your lips down as you glance between him and Geto, who’s halted his endless chair twirling to give a curious tilt of his head. They eye eachother, and then you again; Geto has the smallest smile, seemingly unassuming but you’re skeptical of it nonetheless.

“Nothing.,” you decide to dismiss it because you’d only be setting yourself up for failure trying to explain why it was a problem. Besides, addressing it would only serve to fuel Gojo’s numerous efforts to throw everything off track. Maybe he was seriously just trying to help. Fine, no big deal.

You awkwardly flounder backwards, making sure to put a few more inches of space between you and Gojo. All to no avail since the second you settle your laptop upon your bare thighs, he instantly closes the gap. The radiating heat of his body sends warmth throughout your skin, exhaustion catching up to pierce through your bones, and you find yourself wanting to swaddle up within blankets and go to sleep.

“The professor has a few study guides on the website.,” you yawn, keys clicking beneath your fingers until the aforementioned pdf file is loading down the screen. “Hundreds of questions but a lot of this stuff will be on the final, so it’d be helpful to study it all.”

Your eyelids flutter, and next is Gojo’s low voice in your ear. “Tired, princess? I thought you were supposed to be teaching us.”

His warm breath raises goosebumps on your skin, and you suddenly notice how cold this room is. “Fuck off.,” you mutter, shortly followed up by both their chuckling.

“Told you to relax.,” Geto voices in the most ‘told ya so’ tone ever. “Get some rest, we can take it from here, and we’ll wake you if we need something.”

It’s a bad idea, you know it’s a bad idea, but…you can’t help succumbing to a little nap. The past several days have worn you thin, and despite not trusting these two to find a drunk in a bar, let alone have unsupervised access to your room, the promise of a little sleep is tempting. You are exhausted so, against your better judgement, you bank on the fact that they have the potential of grown, mature men who won’t get up to something nefarious while you rest your eyes for a little. Surely it couldn’t hurt to put the slightest amount of trust in them, and you allow your vision to fade.

During your catnap, you have the poor luck to dream of school. Studying, finals, projects, classes, anything related to college, you conjured up an even more miserable version of it in your dream state. Though in one dream you cuddle that stuffed animal Satoru grabbed from your bed, so that’s a plus. In the dream it’s warm, snuggly, fuzzy. You smother it in your arms, bury your face into it to inhale the smell of it, a scent you’re infatuated with. You vaguely recognize it in your sleep, it smells so much like…

You awake to the jostling of your shoulders. Someone, two people actually, are talking, maybe to you? What are your whereabouts, actually?

“Ah, there she is!” The familiar voice sounds vague and foggy, loud but far away. “Have a good nap, princess?”

Harsh light beams into your eyes, tampering with the return of your sight. You hover a hand over your forehead to shield your face, peering around in a hope to get your bearings.

“I think she’s still half-asleep.,” another voice whispers, and then says louder, “Take your time, darling.”

Everything is bleary, but you can just make out the details of your room. There’s your fridge over on the opposite wall, the lamp on your desk, speaking of which, who’s in your chair? You start to sit up, wondering in the back of your mind when you laid down to begin with, utterly bewildered when you feel something, a hand, firm and warm on the bare skin of your hip. Pink bedsheets, white dorm walls, your legs, someone else’s legs stretched out beside yours…A chuckle rings somewhere to your right as you gape at these seemingly disembodied legs. Your gaze trails up to see they’re attached to a waist, a chest, a pair of arms, and then your eyes fall on the face.

“G–!”, you hesitate, stumbling backwards away from Gojo who laughs maniacally. “Get off me, Gojo!”

He scoffs, Geto huffs a laugh somewhere in the room. “You were the one laying all up under me, actually.”

“I was not!”

“You so were,” he argues, giddiness in his voice. “You were allll over me, baby. Hugging my arm, rubbing my chest, all of it. Wanna see the video?”

You gasp out, “Vi–? Video?”

Gojo fiddles around on his phone. “Yeah, check it out, sweet cheeks!”

He holds the phone out to you, and a large, empty feeling plummets to the bottom of your stomach. You, spooning him, a betraying smile spread on your lips as you nuzzle Gojo’s chest, completely oblivious to your surroundings. His hand snaked around your waist, fingers occasionally playing with the hem of your shirt or ducking beneath to pinch your hips. You whine when he does so, and in the video you see the stutter of his body, hear traces of his quiet laughter. The phone currently shakes in Gojo’s grasp from his endless giggling.

“Delete it!,” you stammer in complete disbelief. “Pervert!”

“Pervert?,” Gojo repeats your accusation. “You’re the one feeling me up in the video!”

“Get y’all’s asses out of my room!,” you shout at them, leaping to the floor to immediately escort them out. “Both of you, now!”

Gojo glares, huffs, and does his signature pout, all the while Geto chuckles hysterically behind his palm. “How rude of my tutor to kick me out after falling asleep during the session on top of trying to seduce me!”

Geto chimes in before you can tell his friend to shut the fuck up. “Surely you can spare a few minutes to make up for that time?”

“No.,” you say bluntly. “Out.”

You watch in disapproval as they grab their things, foot tapping impatiently the whole time as you hold the door wide open for them to leave through. They take their time, eventually prompting you to just start shoving them out into the hall.

“So, same time tomorrow?,” Geto teases, stumbling through the doorway.

You grimace, giving them both a last push out of your room. “Absolutely not-“

“And get some rest too, while you’re at it.,” Gojo bids you farewell with one last aggravating comment.

“Whatever.,” and you slam the door in their faces, Satoru poking his tongue out at you with a wink.

bonus!

— It’s the early hours of the morning. Geto has long since passed out, but Satoru can’t seem to get a wink of sleep. The video replays in his mind, and he tries desperately to imagine the sensation of your body laying against him. No teasing, no sex, no filthy, perverted thoughts. Just the feeling of your head on his chest again, limbs haphazardly wrapped around him. The even sounds of your breathing, warm breath brushing over his collar. Such an adorable, peaceful look on your face when you’re not glaring at him and spouting insults in a rage. Yeah, he told Geto he was taking pictures and a video as some kind of future blackmail, but, truth be told, Satoru really just wanted them all for himself.

my love 🫶🏻

Silent Love: Ch. 6 - "Forgiveness"

⊹ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Four

Previous Chapter: "Good Guy."

Chapter One: New Roommate(s)

Master-List: Here!

.・゜゜・ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ╰┈➤ Sukuna x Reader

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Sypnosis:

When moving out of your dorm and leaving your eccentric roommate goes to shit, you're offered by one of her friends to move in with him... for free! That is, if you don't mind living with two completely opposite college boys.

However, life isn't that easy, and there's a hot asshole around the corner to piss you off. Especially when he's always up late at night when you're studying, purposely trying to get on your nerves in the most perverse way possible.

You hate him.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Genre:

College/Modern World AU. Multiple parts.

Shameless Smut, Thin Walls, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roommates Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Kinda Slow Burn, Oral Sex Vaginal Sex, Slight Age Difference, Degradation Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Lovers, Spit Kink, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Word Count: 27,169

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ November 14th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Wednesday

You keep your eyes closed, ankles crossed while sitting down on the toilet. Your fingers play with the end of your sweatshirt while Uraume kneels before you, their thumb pads softly working into the eyelid of your eyes. Softly rubbing left and right, and up and down. 

“This always helps with swelling.” Their voice is monotone, holding no emotion or form of expression. “Cooling them down is good for a short amount of time, but it can strain the eyes and be uncomfortable. Rubbing them gently removes the fluids that have built up.” 

Uraume is completely different from when you first met them. They’re more collected, calm, emotionless, and put together. They haven’t so much as smiled yet, nor do they even sound human. They’re also wearing something more formal, a white button up shirt, and some nice black pants. You feel like a child next to them, messy and disorganized. 

You sheepishly nod, “I didn’t know that.” 

“You most likely haven’t cried enough to know that.” Uraume tells you, pulling their hands away from your face in exchange for a cool damp cloth. “These are things you learn with experience, much rather time.”

You tilt your head, “Have you cried enough?” 

Uraume pauses for a moment, before responding, “Not me, no.” The stand up, tossing the wet cloth in the sink and it hits the bowl with a gross splat. Then, they add, “But, someone I used to tend to, yes.” 

You nod, fluttering your eyes open, you immediately notice how much lighter your eyes feel, along with your vision being a bit better. You push yourself off the toilet seat lid, moving to the mirror and looking at yourself. 

Uraume’s standing next to you, looking at you through the mirror. “Looks good enough for the day, wouldn't you agree?” They grab their rolled up sleeves, and pull them down, making sure that the cuffs of their nice shirt rest perfectly at their wrist. 

You nod, the tips of your fingers moving to the corners of your eyes. They’re still a bit irritated, but the swelling is practically gone, along with your eyes, no longer bloodshot, more tired or high looking. “Yeah, it looks good.” You smile slightly. 

Uraume nods satisfied, “That’s good.” They sigh to themselves, closing their eyes with a bit of exhaustion, their hand pressing against their mouth, mumbling, “This is getting to become my normal again.” They open the restroom door and leave the small room. 

You follow after, blinking a few times, “Is there…?” You watch as Uraume makes way to the kitchen, opening the plastic bag they brought with them. “Uhm… are you? Is there something you’re here for?”

Uruame nods, placing the things on the table. “Of course, I’m here for Sukuna.” They place the final item, and you quickly observe they’re the ingredients for cookies. 

Cookies?

“Oh, well, I’m sorry but…” You move to the island, resting your weight on it, “Sukuna’s not here, and I have no idea when he’s coming back.” You pass them an unsure smile, “If you want, you can stay and wait, but I don’t know how long you’ll be waiting.” 

“I’m aware.” Uraume tells you, discarding the plastic bag, “He’s currently at my place, he’s going to return later today.” They pull out their phone, typing something. You can’t deny you’re jealous, especially knowing that Sukuna spent the night there. 

Wait, what? 

Now, you’re a bit confused, why would Uraume come here for Sukuna while he’s at their house? “Oh, did he tell you that?” You lean back and forth, a bit anxious at the thought of Sukuna coming home. “He hasn’t told me, or Yuuji anything.” 

“No.” Uraume tucks their phone in their pockets, “I just told him. He should be here in an hour or two.” They shrug, “However long it takes for him to get out of bed.”  

You tense, “Oh, uhm. Okay.” You twist your feet to the hall, ready to leave. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything–” 

“I do.” Uraume points at the items on the island counter, “I’m making something, it’d be nice to have an extra pair of hands.” Their finger taps expectantly on the counter, almost impatiently. They want you to stay, and you don’t want to stay. The idea of Sukuna coming home has you anxious, and avoidant, you really don’t want to see him right now. 

“Oh, uhm…” You thickly swallow, shakily pointing at Yuuji’s room, “If you want… I can go grab Yuuji?” You pass them an unsure smile, letting your hand fall to your side again. 

Uraume shakes their head, “No. Your help is good. Come on.” They point at the butter, it’s two sticks. “Put those in the fridge for me, I have a feeling they’re close to melting.” You pass them an unsure look, naturally turning to go to your room, only for Uraume to say, “I’m trying to help you feel better, you’re being a brat.” 

You blink at their abruptness, before slowly nodding, “Okay.” You grab the two slabs of butter, and move them to the fridge. “Bossy.” You whisper, shutting the fridge behind you. 

“No, not at all, just trying to help you.” Uraume says, reaching into their personal bag and pulling out a headband, “People tend to drown in their emotions if they don’t have anything to distract them.” Their hair is now out of their face, “Besides, everyone likes making cookies.” They blink at you.

You roll your eyes at that, you’re sure Sukuna doesn’t like cookies, he’s too brittle for that. You cross your arms over your chest, huffing a small bit.

“Even Sukuna.” Uraume quips mindlessly. “Although, he is picky about how they’re made. But, he’s like that with all food, it needs to be perfect, or it goes in the trash.” Despite the content matter, Uraume doesn’t sound like they’re complaining, it sounds more mindful if anything. 

You laugh a bit, “Am I really that readable?” 

“People tend to be when they’re mad.” 

“Really?” You lean on the fridge, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to find a kind way to phrase your words. “Uhm, Uraume, I appreciate the attempt to make me… uh, feel better, but I’m not interested.” You place your hands behind your back, “I’m sure Sukuna would be more than happy to help–” 

“He told me what happened.” Uraume says, reading your face, seeing the way your face burns. “He told me everything. Including what occurred at the party.” Which… they already had a faint idea of what occurred. 

“Oh.” You don’t know what to say anymore and Uraume knows that. “I’m surprised, I didn’t take him as someone to talk about such things.” It’s a slight jab at Sukuna, but it’s the least he owes you, right? 

“He doesn’t.” Uraume moves around the island, “Although, as of yesterday, he’s become much better at it.” Uraume tilts their head at you, narrowing their eyes. “Any idea to why?” You divert your eyes at that implication, shaking your head. “I’m sure you’re aware, but back when he moved out, he moved in with me, I was the friend who took him in.” 

That makes you gasp, “You’re… So, you two lived together during–” 

“Yes.” Uraume looks down, “Yesterday, I’ve never seen him so… vulnerable. It’s endearing, as his friend, but very odd to witness.” They hesitate to say, “It’s almost as if I’m reliving my youth. Dealing with Sukuna back when he was a teen and first moved in with me.” 

You feel your chest flutter, “Wait, you mean…?” You play with the end of your shirt, your face slowly heating up. “He’s also hurt by what happened?... He cares about what happened?” Uraume can sense your flattery, it’s as easy to read as a children’s book. 

Uraume turns away from you, chin resting on the palm of your hand. “I didn’t say that, but if that’s how you take it.” They reply emotionlessly, not bothering to look at you. 

You’re trying to hide a smile, but are miserably failing. Which makes you turn away from them altogether, “Can you tell me… what he said?” Your fingers are toying with each other. 

“No.” They push themselves away from the chair, moving towards the ingredients on the table. “Are you going to help me with these cookies?” They pass you an expecting look, a bit hurriedly too. 

You move after them, softly saying “I can’t cook.” You’re a bit embarrassed by that confession, even though you’ve said it close to a million times now. 

Uraume softly sighs, letting their head fall in a tilt, “I don’t think that matters, Su–” Uraume pauses for a moment, before awkwardly adding, “It’s cookies.” They grab some bowls from the cabinets, placing them on the table lightly. “You can’t mess up cookies.” 

You rub your arm, “You’d be surprised.” You open the drawers and pull out some mixing supplies, along with falling to the floor cabinets to pull out the electric mixer. You didn’t think there was one, but checked just in case, which thank god you did. 

Uraume doesn’t respond, just grabs the sticks of butter and uses a butter knife to cut them into chunks. You take this time to ask more questions, “Sukuna likes your cooking?” You tilt your head to the side, “But, needs things to be perfect?” 

Uraume nods, “Yes.” 

“How did he know your cooking was perfect?” You grab some paper towels and place them on the counter, allowing Uraume to place the blocks of butter on them. 

“He didn’t, and it wasn’t.” Uraume almost smiles to themself, recalling back to those times. “And he wouldn’t eat anything I made for quite some time. Sometimes he would starve himself, which I forced him to eat before he died in my house.” 

You laugh, and Uraume adds, “Could you imagine that? Cleaning a dead body?” They shiver, “The absolute time and mess it would be, the smell?...” They wrinkle their nose, before relaxing, “Is what I would say about anyone else, but it’s Sukuna.” 

You lean on the counter, a bit of dread filling your stomach. “You… like Sukuna?” 

“I love Sukuna, more than myself, actually.” That makes your stomach drop, twisting into something gross and unnerving. Uraume shakes their head, “Not like your type of love, mine is more… admiration, if anything.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side, “You admire Sukuna.” 

“Of course.” Uraume went through something similar to him, but was much more… crushed by the situation. Sukuna handled it far better than they did, which was admirable to Uraume. They hesitate, but add a small, “Sukuna admires you…” 

“Really?...” You turn away, cheeks burning, and heart racing. However, you don’t dwindle on it for too long, you’re quick to change the discussion. “So, how did Sukuna grow to like your cooking?” You tap your finger against the table, the action creating a small noise of which Uraume absolutely despises. 

“He had no money, nor anything to eat.” They toss some of the butter cubes into the bowel, passing you an empty one and silently ushering you to do the same. “Yet, that didn’t stop him. Like I said, he almost starved. But, I cared enough to force him to eat.” 

You nod, mimicking their actions and placing the butter in your bowl. “So, you learned how to cook for him?” You push your bowl in their direction. 

Uraume grabs some sugar, pouring some into their bowl, and pouring an equal amount into yours, “Yes. I learned exactly how to cook for Sukuna’s taste.” They sigh a bit, “It was difficult the first few tries, good food would go to waste, but I managed to get it “perfect” soon enough.” 

“How did you make it, “perfect?” Sounds a bit impossible.” 

Uraume adds brown sugar to both the bowls, eyeing the amount. “I don’t know.” Uraume passes you a whisk, mixing their batch which entitled you to do the same. “One day, after his constant comments on how to make the food, I served it to him, and he ate it.” 

You struggle a bit to mix the ingredients, before finding a rhythm that is good for you. “Hm. Sounds like Sukuna.” You smile a bit, but immediately hide it, “He’s bi-polar as hell.” 

Uraume quickly breathes out of their nose, “Sure.” They tap their whisk on the side of the bowl, their free hand spinning the container while expertly twisting their hand and mixing the batter, “Although, I have a suspicion it wasn’t the food that was…‘not perfect.’” 

“What does that mean?” You glance at both your bowls, and notice yours doesn’t look as nice as Uraume’s. You start mixing with a bit more purpose. Uraume doesn’t respond, just taps their whisk on the edge, then takes yours to do the same. 

“Does he feel bad?” You ask, watching them mix your bowl. 

Uraume pauses, before finally removing the whisk, tapping the edge of the bowl and placing the whisk to the side. “You’ll see.” They add an egg along with vanilla extract in both bowls, handing you the items again. 

You smile a bit, you know you should feel bad, Uraume is silently telling you that he is hurt over the situation, but that makes you a bit happy. Knowing that he’s in pain, just like you, maybe even crying, makes you happy. Because, it means one thing. Sukuna does care for you. 

—- 

You cringe, eyeing your burnt cookies, and Uraume’s perfect ones. You grab one of your cookies, tapping it on the pan, it’s solid. You drop the cookie, “I told you I was bad at cooking.” You pout slightly. 

“Like I said before, I don’t believe it matters.” Uraume grabs one of your cookies, breaking off a piece, and popping it into their mouth. You can hear the loud crunching, before they pause, close their eyes, reach for a paper towel, and silently spit the cookie inside the towel. 

“I’m sorry.” You say, but smile ever so slightly, you find the situation a bit amusing. “I swear, only I would be able to find a way to ruin cookies.” You pick up the remaining piece, popping it in your mouth, only to split it back out into your hand. Wow, those are horrible.

Uraume nods, tossing the paper towel out, “It’s just a matter of practice.” They sigh, looking at the two trays, “I suppose we can toss them out and say you made mine.” They put their hand to their chin in thought. 

“No! Why would we do that!” You take one of Uraume’s cookies, “You’re being ridiculous. Here, let me just–” Your heart stops when your head the garage door opens, Sukuna’s engine revving. You feel an indescribable worry shot through your body, forcing yourself to freeze. 

Uraume’s leaning on the island counter, chin resting on their palm while they’re looking at you. “Too late, it seems that Sukuna’s home already.” They’re watching you so intently, you’re a bit unnerved by it, are they…? Are they waiting to see what’s going to happen?

“Cookies?” Sukuna asks, closing the door behind him. 

You jump, turning back to look at him. Sukuna’s eyes are already on you, and unlike normal, he’s looking directly at your eyes. His hands twitch as his sides, unsure of what to do. You’re looking at his eyes too, they look familiar. They look like yours.

Sukuna raises his hand, and weakly waves. 

You mimic him, passing him a weak smile. “Hi.” 

“She made cookies for you.” Uraume cocks their head to the side, gesturing at the two trays. “She left the first batch in for two long, and insists on making a second batch for you.” They pull the headband off their head, letting their hair fall in their face. 

You blink at this, turning over your shoulder to say, “No, that’s a lie, Uraume made one batch, I made the other.” You can’t look at Sukuna, you only mumble with a flushed face, “I messed up my batch… for you.” 

Sukuna finally tears his gaze away from you, looking at the trays. “You made them for me?” He takes a few steps forward, standing in front of the two trays. He makes a face at your burnt cookies. 

You feel even more embarrassed now that he’s blatantly looking, “U-Uraume made some for you, too.” You stutter, playing with the ends of your sweatshirt. You feel Uraume standing next to you, their arm touching yours. 

“It was all her idea.” They immediately press their hand to your mouth, not allowing you to add to their statement. Going so far to shoot you a nasty glare when you turn to look at them. That’s when you feel something click into place, Uraume’s helping you right now.

Uraume is here for Sukuna. 

You can’t help but wonder, did Sukuna send Uraume to check up on you? See how you’re doing and if you’re okay? Is that why they texted him to finally come to the house? You feel so many questions flooding your mind, but your mind is stuck on the implications. 

Sukuna sent Uraume to check up on you for him. Uraume is here for Sukuna. They're here in place for Sukuna.

“Which one’s did you make?” Sukuna asks you, finally glancing over his shoulder. By this time, Uraume already pulled their hand away from you, acting as if nothing had happened. 

“Uh,” You point at the tray with the burnt cookies, “The ones that are rocks.” You move to grab them, “Here, let me just toss them out, I know no one is going to eat them.” You reach for the tray, but Sukuna grabs your wrist, shaking his head. 

Sukuna grabs one of your cookies, and pops it into his mouth. You cringe when you can hear the harsh chewing, and you instinctively reach for a paper towel, but Sukuna doesn’t give any indication of the taste. He just closes his eyes. 

He’s eating your cookie? He’s eating your burnt cookie that is sitting next to Uraume’s perfect ones. The picky Sukuna, is eating one of your fucked up cookies… and why? You softly pull away from his grasp, “You’re eating it…?” Sukuna swallows, and it makes your cringe. “You didn’t have to do–” 

“You’re cooking is…” Sukuna places his hand over his mouth, turning away from you. “You really do need to work on it.” His voice sounds shaky, uneven, and a bit mocking. “Did you even try?” Is he laughing at you?

“I can’t believe you ate that.” You’re burning up, turning away from him. “And, of course I did, I just… messed up.” You cross your arms over your chest, “And, it’s–it’s the thought that counts…” 

“Dumb girl.” Sukuna replies with a small amount of amusement. 

You look at him for a second, mumbling, “Why–Why did you eat them? They’re obviously not… perfect.” 

Sukuna raises one of his eyebrows, pinching your cheek. “You made them for me, it’d be rude not to.” He wrinkles his nose, shaking his head slightly, “Even if they’re shit.”

Uraume smiles slightly, grabbing their things. “It’s getting late, I suppose it’s time for me to leave.” They turn for the door. 

Sukuna looks at Uraume, he places his hand on the back of his neck. “Thanks.” He waves, “I’ll see you around.” 

They smile to themself, “Anything for ‘Master’ Sukuna.” Yet, right before they leave the house, they point at Sukuna, “I don’t want to see you acting weird anymore.” They point at you next, “You, learn to like better people.” 

“What?! W-What does that… mean?” Uraume passes you a knowing look, which makes you flush. You place your hands on your hips, pretending to roll your eyes as you look to the side. “Bye, Uraume. See you later.” 

Sukuna nods in agreement, “Of course, I’ll see you.” Uraume waves, finally leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. It’s silent, but not like the silence when the two of you argued, it seems more comfortable and somber. 

You’re about to say something, when your phone rings, making both of you jump. You laugh slightly, “Sorry.” You pull it from your pocket, checking the called ID. You feel a small spike of dread when you see your mom’s name, did something happen? “Wait, let me get this.” 

Sukuna just nods, instinctively grabbing for another one of your cookies, but quickly pulls his hand back. It makes you hide a giggle before answering. You place your phone on the counter, seeing her face fill your screen. You pass her a small wave. 

She waves back, “Hi.” She pulls something on the screen, and you recognize it as your driving license. “You left something, I forgot to tell you yesterday.” She looks at the card, nodding her head, “You are so cute in this.”

You let out a sigh of relief, nodding your head, “Oh, I didn’t even know.” It wasn’t like you’re actively driving, so keeping it on you at all times wasn’t entirely necessary. It was just used as a form of identification. “I’m sure I can pick it up during the holidays.” Your mom nods, and in the corner of your eye you can see Sukuna looking over your shoulder. 

Oh no.

“Who is that?” She’s trying to look over your shoulder, despite being on a call. “Oh my–is that your boyfriend? He’s so hot!” She’s signing a bit more frantically, she’s excited. “Why didn’t you tell me about it? You are so lucky, baby, I wish your father–”

“Mom!” You say, covering your face. “Can you not, he’s just my roommate.” You bring your hands down, and silently tell her, “For now, just wait.” 

If your mom could, you know she would be smiling like an idiot. She’s always been one for listening to your stupid drama or about boys, you’re sure it’s no different even in your adulthood. “I knew it, I have a sense for these things.” She nods, “You have good taste, although, he looks like an–” 

“Asshole.” You nod, “I’ll talk to you later mom. I’ll see you during break.” She nods and ends the call, prompting you to let out a relieved sigh.

Sukuna stand next to you, one of Uraume’s cookies in hand, “Mom?” 

You nod, turning your head to look at him, “Yeah.” You snatch the cookie from his hand, taking a bite and handing it back to him. 

Sukuna’s eye twitches at your actions, “Fuckin’ disgusting.” He scowls at the cookie. 

You hide a giggle, “I accidentally left my drivers license.” 

“You could’ve grabbed another fuckin’ cookie.” 

“You’re still on the cookie?!” You give him an aspirated look. 

“Just tell me what she said.” He waves you off, “I’m over the cookie now.”

You laugh abruptly, “Ar-Are you?” He rolls his eyes and nods in acknowledgement, you quickly add, “She thought you were my boyfriend.” You’re tempted to take another bite of his cookie to mess with him. 

Sukuna looks at the bitten cookie, passes it a scowl, then pops the rest into his mouth, chewing while asking you, “What’d you say to that shit?” 

You turn on your heel, walking towards your room, “You’re the worst person ever, and I’d rather date Yuuji than you.” You have a smug smile on your face, fluttering you lashes innocently at him. “What else would there be to say?” 

Sukuna scowls at you, “You’re such a fuckin’ liar.” He wants to follow after you, but keeps in his spot. “You know you love–” He stops himself from finishing his sentence, he probably shouldn’t mess with you too much right now. Especially saying something of that nature. 

You wave him off, opening your door. “You’re so full of yourself. I will never like you.” 

Sukuna half smiles, something you can’t decipher hiding behind it, but it becomes more real once he sees you smiling back at him. “Promise?” He tilts his head to the side. 

You stop at the door, leaning on the frame while looking at him, “Do you promise?” There’s a small smile on your lips, your eyes full of curiosity, but it’s tainted with a bit of pain. Like you’re looking for something in his answer. 

Sukuna pushes his hair back, giving you a boyish look, “Do you… want me to?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stop your smile from building as you look to the side. You pass him a final smile, before silently entering your room and closing the door behind you. Sukuna cups his face, shaking his head into his hand. 

He hates that he’s smiling right now. 

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ November 30th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Thursday

Yuuji picks up his controller remote, which is coincidentally pink, and clicks the icon for YouTube. “I usually do this with Fusiguro or Nobara, but they’re out of commission today.” He leans on your legs, his head falling back on your knees, “Studying or something…” 

You run your fingers through his hair, “I mean, finals are coming up, Yuuji.” You grab another butterfly hair clip, clipping it to his hair to hold his bangs back. “I’ve been starting to study, too.”

Yuuji groans, closing eyes and moaning, “I don’t want to study.” He lets his head fall to the side, which you quickly grab and pull it back on your knees, adding more hair clips. “I don’t even want to take a final, why can’t break just… come.”

“Don’t whine, Yuuji, you’re a smart boy.” You take one of your under eye patches, and place it in its designated space. “I promise you, it’ll go by so quick, you won’t even process it.” You nod, “There, that should feel refreshing for your skin.” 

Yuuji nods, propping his head back up and searching for something on the search bar. “It feels good.” He clicks something, mindlessly telling you, “We should do this more often, I like doing girly things.” 

You giggle, twisting your hair up and pulling it out of your place. “We can totally do that.” You place another pair of eye patches underneath your eyes, and tap them in place. “Although, I’m moving out after finals, so you may have to hurry.”  

Yuuji gawks at this, twisting his head so fast, you think he’s going to break it. “What?! You’re still moving out?” He sighs, shaking his head, “Is it Sukuna?” He throws a dirty look in a general area. 

You laugh, “No, it’s not Sukuna, Yuuji.” You pat his head, “Although the thought is thoroughly appreciated.” You watch as he plays the half time of a super bowl game, one featuring Shakira and Jlo. Of course. 

“Oh, are you two still mad at each other?” Yuuji leans his head back, allowing you to put some star pimple patches on some designated areas. “Or, did you two make up?” 

“Mad at each other? No.” You close the small container which you keep your pimples patches in, before looking to the side and thinking. “Me mad at him? Well.. I haven’t completely forgiven him. But, I’m not as mad anymore.” You smile a bit, thinking about Uraume, and what they did to calm a bit of tension between the two of you. “But, I feel like that doesn’t answer your question.”

Yuuji looks at you with determination, shaking his head. “Stay here. If it is Sukuna, I can kick him out.” He grabs your hands, giving you a curt nod. “Mhm!” You just laugh, hand pressing against his head to push him away from you. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Yuuji.” You tap his forehead. 

“I pay for the house, Yuuji. Please, throw me out, see what happens.” Sukuna snarkily adds from behind the two of you. “Maybe ask our old man for a job while you’re at it. Get you to stop leeching off me.” He grumbles. 

Yuuji flops back into your legs, groaning out dramatically while you giggle. “But I don’t want to work…” The super bowl music starts, and Yuuji springs out of your lap, raising in his arms as he dances in his spot. 

You laugh again, looking at Sukuna and passing him a quick shrug. 

Yuuji is already up again, the system remote in hand and singing Shakira opening half. Moving his hips, and smiling like an idiot. Still, you got to give it to him, he’s actually really good at dancing. A part of you thinks Shakira should’ve had Yuuji as one of her backup dancers. 

Yuuji looks at his brother, passing him an unsure smile, before saying your name. You snap your attention to him, “Hey, can you do all this to him, too?” He gestures to his face, “If you couldn’t tell, his skin is literally crying for help.” 

Sukuna’s eye twitches, “If you didn’t know, I actually take care of my skin.” He moves to stand over Yuuji. He crosses his arms over his shoulder, smirking to himself while adding, “Probably better than you wash your ass.” 

“Hey!” Yuuji yells, pointing an accusing finger at Sukuna, “I wash my face with a soap bar.” He narrows his eyes, “And my ass, too.” He turns back to the TV, wiggling his shoulders to the beat. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, “We can totally tell.” 

Yuuji pauses his dancing for a moment, pointing at you. “Do a face mask on him so he has to shut up.” He turns back to the TV and dances like nothing happened, completely changing up his attitude the moment Jlo appears on the screen. 

Sukuna drops down next to you, making you bounce ever so slight from the weight distribution. He closes his eyes, leaning his head back, “Alright, let's get this shit over with.” He taps your thigh. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Wait, you actually want me to do this?” You push his hand away from you, “I thought this type of stuff would be too girly for you, or something?” Besides, you’re not too keen on touching him right now, you’re not completely healed from the argument between you two. Better than before, but not completely over it. 

You wonder if Sukuna is over it, he did seem relatively upset over what you did. Even if you have no clue what you did. He seems over it, then again, you can never know with Sukuna. Yet, a part of you wishes you do. 

“Just do the shit before I leave.” Sukuna tells you, eyes still closed and his body relaxed on the couch. If you know Sukuna well enough, you’re sure that means he wants to do this, just won’t admit it. 

You can help, but subtly smile. “Then ask politely.” You point at Yuuji’s dancing body, “Your younger brother had no problem doing that.” Yuuji didn’t ask, you forced it on him, but Sukuna doesn’t need to know that. “Aren’t you supposed to be setting an example?” 

Sukuna’s eyebrow twitches with frustration, but he remains silent. Which you think is much better then hurling more insults at you, so you take it as him asking politely. “Whatever.” You grab a pink headband, and place it on his forehead, sliding his hair behind it. You pick a few of his baby hairs and clip them with your hair clips. “You know, I saw you before all this, just mixed you up with Yuuji.” 

“Really?” Sukuna asks, not bothering to open his eyes. 

“Yeah.” You grab a moisturizer, placing it on the tips of your fingers before spreading it to the other hand and placing it on his skin. “I was with Maki when I first saw you.” You laugh to yourself,  “She said you were spoiled.” In nice terms, “Then, I met Yuuji, and complimented his hair, since it was the only thing that stood out to me.” You pull your fingers away, “Looks like Yuuji stole the only compliment I would ever give you.” 

“Oh, how absolutely kind of you.” Sukuna pauses for a moment, recalling the conversation you’re referencing. “Wait, that’s why you said I didn’t work to get here?” He huffs a small bit.

“I was hoping you forgot.” You whisper, gathering more eyepatches to place on Sukuna. 

“I have a good memory.” Sukuna tells you, finally opening his eyes to look at you, “I’m sure you know that, at least.” You don’t respond, just peel open the product and place them under his eyes. “Just so you know, I pay for my and Yuuji’s education. I work for our grandpa.” 

That surprises you a bit, “That’s kind of you.” You feel that's a common thing you tell Sukuna mindlessly. You place the final eyepatch, swiping your fingers over both to make sure they stick. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you leave for work.” You open a face mask, spreading it open to make it easier to fit over his face. 

“Yeah, you’re just really forgetful.” You glare at him, which clearly assumes him. “It’s nothin’ I need to leave the house for, purely mental work.” He smiles to himself, flicking your forehead. “Stuff your little brain wouldn’t be able to wrap around.” He mocks you.

You feel your eye twitch, you slap the face mask over his face. You laugh when he flinches, his eyes shutting from the intrusion. “Uh-huh. Yeah, my stupid girl brain wouldn't be able to wrap around your big man, alpha job.” 

Sukuna shakes his head, trying to hide his smile, “You’re so fuckin’ dumb.” 

You spread the mask over his face, “Yeah, yeah.” You tap his cheek, removing the small air bubble caught between his skin and the mask. “Okay, there.” You grab the package and check the instructions, “Says to leave on the skin for fifteen minutes.” 

Sukuna sits up, about to speak when you cut him off, “Ah, nope! It means no talking for fifteen minutes.” You tap his shoulder a few times, a cheeky smile building on your lips. “You don’t want to get wrinkles, right?” You push yourself off the couch, tapping Yuuji’s shoulder to show him your masterpiece. 

When Yuuji turns to look at Sukuna, his jaw drops, “Holy shit, I didn’t think he’d actually let you do it.” He smiles at his brother, hand holding onto each other while singing, “He’s such a cutie, maybe he’ll let you do his makeup, too.” 

“Both of you come any closer to me, and I will kill you.” Sukuna says with a scowl, pulling up his phone to scroll through it. “Especially, you, Yuuji.”

Yuuji wraps his arms around your shoulder, whispering, “Hear that, he’s got a soft spot for you.” He wiggles his shoulder, singing in your ear, “Maybe, he likes you.”

A pillow comes right between the two of you, but hits directly on Yuuji’s head, making him fall to the floor on his knees. Sukuna cockily laughing behind him, “That’s what you get for whisperin’ like little fuckin’ girlies.” 

Yuuji just collapses into himself, “Why… Why does this always happen to me…?” He reaches a tantalizing hand for you, shaking while he mumbles, “An.. an angel. An angel has come for me…” 

You giggle, naturally reaching back for him, but Sukuna places his body between you and Yuuji, smirking while he slaps his hand down. “Yeah, that’s one hell of a way to put it.” He picks up the pillow again, only to throw it back at Yuuji’s face. 

Yuuji’s reaching for you, again, but your attention is preoccupied by picking a new video to watch. Which… Sukuna feels a small pride in. You’re not paying attention to Yuuji, then again, you’re not paying attention to him, but it’s better than you hanging off his brother in front of him. 

Selfishly. 

Sukuna swears when Yuuji’s hands dramatically falls to the floor, he can hear Yuuji whisper, “Traitor…” Of which falls on deaf ears, clear by the way you're humming to yourself and clicking onto a video. 

“Here, I picked a Selena video.” You say with a smile, placing the remote down. “It’s the intro to her performance at the Astrodome.” You already smile when you see her waving to the crowd. 

Yuuji gains an inhuman amount of strength to push the pillow and Sukuna off him, joining your side and chanting Selena’s name. You’re quick to grab your hair brush, using it as a mic to sing along with Selena’s singing while Yuuji messily follows her dancing on the screen. 

Sukuna merely sits on his heels, looking at the both of you idiots with a dumbfounded look. You’re idiots, you two are actual idiots, maybe even mental. Still, Sukuna is… smiling. A fond look on his face watching the two of you enjoy yourselves. 

More specifically you. You’re hair tied back with a similar fuzzy head band, although yours is decorated with small cat ears and the color white. Some matching colorful clips holding back your baby hairs, and your face adorned with star pimple patches and eye masks.

You’re so weird, he thinks to himself. It’s nice to look at.

Even when you turn to look at him, passing him a face that can only be read as, ‘Stop looking at me, weirdo.’ Sukuna still admires you, passing you an expression you’ve never seen before. It makes your chest flutter a bit. 

“You look dumb.” Sukuna tells you with a smile, laughing when you push his shoulder making him fall off his heels.

“Oh please, have you looked in the mirror?” You say between lyrics, passing him a smug smile as you say, “I’m sure your blonde girlfriend would be on her knees if she saw you right now.” You laugh to yourself, spinning alongside Yuuji. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, grabbing your wrist and pulling you down with him, “Forget about her.” He tells you, enjoying the way you perfectly fall into his chest, an adorable glare staring at him, “I know I have.” 

You naturally place your hands on the floor, pushing yourself off his chest. “I haven’t.” Your words are directed at something else, and Sukuna knows that. Still, you don’t stand up just yet, you keep your gaze concentrated on him. 

Sukuna looks to the side for a moment, “I’m aware.” 

“I have such a thing for asses.” Yuuji says from behind the two of you, making you turn your head over your shoulder to give him a questionable look. Only to see he’s giving you a mirroring look, “Woah, I literally had my back to you for five seconds, what is happening?” He covers his face, “I feel like I’m interrupting.”

“I’m trying to kill your brother.” 

“Oh.” Yuuji slowly nods to himself, “Fair.” 

You look at the pillow, then point at it, “Pass me that so I can suffocate him.” Yet, Yuuji’s quick by your side, placing the pillow over Sukuna’s face with a laugh. “Or, you can do that, too.” You place your weight on Sukuna, keeping him in place. 

“We got him!” Yuuji yells, looking back and forth around the room. “Someone call animal control!” You giggle, only for both of you to be pushed back, practically sliding across the room as Sukuna sits back up. Yuuji fakes worry, “He’s loose!”

You and Yuuji start laughing again, finding humor in how dumb that line was, while sitting on the ground. Before both you take a moment to stare at Sukuna. You point at him, “Su-Sukuna, your face…” You cup your mouth, trying not to laugh, “..Where’d your face mask go?” 

Yuuji makes a confused face, before lifting the pillow he’s still holding onto. Displaying Sukuan’s face mask perfectly intact and sticking to the cushion. You and Yuuji fall to the floor, laughing hysterically. 

Sukuna turns away from the two of you, his hand placed on his lips. “I-Idiots.” 

Yuuji then proceeds to pick himself up with the pillow, raising it in the air and recreating his best ghost impression while violently sprinting after you. “Boo!” You awkwardly get up, your feet sliding on the wooden floor as you run away from him with a fake cry. 

Sukuna just… watches as this unfolds in front of him. 

And at some point, he swears there is actual terror on your face while you’re running away from Yuuji. Practically, slipping on everything everytime you take a quick corner or round the dining room table. Yuji’s quick on your tail with another scary yell, which tears a real scared scream from you. 

You pass Sukuna a quick look, hiding behind the dinner table. And despite your terror, you’re smiling, clearly enjoying yourself, as you scream, “Help me!” Then, quickly run behind him, hands pressing into his back, “I’m calling for backup, someone get the ghostbusters in here!” 

Sukuna, does something that shocks you both, he laughs. His hand lifts to his eyes while he shakes his head, “You’re so stupid.” Yuuji takes this as an invitation to continue, this time giving his attention to his brother. Only for it to seriously fail and receive a bodyslam into the couch, the pillow long gone. 

Your jaw drops, watching–almost in slow motion–as Yuuji drops, presumably, dead in his spot. His hand dramatically falling limp by his head, his head falling to the side with it. He mumbles, “Brother…?” He blinks, his other hand touching his face, “Is this heaven?” 

“It’s hell.” You quickly perk in, sitting by his head, “I hope you had fun Yuuji, because it’s nothing but suffering and fire from here on out.” You laugh to yourself, pulling his head into your lap. “I swear, you’re always dying on me, Yuuji. It’s like you’re trying to escape from me.” 

Yuuji covers his face with his forearm, “You’ve finally figured me out…” 

You slap his arm, Sukuna sitting on his legs, which you have to think is painful, but Yuuji doesn’t flinch. “Rude.” You mumble, pulling his arm off his face, “What were you saying?” You silently scold Sukuna for sitting on his brother's legs, but he doesn’t move. 

Yuuji’s eyebrows furrow, him looking to the side in thought. “What was I saying?” his eyes land on the screen, watching as Selena finishes her final song to the intro of her performance. “Oh!” He sits up, “Asses.” He says with full confidence. 

You tilt your head to the side, passing Sukuna an unprepared look, before repeating his words with uncertainty, “Asses?” There’s a small laugh hidden behind your words. 

“Asses.” Yuuji asserts, “I have a thing for asses.” 

You nod your head, eyes wide, “Wow. That’s… amazing, Yuuji.” You give him a forced smile, as if he were a toddler passing you a horribly drawn drawing, “I didn’t need to know that.” You stand up, almost pushing Yuuji off the couch as you do so. 

Yuuji throws finger guns at you, clicking his tongue, “Well, now you do.” He falls back down, taking your place on the couch. Yuuji passes you, what he thinks is a charming smile, but looks more scary if anything.  “By the way, you have an amazing–” 

Sukuna hits the back of Yuuji’s head, “Learn to shut your fuckin’ mouth, Yuu.”

Yuu? Is that a nickname Sukuna calls Yuuji? You’ve never heard it before. You put your hand out, “Wait, Sukuna, let the boy speak.” You shrug, turning your attention back to the screen, “He may say something that I want to hear.” You scroll through the related videos, and try to pick another song to listen to. 

Yuuji passes Sukuna a smug smile, “Yeah, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna just rolls his eyes. You give up on finding a video, and place the controller in Sukuna’s hands, silently telling him to pick something. Then, you sit on the ground next to the coffee table, since both boys are taking up the couch. 

Yuuji pulls his legs from under his brother and stretches them, pulling out his phone in the meantime. Yuuji calls your name, “Are you free the whole next week?” You just give a halfhearted shrug. “Well, if you are, Nobara and Megumi are planning on meeting up in the library for the whole week, to study. They just texted me about it.” 

You watch as Sukuna begins searching for a song to listen to. “Oh, that actually sounds really nice, I’d totally be–” You pause, thinking for a moment, “Wait, I can’t on Monday and Wednesdays, I have my club.” You groan at that thought. 

Yuuji tilts his head to the side, “Wait, I thought you liked going to your club?” 

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, “No, I do. Believe me, I do.” You sigh, “But, I have to go to every club meeting since no one wants to cover for me. It’s honestly so exhausting. Like, you don’t even have to do much, you just have to check roll-call, yet no one seems to want to take on the small work load. “And with finals coming up, I really need a break.” 

Yuuji hums, pouting ever so slightly, “Sorry to hear that, if you want, I can take your spot.” 

You laugh, shaking your head while turning back to the TV, only to see a video playing. “I feel it coming.” By, The Weekend. You hum to yourself, already nodding your head to the beat. You smile to yourself, “Tell me what you really like.” 

Yuuji nods with you, skipping a few lines before adding, “Just take it step by step.” He pushes himself off the couch, crawling next to you, “You’ve been scared of love, and what it did to you.” He bumps into your shoulder, making you nod in sync with him.

“I feelin’ coming, babe.” You sing, this time snapping your fingers to the beat, your shoulder rolling together. The two of you enjoy the rest of the song while humming parts, eyes engrossed in the music video. Until you turn over your shoulder to look at Sukuna. 

You feel a bit… shocked by what you see. 

Sukuna’s nodding along, his eyes already on you while singing along, and now that you’re looking at him, it feels like you can hear him singing, “You’ve been scared of love, and what it did to you.” It sounds a bit odd, knowing how deep his voice is, but at the same time it’s domestic. A bit intimate to you, never in your life would you think that one day you would see Sukuna singing along to a weekend song. 

You pass him a ridiculous smile at him, nodding your head a bit more dramatically, “You don’t have to run, I know what you’ve been through.” You place your hand over your heart, which gives Sukuna some form of encouragement. 

He places his hand on his chest, “Just a simple touch, and it can set you free.” 

“We don’t have to rush when you’re alone with me.” You mouth back, swaying your shoulders slightly. 

Yuuji leans back, shooting his hands in the air while loudly singing, “I feel it coming,” Which inclines everyone to sing the final lines together with a laugh.

It may seem ridiculous, singing along to a weekend song with Sukuna, but… it feels real. 

Sukuna feels real. 

–

You stretch your arms over your head, letting out a long yawn. “I think I’m clocking in for the night.” You push yourself off the ground, accidentally making Yuuji fall to the floor. Shit, you didn’t know he was sleeping on you. 

Yuuji shoots up, “I’m up! I’m up!” He blinks hard, looking around a bit confused, “Uh, save your tears for another day?...” He lets his head fall back onto the floor, almost as if he had passed out again. This time, without you to cushion his fall.  

You laugh, rolling your eyes, “Goodnight, Yuuji.” You pat his head, which gains you a small smile from him. 

Yuuji pats your hand back, “Night, night.” He curls into himself, much like a puppy. 

A small huff leaves your lips, before you make your way to your room. Sukuna passes you a quick glance, which you return with a curt wave. “See you in the morning, Sukuna.” 

Yet, when you go to open your door, a hand grabs yours. You don’t even need to look at him to know who it is, you turn over your shoulder, the name leaving your mouth like sticky honey, “Sukuna?” Yet, your eyes aren’t on his face, they're stuck on your hand. 

He’s holding your hand.

Albeit, he is holding it a bit awkwardly, but he’s holding you. Last time you were in a similar situation he was holding your wrist, now he’s holding your hand.  A small difference, but it holds more meaning than you can ever imagine. You’ve never noticed before, most likely because you’ve never taken the time to mentally note, but Sukuna’s had it much larger than yours. It holds your whole hand whole, it's warm and calloused. It’s comforting.

It’s far more intimate now.

“You're rude.” He tells you, but for once, there’s no malice in his voice. It’s more calm and playful, shockingly. “I see you clearly have a favorite brother, pretty girl.” 

You raise your eyebrow at him, slowly pulling your hand away to cross it over your chest. “What? Is it that I didn’t wish you a good slumber?” You smile while he glares at you, you tilt your head to the side ever so slightly, “You’re oddly sassy today?” 

Wait, did he just call you pretty girl? “Wait, what did you call me?” You blink dumbly. 

“I didn’t say anything.” Sukuna says, before adding, “Besides, you’re always fuckin’ annoying, but you don’t see me bitching at you ‘bout it.” You raise an eyebrow, which is more than enough said. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you that.” 

You nod satisfied, “That’s what I thought.” You shake your head, “Wait, no, you’re not changing the conversation, what did you call me?” 

“Dookie stain?” Sukuna says with a satisfied smirk. 

“Oh my god.” You place your hand over your face, “I don’t think I’m ever going to forgive you.” And with that sentence alone, the tone between the two of you snapped into something less light-hearted, and more… distant. 

There’s a small silence between you two, and it isn’t very comfortable, nor is it uncomfortable. If anything, it’s more…. The two of you don’t know what to say. Should you say something about the argument? Or, should you leave the topic to simmer, then eventually die out? Maybe, find a completely different topic to talk about, despite how much you want to talk about the argument.

You look to the side, biting your bottom lip gently. Sukuna leans on the wall across from you, “You’re still mad?” Looks like Sukuna can also read your mind. 

You’re hesitant to say, “Not as much as before, no.” You hug yourself, “I’m guessing you’re also no longer mad…?” You give Sukuna a hopeful look, but it isn’t returned. 

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, just softly sighs. “Finals are coming up.” He tells you, and him ignoring your question, is answer enough. He’s still bothered over what happened. Still, a part of you wonders what you did that got under his skin. That makes you feel a bit worse, the fact that you don’t know. Yet, it couldn’t have been that bad, right? 

That thought makes you feel even worse.

You merely nod, not adding to his words. You don’t have much strength to do that right now. Maybe, you don’t have the strength to have that conversation right now, much rather to your own desires. 

Sukuna seems unsure, hesitant to say, “I study at home, if the brat isn’t bothering you, you should come by.” He cocks his head in the direction of his room. “I already know how annoyin’ he can be.” 

You tilt your head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “Wait, right now?” You tap your door, “It’s past my bedtime, and I’m actually really tired.” You tease. 

Sukuna scoffs at you, “No, dumbass. Later.” You laugh a bit, knowing that even though you're clearly joking, Sukuna seems to find offense to everything. “Besides, I’m going to… uh, talk to Yuuji right now.” He passed you a look that says a thousand words. 

You feel your lips part a bit, knowing exactly what Sukuna and Yuuji’s conversation is going to entail. And, as much as you are a bit mad at him, you smile at him. Your eyes glowing in the small light of the hallway, while your eyes shine bright at him, “That sound… amazing.” You nod softly, “I’m glad.”

Sukuna diverts his gaze away from you, not able to hold your gaze. “Yeah, whatever.” He crosses his arms over his chest, mimicking your stance. “I swear, you always look at me with that stupid smile. It’s annoying as hell.” 

You’re still smiling, tilting your head to try and look at his face. “What? You hate my smile?” You say, leaning closer to him, “Is that why you can’t look at me right now?” 

“I can’t look at your hideous face.” Sukuna responds. 

“Uh-huh, sure. I completely believe you.” You smile a bit, “I’m sure that’s why you called me a pretty girl right now. Just because of how hideous I am.” Sukuna doesn’t respond, but the twitch in his eyebrow is satisfying enough. “Okay, yeah, we can study later.” You turn on your heel, opening your door, “Since you asked so nicely, Sukuna.” You say animatedly. 

“Didn’t ask for anything.” Sukuna tells you while rolling his eyes, pushing himself off the wall to stand a bit closer to you. “You might actually be going mental.” He pinches your nose, blocking your airway for a moment. 

“Sure.” Your voice sounds ridiculous. Which makes Sukuna smile a small bit. You wave his hand off, turning to your room. Yet, right before you close your door behind you, you pause to look at him. Your head leaning on the door. Sukuna almost perks up at you, expecting something. It’s a bit puppy-like in a way. “Say it.” Your eyes are boring into him. 

“Say what?” Sukuna mumbles back, passing you a disinterested sigh. You just give him an expecting look, similar to the one he was giving you not even a few seconds ago. He loudly—and obnoxiously—sighs, “Good fuckin’ night, loser.”

You burst into laughter at his insult, which doesn’t at all feel insulting, but more humorous. “Bye, Sukuna.” You watch as he makes his way back to the living room, but you call his name again, just to mess with him. “‘Kuna?” 

Sukuna—visibly—sighs, his shoulder slowly raising, then lowering, before slowly turning his head over his shoulder to look at you. “What do you want now, idiot?” He’s glaring at you, but it’s still entirely humorous in your head. 

“Good…” You watch as he eyes perk a bit, and you laugh a bit, you can’t help it, really. “Good luck removing those eye masks, they stain the skin.” 

“Fuck you.” He flips you off. 

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ December 1st, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Friday

“It’s done!” You squeal, throwing your hand in the air with enthusiasm. Only for you to collapse onto your computer, “Oh my god, I’m done.” Your eyes close, rubbing your eyelids from the strain of looking at a screen without your glasses. “I hate Gojo, I pray for Gojo’s students next year. This project is literally so invasive.”

Yuuji merely nods, a bit caught up in his thoughts. You can’t help but notice Yuuji seems a bit different, more put at ease, and untroubled with himself. A blissful smile on his face, as his eyes blink with a similar tone, he looks happy. But, not in the sense of grinning ear to ear, but in self… contentment. 

You can even see it in the way he holds his body, his shoulders seem lighter, his smile less forced. It’s almost as if you’re finally getting a glimpse at the real Yuuji, not the one he’s been trying to force into your eye. He’s still Yuuji, but more… real. 

It makes you feel warm. 

You can also see the slight puffiness in Yuuji’s eye. They’re a bit red, and the corners look a bit irritated, too. You assume their conversation entailed a few tears, but you’re not going to point them out, nor are you going to ask. You’re sure Nobara will do that for you.

If anything, you’ll bother Sukuna about it later. Noticing his eyes are also a bit irritated at the corners, too. Not in front of Yuuji, though, maybe when the two of you study on your own, you’ll tease him about it. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning your computer to Yuuji, “Wait, can you check it for me? I feel like it’s too personal.” Knowing Gojo, he’d probably love that. “Should I tone it back some more? Or, should I say ‘fuck it,’ and leave it as is?”

Yuuji leans over, eyes skimming the google document. “I think it’s fine, your writing is way better than any papers I’ve done.” 

Sukuna reaches over, taking your computer, only for you to snatch it away from him. “Ah, you can’t see it yet.” You’re mumbling a bit, your face growing hot, “I still have some comments I need to delete before I turn it in.” Again, you think it’s far too personal for a normal school paper, much less for Sukuna to read. 

Sukuna doesn’t bother to ask, just lets you do whatever. “Weirdo.”

“We still enjoying our Friday out?” You ask Yuuji, pulling your head up to look at him. “It’s our last glimpse into freedom for a month.” 

Yuuji perks at this, “Yeah, Nobara should be swinging by with Megumi anytime now.” He closes his computer, looking at Sukuna sitting across from him. “You sure you don’t want to come, Megumi is going to be there.” 

“You’re acting like Megumi is going to suede his decision.” You rest your head on your hand, looking at Yuuji. “Wait, unless they’re secretly dating, and this is your way of coming out to me.” You turn your attention to Sukuna, passing him a smug smirk. 

“I’ll kill you.” Sukuna says, not taking his eyes off his computer. 

You merely giggle in response, leaning ever so slightly in his direction. “Mhm. Keep talking to me like that.” 

Yuuji blinks innocently, “I don’t know, It might. I think Sukuna likes Megumi.” He narrows his eyes at you, “Wait, I’m changing my answer, she’s going to be there.” Yuuji points at you. 

“You’re acting like that is going to change my answer.” Sukuna rubs his eyes. 

You shrug, “It might.” 

Yuuji sighs, looking away from you with a red face, “Well, I’m going…” 

That makes both you and Sukuna turn to look at Yuuji, a smile building on your lips, while Sukuna bites the inside of his cheek. “I’ll…” He smiles a bit, “I always hated when you pulled that shit on me.” He leans back in his chair, letting out an exasperated breath. “I’ll take you out somewhere this weekend, you good with that?”

Yuuji tries to hide it, but he smiles into his hand. 

You lean close to Yuuji, “He loves you, Yuuji, isn’t that so sweet?” Sukuna throws a pencil at your head, to which you almost tackle him for. You quickly compose yourself, “Good thing you love him, because everyday I fight the urge to take him out in his sleep.” You give Yuuji a small smile, “You’re keeping me sane, Yuuji.”

“Who knew we actually had that in common?” 

“We love Yuuji, or we want to kill–”

“Nobara’s here.” Yuuji stands up, closing his computer and placing it in the middle of the table, which you allow your device to join next to. He laughs to himself, tucking his phone into his pocket, “She also said, Megumi bought drinks, but I think that’s a lie.” 

“Let me grab my shoes.” You push yourself back from the table, grabbing your converse and twisting your feet into them. Tapping them on the ground once you stand back up, satisfied with how they look. 

Yuuji’s already by your side, draping a blue jean jacket over his red hoodie. “We’ll be back around ten, I don’t think we’re going to do anything crazy.” He tells Sukuna, looking over his shoulder to see his brother standing behind him. 

“I don’t care what you do.” Sukuna says dismissively, “Just don’t wake me up when you get home.” His hands are in the pockets of his sweats. 

Yuuji nods at Sukuna, pulling your hand quickly to the car. “See you tomorrow.” Sukuna returns the gesture with a small wave, almost laughing when Yuuji pushes you into the car awkwardly. A small yelp resigns in his ears as he shuts the door again. 

Sukuna softly nods to himself, making way back to the table, grabbing his computer from the center. He doesn’t know why he put his device in the pile when he was going to return not even a moment later, but what was done, was done.

“To finish that stupid assignment for Geto’s class–” Sukuna pauses after opening his laptop, immediately flooded with a pink background, and a splitscreen of a google document. It hits him like a rock through a moving vehicle, this isn’t his computer. 

See, if this computer was Yuuji’s, he would’ve closed it and reached for his own. It’s truly as simple as that. But, it’s not Yuuji’s computer, it’s yours, and the google document open is the research project you did on him. 

Besides, what you don’t know, won’t hurt you. 

Sukuna hides the open webpage in favor of looking at your wallpaper, noticing what he thinks is your family under a cherry tree. But, he can’t spot you, which is a bit odd, you would assume that a picture like this would include everyone–Sukuna pasuses, his eyes landing on a small girl in the middle. 

“Holy shit.” Sukuna mumbles to himself with a smile, trying not to laugh. That small girl is you. You look incredibly young, most likely a picture from middle school. Yet, what he’s a bit perplexed by, is your appearance, a stark contrast to how you look now. Glasses, braces, messy hair, and a fashion sense that screams early 2000’s. 

Cute. 

Sukuna wonders if you still need glasses, possibly changed them out for contact once you hit college? Now, he wants to see what you look like in glasses. Would you look childish, like the picture here, or would you look more grown and dignified. Some other thoughts pop into his head thinking about you wearing glasses, but he doesn’t dwindle on them for too long. Despite how inviting they may seem. 

He opens the document again, immediately meeting with the simple words of, ‘Project, by me.’ He thinks it’s a bit improper, and adds your name for you. You can thank him later for being such a kind roommate, and–now–study partner. 

Sukuna’s eyes naturally fall on the small circle chart at the beginning, explaining the nutrients, and food he intakes. Right next to it is a graph explaining his active life, how much he works out, and practices. Along with the calories he burns, along with what he gains from working out. 

It’s far more extensive than he’s ever noted about himself. Yet, that’s not the part that seems interesting to him, more or less what he’s looking for. He’s looking for personal notes about him. Your… “evaluation,” of sorts. He wants to know what you wrote. 

Sukuna actually spoke to Maki earlier in the day, asked her about the project. 

“What?” Maki asked with a scowl, “Why the hell would I do that?” She places her hands on her hips. 

Sukuna’s quick to say your name, “Asked for an example, just hasn’t had the time to find you yet. Decided I’d help her out.” He placed his hands into his pockets, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently. 

Maki sighed, flicking her glasses to the bridge of her nose, before pulling out her computer, placing it on the picnic table where she was eating. “Fine, but tell her she owes me.” She said with a groan. 

“Nah, I’ll take care of it.” Sukuna said, eyeing the screen Maki just showed him. She did it on her brother Megumi, writing about who he is, analyzing his character, and more specifically, who he is in her eyes. “Hm.” He nodded to himself, “Cool, I’ll buy you lunch, or something.” 

Maki shook her head, “Sure, whatever.” 

Now, Sukuna can’t deny how curious he is about what you wrote about him. Along with the small comments you added to yourself. He’s quick to click the first one. It’s attached to a sentence. 

“Sukuna Itadori – a previous student of yours – holds himself with pride, strength, and dignity. Yet, contains a side to him which no one seems to view, a side that’s more caring then most would note.” 

– ‘Pride is one hell of a way to put it. I already hate this.’ 

Sukuna laughs a bit, clicking onto the next personal comment. 

“Sukuna is an individual that pushes everyone out, in fear of rejection. (Rejection – the dismissing or refusing of a proposal, idea, etc.) However, the rejection feared isn’t tainted in love, or measly relationships written in immature youth, nor is it littered from social cliques which people tend to flock to, but rejection as in the fear of yourself, of never meeting what you pray to become.” 

– ‘That’s all the professor is going to get out of me, honestly, the man is so nosey. Fail me if you need to, I don’t care anymore.’ 

There's another comment attached to it. 

– ‘Sukuna deserves so much better, then just being my stupid fucking project. I wish I could tell him that.’

That makes Sukuna reel back, his heart beating loudly in his chest. A plethora of emotions flooding his head, along with guilt seeping through his chest. It feels weird, something he feels very little of, but it’s real and drowning. You… You do know why he’s mad. 

Now, ugh… he feels a bit stupid. 

Now, he feels bad. 

Sukuna shakes his head, he wants to continue, but doesn’t know if he should. There’s only a few more comments, which can’t be too revealing, it can’t make him react in such a way as the previous one, right? So, he’s fine to continue. 

“I noted that being by the side of an athlete was going to be revealing of his character, however, I couldn’t help but notice the change of mine. I became more nervous, scared, excited, and riddled with anxiety. My personal agenda against Sukuna switching from the one I heard from acquaintances, to something I could piece together on my own. He’s brash, stoic, and pleasing to the eye.” 

– ‘“Pleasing to the eye?” What is this, 1900? I swear, just call him sexy asf, I’m sure Gojo wouldn’t care… hell, he’ll probably understand if anything.’

That makes Sukuna laugh, “She’s going to hate me.” But, that doesn’t keep him away from looking, if anything, it has him clicking your second to last personal comment. However, right before he can get to them, Sukuna notices the massive paragraph break between a conclusion, and the two more comments. 

The conclusion is simple and dignified. However, the paragraph under the break isn't so much. 

“Sukuna Itadori. A man who has managed to flip my world upside down, a complex person of which I feel I will never understand. Yet, I've grown to terms with that. I’ve grown to terms that the only individual I will understand is myself, however, spending time with some else at close proximity, passes me a glimpse into someone else's life, along with their problems and aspirations. I understand so little, yet more than most.” 

– ‘This is too personal, I need to write a better conclusion. Ugh. So close to being done.’ 

Sukuna agrees, mumbling to himself, “It’s like she’s in love with–” His finger clicks the last personal comment. 

– ‘Just say you love him, it’s not like he’s going to see it. Maybe, Gojo will give me a good grade for the confession, too.’

Sukuna closes the computer, then cups his face. 

He’s fine, there’s nothing happening right now, his mind isn’t racing, nor is his heart beating quickly at all. He’s completely calm, not freaking out at all. His…

Sukuna’s ears are tinted red. 

You’re going to kill him. 

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ December 2nd, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Monday

You already told yourself–close to a million times now–you put your name on the document. You just don’t remember putting your name, even though you distinctly remember, not putting your name on the document. You shouldn’t think about it anymore, anyway, you turned in the assignment and–

“Madame President, are you okay?” 

“Stop calling me that, I actually hate it.” You mumble to yourself, before standing straight up. “Uh, what’s up?” You glance around, “Are there more papers I need to fill out, or something?” A boy shows you his drawing of him and you, a heart in the middle. 

You smile, patting his head, taking the paper away from him, telling him a silent ‘thank you,’ before looking at your peer. “Uh, no, there’s someone… uh, someone’s waiting for you.” They push their glasses to the bridge of their nose. Pointing in–what you think–is a general area. 

You feel everything around you go blank, the floor sinking beneath you. You want to swallow the lump in your throat, but you can’t. You force a nod, “Uh, yeah, I’ll go… talk to them.” Walking to the person makes your heart pound, your body littered with anxiety. 

Mahito. 

He’s smiling at you like a friend, waving widely and catching the attention of your fellow peers and children. He calls your name so kindly, you wonder if you hallucinated the whole night at the party. “Yoo-hoo! Come here!” 

You feel your eye twitch, your feet sinking into the ground with each step. You pass him a half-hearted wave, “Uh, what do you want?” That sounded really mean, but he deserves it. 

“Awh, don’t be tense with me, I’m not here to hurt you.” Mahito waves his hand reassuringly, before his eyes narrow in on you. “I just wanted to talk to you, little puppy. Without your owner to bother us, this time.” 

That nickname makes you uncomfortable–no, Mahito makes you uncomfortable. “Uh…? My owner?” Is he talking about Sukuna? That makes you scowl, why in the world would Mahito think Sukuna owns you? Just because you spent some time around him–and like him–doesn’t mean anything. “I’m sorry, why are you here?” 

Mahito pushes his hair over his shoulder, his smile widening. “I’m here to talk to you.” He taps your forehead, and his finger is cold, sending an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. “Also, Sukuna sent me for you.” 

“Did he?” You glance over your shoulder, looking at the children and peers playing. It makes you feel a bit sick, you’re in such a tight situation. You can’t cuss him out, nor can you make a big scene. You’re trapped, and there’s nothing you can do. 

Mahito nods, “Yup! He’s asking to bring you to the parking lot.” He places his hand on your head, ruffling your hair, which you hate immensely. “Just wants to make sure his little puppy doesn’t get lost on the way over there.” He smiles at you, “Isn’t that so kind? Wanting to keep you safe from the horrible people out there?” 

You push his hand off your head, “Don’t touch–” 

A hand presses on your shoulder, making you turn. “President, if you need to leave, that’s fine.” They lean in a small bit, cupping your ear as they whisper, “A few of the kids are scared of your friend.” 

You shrug them off, “He’s not my friend.” But, that leaves you in a horrible place to make a decision. You don’t want to distress the children, but you also don’t want to leave anywhere with Mahito. Your head is screaming at you, that is a horrible idea, and you’re going to listen. 

“What? But, I thought we were close?” Mahito takes a step forward, placing his arm over your shoulders, “Is this you telling me that you hate me? That you don’t want to be my friend?” 

Yes. “Uh, I would personally…” You push him off you, glancing at your peer, then the children again. You look down at the drawing in your hands, before softly sighing in defeat. “Fine. Where does he want to meet?” Your head is screaming at you, don’t, you’re going to get hurt, but you can’t be around children with this creep. 

Mahito jumps with joy, humming to himself briefly, “Yay!” He claps his hands excitedly, grabbing your wrist to pull you along with him, but something grabs your hand, pulling you away from him. Mahito instantly turns on his heel with a questionable look, before his face flushes pale. 

You keep your back to them, their chest hitting the back of your head. Their voice is laced with venom, “You really want to die, huh?” Naturally, relief washes over your body, your hand squeezing his. A silent thank you, and gain of strength. 

Mahito thickly swallows, shaking his head, “Let’s stop kidding around, Sukuna, you’re not going to kill me.” He waves off his sentence, “That’s… illegal.” He sounds unsure of himself, passing the two of you an unnerved smile. 

Sukuna merely raises one of his eyebrows, “You want to talk about shit that’s illegal?” He sticks his free hand out, holding it open and gesturing for him to hand him something. “Give me your phone, let’s see what’s on it.” 

Mahito seems to cower at that, shaking his head. “No, actually, do we have practice today? I think I need to be… there.” They don’t have practice today? He turns on his heel, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I’ll see you there, Sukuna.” 

You twist on your heel, looking at him, “What are you doing here?” 

“Saving your ass, apparently.” 

“How did you even find me?” You cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot impatiently. 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at you, lifting his sunglasses up to keep his hair out his face. “I didn’t find you, I just remembered.” He’s wearing something that fits along with his sunglasses, a black button up shirt, two buttons popped at the collar, and the sleeves raised above his elbows. He’s wearing some black pants, however, they’re matched with some red jordans. 

“Remembered?” You say a bit confused, “What do you mean, remember? I’ve never brought you here.” You glance at the person with glasses, passing them a quick look of, ‘did I?’ They shake their head shamefully. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, lifting his hand to rest on the back of his neck. “When we first saw each other.” He turns away from you, and, maybe it’s the sun–it’s December, there’s no sun–that’s making his ears red.

You blink a few times, before your eyes widen with realization, “Wait, you noticed me?” You tilt your head to the side, trying to look at him, “Wait, are you saying you were looking at me when you passed by with your football friends. You noticed me?”

“Don’t sound so giddy, weirdo.” Sukuna finally looks at you again, but he pinches your cheek, hard. “Who wouldn’t notice your ugly face.” 

He smirks to himself, but it quickly dies into a scowl. “Looks like Mahito noticed you first.” He sighs, leaning his head back slightly, “If I were you, I would file a restraining order.”

You shudder, recalling the blue-haired man, “Ugh, I don’t want to remember him, or that…” Your voice waivers a bit, before you finish your sentence, “Uh, that night…” You divert your eyes, pulling your hand in front of your body to look at the drawing again. You shake your head, “What on his phone, by the way?” 

Sukuna looks to the side, licking his teeth. “Don’t worry about it.” He places his hand on your head, but instead of ruffling your hair like Mahito, he fixes the messy strands. “It’s nothing you’re ever going to have to worry about.” 

“What does that–”

“You’re a horrible fuckin’ artist.” He takes the paper from you, looking at the drawing. “Good thing you’re becoming a physical therapist.” 

“I didn’t draw that.” You flinch when you feel a small hand tug at the bottom of your shirt, drawing your attention to the artist of the drawing Sukuna is holding. You instantly lower yourself to his height, your hand touching his shoulder gently. 

“Is he bullying you? Mean one.” The boy asks, pointing a finger at Sukuna when he stops signing at you. A small breath of relief passes your lips, you’re glad he’s around with Sukuna, and not with Mahito. 

You laugh a small bit, a smile splitting your lips as you quickly glance at Sukuna. He’s looking at you curiously. You shake your head, “No. Not bullying me.” You pat his head, “A close friend. He’s nice, most of the time.”

“He looks very scary.” The boy tells you, “Is he the boyfriend?” 

You loudly laugh at that, shaking your head. Sukuna hands the drawing back to you, “Did he ask you if I’m your boyfriend?” 

That accurate guess startles you, “Uh, yeah? He did?... Wait, how’d you know that?” You blink a bit at him, taking the boy into your arms as he silently asks for a hug. 

Sukuna shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “A good guess.” 

You narrow your eyes on him, suspicious. “A good guess?” Maybe, Sukuna and Uraume are part Jedi, or something? For some reason, that makes a lot of sense in your head. 

The boy tugs your shirt again, “Is he take you away from me?” 

You smile, “No, he will not take me away from you.” You look up, locking eyes with his mother, “But, your mom is here to pick you up.” He perks at that, quickly twisting around and searching for his mom with an excited smile. You stand up, pointing a finger at the person with glasses again, “You, go sign him out, I gotta’ deal with him.” You cock your head in Sukuna’s direction. 

“Fine, walk your ass home then.” Sukuna turns on his heel, walking away from you. 

You’re quick to grab the back of his shirt, “Wait, you’re taking me home?” You ask innocently, peaking your head past his shoulder, “But, that means that Yuuji’s going to have to take the bus alone, and I can’t do that to–”

“I’m taking you both home.” Sukuna pulls his shirt away from you, “Believe it or not, but not everything is just about you.” 

You roll your eyes, before glancing behind you. You catch a glimpse of all the people and children, before turning back to Sukuna. “Let’s just go.” You whisper, looping your arm with his, “Maybe, no one will notice.” 

Sukuna seems to smile at this, “You’re not going to get in trouble?”

“Who cares?” You shrug, walking alongside with him, “I do everything for that club, the least they can do is let me have a day off…” You look to the side, mumbling, “Maybe, even two.” You smile, picking up your pace when you think you hear someone call your name, you look at Sukuna over your shoulder. “Besides, don’t you need me to study today?” 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, before scoffing a bit, “Yeah, let’s go.” 

You just laugh in return. 

—

You pop another fry into your mouth, “I thought you said you were also taking Yuuji home?” You shut his door behind you, passing Sukuna a quizzical look. “Unless, he somehow has powers and is just invisible?” You use your hands to feel around the car’s area for anything. 

“You’re so stupid.” Sukuna locks the car, turning it on to blast the heater for you. “I just lied to you. He’s out doing some weird ghouls and ghost shit. The weirdo.” He can see the glare you’re giving him, and quickly responds, “What? You were acting too cocky. Can’t have you think I’m goin’ soft on you.” 

“Well, you are.” You lift the Mcdonalds bag, shaking it slightly. “Even if you don’t want to admit it.” You lower it into your lap, grabbing another fry and eating it. 

“I was hungry.” Sukuna tells you. 

“Uh-huh.” You pass him a knowing look, then point at the cup sitting in his cup-rest. “Can I have some of your Mcflurry? Looks good.” 

Sukuna doesn’t even pass you a glance, “Help yourself.” 

You giggle before grabbing the cup, helping yourself to the creamy treat. You know, and you’re sure Sukuna knows the ice cream is now yours, and he’s not getting it back. So much for being hungry. “You’re so sweet to me.” 

“Nope.” Sukuna takes a bite of his burger, nodding his head in approval. Something you noticed all people–more specifically, men–do when eating. You wonder if that’s a psychological thing, or something…

“You didn’t get any fries?” You ask with a head tilt, grabbing a small french fry and lifting it from the brown bag. “Isn’t that the best part of Mcdonalds?” You take another bite of the Mcflurry, a shiver shooting down your spine uncomfortably. 

“Sure.” Sukuna looks at you, taking a bite of his burger. “If you don’t mind dying from whatever shit they put into them.” He grabs his coke, taking a small drink of the dark liquid. 

“Ugh.” You loudly groan, sinking into his leather seat. “Don’t tell me you’re an obnoxious gym-bro who’s gonna’ criticize me for everything I eat.” You twist your head away from him, “I don’t think I’m going to be friends with you after this.” 

Sukuna laughs a little bit, saying your name to catch your attention, you merely lazily pull your head in his direction. “I’m joking, I’m literally eating Mcdonalds with you.” He lifts his burger, testing it back and forth. “You’re bad with sarcasm.” 

You quickly sit back up, narrowing your eyes at him. “It’s not sarcasm if you sound the exact same, Sukuna.” You press the fry to his lips, keeping it there for him to eat, “That’s you being… you.” 

“Hm.” Sukuna opens his mouth and allows you to feed him, “Maybe, you’re autistic.” He says in between chews. He says it so nonchalantly, you didn’t even find it humorous, again, you think it’s Sukuna being… Sukuna. 

“That option is definitely on the table.” You say with full seriousness, before narrowing your eyes suspiciously, “Wait, is this a form of you shaming me?” You point dramatically at him with a fry, “Are you shaming me right now, Sukuna?

“Absolutely.” Sukuna turns on his car, “In fact, I’d call you a whole lot of things in my head, just filter myself since I know you’re sensitive.” He places his hand on your head while looking over his shoulder,  pulling out of the parking spot. “You big baby.”

“Now, we’re just going back to our previous conversation, you do have a soft spot for me.” You pop another fry in your mouth, adding, “You may not be aware of it, but you subconsciously do, which I think speaks louder than any actions, or words you may yell at me.”

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, “You seem very talkative today.” 

You shrug, scooping up more ice cream into your mouth. “I’m just stating the truth.” You scoop another mouthful, but this time, you hold it to Sukuna’s lips, which he takes into his mouth without a second thought.

He mumbles, “And, what’s that?” Sukuna pulls his hand away from your head, putting the car into drive. 

“I don’t know.” You lean your head on the window, a small spark of anxiety building in your stomach as you whisper, “You actually care for me, in a weird Sukuna way.” A part of you wants Sukuna to agree, you want to hear what he has to say. You want to hear it more than anything right now. 

“Wait, I thought you have to eat healthy for Football, or something?” You tilt your head, “Isn’t Mcdonalds totally bad for you, or is this like your cheat day?” Not even that, but supposedly Sukuna only ate things that were perfect, did Mcdonalds also happen to fall under that specific spectrum?  

Now, you have so many more questions. Wait, no, Mcdonalds fries are fair, you completely get it. But, he’s not even eating them?! You’re just making your brain hurt right now. 

“Coach doesn’t care what I eat.” Sukuna shrugs, “I don’t care how I eat, as long as I work it off later.” 

You thoughtfully hum, “Oh. Well, you should probably write down all of this in your app thingy.” You gesture to the Mcdonalds mess in his car. “I can do it for you.” You reach for his phone in his pocket, and he naturally lips his leg for you to retrieve it. 

“My app thingy?” Sukuna questions, but it sounds more like he’s making fun of you if anything. “The hell are you talkin’ about?” Wait, no, he sounds genuinely confused. 

Now, you’re confused. “Yeah?” You tilt your head to the side, “You literally let me look at it for my project, remember?” 

Sukuna pauses for a moment, before his eyebrows raise ever so slightly, “Oh, yeah.” He nods, “I know what you’re talking about.” 

You slowly move your hands back and forth, “So…?” 

Sukuna groans, “I deleted that forever ago.” He shrugs, “I didn’t need the app.” 

“Then why did you–” 

“I got it for you.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, “I didn’t want to deal with your pestering questions about my diet. Thought it’d be helpful for the situation.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, “Wait, does that mean you got the app for me?” You end up smiling, poking his arm playfully, “Oh my gosh, Sukuna, you got an app to make the project easier for me? Is that why you were really bad at filling out the–”

“Not everything is about you.” Sukuna shrugs off your arm, mumbling to himself. “I swear, you’re so conceited.” 

You pout like a child, shoving your face with more fries before placing the empty bag on the floor of his car. “You can at least let me think you did something nice for me, ‘kuna.” You try to finish the Mcflurry, but find yourself a bit too full. 

“Kuna?” Sukuna mimics back to you, “Where’d that come from?” 

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “What? What are you talking about?” 

“You just called me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” You’re not looking at him.

“Yes, you did.” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“You’re such a child.” Sukuna rubs his eyes, “Whatever, be like that.” 

You just shrug, scooping another mouthful of ice cream and feeding it to Sukuna. You keep silent, and you can’t help but notice the way Sukuna adjusts himself uncomfortably in his seating. “Keep talkin’ to me.” 

You tilt your head to the side, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I want to hear you talk.” Sukuna flicks your forehead, “Dumbass.” 

“You want to hear me talk?” You smile to yourself, “Or, is this a silent way of you telling me you like hearing me talk?” 

“I’m used to you babbly about nonesene, silence from you makes me uncomfortable.” Sukuna didn’t really answer your question, but he didn’t deny it. Which is better than nothing. Honestly, that’s a win in your book with Sukuna.  

“Wow, thanks.” You put the empty cup in his cup holder, shoving the spoon inside. “What do you want me to talk about?” You naturally place your elbow on the center console, leaning your head on your hand. 

“I don’t know.” He rests his hand on the center console, it’s close to touching your arm. “I like hearin’ you talk.”

“So, you admit it now.” You sound more matter of fact, rather than playful this time. Because, in all actuality, you already knew Sukuna felt that way. You huff a sharp breath of laughter, “I feel like you’re making fun of me.” 

Sukuna smiles to himself, “Oh, I absolutely am.” 

“You know what, just for that, you now have to take me home everyday.” 

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ December 3nd, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Tuesday

“Do you think Yuuji will be mad we got food without him?” You shut his door behind you, passing Sukuna a sympathetic look. “Again?…” You pout to yourself, “Hopefully, he’s going out to eat with his other friends?” You grab the trash from his car and stuff it into the paper bag. 

“He’s good on his own.” Sukuna locks the car, making way to the entrance of the house. “He can manage one or two days without Mcdonalds.” He can see the glare you’re giving him, and quickly responds, “What? You want to buy him the food?” 

“No.” You add from behind him, following him into the house. “You already know I’m too broke for that.” Sukuna doesn’t respond, but you’ve grown used to his silence, so it doesn’t bother you. If anything, the small huff of laughter is enough for you. “Do you want to set up in the kitchen?” 

Sukuna opens his room, shaking his head. “Nah.” He walks inside, “We’re doing this in my room.” 

You almost trip over your feet, your face growing a bit hot. “Your room?” You look to the side, then back at his open door. Shoving the paper bag into the trash can sloppily, a small napkin falling out. “We can’t study in the–” 

“Get in here.” Sukuna yells from his room. 

You’re quick to join him, dropping your converse loudly at his door while mumbling, “Maybe, if you would ask politely.” You shut the door, dropping your bag next to your shoes. Mumbling to yourself, “I swear, you’re also so bossy.” You naturally move to his bed, flopping onto the mattress. 

“Yeah, just lay in my bed.” Sukuna says sarcastically, pulling out some textbooks, “It’s not like you haven’t washed your ass in days or anything” Sukuna literally saw you leave his restroom with wet hair in the morning, he knows you showed today. 

You laugh, rolling your body in his blanket, trying to create some form of warmth. “Shut up.” You naturally grab one of his pillows, planting your face in it. Instantly, his scent floods your senses, making you a tad bit dizzy. 

Sukuna feels one of his eyebrows twitch, his face a bit red from watching you shove your face into his pillow. “Stop being fuckin’ weird.” He grabs your ankles, tugging you off the bed and onto the floor, your back hitting the ground with a solid ‘thud.’ “Now, I need to clean my sheets.” 

“Stop being so dramatic.” You let your head fall back onto the floor, a small smile on your lips. “I remember you telling me you like the way I smell, so consider it a–” 

Sukuna slaps the pillow over your face, “Oh my god, you never shut up.” He sighs, sitting down on the ground, laying out his computer and textbooks. “Start doing your damn work.” 

A muffled, “You asked for this.” Leaves your mouth, making you push the pillow off your head. “See, this is why I wanted to study in the dining room, we would actually be working on a table. Not the floor.”

“Stop complaining.” Sukuna’s already trained on his work, notebook and textbook open. “Do your damn work.” You sigh, crawling over to your bag. Sukuna’s eyes follow your body as you bring your stuff in front of him. 

“Hey, do you think my skirt is cute?” 

The question seems random to Sukuna, but he answers nonetheless, “What do you want me to say to that?” 

“Yes.” You say with a playful grin, “Honestly, I would prefer it if you got on your knees and told me, ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen since you’re wearing it!’ but, I’ll take a simple yes in this situation and be happy.” You bat your eyes at him innocently.

“Even if it would save my and Yuuji’s life, I wouldn’t get on my knees for you.” Sukuna says annoyedly, “But, uh, your skirt is fine, I guess.” 

A small spread on your face, “Awh! Thanks Sukuna, you’re always so sweet to me.” You wave your hand up and down, pretending to be flattered. 

“You’re pushing me.” Sukuna says unbothered, looking at his work. 

“That's the goal.” 

Yet, as you’re laying out your things, a small light bulb lights up in your head. “Sukuna?” You place your notebook on the ground next to your computer. Sukuna doesn’t look up, but he does say your name in a similar tone to your question. Acknowledging and a bit indulging. “You’ve never told me what you’re studying?” 

Sukuna lifts his eyes from his computer screen, “I’m studying engineering.” He writes something down in his notebook, answering or writing a question down. 

“Is that what you always wanted to do?” You lean forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the type of work he’s doing. Although, you can’t really see it, to be honest, you can’t really see your work right now. You need your glasses, but you’re not keen on retrieving them from your bag right now.

Not in front of Sukuna, at least. 

“No.” Sukuna places his pencil down, “I wanted to go into business, but gramps told me that was a stupid idea.” 

“What?” You tilt your head to the side, “Why would that be stupid?” You think for a moment, “Well, I have no idea what business would do for you. What type of business would you be dealing with?” You laugh to yourself for a moment, “Perhaps… you’re in everyone’s business?” 

Sukuna’s eye twitches, “I don’t know how you’re in college.” He shakes his head, whispering, “You’re so fuckin’ stupid.” Still, with his palm pressed over his lips, you’re sure he’s smiling right now. 

“It’s a genuine question.” 

“That’s what makes it so stupid. I think that makes it worse, too.” He leans back on the palm of his hands, “But, I wanted to get a degree in business to… I don’t know, do whatever people do in business.” He shrugs, “I knew I was going to inherit my old man’s company, so I guess I wanted to learn a few things before jumping into work.” 

Things are starting to make a bit more sense now. Sukuna had a nice sports car at sixteen, and owns his own house. Then, there was that one time where you ate out with him and Wasuke at a really nice–expensive–restaurant. You’re slowly starting to piece together Sukuna comes from a bit of money. “Wait, but that sounds smart.” You lower yourself to the floor, laying on your side comfortably. Sukuna’s pillow supporting your elbow. 

Sukuna shrugs, “Gramps said he was hiring me no matter what, as long as I worked, so I decided to do something else. I’m not going to pay for something I’m already experiencing at work.” He sighs, “So, I decided to major in engineering.” In simple terms. 

“Hm.” You continue scrolling through your computer, it’s nowhere or anything important, but you’re sure an idea of what you’re supposed to do will come to you in a bit. “Are you excited? It seems like you’re going to be making a lot of money.” You rub your pointer finger and thumb together. 

“You’re asking a lot of questions.”  Sukuna says, closing his computer briefly. You don’t know if it’s a sign of annoyance, or a silent tell that he wants to continue the conversation. “Any reason behind your sudden pestering?” 

You laugh, a small smile on your lips, “I want to get to know you more, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna pauses for a brief second, your personal comment on your project flashing in his head. ‘Sukuna deserves so much better, then just being my stupid fucking project. I wish I could tell him that.’ And, it makes his throat tighten uncomfortably, a sensation he’s getting far more familiar with, then he would personally prefer.

Sukuna whispers, “Really?” Before he quickly covers it with a scoff, “Money, who cares.” 

You can be going crazy, but you swear you saw his demeanor slip. “Uh.. I–I do.” You explain, slowly shaking off whatever you might’ve noticed. “I’d love to have money to burn.” You smile a bit, “Uh, but… doesn’t everyone?” You drum your fingers on your computer, “It’d be nice to have some money to spend on luxuries, you know?” 

Sukuna passes you a half smile, “Yeah, I get it.” 

“Don’t do that.” You wrinkle your nose. 

“Do what?” Sukuna furrows his eyebrows at you. 

“Smile.” You say, an unserious smile on your lips. “It’s scary, looks like you’re going to murder me.” You search up something on your computer. 

“You’re so kind.” 

“Yeah, this is what you look like.” You flip the screen to him, showing Jeff the killer in picture form. “Think someone posted your morning pictures, Sukuna. Should we go hunt them down?” You turn the screen back to you, giving it a quizzical look, as if you were trying to find the answer to your question on the spot. 

“I’m going to kill you.” 

You giggle, pointing at him loosely. “Only proving my point.” You hook your foot on your other sock, playing with the fabric. “So, how do you plan on doing it? Suffocation, maybe taking me out–” 

“I actually have it written down here.” Sukuna pushes a sticky note to you, it’s pink. “Read it out loud.” 

“Is this a fetish?” You raise an eyebrow, “Do you make all your victims read what you’re going to do to them, or am I just special?” 

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, almost glaring at you, before he breaks. Twisting his head to the side and bursting into laughter, the back of his hand covering his mouth as he tries to collect himself. He ends up covering his face, still laughing while muttering, “You’re so dumb.” 

And, in this context, you agree. You’re absolutely dumbfounded. Sukuna is laughing, and it’s not a pretty small huff, or a brief chuckle, which you’re not even sure you’ve heard him do, but now, he’s genuinely laughing. 

You press your lips together, a tight lipped smile slowly building on your lips. But, you still look at the sticky-note anyway, trying to make out the words, but you can’t. They’re too small, and a bit too messy. “Sukuna, I can’t read this.” You’re just trying to distract yourself, because if you look too long at Sukuna laughing, you know your face is going to break out in flames. 

“Yeah.” Sukuna says, ignoring your words. “You’re special.” Your name follows, punctuating the sentence. 

Your lips part ever so slightly in a silent gasp, before you look away. “I–I… still can’t read it.” You try to ignore what he just said. Still, Sukuna just called you special. You can literally hear your heart beating in your ears right now, your hands are shaky, too. 

“I want to hear you read it.” Sukuna says, tilting his head to the side slightly. 

“Can you…” You slid the sticky note back to him, turning your head away from him. “Read it for me, I genuinely can’t read it.” You can feel your ear burning, before a horrible realization comes over your mind. 

Sukuna dramatically sighs at you, snatching the sticky note from you. “What? Are you blind or somethin’?” He laughs to himself, before looking at the sticky note whispering, “Oh, that’s right, you are.” 

You blink once, then twice. “What.” 

Sukuna presses his lips together, “Huh?” 

“What did you say?” 

“Didn’t say anything.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, watching as his eyes are trained on the sticky note. “How do you know that?” You made sure no one knows that, even Nobara, so how would Sukuna know that? Were you squinting too much at your screen when you worked with Yuuji and Sukuna yesterday, or did he see the family picture on your–

Your stomach drops. 

Sukuna can see your express fall with it. He closes his eyes and tries not to laugh, “Don’t tell me you saw it?” A horrible, twisted realization falls over your consciousness, “You read it?…” You can feel yourself flush pale, an uncomfortable and embarrassed feeling twisting in your stomach. 

Sukuna deeply inhales, “Read what?” The expression you pass him, breaks him. It’s riddled in embarrassment, your lips quivering slightly, as your eyes are ever so slightly watering. Sukuna laughs until his hand, unable to control himself. Yet, he didn’t expect you to do what you did next. 

You tackle him. His pillow in your hand as you place it over his face, sitting on his abdomen as you ignore his muffled laughter. “Shut up. Shut up. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.” You chant, closing your eyes and trying to not reel in your embarrassment. 

Sukuna taps your thigh, trying to tell you to stop, while his other hand tries grabbing your hand, or the pillow on his head. But, you don’t relent, you continue to try and kill Sukuna. Then, the resistance stops, Sukuna’s hands drop limply by his side, his laughter ceasing. 

You sigh with relief, letting your hands fall slack, but Sukuna goes in for the attack. Swiping the pillow away from your and grabbing both your wrists into his grasp. “And you’re calling me the fuckin’ killer.” He scoffs, using his free hand to reach for your bag. 

You struggle in his grasp, glaring at him. “I have every right to kill you now.” You watch as he grabs something from your bag, and immediately you resist even harder. “Absolutely not, don’t even try to—“ 

“I just want to see how you look with them, calm the fuck down.” Sukuna opens the small box, pulling out your glasses and placing the lenses over your eyes. “See, look at you.” He sits up, making you slide down into his lap, your wrist still held together by his one hand. “You’re…” He looks to the side for a moment, “It’s cute.” 

You look to the side, face burning, “You’re so… ugh.” You groan, “Infuriating.” Still, you can’t deny how pleasant it is to have Sukuna admiring you like this. If admiring is the right word in this situation. 

It’s quite for a bit, before you softly sigh, your legs sliding down and relaxing into him. His grip on your wrist looses up nicely, your breathing soft and content. “How… how much did you read?” You finally look at him again, but with the glasses decorating your face, you can really see him now. 

Sukuna’s face markings are so much more detailed than you originally thought, and his eyes… they’re stunning. A deep crimson, looking at you with so much… admiration and awe. They divert away from you, a cocky smile on his lips. He scoffs, “All of it.”

You feel so exposed right now, “All of it?” You repeat, more so to yourself, then to Sukuna. “So, you know?…” You stop yourself, unable to force the words out. You’re too embarrassed. Sukuna nods, turning his gaze back to you. You instantly cover his eyes with your hand, you can't look at him. More so, you don’t want him to look at you. 

Sukuna smiles, his sharp teeth flashing at you, the dimple in his cheek indenting perfectly into his skin. “I can’t look at you?” He cooed, it’s more mocking if anything. 

“No.” You lean back slightly, which makes Sukuna grab your waist, keeping you in place. His smile falters for a moment, and you wonder why. You were just adjusting your sitting. “Besides, you think I’m hideous, or whatever.”

“It’s true, your face makes me laugh.” You annoyedly groan at him, but Sukuna trails one of his hands to yours, his finger hooking over your fingers. “Let me look at you.” He tugs a bit at your hand, it’s not forceful, it’s more asking if anything. “I want to see the girl who likes me, stupid.”

You don’t respond, you don’t even let his hand pull away from his eyes. You don’t know what you do, you don’t know what to do, nor how to respond to his question. You’re merely grounding yourself into the situation, in the way he’s holding you, and his soft breathing.

Sukuna says your name again, only for it to quickly die in his throat. 

You kiss him. 

Your other hand cupping his jaw as you deepen the kiss, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips work with you. His hands wrapping around torso, holding you tighter than he’s ever held anyone before. You can feel his lashes flutter behind your hand, his head twisting to the side so he can deepen the kiss. 

You break it, pulling away with your hands at your side now. You chew on your bottom lip nervously. Sukuna leans in again, but you turn away, your hands resting on his chest to push him back. Despite your denial of his advances, he holds onto you just the same. His hands aren’t holding you like they did at the party, they’re gentle, they are soothing, and comforting, maybe even a bit longing. 

It’s silent for a moment. 

You softly sigh, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt while you whisper, “Sukuna?” You see him nod, but keep your eyes on your fingers. Looping your index finger under his shirt and pulling his golden chair for your pleasurable viewing. “Can… we talk about it?” 

Sukuna doesn’t even let a second pass before he responds, and his words make the world fall silent. Your heart is beating so loudly, and your body freezes, your fingers tangled in his chain as they finally process in your head. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Your lips part, before you quickly press them together, pulling your gaze to his face. Did he just say that? Did the stoic, unforgiving, asshole, Sukuna… just apologize to you? Your lashes flutter at his expression. Sukuna’s isn’t looking at you, his glare is trained to the dull wall to the right. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

Your heart beats even faster at his expression, your face flushing hot. 

Sukuna is blushing red. 

His cheeks covered in a deep blush, eyebrows furrowed, glaring at you like normal Sukuna would. Except for one thing… his face is burning in a deep red blush, even the tips of his ears are red. He’s embarrassed, very embarrassed, but he still looks angry. 

You move in quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck, whispering, “You… you’re sorry?” You shakily exhale, closing your eyes into his neck. “Did you just say that?” 

Sukuna instantly wraps both his arms around you. His hands touching his own sides from holding you so tight. “I’m so sorry, I’m such a fuckin’ horrible…” He groans, leans his head on yours. “I’m terrible, I’m so terrible.” 

You nod, laughing slightly as you add, “Yeah, you’re an asshole.” You softly sigh, “But… maybe, I am, too.” You hold him tighter, your heart longing. “What.. what did I do wrong? I–I feel horrible for asking, but… I really don’t know.” 

Sukuna closes his eyes, “When I told you…” He thinks to himself, “What happened to me. That’s something I’ve never told anyone, but Uraume about.” He pauses for a moment, “And, I really… I value you more then… I don’t even know. That scares me. It’s terrifying.” 

You nod. 

“I was telling you the worst of me, and I didn’t want to know how you were going to react. I hate everything that happened, and how I reacted, but here I was relieving it for you.” Sukuna pauses again, before forcing out, “Only for you to remind me our friendship was only a week. Everything that we were experiencing was only going to be for a week.”

You instantly pull away from him, “Sukuna, that’s not what I meant–” You pause, looking at his expression, his eyes glossy and shiny. You feel something trail down your cheek, before hitting Sukuna’s shirt. You feel your bottom lip wiggle, before your sniff, your shoulders jumping up with a hiccup. You feel dumb, you’re not even as upset about what happened anymore, but the tears don’t stop. “At the party, I thought you were just going to use me and throw me away, but I didn’t want that–”

Sukuna feels his chest tighten, shaking his head, “I thought you were using me for your project.” He tells you, “I thought that's why you told me you were a burner phone.” Sukuna recalls the way his heart shattered when you told him that, doing everything in his power to keep his emotions together. “I thought you wanted everything to end the moment the week was over, and…” He diverts his eyes, “I… I never wanted that.” 

You close your eyes, recalling the following day. “Then, we had an argument.” Your mind instantly floods with memories, recalling the pain and words you yelled at Sukuna, the lies and truths you told him in a fleeting agonizing moment. 

“Yeah.” Sukuna looks regretful, “The stupid fuckin’ argument.” Both of you are silent for a moment, and you don’t think it’s going to be broken for a few moments, but to your surprise, Sukuna speaks up again. “Did you…?” He thickly swallows, “Did you mean those things?”

You feel a bit on the spot with that question, and you don’t know how to answer. Well, you do, but… what about Sukuna? Did he mean the things he said? You don’t want to say something only for him to not feel the same. But, it’s obvious how he feels, right? It should be now, but it doesn’t feel like that. His words bounce in your head clouding your mind with doubt. You’re scared, no, you’re terrified. “Did… you?” 

You don’t want to hear that answer right now.

“When we “first” made up.” You abruptly ask, chewing the corner of your lips, “I asked you if you’d promise you wouldn’t like me. You asked me if I wanted you too.” You push your glasses to the bridge of your nose, “Why?” 

Sukuna remains silent for a bit, before huffing, “This is so weird to me.” He mutters, softly groaning to himself. “I’ve never done this type of thing with someone.” He furrows his eyebrows, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. 

Still, you look at him through your lashes, and hopefully ask, “Do you… like it?” Your voice is a hushed whisper.  

Sukuna wrinkles his nose, scowling ever so slightly. He shakes his head, “No. This fuckin’ sucks.” This conversation is supposed to make everything, but it feels sad, every word that comes out of you, or him makes his throat tighten painfully. He watches as your gaze diverts from his face, and that makes his chest tighten. Shit, he didn’t say that right. “Well…” He starts again, pulling your face to look at him, “I hate it, but… I hate it less, since it’s with… uh, you.” 

You sniffle again, his words holding you in a comforting blanket. The words spill out, sooner than you would like, “I didn’t mean it.” You push your glasses up, whipping your eyes with the back of your hand. “I was just scared, and you made it seem like you didn’t… I don’t know. Care for me, or something.” 

Sukuna cups the bottom of his face, whispering, “I don’t know why I said that.” 

“I don’t know why I said that, too.” You sniff, “I was just…” 

“I didn’t want to promise anything, because I already know…” Sukuna pushes your hair from your face, leaning in a bit closer, “I’d be lying to you.” He flutters his lashes, “And, I don’t want to… lie to you anymore.” 

You nod, eyes pearling with tears, “I don’t want to lie either.” You whisper, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You grab his shirt.“I want to be… I want to be with you.” You hug him again, your tears wetting his shirt. “I’ve always wanted to be with you.” A soft whisper.

Sukuna chuckles, letting you cry into his shoulder. “Why did you say that sooner?” 

“I thought you didn’t like me!” You cry, adding in a hushed whisper, “I thought you hated me. I thought you were just going to leave me the moment the week was over after using me.” You shake your head, gripping onto the back of his shirt, “I couldn’t stand that thought, so that’s why I pushed you away!” 

Sukuna continues to rub your back, “You’re so stupid.” He mumbles, bringing you into him tighter. I could never hate you. I would never push you away. “It’s okay, now, don’t cry like a baby about it.” He adds a derogatory, yet playful, “Baby.”

“I’m so happy you don’t hate me.” You softly sigh into his neck, closing your eyes as your body completely relaxes into his. “So happy.”

Sukuna tries, he really does, but something hot and wet slides down his cheek, and you don’t see it, nor are you ever going to know about it, but it happens. It’s real, it’s grounding, and it’s pulling. “Yeah.” He holds you, “I know.” Arms wrapped around your, his head tucking close to yours, “I know.”

Your body is completely relaxed as you whisper, “I don’t want to argue anymore.” You shake your head, whipping off the final tears on your cheeks, “I don’t think I have the power to argue with you anymore. I want things to be…” 

Sukuna presses his closed eyes onto your shoulder, “I don’t want to argue like we did on Tuesday.” A sharp breath comes out of his nose, “I like the arguments like the one in the car. It’s cute you have a bit of spunk. As much as it is annoying” 

You pull back, a small smile on your lips, “Yeah, your grandpa is right, you do need someone to keep you in check.” You lower your hands to his chain again, “Thank god you have me, right? What would you do?” 

Sukuna nods, “Yeah, I’d be stress free without you.” He raises his hands to your waist, “Who would want that? A carefree life, compared to an annoyin’ little shit like you?” He’s passing you a boyish smile. He’s smiling far more than you’re used to. You like it. 

“Yeah.” You laugh, pulling on a piece of his hair, “Look, you even have a gray hair, now you have a small piece with me wherever you go.” You look  at him again, this time a smile on your lips. “Aren’t you so happy? You’re stuck with me?” 

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you. His pupils blown wide, as his hands gently hold onto you. You pass him a silly smile, “What?” You tilt your head to the side, “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your lips part, your eyebrows raising in silent shock. “Huh?” A small suppressed laugh escapes your lips, “Wait, are you asking me to kiss me?” You tilt your head to the side, “The f-boy Sukuna, the one who had a girl over this very week, is asking to kiss me?”

“We didn’t do anything. It was just a stupid fukin’ project.” Sukuna leans in closer, grabbing the back of your head. “Just fuckin’ kiss me already.” Sukuna doesn’t even let the sentence process in your head, before trying to press his lips to yours. 

Key word. Trying. 

Unfortunately, right before the two of you can kiss again, a strand of your hair falls in between your faces. Blocking the kiss from ever happening. You naturally giggle, mumbling a small apology. But, Sukuna doesn't seem to be fazed. He just pushes the strand behind your ear, cups the back of your face and pulls you into a kiss. 

It almost feels like he’s smiling against you. 

You kiss him back, but his kiss is much more brief, ending then starting again. It feels unreal, Sukuna, the emotionally unavailable Sukuna, kissing you like a lover of years would. 

You’re giggling, sniffling every now and then, only for Sukuna to kiss your cheeks, then kiss you on the lips again. You can taste the salty wet tears on his lips, but you don’t mind, it’s cute in a way. “You’re not acting like Sukuna.” 

He places his forehead on yours and tells you, “I’ll slam your face into my bed, if you’d like?” Sukuna cockily smirks to himself, tilting his head to the side. “Or, do you want me murder you silently?”

“Silently? I feel like murdering me would not be a quiet activity.”

Sukuna nods in agreement, “You’re right. I can set the house on fire with you inside.” He kisses you again, whispering, “Doesn’t that sound romantic? You’d be my first murder. You’re special.” 

You laugh, “Romantic is definitely one way to put it.” You look to the side, thinking, “But, that definitely sounds more like my Sukuna. I wonder if you were an arsonist in your past life. I feel like that’s very on brand for you.” You look at his eyes, and catch a slight red look to them. “Oh. My. God.” Sukuna flinches when you point at him, “You were crying? Oh my god, were you crying?” You huff, “And you’re calling me a baby… hypocrite.” 

He makes a ludicrous face at you, placing his hand on your face and pushing you off him. Making you fall onto your elbows with a laugh, “I think you’re actually going mental now.” He throws the pillow at your body, “I fuckin’ don’t cry.” 

“Not true.” You smile at him, grabbing the pillow and holding it over your lap. “You cried when you talked to Yuuji, and don’t deny it, I totally saw how red your eyes were.” You wiggle your shoulders, “Awh! The big strong Sukuna is actually a big cry baby like me–” 

“I can make you cry.” He’s now leaning over you, the pillow thrown on his bed. “We’ll see who’s the real cry baby, then.” He’s smiling, but it doesn't look inviting or reassuring, sadistic would be the right word here. A small squeak leaves your mouth. 

You blink a few times. “Huh?” Sukuna picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder. This must be a common practice with the brothers, it doesn’t happen often, but it happens enough for you to mentally note. Another noise leaves your throat when he drops you on his bed, parting your thighs and moving in between them. 

Sukuna keeps his forearms near your head, his nose touching yours. “You want to know somethin’.” 

You giggle, “No, not really.” You laugh when Sukuna drops his head with dejectment, his forehead hitting your nose gently. “Fine, tell me, what do you want to say, Sukuna.” You shiver when his nose brushes over your neck. 

Sukuna’s hand moves under your knee, hooking it around his waist. “I’d give anything to make things up to you.” 

You laugh, letting your arms comfortably cross over his shoulders, “You already said sorry, and that’s already enough for me.” You tug him closer, which almost throws him off balance, causing him to stumble into you. “Especially with your big boy ego.” 

“You ever call me that again, and I will throw your ass to the streets.” He kisses your neck, enjoying the way you naturally open yourself to him. Still, there’s a bit of hesitance behind your movements, and that alone makes him stop. “Did I hurt you?” 

“Mentally.” You throw out loosely, but immediately smile, “No, I’m just, uh…” You divert your eyes for a moment, “Uhm, nervous, I guess.” No, you’re not nervous, you’re scared. What if he just… leaves again. 

“About?” Sukuna sounds different, more soft. 

“Uh, this.” You naturally hug him tighter. 

“Should I stop?” 

You take a moment, “...No.” You softly sigh, “I just don’t want you to… uhm, leave again.” 

Sukuna takes a moment, before kissing you again, it’s sweet. “I’m not, don’t even worry about that.” But, your unsure expression makes him hesitate. It’s a bit weird, he’s feeling so many new things today. He wants to make sure you’re comfortable, and he’s almost scared to touch you. You feel like glass to him. 

Sukuna thinks he may be broken, maybe you broke him, but everything that is happening is so new to him. He doesn’t know how to respond, but he does know one thing, he doesn't want to hurt you anymore. He doesn’t want to scare you, or make you cry. He doesn’t want to hear you sob in his arms over something stupid thing he did. He can’t stand that. 

He doesn’t know why, but seeing you like that, hurts him. 

Maybe he is broken. But, every broken part of him wants to be around you all the time. And, he doesn’t know exactly how to comfort someone, or fix what he’s done. But, he’s trying, he’s trying harder than he’s ever tried with anyone before. 

Sukuna may not be the best person in the world, but he’s trying to find a way to build your trust in his own way. It’s the one thing he has always been good at, and almost centralized his identity around. It’s a bit sad when he really thinks about it, but trauma has a unique way of messing with a person. 

He nods, “Okay.” He kisses your temple, “I won’t do anything until you beg me to.” He pushes himself off you, standing between your thighs while you lay down on his bed, towering over you. “You like the sound of that?” 

You feel your stomach twist and turn with butterflies, the feeling of being prey to a hungry wolf has you heating up with desire. “O-Okay.” You thickly swallow, pushing yourself up and sitting up straight, grabbing his chain and tugging him down to your lips. “I like… uhm, I like the sound of that.” 

Sukuna chuckles, “You do?” 

You bite the bottom of your lip, nodding your head slowly. “Mhm.” He cups your face, and his nose tickles your cheek, his kisses coming in fast and soft. Peppering down to your neck, his nose touching your neck like a fleeting feather. While his fingers trail down the inside of your thighs. Goosebumps follow his hands on your legs. 

A pleasurable shiver shooting through your body when he finally slides his hand under your skirt. You whimper, grabbing your skirt and lifting it up, allowing yourself to watch the way Sukuna gropes you. A small moan leaves your mouth, “Keep… uhm, doing that.” You watch as his thumb works painfully slow circles into your covered clit. 

Sukuna nods, eyes enraptured by your thighs shaking around his hand, your pink panties wrinkling and damp from your slick. “Such a slut.” He shakily exhales, “You like this, don’t you? You like when things are nasty.” 

You don’t say anything, merely nod your head. “Yeah, I know, baby, I know.” He says against your neck, his deep voice rumbling against your skin. You feel something warm, and wet slowly move up to your ear. Before his mouth bites your ear playfully. “I know you love the way I touch you.” 

He lowers himself to his knees, flipping your skirt completely up. Allowing himself to look at you for however long he wanted. You move your hand in between your legs, “Are you looking?” You can feel your face burning, your heart beating in your ears. “That’s so embarrassing, please don’t look.” 

“It’s not embarrassing.” He responds, running his nose gently down your thigh. “It’s hot.” He grabs behind your knee, tugging so your legs are dangling off his bed. He smirks to himself, “You’re making me hard.” 

“Oh my god, please don’t say that.” You use your other hand to cover your face, your face burning in embarrassment. But, a small whimper leaves your mouth when Sukuna places his hand over yours, applying pressure to your pussy. You pass him a half hearted glare, “Sukuna!” 

“What? Don’t tell me you hate my words?” Sukuna teases, his eyes drinking up the way you jolt. “Or, maybe, it’s that you hate my voice?” 

“I just hate you.” You mumble, leaning back in his bed, and allowing him to peel off your hand from between your thighs.

“Mhm, I know, babe.” He loves how much he affects you, his voice and words, causing your body to burn and shiver with desire. “Hopefully you can keep to your words when I make you squirt over my fingers.” Sukuna devours the way you shiver at that, your thighs twitching. And, all caused by a few kisses, a light touch, and some deprived words. . 

So cute.

Sukuna grabs your hips, pulling you closer to his face. Lifting your skirt and looking at the thin pink panties that separated you from his mouth. He groans, resting his hand on your knees, pushing your thighs apart to look at your drenched panites. He swallows, blood flooding his cock, straining it against his pants. 

“Okay..” He starts, putting all his weight on his knees. He can see the way your chest is slowly rising and falling, and the cute pink panties that stick to your wet hole. He wishes, more than anything, you weren’t wearing them, but he wanted to toy with you. Just a little. Besides, they would be off in a few minutes, so he isn’t entirely worried about it, he has the patients to wait. “Has anyone touched you here?” 

If anything, Sukuna wants to hear you beg for him to take them off. 

You blink at him innocently, before softly nodding your head. “You have.” 

Sukuna chuckles a bit, “No, gorgeous, anyone other than me.” Both his hands follow the curve of your thigh. Getting closer, and pressing under your skirt. You thickly swallowed, glancing at his hands and face. 

You hesitate to shake your head, but when you do, Sukuna freezes. “Wait, have you ever…?” Sukuna’s still touching you, but it’s more endearing, and less sex-driven. “Has anyone ever gone down on–have you ever had sex?” 

You again shake your head. 

Sukuna feels his cock twitch. “Shit, so you’re really a virgin.” He watches as your eyes divert, “That’s not bad, I just…” He leans his head on your knee, resting it there. “I’ve never been with a virgin.” Sukuna’s been with only a few people, less than he can count on one of his hands, but they’ll all have some form of experience. So, approaching them, and their sex-life is different, but with you, he doesn’t entirely know how to approach it. He wants you to feel comfortable with him, but he also wants you to feel good. 

You push yourself up, leaning on the palms of your hands while looking at Sukuna. “I’ve never done anything, does that make you feel better?” You pass him a silly smile. 

Sukuna huffs, “I mean, it’s kinda hot.” He smiles, his sharp teeth flashing as you, “I'll make your head spin, and your legs shake.” He lifts his hand, tapping your forehead. “Do you want that, you want me to make you feel good?” He watches as your throat bobs, “You want to shake and cry with pleasure while I tongue your clit?” 

You shiver. “Just get on with it already. I feel like we’re talking too much right now.” You laugh a small bit, “I feel like we’re doing this wrong, or something. Are we doing this wrong?” 

Sukuna just raises an eyebrow at you. “You’ve never done this before, how would you know what’s right or wrong?” 

“I’ve seen porn.” 

Sukuna drops his head back, deeply inhaling that exhaling. “Porn is made for horny twelve year olds.” Sukuna smirks to himself, “Wait, don’t tell me you get off to that fake and gross bullshit.” He sarcastically adds, “Dirty girl.”

You flop back down, a small giggle leaving your lips. “I feel like you’re messing with me now. Just do what you’re going to do.” You mumble, before softly adding, “I mean, I want to know why everyone cares about sex so much–” Your mouth parts in a moan, his tongue giving you a hard kitten lick. Eyes bouncing up, and trying to see what reaction you would give him. 

He laughs, “I’ll make you an addict.” Sukuna places his thumb on your clit, rubbing it up and down. “Just promise me you’ll keep your legs wide open f’me. Don’t even think about fuckin’ close them.” He slaps your thigh, making you yelp. “Or, I’ll make you go so brain dead, you won’t even be able to.” 

“Stop talking–” A moan tears through your throat, Sukuna wrapping his lips around your covered clit. Sucking hard on your small pearl, before laughing against your cunt. 

“Did you say somethin’?” He slowly inhales, eyes rolling to the back of his head from your scent. Sex and pure lust, god you’re so fuckin’ sexy. He continues licking your clit, keeping his attention on the sensitive bud. 

You can feel his tongue working against your fabric, wetting it with his saliva and your juices. It’s so nasty, but it makes your eyes cross everytime he flicks his tongue over your sensitive bud. This is amazing. You gasp, your hand clamping down over your mouth to try and keep quiet. A pathetic attempt, really. Sukuna slaps your thigh in response, shaking his head, his tongue swiping left and right as he does so. “Don’t even fuckin’ think about.” He seethes, pissed by you trying to keep quiet. 

Sukuna doesn't want you to be quiet. He’s been robbed of all chances to hear you cry out in pleasure, or his name in ecstasy. Despite this not being his first sexual encounter with you. The first time, he knew you were listening to him jack off, but you didn’t so much as whimper for him. Which was saddening. And, you can only hear so much when the music from a party is playing in the background. Sukuna wants to hear how good you feel. He wants to hear how good he was making you feel.

“What–ah! What if Yuuji is home?” You arch your back, Sukuna sucking on your clit again. “What if he hears?” You whisper, grabbing onto his sheeps, the fabric seeping between the cracks of your fingers. “That’s going to be so–” 

“Embarssin’?” Sukuna fishes for you, trying to finish you off. “I know, but he won’t know, if you stay quite.” Sukuna reaches for your hands, pulling it to his cheek, only to kiss your palm. “But, I don’t want that.” He continues kissing your palm, moving his lips towards your middle and ring finger. “I want to hear you, want to hear you whimper over my tongue and scream my name.” Sukuna smiles, slides his tongue between your two fingers, letting you look at the lewd gesture the two of you are making. “Okay?”

A shaky exhale leaves your lips, before you meekly nod. Sukuna chuckles, pushing your hands to your face, “Good girl.” He keeps your two fingers spread, pressing the open space to your lips. “Let me see your tongue.” 

You feel your bottom lip tremble, before opening your mouth, your pink tongue sticking out and resting between your two fingers. You can feel how they’re wet, and you can taste Sukuna’s saliva. You moan, “This is…” You feel your sentence trail when you notice Sukuna’s gaze trained on your tongue, wiggling and moving between your fingers. 

He closes his eyes, softly groaning to himself. Fuck, he’d give anything to feel that tongue on his throbbing cock. Watch it slide and swirl over the head of his cock, before your pretty little lips would stretch over his fat cock. Drowning in your glossy eyes as hot tears slide down your cheeks, your throat constricting around his girth. 

“Stop thinking too hard about it.” He tells you, his tongue sliding from your knee to your inner thigh, pressing wet kisses into his skin. “It’s supposed to feel good, even if it is gross.” And if Sukuna is being completely honest with himself, knowing that something is filthy makes it hot. He moves to your covered cunt, kissing your lips. Avoiding the place where you want him most. “Just lay down and feel, I clearly make you think too much.” 

You just pull your hand away from your lips, a string of saliva falling down on your shirt. “Okay.” You keep yourself propped up, watching as Sukuna practically makes out with your pussy. You can see how wet your underwear is now, along with how glossy Sukuna’s lips are. 

You keep your hands bundled in his sheets, trying to keep yourself sane as Sukuna makes you feel good. It feels incredible, and looks porngraphic. The fat of his tongue pushing itself between your lips, making a small crater in your panties. The tip flicking your clit, moving up and down like a teasing feather. 

You feel your eyes flutter shut, holy shit, it feels amazing. You don’t ever want it to stop, you want… more. You clamp your thighs together, but Sukuna’s hands are already on your thighs. Pushing them apart and smiling against your skin, “Keep them open.” He shakes his head to the side, his tongue following his movement on your clit. 

You groan, and Sukuna moans with you. Grabbing you right knee and placing it on his shoulder, “Keep this here.” He whispers, continues to suck on your covered clit, watching as your body falls back on his bed. Your back is arching. 

“Oh–oh my god.” You lean your head back, your body hot and sweaty. Holy shit, this feels amazing. Sukuna feels amazing, and it feels depraved. Licking and sucking at your clit, even though it's covered with the thin fabric of your panites. “Fuh–fuck, please.” You moan, tucking your calf behind Sukuna’s head, pulling him closer to your cunt.  

His eyes seem to glow watching as your body jolts, and your pussy twitches. And with the way your panties are absolutely drenched, clinging onto your pussy lips like a second skin, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “Please what?” Sukuna mocks, “Please… stop?”

Sukuna isn’t going to stop, there’s no way in fucking hell he’s going to stop, but mocking you, seeing your eyes water, it makes him insane. Hearing you beg and whimper over his mouth, god… Seeing you like this makes him feel… incredible. Knowing that you haven’t done this with anyone else, yet want to do it with him, has him spinning. It makes him feel good. It’s something he’s never had before, but knows he now can’t live without. He has craved for something like this. A hole he’s always adorned in his chest, but never found a filling for it. But now, he feels full, it’s a feeling he would’ve never thought to find, despite how desperately he searched for it. 

Sukuna feels amazing when he’s with you. Even when you’re dancing in his living room with face care adoring your face, a pout on your face while you playfully ignoring him, glaring at him with your reflective eyes, or the small back-and-forth the two of you share. It’s all so amazing. 

But, seeing you like this. Embarrassed and eager for what he was going to do next. Open and vulnerable, trusting and wanting more, it’s… it feels like the best thing in the world. Sukuna feels like he’s becoming addicted to this. He holds the back of your thighs with his big hands, closing his eyes and flattening his tongue on your pussy, tearing another moan from your mouth.

“N-No! Please don’t stop.” You whine, tears brimming your waterline. Your lips part as you moan, gripping onto the sheets as your hips jolted forward, trying to push your pussy harder against his lips. Desperate to get more pleasure from his mouth, you just want to lose yourself in it. You don’t want to think about anything, not school or studying, just Sukuna between your legs. 

Sukuna laughs against your cunt again, continuing his abuse on your pussy. Enjoying the way you try holding your legs apart, your thighs shaking around his head. He tightens his grip on you, not even giving you the opportunity to move them together if you wanted to. “I won’t stop.” He whispers, “Don’t you worry your pretty head off.”

You giggle, sounding a bit drunk, “You–ah! Called–you called me pretty, fuh-fuck, again.” You feel a coil in your lower stomach, something you’re all too familiar tightening inside of you. “You think–oh my god, holy shit, you think I’m–I’m pretty.”

“Fuck yeah.” He moans into you again, “I think you’re fuckin’ sexy, your tits and body, your lips and tongue, all of it.” He wants to add your eyes, but feels himself grow a bit… embarrassed to say that. Ironic, huh?

That makes your stomach twitch, butterflies swarming inside of you. The coil growing tighter, your thighs pushing agsint his hands in protest. It feels good, it feels too good. “Su-Sukuna, m’getting… I’m–” You back arches, your body resisting a bit more. “I’m gonna’ cum, I feel–shi-shit!” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna lolls his tongue out, letting it slowly drag over your over-worked bud. “Fuckin’ cum on my tongue then.” Sukuna closes his eyes, feeling them roll to the back of his head with your soft moans filling his room. You taste so fuckin’ good. 

You roll your eyes into the back of your head, your pussy clenching around nothing. But, you wonder to yourself, what it would feel like to have something inside of you. Something long and thick, stretching you open and fucking your insides until you’re mindless. “Sukuna–Sukuna!” His name leaves your mouth like a mantra, your voice raising in pitch as your legs shake. Your toes curl with pleasure, your hands grabbing onto Sukuna's hair. 

Sukuna instantly moans, loving the way you tug at his hair. Unsure whether or not you want to push him away, or pull him closer to you. “Fuck, c’mon, cum on my tongue, just let it feel good.” 

You finally feel the coil snap, your lips parting in a silent moan as your body tingles. Your thighs naturally pull into your body, opening wider for Sukuna’s tongue working fasting against your covered clit. It feels amazing, it feels unworldly, unlike any orgasm you’ve ever had before. Your fingers don’t even compete to this, it’s addicting. 

The worst–best–part is, it feels so long, and Sukuna doesn’t stop his abuse on your sensitive bud. This time, placing his thumb over it and rubbing circles into it. Making your orgasm even more intense, your back arching in pure pleasure. 

Your hand reaches down for his writes, your mind pulling together only for it to be thrown back into intense pleasure. Something you don’t entirely like, but you don’t dislike, it feels good, but it feels… too good. Like, unbearably, burning pleasure, type good.

Your body grows hotter to the thought of Sukuna touching you without any fabric in the way, the fire in your lower stomach lights a flame again. His tongue actually touching you, his fingers spreading you open allowing him to get easier access to your swollen cunt. 

Sukuna slow stops, watching your legs twitch by his head as he pulls his finger away. “Awh, is it too much for the baby?” He mocks, tilting his head to the side and passing you a cocky smirk. “I thought you were a big girl.” 

You naturally pout. Even if Sukuna didn’t say anything bad, you want to… make him proud. You nod your head, “I… don’t be mean.” You whisper back, “Feels too good.” You pull his hand to your mouth, kissing his palm like he did yours a few minutes ago. You slowly bring your lips to his middle and ring finger, silently admiring how big they are. You can’t help but think how they would feel inside of you, splitting and stretching you open. “I want to make you feel good, ‘Kuna, I want to do something for you.” You open your mouth, your tongue making way between his two fingers. Your tongue is peaking at him, while you flutter your long lashes at him. 

Sukuna feels his brows twitch, his dick straining against the zipper of his jeans. His pupils are blown so wide, you can barely see a ring of red in his eyes. He’s absolutely enraptured by you, his mind swirling with nothing but the way you cry his name, and tremble beneath his touch. 

It feels like Sukuna’s going insane. He just wants to push you further, he wants to see what noises you make when he laps at your clit for hours. Would you cry, or whimper? Would you scream in pleasure, or go numb from it being too overwhelming? Only for him to push his thick cock into your slit, watching your eyes grow wide as your pussy swallows him up whole. 

Your breath grows more uneven with his concentrated gaze, sliding your tongue up the tip of his fingers, and pulling it into your mouth. You whimper, your body flowing with nice tingles again. “‘Kuna, can you please…” You divert your eyes for a moment, before softly finishing, “Can you please do that, without my panties in the way…?”

Sukuna breathes out, closing his eyes for a second before placing his hands on your shoulders and pushing you against his bed. “Careful.” He whispers, resting his dick between your thighs, grinding himself against your wet panites, “I would do anything, if you beg me to.”  

You smile, grabbing his face and kissing him tenderly, tasting yourself in his lips. You tongue rolling around his, “Then…” You pull back, whispering, “Can you please stop teasing me, ‘Kuna, and really eat me out?” You furrow your eyebrows cutely, as you add even quieter, “I really want to feel your tongue on my pussy.”

That makes Sukuna snap.

Sukuna places his hands behind your knees and pushes them to your stomach, keeping them pinned there, “Grab your knees.” He tells you, and you instantly listen, your hands grabbing at your knees and keeping them pinned to your chest. He pulls your panties up, letting them dangle at your foot before looking at you. 

Sukuna looks at you again, his eyes devouring your bare pussy. Wet and swollen, ready for his touch. He keeps himself snug on the bed, places his hands back on your thighs over your hands, and licks a long stripe up your pussy. Instantly you throw your head back, your teeth digging into your bottom lip with pleasure. His tongue sliding between your lips, dipping into your hole, before sliding up and dragging over your sensitive over stimulated clit. 

You whine, your hips writhing against his mouth as your juices slides down your ass and onto his bed. Ruining his sheets, but Sukuna loves that, he loves knowing what the two of you are doing is so filthy, it makes a gross mess. That’s so hot to him, makes him so fuckin’ hard. 

Sukuna moves his hand to his cock, his palm rubbing on the head and trying to adjust his painful hard-on. A feeble attempt to try and release some needed tension, his head spinning from how horny he is. His hips rut into his hand, desperate to feel something, anything on his aching cock. 

Sukuna unbuttons his pants, pulling his boxers underneath his cock and sloppily wrapping his hand around his girth. Groaning against your pussy with an eye roll at the brief, yet pleasurable relief. But, that doesn’t stop him, no, that makes him work his tongue even harder against you. Getting off to every whimper, moan, and breath, that leaves your pretty little mouth. 

You can’t help but notice how much more vocal Sukuna is, and as much as you want to push yourself up and see what he’s doing, but you can’t. Your legs twitch with overstimulation with every swipe, your chest bouncing up with every moan leaving your lips. 

Sukuna pulls his remaining hand on your thigh to your pussy, creating a ‘v’ on your base, then spreading you open. Flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue, making you cry out in pleasure. You try to grip the sheets harder, but it doesn't help, the pleasure is just so intense. This coil of pleasure builds within your belly again, this time it’s faster and more intense then last time. It makes you babble something incoherent to try and warn Sukuna, but to be honest with yourself, you don’t know what you’re even trying to tell him. Your mind is swirling with thoughts of Sukuna, and his actions. How he makes everything around you disappear with something as simple as his tongue.  

You feel tears slide down your cheeks into Sukuna’s sheets, your eyes crossing into your head with pleasure. You babble out, “Oh my god–oh my god.” You hands move back to your thighs pulling them open, and another moan tears from you, he has so much more access. 

Sukuna pushes himself off the ground slightly, places his hands and weight on your thighs, keepings them securely pressed to your stomach as he continues to abuse your swollen clit. His tongues sliding between your lips before catching under your hood, applying pleasure to make you squeal. 

The small act makes your words jumble and moans out of your mouth, your thighs fighting against the pressure and trying to push him off. You don’t want to, but it’s so overwhelming. You don’t know if you want him to stop or keep going. Yet, at the same time, you know you don’t have a say in that currently. 

Which… for some reason, you absolutely love. You love that you don’t even understand what you’re trying to do or say. You love that you don’t even know what you’re laying on anymore, or which way you’re facing, again? But, Sukuna can make out the words, “Fuh–’Kuna, I think… oh my god, please, don–don’t stop! S’close!” Your eyes squeeze shut.  

Sukuna laughs at that, not stopping and letting his eyes drink up the way your muscles tense. You’re close, he knows that you're so close. He sucks onto your clit, watching the way your twitch, before letting go. He pushes his weight off of you, watching as your scrunched expression relaxes, and immediately looks at him with an adorable confused expression. 

Fuck, he loves teasing you.“Feelin’ good, babe?” 

You tense, the feeling being ripped away from you. It feels good, but it also feels wrong. The intense feeling pulled away from you so quickly, it makes you tense. Your muscles are tightening in your lower stomach, you’re so close, but so far at the same time. Then, the intense feeling quickly vanishes making you completely relax into his sheets. Instantly you feel sweaty, your muscles tired and sore. You feel your bottom lips wiggle, “Stop d-doing that! I was…” You trail off, looking to the side as your eyes flutter. “Uhm, you know…” 

Sukuna smiles at this, you got embarrassed. How cute. “Were you?” He mocks at you, caressing your cheek, “Awh, the poor baby wants to cum, you want me to contune tongue fucking you? You like the sound of that?” He rubs his nose on your inner thigh affectionately. 

You pout, “I–I…” You pass him your gorgeous eyes again, glassy and wanting, “Can you please not stop again?”

Sukuna knew he was making you feel good, he could tell by your fucked out face, but anyone could. He merely wants to hear it from you, hear you writhe and beg for him to keep you on the edge. He gets off on that, watching a girl cry from how good something is, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to scare you. So, something more intense, would have to wait for a later time. “I won’t, don’t worry.” He places his thumb on your clit again, “I’m just teasing you.” His finger rub slow and pressured circles on your clit, and it drives you insane.Again, this curling string continues to spiral inside you, pleasure building upon itself. 

Sukuna hums in acknowledgement, before going back to your pussy. Taking two fingers and spreading you apart. Tongues hitting all the places he couldn’t before. He gently bites your clit, letting his fingers trail down your slit. Your eyes widen, before a moan leaves your lips. His finger sliding into with ease, your slick and saliva allowing you pussy to swallow his finger whole. Sukuna groans at this, fisting his cock again. 

Your reaction is perfect, the small gasp you let out when his knuckle hits your lips is liberating. He almost hears you choke on your breath, a bit shocked by the intrusion. But, Sukuna is already reassuring you, praises spilling his lips as he shushes you. “It feels good.” He slowly adds another finger, “Trust me, you’ll love this.” 

You nod, turning your head to the side and resting it, trying to watch as he fingers your hole. It’s not something you’re too experienced with, since you stick to stimulating your clit. If anything, you thought you were broken, since every time you finger yourself, it didn’t feel like anything. Also, the stretch is a bit uncomfortable, but it’s complemented with Sukuna’s tongue, so it’s not all too bad. 

You softly sigh, before closing your eyes. You hold as you feel this prickle of pleasure intense, far more pulling then Sukuna’s tongue. It feels… good. 

Sukuna’s finger slides inside, then pulls out, only to slowly slide back into you, his knuckle resting on your lips again. Pushing his fingers up slightly with every slow thrust. You can hear your voice raise in pitch, growing louder with each thrust and swipe of his tongue. You want to place your palm over your mouth, but you can’t. You’re unable to function, more or less keep quiet. And after a few pumps of his thick finger, you're writhing in his bead with pleasure. 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, toes curling as an unexpected loud pitched moan leaves your lips. You feel like you’re unable to express how you’re feeling, you want to desperately pull away, but make it even more intense at the same time. It feels like you’re so close, the coil inside you was about to snap. 

You feel something unfamiliar in your lower stomach. It feels good, it feels somewhat familiar, but at the same time, a bit different. His fingers are still working into your cunt, wet with the slick you’re producing. 

It makes the feeling even more intense, and suddenly, it feels like you’re about to… You feel your bottom lips wiggle, “K-kuna!” You gasp, trying to form words, but are unable to find the right ones. 

Yet, Sukuna ignores your plea, merely smiles to himself while sucking into your clit, and pressing his fingers inside of you. He nods to himself when he touches something spongy, he chuckles to himself, “Fuckin’ found it.” As he presses his fingers up, applying pressure onto your g-spot. 

Your vision goes white. Your back arching as you quickly grip his hair, a high pitched moan leaving your throat as you feel yourself completely let go. The pressure in your stomach releases with a painful orgasm. 

Sukuna’s mouth is already on your pussy, riding out your orgasm while he milks his cock. Focusing his attention on the head with a soft groan. His throat bobs as you finish, your thighs shaking around his head before they limply slide off onto his bed. But, he quickly grabs them and wraps them on his shoulders, giving you a final long stripe up your pussy, watching as your hips twitch in overstimulation. Sukuna cockily smiles, watching you pant and melt into his soft and sweaty bed. Clearly exhausted by the high you just received. 

You look adorable. Your eyes were still watery and red, the bottom of your lip swollen from you biting on it, and your body abused from the pleasure you were receiving. God, it makes him even harder knowing that your first time was with him, too. “Mhm, that’s it. Just relax.” 

A shakily exhale, before humming with a head nod. 

He feels his cock twitch in his hand, but he pays it no mind. Just tucking it back into his boxers and zipping up his pants. It feels gross, but he’ll think about that later. He pushes himself on his feet, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand, a smirk on his lips. He sits down next to you, pinching your cheeks and making you look at him. “You with me, doll?”

You slowly blink, trying to gain your sight again. “What is… uhm, what’s supposed to be…” You drop your head back, his fingers slipping from your cheeks. “What was the question?” You still feel… you don’t even know. 

“Yeah.” He lays back on the bed with you, “Just say you’re in love with me, I promise I won’t make fun of you.” 

You gain your head, blinking a few times to pull your thoughts together. “I hate you, Sukuna.” You turn on your side, flipping your skirt down to cover yourself up. You lean forward, and kiss him. “I already told you that.” 

Sukuna hums, nodding his head while closing his eyes. “Keep saying that, I’ll get hard again.” 

“I hat–” Sukuna raises his eyebrows expectantly, passing you a cocky smirk. “I can’t with you.” You look away, but you’re smiling. Trying not to laugh at Sukuna’s stupid fucking joke. Suddenly, you’re hit with the feeling of your bare legs sticking to your sheets. “I feel gross now.” 

Sukuna kisses you for a final time, “I’ll be right back.” He pushes himself off the bed, walking to the door and pulling it open. You assume he’s going to the restroom, and he isn’t gone for long. The next thing you know, he’s back between your legs with a damp towel. While he cleans you up, it feels a bit intimate, as well as embarrassing. You ignore the lewd comment Sukuna made about you wanting to pull your panties back up. Cockily saying, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

You merely respond with a slap to his shoulder, letting him press the towel to your legs and clean up the mess. And despite how embarrassingly bare you feel, it’s nice, really nice. “We can put a towel on your bed next time.” You say, pushing yourself off his bed and looking at the stain left. You giggle to yourself, “Guess you were right, I did dirty your sheets.” 

Sukuna slaps the towel over your face.  

You immediately pull it off your face, throwing it at his, “Oh my god, that’s so gross!” You place your hands over your face, “I totally need to watch my face, or I’m going to break out or something.” You work so hard to keep your face clear, now this jackass might ruin it! 

“You’re actually a child.” Sukuna says, dropping the towel to the floor. 

The two of you flinch at the sound of knocking at his door, both of you turning your head simultaneously. You smile to yourself, “One, two, three, not it!” 

Sukuna throws the towel back at your face, which makes him laugh when he hears you cry out in anger. You’re quick to drop the towel back down on the ground with a satisfying, ‘plat.’ Turning your attention back to Sukuna to watch him open the door, you see his back tense. His shoulders pull together slightly. 

You sit up in his bed while tilting your head at him. “You okay?” 

“Is that…?” That voice makes your face drain. Yuuji tilts his head to the side, looking past Sukuna’s shoulder and right at you. He instantly lights up, your name leaving his mouth, “Oh my god, have you two made up already?” He loudly gasps, “Wait, does that mean we can have more movie nights?” 

You part your lips, and look at Sukuna when he turns to face you. The two of you don’t say anything for a moment, before you burst out in laughter, cupping your mouth as you turn away from the two boys. Sukuna leans his head back, resting his forearm over his eyes as his face turns a bit red. 

You let out a sigh of relief. You don’t think Yuuji heard. Sukuna straightens himself out, “Get out of the way, Yuuji.” Sukuna pushes him to the side, making his way to the kitchen. “I need somethin’ in my system.”

Yuuji lets Sukuna pass, “We’re out of drinks!” Yuuji calls back, which is responded with an obnoxious groan. You giggle, but Yuuji is quick to eyeball the floor, noticing how it’s scattered with books and computers. “I’m guessing the two of you have been spending quality time together?” He smiles, “You’re going to tell me all about it, right?” 

You don’t know how to respond to that, “Uh… Sure, yeah.” Still, you feel a soft smile split your lips, crossing your legs over one another. Before you quickly pull your foot underneath your ass, realizing your panties are still strung on them. Shit, you really should’ve put them on despite Sukuna’s comments. “We’re… uhm, we’re just studying together. And, he was… making things up to me, I guess.” 

Yuuji tilts his head to the side, “Things are good now?” He passes you a hopeful smile, “No more angsty tension between you two?” 

You giggle, nodding your head in agreement. “Things are good, Yuu. No more angsty tension.” You feel your thighs sticking together, and you resist the urge to wrinkle your nose in distaste. “Yeah, definitely no more angsty tension.”

“Alright, get out.” Sukuna pulls the back of Yuuji’s shirt, pulling him out of his room. However, this time he emerges with a cup in his hand, you wonder if it’s water, or if he really did find some alcohol. 

Yuuji waves at you, “Bye, I love you.” He passes you a sad look with his big puppy dog eyes. 

You feel your heart tug, “Can we keep him here with us, Sukuna?” You plead, which is answered with a silent glare from Sukuna. You pout, begrudgingly waving back, “I love you, too, Yuu.” You blow him a kiss.  

“Yeah, yeah. Cut the bullshit you two.” Sukuna shuts the door on Yuuji, shaking his head while making his way to you. “I swear, can’t believe you say that shit right after you just came on my fuckin’ tongue.” He leans on his nightstand, passing you a teasing look, “Whore.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Slut.” 

“Dick.” 

Sukuna smirks a bit, leaning his head to the side. “Gorgeous.” 

You feel your brain malfunction for a second, “H-Huh?” 

Sukuna grabs his phone, opening an app. The smirk goes wider as he responds, “Dookie-stain.” You’re about to respond with quick banter, when he pushes the screen in your face, “Give me your phone number.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, taking the phone from his hands. “Wow, does that line work with all the ladies?” You put your phone number into his phone, placing your contact name as, ‘LOML.’ You nod to yourself, clearly content with the creative name you picked.

“You tell me.” Sukuna takes his phone from you, sending you a quick text. You can hear your phone ring in your bag from across the room. “Are you obsessed with me already?”

“I mean, you picked out the name for me.” You point at his phone, making Sukuna actually look at the name you saved yourself under. “I think you’re the one obsessed here.” Sukuna looks at the name, and clicks the contact, and you automatically assume it’s to change it. “Awh, I actually like that name.” 

“Of course you do.” Sukuna saves the contact, then pushes himself off the desk. “Alright, get your ass back to studying.” 

“I can’t believe you just ate me out, then are going to make me study.” 

“Do you want me to buy you a cookie?” 

“Actually–” 

Sukuna grabs your ankles, pulling you off the bed again. “Study.” 

—

You yawn, stretching your hands over your head. You can hear the washing machine rumbling in the background, Sukuna’s sheets in the wash for the night. You hear your phone ring again, and you’re quick to grab it, flipping onto your stomach while you kick your feet back and forth. 

You don’t even have to look at the name to know who it is. It’s not like the two of you have been texting all day, despite sitting across from each other, or merely a wall apart. 

Dick-una:

Come here

You smile to yourself. 

You:

im not sleeping with u

gross

Dick-una:

Just come here

You left your glasses

You:

fine.

Dick-una:

Thats what I thought

You wrap your blanket around you, shivering when your bare feet hit the cold ground, but you’re quick to shake it off. Slowly cracking your door open, and tip-toeing to Sukuna’s room. Luckily the door is unlocked when you go to open it. 

You giggle a little bit, “Give me back my glasses.” You can see the room is still a mess, your notebooks and textbooks littering the floor, since you were too tired to pick them up. However, your glasses aren’t on the floor where you left them, they’re now on Sukuna’s bedside counter. The small lamp ever so slightly illuminates his room. 

“Go get them.” Sukuna responds, and you can see him on his phone, face illuminated by the blue screen. He’s wearing black sweats, and nothing else, his hair is messy and unruly. 

You’re already smiling to yourself, closing his door behind you and making way to the drawer. Being careful to step over all the things on the ground, and finally reaching the drawer. “You’re so kind.” You inspect them, “You even clean them for m–” 

You feel Sukuna drag you into his bed, quickly reaching an arm over your body, and turning off the light with a loud click. He taps your back, “Oh shit, did your dumbass fall?” He says, draping his blanket over the both of you. “Clumsy.”

“Ha, ha. So funny Sukuna.” You let go of your blanket, warming up to Sukuna’s body. “I’m leaving the moment you fall asleep.” 

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up, and fall asleep.” He mumbles back, an arm resting underneath his pillow. “Can’t do anything without you annoyin’ me.”

You giggle, closing your eyes and whispering, “Goodnight, Sukuna.” You don’t expect to hear a response, even when you’re seconds away from falling asleep in his soft bed. But, you hear something anyway. 

“Good night.” 

Next Chapter: Ch. 7 - A Lovely Night

Tag(s)!: @openup-yourmind, @sherlock-holmes-jr, @maskedpacific, @gasp-a-homo, @diogodxlot, @beahappyhoeee, @tojimeow, @sukunamylovexoxo, @yoontaedotin, @sukunaloverrr, @lanadelreylover4l, @raininginthemoonlight, @blackjanexx, @ethereally-lyann, @fritzzbitzz, @lanadelreylover4l, @chayunwoo, @madamteller, @mazzd4, @haithamsbb, @c-l-ellis, @samysaha, @pi-crust, @shukiinnkm

let’s talk, shall we?

it’s no secret that tumblr writers have been leaving or deactivating their blogs, especially in the last year or two. and i think the reason why is even less of a secret.

the fact that writers have to practically beg for feedback and interaction on a site where they post their works for FREE is ridiculous. the fact that most of the people who are reading and consuming these works don’t even spare 10 seconds to add a nice tag to their reblog (if they even bother to do that) is borderline enraging. this is tumblr, not instagram or twitter. likes on tumblr do nothing for the writer. i don’t care if you think that it helps them appear in the tags, or if you think that seeing yet another “___ liked your post” is encouraging to them, because it doesn’t and its not.

and speaking of likes, why is the ratio of likes to reblogs so fucking huge? and before you think i’m being dramatic, lets take a look at some of the notes from my own works.

at the time of me writing this, my one-shot, dream lover, has 821 notes. that’s pretty good right? but let’s see how many are empty likes and how many are reblogs.

769 likes.

52 reblogs.

out of those 52 reblogs, 35 of them are empty. no tag, no comment.

one of my reactions currently has 2,038 notes. you may be thinking that’s a lot, which it is and i’m incredibly thankful for how many notes i’ve gotten on it. but how many are likes and how many are reblogs?

1,924 likes.

113 reblogs.

out of those 113 reblogs, 81 of them are empty.

one of my headcanons currently has 1,110 notes.

1,069 likes.

41 reblogs.

28 of those 41 reblog are empty.

why is it so hard to reblog things and give feedback?

“oh but it won’t fit my blog theme!” if you’re so fucking concerned about what your precious tumblr blog looks like, then send an ask. they’re just as appreciated.

“i don’t know what to say tho!” we’re not asking you to be shakespeare. if you’re really that no thoughts head empty just put a keyboard smash, if nothing else.

“but i’m shy and embarrassed!” the anonymous option is there for a reason, and most writers have it turned on. being shy when you have the option of keeping your identity a secret is no excuse.

and yes, i’m aware that some writers don’t have the anon option on, which brings me to my final point.

stop. demanding.

if a writer has requests open, be a decent human being and use your manners. going into their inbox and saying “____’s reaction of this.” is no way to request something. saying please, thank you, or even “hey, could you do a reaction of _____?” is a thousand times better than just telling them what you want them to write.

writers spend hours of their time and energy to write things for you to read, and leaving an empty like is meaningless to them.

if your liked a writer’s works, reblog them and maybe add some nice fucking tags while you’re at or send an ask to them about it. because sooner or later, after so many likes and barely any interaction, more and more writers are going to leave.

stop making them desperate for any spare crumb of interaction and start leaving feedback if you love these writers so much.

He's my princess ❤️❤️

─ ✰ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.

— synopsis: 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, the popular guy in your class, chooses to sit next to you, of all people. you've fallen head over heels, what happens next?

— warnings: highschool au! angst, fluff in the beginning, will not be writing a part 2, swearing, gaslighting, betrayal, just a bet troupe, gojo being a dick or everybody generally, 3.4k words!

— a/n: not my proudest work to be honest :( also tried another formatting lmk if u liked it! comments and reblogs r very much appreciated i will love u forever

"yo. can i sit here?" gojo satoru grins, effortlessly sliding into the empty seat next to you and making himself at home.

...huh? isn't that the popular guy who's usually surrounded by his friends? he's constantly the subject of admiration among the girls in your class, eliciting swoons and whispers of infatuation wherever he goes. confusion creeps in as you wonder why he didn't choose the empty seat next to suguru. there's no conceivable reason for someone like gojo, popular and charismatic, to opt for the seat beside you. you feel a sense of self-consciousness settling in.

nevertheless, you nod softly, though you're well aware the question was more of a rhetorical one. he's fashionably late, by twenty minutes, to be precise, unabashedly ignoring the scolding glares from your teacher about punctuality. instead, he buries himself in the deep blue plastic seat, sticking his tongue out when the teacher turns his back, letting out a huffy pout from the lecture.

nervously, you glance up from your notebook, cautiously stealing a peek at your new desk buddy. he's pretty─ real pretty, snowy white lashes adorning his pretty cerulean spheres, dainty fingers idly spinning a pencil out of sheer boredom. and as if kissed by the blush of a gentle sunrise, his lips possess a natural rosy hue, smooth and plump, belong to him like a delicate work of art. you wonder just how many kisses they've stolen. caught in a moment of admiration, you find yourself staring a tad longer than socially acceptable.

his eyes flicker, locking onto yours, and the realization hits you—oh, he caught you staring. shit. immediately, you break eye contact as you cough awkwardly. you swiftly attempt to play it off, pretending as if you were engrossed in examining the intricate texture of your silver-grey desk instead. your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you hope he hasn't interpreted your lingering gaze as anything more than idle curiosity.

...should you say something? try to deny you were very clearly eye fucking him? he probably thinks you're a freak now. perhaps he sat next to you out of pity, and now he regrets it. out of sheer embarrassment, the words die in your mouth before they could ever leave, keeping your gaze glued to the floor as you refuse to acknowledge that his presence ever existed.

however, it appears that gojo won't let you suffer the embarrassment in peace. when your stern teacher turns away, he subtly slides a ripped edge of his blue-lined paper towards you, bearing a simple 'hi :)'. he's attempting a conversation, a surprising but welcome distraction from the awkwardness of being caught staring. an opportunity to salvage a bit of your dignity. now, the challenge lies in crafting a response that strikes the right balance.

would 'hey' sound too dry? but 'heyyyy' makes it seem like you're a little too interested. you opt for a casual 'heyy' with your black pen, scribbling the reply with extra caution to avoid prying eyes. as soon as the teacher is out of view, you subtly slip the note back to gojo. his lips curl into a slight smile upon reading your response.

two minutes pass by before you get a response. 'do you get this lesson? i'm soo lost..' accompanied by a small doodle of a crying suguru. you can't help but stifle a giggle; the drawing is poorly done, yet undeniably cute. the teacher swiftly turns around at the sound, prompting both of you to scramble and make it look like you're diligently focused on the lesson. the suspicious gaze lingers for a moment before the teacher returns to the whiteboard.

'maybe it's cause you missed like, half of the lesson.' you write back. he rolls his eyes playfully upon reading your retort, swiftly countering with a pout. "it's not my fault this class is so boring.'

'who said philosophy was supposed to be fun?' you reply. in response, gojo eagerly accepts the note, maintaining the subtle exchange of eye contact. 'hey, be nice to mr. aristotle, he's a great guy :(' he sends back. and thirty minutes seem to pass in the blink of an eye.

the bell chimes, signaling the end of the philosophy session and the need to transition to your next course. reluctantly, you stow your textbook in your bag, feeling a twinge of sadness at the realization that this amusing interaction might have been a one-time occurrence.

it's been a while since you've genuinely laughed. so when his ocean blue eyes latch onto yours with a genuine sense of hope, you quickly fold when he asks you if you're interested in sitting with him again tomorrow.

in those thirty short minutes, you learn three things about gojo satoru. firstly, you realize you've sorely misjudged him. he's not just another nepo-baby cheating his way through school; he's actually quite smart, smarter than he lets on. he's especially good in biochemistry, and he promises to help you study next time.

secondly, you discover that he loves sweets, just as you do. you both agree that kikufuku mochi is better than strawberry dango, and he even tells you about his favorite shop. maybe you can go together sometime.

and thirdly, he doesn't tell you this outright, but you learn that gojo is insecure. what strikes you the most is the glimpse of uncertainty you catch beneath his confident exterior. it's not about his looks or intelligence, but it's actually about his relationship with suguru. he's afraid to lose him, a fear that seems to drive him more than anything else. he overcompensates for his self-doubt. but you find that his flaws make him all the more pretty.

it's peculiar, the speed at which gojo somehow effortlessly integrates into your daily life. how he's feeling is how you're feeling, which is usually reflected on his friendship with suguru. if they had a fight, he'd be sad, and if everything was alright, he was too. but either way was okay with you, you just want to be there for him. what was once a dreaded fourth period now stands as the radiant highlight of your entire day.

despite the limited instances of verbal communication —perhaps a mere once or twice— the inexplicable truth remains: you've fallen head over heels for him. the simple act of passing notes with satoru becomes more than a routine; it evolves into the sole force that awakens you in the morning, the singular thought that propels you forward and keeps you going throughout the day.

and just maybe, the hopeless romantic within you fervently clings to the belief that his sentiments go beyond mere friendship. his actions seem to carry an extra layer of care, an attentiveness that extends beyond your platonic friendship. he notices the little things that escape the notice of others. it wasn't lost on him when you shed tears the other night due to the weight of stress; he went out of his way to procure your favorite candy bar, a sweet gesture aimed at brightening your spirits.

he took notice of your new haircut, expressing in a note that it frames your face nicely. he had comforted you when a classmate aimed a subtle insult your way, he wrote that the words of someone whose foundation didn't match their face shouldn't hold much weight. he even made an effort to be punctual for class, all to engage in the shared exchange of silly notes with you. and honestly, even if he didn't like you back, you'd be fine.

because your heart swells with gratefulness at the fact that he chose to sit with you. he wanted to be your friend even when nobody else did. you trusted and loved him with your whole heart, because that's what you believed he deserved.

so imagine your surprise when you overhear his conversation with suguru that day.

"just a day more, then you win the bet." geto groans, tossing his head back in exasperation. the two of them linger in the now-empty classroom, the echoes of other students long gone.

"yep, twenty four hours, then you owe me three hundred dollars." satoru sings, playfully nudging his best friend's shoulder. he's all sunshine and smiles, swinging his feet from the desk he's currently sitting on.

"and it wasn't even that hard. i just had to get 'em to fall for me." suguru rolls his eyes. "dude, if i was you, i would've tapped out the first week. how'd you manage to do it?" he huffs, clearly annoyed at the impending financial loss.

satoru mischievously grins. "just used my charm." he fluffs his hair with a smug expression on his face. "can't believe it worked so fast, though. they must be real desperate for someone's attention. all it took was for you to fuckin' pretend like you cared." suguru grouches, being a sore loser. you don't hear the rest, the notebook you had lost long forgotten.

a lump forms in your throat, a sensation of dread creeping up on you. you desperately want to believe he's not talking about you, but you can't shake the realization that to him, you were nothing more than a pawn in a bet— a tool used for his amusement. you're overwhelmed by a sense of stupidity, a painful realization sinking in, drowning every rational thought.

he never cared. you could fall dead at this moment and he wouldn't even spare you a glance. you should've known. why would he? you feel stupid for allowing him entry into your life, stupid for naively believing in his sincerity, and stupid for daring to love a heartless jerk who played with the fragile strings of your heart.

they're right. you are pathetic. you just blindly fell for the first person who gave, or rather, pretended to give a shit. a relentless ache throbs in your chest as you stubbornly refuse to succumb to tears over a boy— a resolution crumbling like fragile glass. despite your stubborn determination, an uncontrollable torrent of hot tears streams down your face, distorting the world into a watery blur.

the desperate yearning for someone to choose you, to envelop you in unconditional and pure love, had fueled your hopes. and for a fleeting moment, you believed you'd found it, only to witness your heart being ruthlessly trampled blue. clutching onto the tattered shreds of your dignity, half-broken and bleeding, you muster the strength to leave swiftly before they catch a glimpse of you.

the bitter taste of betrayal lingers in the air, each teardrop is a testament to the shattering of dreams, the dead hope that once soared. the yearning for a love that stands unwavering proves to be a mirage, leaving you grappling with the shards of a love that was never truly yours.

that day, you learn one more thing about gojo satoru. he's just like everybody else.

cerulean eyes, like pools of shimmering azure, flicker with concern as they scan the empty seat beside him. minutes stretch into eternity on the clock, each tick of the second hand amplifying the weight of his worry. nine twenty morphs into nine fifty pretty quickly, and he can't help but be a little annoyed. at this rate, you'll only get in twenty minutes of 'talking.'

you're always punctual—eight fifty-five on the dot. but today, the clock ticks on, and there's no sign of you anywhere. his brows furrow with concern, a nervous flutter dancing in his stomach. did something happen to you? the mere possibility sends a pang of anxiety through him, and he fidgets restlessly in his seat, unable to focus on the lesson before him.

yet, when his gaze shifts to meet suguru's, he swiftly masks his apprehension with an air of nonchalance, as if feigning indifference to your absence. but inwardly, his heart races as he anxiously awaits your arrival. when you finally walk in, he's already scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, filled with questions about what could have delayed you today. yet, as he extends his hand to pass you the note, his eager smile fades into confusion and disappointment.

you walk right past seat thirteen, your usual spot, without so much as a glance in his direction. instead, you approach a random girl and ask if you could sit with her. his heart sinks, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks as a torrent of thoughts flood his mind. is something wrong? are you upset with him? he replays every interaction in his mind, searching for any misstep. but he can't find one. he's been careful to maintain the perfect facade when you're around. perhaps you simply forgot, he reasons with himself, attempting to quell the rising tide of hurt and confusion.

yes, that must be it.

...just a simple oversight.

"hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!! just wait a moment!!" gojo's voice cuts through the chatter of students eager to leave as soon as the bell rings. he grabs your wrist, his touch gentle yet firm, halting your attempt to blend into the rush. his heart races in his chest, the sudden surge of adrenaline making his palms clammy.

"um... you didn't sit with me today." he mumbles, the words coming out in a rush, his voice tinged with uncertainty. his fingers toy with the ring around his finger, his gaze fixed on the ground as he struggles to find the right words to continue the conversation. he doesn't like the way you're looking at him. there's a flicker of irritation in your gaze, a departure from the usual warmth and affection that he's grown accustomed to. normally, when his eyes meet yours, your cheeks tint pink, your pupils dilate, and you give him the cutest starry-eyed look. but not today.

"yeah," you mutter casually, your eyebrow raising ever so slightly. there's a certain coldness in your eyes that sends a shiver down his spine. you're about to leave again, but he moves to block the door, a frown creasing his forehead.

"did i do something wrong? i don't understand why you're suddenly acting so bitchy," he huffs, irritation lacing his voice. the words tumble out before he can stop them, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "no," you reply simply, your tone devoid of any emotion, as if you genuinely don't care. it stings his ego, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

"you can 'use your charm' to make a new friend. since it's so easy for you, right?" you mutter, your voice trembling with suppressed anger. you promised yourself you'd hold it together, but the wound is still raw, etched deep into your mind as a flush of resentment rises within his eyes widen in shock, a pang of guilt stabbing at his heart. you heard that? no, no, no... he hadn't meant for you to be there. he had been so careful, or so he thought.

"i didn't mean it, i just-" he stutters, desperately searching for an excuse, but he knows it's futile. there's no chance you'd believe him now, would you? his heart sinks. he doesn't want you to hate him. "i was easy, right?" you laugh bitterly, each word dripping with sarcasm and pain.

"i hope that three hundred dollars was worth it. not that you even needed it, though. you think toying with people is fun? you're a dick, satoru, go to fucking hell." you hiss, your words laced with venom, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "let me explain-" he protests, desperation evident in his voice as he tries to reason with you. but you're too angry to even consider it.

"explain? explain what?'" you explode, your voice rising with each syllable, oblivious to the judgmental glances of passersby. you scoff, tears threatening to spill over.

"i didn't mean it," he cuts you off, his own voice strained with emotion. "you're my friend, i just—" his voice cracks. "friends don't manipulate other people's feelings." you interrupt, your voice laced with venom as you spit out each word. you're aware you look like a mess, mascara staining your cheeks. "friends don't trick and hurt you on purpose!" you yell, tongue dripping with malice. "and here's the thing. you may be the greatest, satoru, but you will never, be enough. not for suguru, not for anybody."

you almost regret saying it. targetting his biggest insecurity. but then again, he deserves it. "how could you say that?" his voice is broken, quiet, as he mumbles it out as a whisper. the eyes that you once found so stunning suddenly look just like everybody else's. they well with tears, but are quickly blinked away. "you don't get to cry, satoru," you scoff, unzipping your bag and opening the front pouch.

you toss all the letters you've written in class, all the sticky notes, every single ripped paper, every little doodle, flipping your bag over and emptying it on the floor. every single heart fluttering moment you experienced seems so dead now. "you don't get to act like you cared. it's only fair, after all." you manage to muster, fighting to keep your voice stable. tears drip down your chin as your bottom lip trembles.

every step feels like a battle, a relentless tug-of-war between what your heart wants and what your mind knows is right. leaving him behind is like tearing off a piece of your own soul, but you convince yourself it's for the better— for your own sanity, for your own self-respect. each stride forward is heavy with the weight of goodbye, each breath drawn in a struggle against the ache in your chest. and as you finally turn away, a part of you dies inside, a piece of your spirit crumbling in the wake of shattered trust and broken dreams. you can feel his eyes on your retreating figure, the silent witness to your silent agony.

this time he doesn't try to stop you. and when you leave, gojo finally allows himself to cry.

today, gojo finds himself seated next to suguru, reclaiming his former spot from before the bet. yet, everything feels different now. the idiotic jokes his friends make just aren't as funny anymore. their presence is irritating to him. he laughs, but the sound lacks the same genuine joy it once held with you. he smiles, but it's a mere shadow of the radiant expression he wore in your presence. his heart may feel a fleeting sense of happiness, but there will always be a hole where you once were.

his so-called 'buddies' don't even notice that he's at his lowest point, and he can't help but think about the way you would've noticed immediately.

how you would've sent him a cute note with his favourite candy attached, because you kept them in your bag just for him, for these kinds of days. he feels so numb. he's always been so confident, yet he can't even muster up the courage to pass by your desk.

and he can't help but wonder what might have been if he had chosen differently that day, if his intentions had been pure from the start. would you two have gotten somewhere? he supposes that now, he'll never know the answer. his eyes cloud over at that thought, slouching back down into his seat.

he never had the chance to tell you how sorry he was, how he would take it all back in an instant if he could. he didn't mean to hurt you. he was stupid and careless. and yet, he tries to convince himself that he'll be okay. that he'll be able to get over you one day. one day, when he's married and has two kids, he'll look back at this and laugh. so then why does his heart feel so heavy? you're not suguru, it's true. but suguru never made him feel this way. and he's confused with his own feelings.

he doesn't know what love is.

he's only sixteen.

perhaps he'll never know. but for him, love was sneaking kikifuku mochi into class for you to share. it was sending you cat memes at three am in the morning, only for you to groggily respond with your own. it was doodling you in his notebook in his spare time. it was how what you were feeling was how he was feeling too.

you were right, it seems.

gojo satoru, the greatest, yet not enough to make you stay.

© KAEFFEINEE 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

This hotd hyperfixation I have is going out of hand 🫠

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader mood board

Masterlist: The Hunt ; Night Off ; Neglectful Jealousy ; Devious Forgiveness

Your knight, Aemond, who was always by your side, no matter how much you tried to bribe him, he will not fall for it. He was always trailing you, refusing you to be out of sight, not because of duty but because he simply needed to be around you.

You knight, Aemond, who will always savor your scent whenever you are near him. Who would always find an excuse to touch your skin, may it be him offering his hand as you walked down the stairs or him wrapping his arms around your frame whenever the measliest of threats arose, disguising his passion as protection.

Your knight, Aemond, who would always stare down and intimidate any suitor of yours. Trailing closely behind as you tried to get to know them, always quick to go in between and meddle when he felt you were warming up with any lord or prince. Unable to stomach seeing you grow agreeable with your courtships.

Your knight, Aemond, who was always there the second you called for him. It does not matter if he has barely rested or eaten; the moment you send for him, he will be rushing down the castle halls, tending to your needs, no matter how insignificant or even frivolous they are. 

Your knight, Aemond, who would always listen intently to your babbling. Nodding along as you tell him your encounters for the day though he already knew because he was always by your side. Occasionally indulging you with his silver-tongued quips as he would sometimes be the one to share with you the latest gossip in court. 

Your knight, Aemond, who had been growing quite obvious with his affection for you. Sending you small tokens and flowers. He would often utilize the lie that the gifts were sent by an unnamed lord when, in reality, they all came from him. 

Your knight Aemond, who knew fully well that yearning for you would make no difference because whatever love you two would have for each other would be a love that would be denied and could not be, for how could a knight ever deserve a princess? 

Your knight, Aemond, who would settle to just being your sworn protector just as long as he had you near. Because as dreadful it was to see you be bound to another, nothing would compare to not having you near him; at those moments when he stood by your side, he indulged himself with a fantasy and pretended that you were his.