How To Breakup With Your Boyfriend ⸻ Not A Guide.

Request!! Can you prettyy please do a Ranpo x masochist reader? It can be to whatever degree you interpret it as: romatic & sexual, or a platonic pass-time to cut up a monotonous day. Go crazy w it. Physical or emotional, I'll eat up anything you put out. Feel free to ignore my dumbass, luv you! 𓆟

Yandere!Ranpo x Masochist!Reader

Another day at the Armed Detective Agency, the sun filtering through the wide office windows, the sound of papers shuffling, the occasional clatter of Fukuzawa’s tea set. Everything was normal.

At least, on the surface.

You were a new recruit—diligent, polite, attentive—the kind of employee everyone liked. You followed orders without complaint, kept your workspace tidy, and never seemed to cause trouble. Nothing about you was particularly suspicious.

But Ranpo noticed things.

The first incident.

It was entirely his fault, of course. He’d been slacking off (as usual), leaning lazily in his chair while balancing a cup of hot tea on his knee. Someone called his name, he turned too fast—

Ah, shit.

The cup tipped, spilling a few hot drops over your fingers before you managed to pull away.

"Ah—!"

Ranpo blinked down at the mess, lazily dragging his gaze back to you. You didn’t flinch. You just… turned your head slightly to the side, as if inconvenienced, as if this wasn’t worth reacting to at all. You wiped your hand on a napkin, casual as ever.

"Ahh, sorry, sorry~! Guess I got too excited" Ranpo said, dragging out his words in a sing-song tone.

"It’s okay" you replied easily, already moving on.

Ranpo squinted at you.

"Huh. That didn’t hurt?"

"Not really." You smiled

Hmmm.

The next time, he did it on purpose.

It was lunch time, the office mostly empty as everyone scattered to grab food. You were focused on your work, fingers gliding over the keyboard, too absorbed to notice Ranpo creeping up behind you.

"Boo!"

You didn’t jump.

You barely reacted at all. Your shoulders stiffened for half a second before you forced yourself to relax. But Ranpo saw it—the tension in your fingers, the way your breath hitched before settling into something controlled.

Not fear. Not normal startlement.

No—you were suppressing something.

Ranpo leaned on your desk, grinning. "Wow, you’re no fun. Didn’t even scream."

You smiled, but your grip on your pen tightened.

"You startled me a little."

"Liar~," Ranpo hummed, tilting his head. "That wasn’t ‘a little startled,’ that was a ‘I’m used to sudden things happening but I have to act normal’ kind of reaction."

Your fingers twitched. He saw that too.

The crowded hallway.

Yosano brushed past you while walking by, nothing more than a casual nudge of shoulders. You jerked ever so slightly, fingers curling, tension visible for half a second before you forced it down again.

Ranpo, watching from across the room, narrowed his eyes.

It wasn’t normal. The way you reacted to sudden movement, casual touches, heat, pain—it wasn’t the reaction of someone simply uncomfortable.

It was someone who wasn’t used to things being this light.

Ranpo popped a candy into his mouth, still watching you closely.

"Ne, ne~" he called lazily, "You sure are sensitive, huh?"

You glanced at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Dunno," he hummed, tapping his chin. "People brush past you, and you act like you’re bracing for something. But it’s subtle. Most people wouldn’t notice."

Ranpo grinned. "You don’t like pain, do you? You like it a little too much."

Your breath caught. Gotcha.

And from that moment on, Ranpo was hooked.

This was going to be so much fun.

It was too easy to pretend.

You kept your head down, listened well, followed orders. Everything about you was perfectly normal—on the surface. No reason for anyone to look too closely. No reason for anyone to suspect that beneath all that obedience was something much, much uglier.

Unfortunately, Ranpo wasn’t just anyone.

He didn’t act right away.

So instead, he watched. Quietly.

Every time you flinched—he noticed. Every time you suppressed a reaction—he noticed. Every time you acted a little too unaffected by something painful—he noticed.

And most importantly? He noticed the way you always made sure other people were around.

Because when people were watching, nothing could happen to you.

It was instinctual, the way you hovered just close enough to the others, safety in numbers, an unspoken barrier. But Ranpo was smarter than you. He was smarter than everyone.

And the moment he realized you were avoiding being alone with him?

That’s when he decided it was time to change the rules.

"You should stay late today."

He said it so casually. A lazy request, stretched out in a bored drawl, as if it were nothing important.

"You don’t mind, right? Just a little longer~? I could use the extra help with this case."

It was nonsense. Ranpo never needed help. And everyone in the ADA knew it.

You hesitated. But what could you say? No? That would be suspicious.

So you smiled, pretended it was fine. "Sure."

And with that, the office emptied out.

One by one, the others left. Atsushi, Yosano, Kunikida—all of them disappearing through the doors, their voices fading into the night. The agency lights dimmed, the usual buzz of conversation died, and soon...

It was just you and him.

Ranpo didn’t immediately pounce on his curiosity.

At first, he actually pretended to work—lounging back in his chair, half-heartedly flipping through files, occasionally tossing you some meaningless task just to keep you still.

Then, when he was sure the moment was right, he spoke.

"So… you don’t feel pain, huh?"

You froze.

It was so, so small. A brief pause in your breathing, a millisecond of tension in your fingers—but Ranpo saw it.

"What are you talking about?"

"Ohhh, don’t play dumb~." He propped his chin on one hand, watching you squirm. "I noticed, you know. You’re real good at hiding it, but I’m better at noticing things."

"I really don’t know what you mean."

Ranpo sighed dramatically, stretching his arms over his head. "Well, if you won’t admit it… should I prove it?"

Before you could react, he suddenly reached forward—

And flicked you hard on the forehead.

It wasn’t much. A childish, meaningless flick—something Atsushi would have yelped at, something Kunikida would have scolded him for. But you?

You didn’t move. Didn’t swat his hand away. Didn’t blink. Didn’t react at all.

"See? That’s what I’m talking about."

He leaned forward, too close now, too knowing. His elbows rested on his knees, posture casual, but his eyes—those sharp, all-seeing eyes—were locked entirely on you.

"That didn’t hurt, did it?"

"Don’t even try to deny~."

The office felt smaller than before. The empty desks, the dim lighting, the utter silence surrounding you both. Your heartbeat, the shift of your breath, the scrape of Ranpo’s chair as he leaned just a little closer—

It was suffocating.

"You’re really good at faking normal," he mused, tapping his chin.

His smile stretched, playful and lazy, but something dangerous lurked beneath it.

"But see, I’m kinda a genius? So stuff like that doesn’t really work on me."

He reached for his candy jar, popping one into his mouth as if this were just another conversation. As if he weren’t pinning you in place with nothing but words.

"So let’s play a game, okay?" he said cheerfully, unwrapping another candy—a deliberate pause, a build-up, forcing you to wait. "You tell me what’s up with you, and I won’t have to figure it out myself."

The candy clicked against his teeth. His smile didn’t fade.

"I mean, I’ll figure it out either way~."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Ranpo hummed. "Liar."

Another flick—this time, to your wrist. A harmless little tap, one that shouldn’t even be worth reacting to. But the expectation behind it? The way Ranpo was watching, waiting, calculating?

It made something twist inside your stomach.

"It’s weird, y'know?" he continued. "Most people have all sorts of little tells when they feel pain. They wince, they pull away, they rub at the sore spot, even just instinctively."

He tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit.

"But you? Nothing."

"Ohhhh~." His tone lifted into something mockingly amused. "Wait. That’s not it, is it?"

Your fingers curled—Ranpo saw.

"You don’t ignore pain, you like it."

"What I don’t get," he mused, tapping a finger against his temple, "is why you try so hard to pretend otherwise."

He moved. A slow shift, resting his chin in his palm, his elbow propped against the armrest—lazy, relaxed, but watching you like a cat with a cornered mouse.

"What’s the point?"

You swallowed.

"I don’t—"

"Nuh-uh." He cut you off, "No more lying~."

Then, Ranpo sighed dramatically. "Okay, fine. If you won’t say it, I’ll just have to test it myself."

And before you could process what he meant—

His fingers suddenly tightened around your wrist.

A simple touch, his thumb pressed lightly against your pulse, fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist.

But the implication was what made something cold coil down your spine.

Because Ranpo didn’t touch people.

Not unless he was stealing snacks or draping himself over Fukuzawa like a spoiled housecat. But this?

This was deliberate.

Ranpo hummed. "Ah, see? I can feel your pulse picking up~."

"That means you’re nervous," he went on, "But not scared. Which means—"

He squeezed.

Ranpo studied you for another long, agonizing moment before suddenly—letting go.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms with a yawn. "Welp~! That’s all I needed to know."

Ranpo smiled.

"You’re really bad at hiding things, y'know? But that’s okay!" His tone was cheerful. "I don’t mind playing with you a little."

Ranpo reached for another candy, lazily unwrapping it with one hand. He didn’t look at you, but you could feel the weight of his attention.

"Just so you know~," he drawled, popping the sweet into his mouth. "I’m not letting this go."

"And the fun part? You can’t stop me."

That much was clear.

Ranpo knew your secret.

----

Wherever you went, cases followed.

Murders, disappearances, odd incidents—the kind of things that required his presence, much to his displeasure.

Ranpo had noticed the pattern early on.

It wasn’t just coincidence. It wasn’t just bad luck.

You were like a grim reaper in disguise.

And for the first time in a while—Ranpo wasn’t bored.

"You attract the fun kind of trouble."

"Tsk, tsk~." Ranpo clicked his tongue, rocking back on his heels. "You really know how to keep me busy, huh?"

Another crime scene. Another case that wasn’t even worth his full brain power.

Blood soaked the alley floor. The body was still warm. And yet, Ranpo barely spared it a glance, instead letting his sharp green eyes drift to you.

You were used to this.

"You know, I almost feel bad," Ranpo continued, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Wherever you go, someone dies. How tragic~."

You sighed. "I don’t cause it."

"Mmm, debatable."

Ranpo grinned, but there was something sharper behind it.

"You're always at the scene. Always nearby. Even when it doesn’t make sense for you to be."

A slow step forward.

"Almost like you enjoy it."

He got bored so easily. That was the problem.

Most cases weren’t worth his time. Most people were predictable.

But you? You were different.

Ranpo licked his lips, thoughtful. "Ne, ne~. Do you think the killers know?"

"Know what?"

"That they should be more scared of you than me."

There it was. That little, tiny slip of hesitation.

Ranpo grinned.

"Don’t worry, I won’t tell."

For the first time in ages, solving cases wasn’t boring.

Because you were there. Because you reacted in all the wrong ways.

Because you weren’t normal, and Ranpo loved breaking things open just to see what spilled out.

"I think I’ll stick close to you~" he hummed, nudging your shoulder as the sirens wailed behind you both.

"After all—" he turned, smiling like a child with a new toy.

"—I wouldn’t wanna miss the show."

It was getting ridiculous at this point.

The Agency had been busier than ever since you joined.

Accidents. Murders. High-profile cases that should’ve been one-in-a-million coincidences—yet somehow, wherever you went, another incident cropped up.

Fukuzawa hadn’t said anything outright, but you knew he’d noticed. Kunikida was constantly scribbling in his notebook, muttering about “statistical anomalies.” Even Dazai had joked about how you were the unluckiest (or maybe luckiest) person they’d ever hired.

And Ranpo?

Ranpo just grinned like he already knew the answer.

"Maybe you’re cursed."

You had shrugged. "Maybe."

Ranpo hummed, popping a piece of candy into his mouth. "If you are, I kinda like it."

And that had been the end of that.

"Tch—! Atsushi, focus!"

You barely ducked in time as the enemy’s blade sliced through the air.

This case was supposed to be hard. A brutal serial killer—one with connections to the Port Mafia, one who had managed to evade capture far longer than expected.

Which was why Atsushi had been sent with you.

"I got him!" Atsushi growled, dodging a strike before slamming his claws into the enemy’s ribs—only for the bastard to twist away at the last second.

A few feet behind you, Ranpo yawned loudly. "Ahhh~. You guys are taking too long."

"Then help—!" Atsushi snapped, but Ranpo waved him off.

"Nah, I already solved it."

"…What?"

Ranpo grinned. "Yup! Figured it out ages ago. He’s got an old knife wound in his left side, see? From a previous fight. That’s why he keeps avoiding right-handed attacks—his muscles are weaker there."

Atsushi stared.

"Then—then why didn’t you say anything sooner?!"

"Because you were having fun~," Ranpo said simply, stretching his arms over his head. "And it’s not like I was ever in danger."

The second Ranpo spoke those words—the moment he revealed that he was the one who had figured everything out—The killer moved.

He must’ve known the Agency would catch him eventually. He must’ve known this was the end.

So if he couldn’t escape…

He would at least take one of you with him.

And he knew exactly who to target.

Ranpo—the brains of the Agency.

The knife swung for him.

And you—because you were you—reacted immediately.

Atsushi shouted. Ranpo’s eyes widened.

But neither of them moved fast enough.

Because you were already there.

You stepped into the blade.

Pain blossomed.

A sharp, beautiful thing.

The knife sank deep, slicing across your side, the force of the attack knocking the breath from your lungs. Blood soaked through your clothes, warm and spreading, but the moment the blade left your skin—

Your lips curled into a smile. That was amazing.

"Oi—!!"

Ranpo’s voice was sharper than you’d ever heard it.

He caught you just as your knees buckled. His usual lazy demeanor had vanished—replaced by something much, much darker.

"What the hell was that?" he hissed.

You swallowed, heart pounding. "Keeping you alive."

"That wasn’t your job."

"Well, it is now."

Ranpo’s expression shifted.

Something visibly snapped behind his green eyes.

Atsushi roared—his tiger form tearing into the culprit, rage and panic fueling his attack. The sound of metal hitting the floor, the sickening crunch of bones breaking—none of it mattered.

"You shouldn’t be able to smile like that."

His fingers dug into your wrist.

"You’re bleeding."

The moment you collapsed into him. The moment he realized you had taken a wound that was meant for him.

The game had shifted.

Ranpo wasn’t bored anymore.

"I don’t like that." His voice was light, but his grip on you was too firm. "I don’t like that at all."

And then—Ranpo smiled.

A slow, terrifyingly amused thing.

"Guess I’ll just have to keep a better eye on you, huh?"

---

The first thing you noticed was the lack of pain.

You should’ve felt sore, at the very least. That knife wound had dug deep, and yet— When you shifted, there was nothing. No sting, no ache—just the softness of a futon and the unmistakable presence of another person.

Ranpo.

Sitting cross-legged beside you, sucking lazily on a lollipop.

He was watching.

"Ohhh~." His voice was mockingly sweet. "Look who’s awake~."

You sat up slowly, glancing around. Yosano’s doing. You had been expecting that.

"Completely healed" he said, stretching. "Ain’t that nice? If it were anyone else, they’d probably still be out cold for another day or two. But since it’s you~"—he wiggled his fingers—"poof! Good as new."

You stared.

Then, cautiously, side-eyed him.

Ranpo giggled.

"What? You don’t trust me?" He pulled his lollipop from his mouth with a dramatic pout. "That hurts, y'know~."

You didn’t respond.

Ranpo hummed, twirling the candy between his fingers before suddenly holding it out to you.

"Here. Wanna taste?"

You glanced between him and the half-melted candy.

Slowly, narrowing your eyes.

Ranpo’s lips twitched.

"Haaah~. So rude." He rolled his eyes, stuffing the lollipop back into his own mouth before reaching into his pocket.

Crinkle.

A fresh one.

He unwrapped it for you, flashing you a mockingly indulgent smile as he held it up—

And just as your fingers brushed against it—

Ranpo leaned in.

And licked it.

Smirking as he pressed it right against your lips.

"Here~" he purred. "Open up."

"C’mon," he teased, voice dripping with amusement. "You’re not gonna waste it, are you?"

You could still see the way his tongue had just been on it.

The heat of his breath, the lazy grin, the unmistakable enjoyment dancing in his green eyes—

This was a game.

And he was waiting to see if you’d play along.

You didn’t play along.

Ranpo pouted dramatically.

"Maaaan" he sighed, tilting his head. "You’re no fun."

The lollipop hovered at your lips. Sticky. Sweet. Still carrying the warmth of his mouth.

You stared.

It was a battle of patience now.

Ranpo watched, waiting for you to crack.

You waited for him to get bored.

"Fine, be that way~."

You almost sighed in relief

Until his teeth sunk into your finger.

Not hard. But enough. Sharp canines pressing down—just the right amount of pressure— Your lips parted, a sharp inhale slipping through before you could stop it.

And in that moment of weakness—

Ranpo took his win.

With an obnoxiously pleased hum, he pushed the lollipop past your lips.

"See?" he cooed, leaning back with a mockingly triumphant smile. "That wasn’t so hard, now was it?"

You glared at him over the candy.

Ranpo just giggled.

He had won.

This time.

BUTTERFLY EFFECT ୨ৎ ryomen sukuna - satoru gojo.

YOU WOULD SLEEP WITH ME, IF YOU COULD DO IT COMFORTABLY — red bull's pit lane? total mayhem, especially with sukuna's temper constantly flaring. so, yeah, things got stressful. and, okay, hooking up with gojo, ferrari's golden boy, wasn't exactly the smartest way to unwind. but, honestly, one tiny slip-up at one tiny party? little did you know, the butterfly effect was inconceivable.

ᡣ𐭩 ferrari-racer!gojo x redbull-racer!sukuna x redbull-manager!reader.

warnings — inaccuracies. (so. many. inaccuracies. i apologize in advance for all of them, especially to the people who watch formula one.) polyamorous relationships. slow burn. angst. eventual smut. use of alcohol/drugs. specific content warnings will be added at the beginning of each chapter. again, the ending will be polyamorous.

(呪術廻戦) : note — layout ib: @nanamiskentos. whoops, spilled some ink, and started a new series. i was planning on making this a full-length piece, but that just would've been far too long. enjoy!

✦ track one. | damage control. ✦ track two. | soon! ✦ track three. | soon!

series taglist (27/50): @jeonwiixard, @paradisestarfishh, @seizecherry, @shinycrybaby, @n1vi, @gojosoups, @poopooindamouf, @susususukanana, @sukubusss, @beereadzzz, @mia-can-yap-too, @indiewritesxoxo, @yenayaps, @swoozleee, @monacipher, @chosos-prettyprincess, @hyori2, @aldebrana, @your-mum3000, @unabletonotlovesatoru, @kazuuhali, @river-vixenn, @daisy-01-blog, @linny-bloggs, @cosmotoic, @pousivuitton, @carnalcrows. ask to be added!

LOVE & OTHER VARIABLES — SATORU GOJO

pairing — tutor!satoru gojo x cheerleader!reader

summary — you're the star cheerleader who can't solve an equation to save your life. he's the brilliant physics student who can't figure out how to talk to girls. but when he becomes your last hope to save your failing math grade, you discover there's more to him than theorems and thick glasses. between tutoring and cheerleading, you find yourself falling for the nerd who gets flustered at a simple hello but kisses like he's studied the subject for years. turns out love might be the most complex variable either of you has ever tried to solve.

word count — 9.2 k

genre/tags — college AU, friends to lovers, opposites attract, tutor/student, nerd/cheerleader, academic setting, slow burn, protective!satoru, implied virgin!satoru, mutual pining, sweet fluff, idiots in love

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, mentions of unwanted advances/harassment form a side character

author's note — hey lovelies ! surprise early valentine's day gift, because what's better than falling for your adorably genius tutor? grab your headphones, play "so high school" by taylor swift, and enjoy this story of sweet pining and study room makeouts. sending love to everyone spending their evenings with textbooks and studying. may your grades be high and your tutors be hot <3

masterlist + support my writing + art credit: @/3-aem

Satoru Gojo dealt in hard numbers, precise calculations and proven theorems. He could solve complex differential equations in his sleep and had memorized pi to a hundred digits just for fun. But there was one variable he could never quite figure out, 

You.

You were everything he wasn't — popular, athletic, the kind of person who lit up a room just by existing. As captain of the college cheer squad, you moved through campus like you owned it, laughter and admiring glances followed you like a natural.

Satoru, on the other hand, preferred the quiet of the physics lab, the hushed rustle of pages in the library stacks. Quantum mechanics made more sense to him than the messy equations of human interaction.

So when Professor Nanami assigned him to be your maths tutor, Satoru thought it must be a glitch in the Matrix, a logical impossibility. You needed to maintain your GPA to stay on the squad, and apparently, he was the department's best shot at making that happen.

You recognized him the moment you walked into the study room — that quiet guy from your math class who always sat in the back, the one who seemed to solve complex equations like they were simple addition. You'd seen him around, of course, but you'd never really paid attention before. He was just... there. Part of the academic backdrop of college life, like migraines and coffee stains.

But now, as he looked up from his meticulously organized notes, something shifted. Maybe it was the way the afternoon light caught his white hair, or how his round glasses couldn't quite hide the startling blue of his eyes. Had they always been that blue? And when he spoke, his voice was deeper than you expected, rich and warm like honey.

"Uh, hi," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I'm Satoru. Nanami-sensei said you needed a tutor. Maths, right?"

He stood from his chair, nearly knocking over a stack of textbooks in his haste to shake your hand. His hand, when you took it, was surprisingly warm and soft, though his grip was a little too tight, and you couldn't help but notice how he towered over you even with his slightly hunched posture. 

Up close, you found yourself noticing things you'd somehow missed during all those lectures — like the sharp line of his jaw, the faint shadow of his stubble, or the way his hand swallowed yours whole. Even the sweater vest he wore (which should have been insanely uncool) somehow worked for him in a way you couldn't quite explain.

"So… where do you want to start?"

And just like that, it began. Twice a week, tutoring sessions, afternoons that slowly evolved into something neither of you could quite solve for. Because here's what Satoru's calculations hadn't accounted for — the way you'd scrunch your nose when concentrating,  the sudden brightness of your smile when you finally understood a concept, or how your perfume would make it impossible to focus on derivatives.

And your variables? They never included the endearing way he'd push his glasses up when flustered, how his eyes would light up when explaining complex theories, or the fact that beneath that nerdy shell lurked a wickedly sharp sense of humor. 

But perhaps some equations weren't meant to be solved. Perhaps they're meant to be experienced, one tutoring session at a time.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡♡ ⋆｡°✩

"Okay, explain to me again why I can't just try random numbers until something works?" You were sprawled across the library table, exhausted after hours of studying. Your head ached from staring at equations for so long, textbooks and papers strewn about in complete chaos.

Satoru rubbed his own tired eyes behind his glasses, but his voice remained patient as ever. Even after spending the entire afternoon explaining the same concepts, he hadn't shown a single sign of frustration. "Because that's not how calculus works. You need to understand the underlying principles—"

"But the underlying principles hate me." You dropped your head onto your textbook with a groan. "Can't we just agree that whoever invented all this shit was a sadist and call it a day?"

"Newton invented calculus," he said, then immediately regretted it when he saw your expression. "Though, uh, Leibniz developed it independently around the same time, which actually led to a controversy in the mathematical community—"

"Satoru," you cut him off, but there was fondness in your voice. "You're doing the thing again."

"What thing?" He pushed his glasses up.

"Your nerdy thing where you get all excited about math history." You sat up, propping your chin on your hand. "It's cute, but it's not helping me understand why this limit doesn't exist."

He nearly dropped his pencil. Had you just called him cute? No, you'd called his nerdy rambling cute. There was a difference. Probably. He'd have to analyze that later.

"Right, um, the limit." He cleared his throat, trying to remember how to form coherent sentences. "Think of it like a cheerleading routine."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Just... bear with me." He sketched a quick graph. "When you're doing a flip, there's a point where you're neither going up nor coming down, right? That's kind of like this limit—it's approaching a point where the function isn't quite doing either thing."

"Did you just... learn cheerleading terms to explain calculus to me?"

Heat crept up his neck. "I may have watched some videos. For educational purposes."

"That's..." you trailed off, looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite calculate. "That's actually really sweet."

"Oh... uhm, I'm just trying to be a good tutor," he said, but his heart was doing something strange, something he'd never felt before. It definitely defied all known laws of physics.

"Well, Mr. Good Tutor," you leaned closer, and he caught another whiff of your perfume, "explain it to me again. Using more cheer analogies."

And so he did, drawing parallels between derivatives and tumbling passes, using formations to explain functions, and somehow, the math started making sense. By the end of the session, you'd not only grasped the concept but had also taught him the proper terms for various stunts. A fair trade, he thought, even if the librarian had shushed you both multiple times.

As you packed up your books, you paused, twirling your pencil in a way that completely distracted him from his thoughts. "Hey, we have a big game this Friday. Against State. I'll be cheering, obviously."

"Oh." He began cleaning his glasses, a nervous habit you'd come to find oddly endearing. "That's... good luck?"

"I'm inviting you, dummy." You rolled your eyes, but your smile was warm. "You should come watch. See how the other half lives."

"The other half meaning...?"

You gave him a look. "People who don't spend their Friday nights solving equations for fun."

"I... um..." A faint blush rose on his cheeks as he fumbled with his glasses. "I've never really been to a game before."

"Then it's time you finally have the full college experience." You shouldered your bag, then leaned down to write something on his notebook. "Here's my number. So you can text me when you get there. I'll make sure to wave at you during our halftime routine."

Before he could manage a response that wasn't completely pathetic, you were gone in a swish of pleated skirt and floral perfume, leaving him staring at your phone number like it was a problem set from the deepest reaches of abstract algebra.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡♡ ⋆｡°✩

Satoru spent the next three days debating whether or not to text you, writing and rewriting messages that never got sent. What was the protocol here? Was there a specific formula for how long to wait? Should he reference tutoring to keep it professional? 

In the end, you'd asked someone in his physics course for his number and texted him first,

You: Hope you're still planning to come to the game tomorrow! Look for me in the front of the formation.

He stared at his phone for so long his screen went dark. Then, taking a deep breath, he typed:

Satoru: Should I bring my textbook to study during halftime?

Your response was immediate: NO omg spare me! No books allowed! Just come watch me flip through the air.

Satoru: I'll try to come. Is there a dress code?

You: Great! Promise I'll make it worth your while & No dress code. But if you ask me, I'd say wear something blue. It suits your eyes.

Suits my eyes? he thought, a strange warmth spreading through him as he starred at the text. He’d never considered his eyes particularly noteworthy. They were just…blue. Nothing like yours, which were…well, yours were something else entirely. He couldn't quite describe them, but they were captivating, drawing him in like an infinite decimal, endlessly fascinating and impossible to fully comprehend. His own eyes, by comparison, felt plain, almost…functional.

Stop. He was overthinking this. It was just a game. He was just going to watch you cheer. That was all.

And that's how Satoru found himself standing in front of his mirror on Friday night, wearing the only casual clothes he owned — dark jeans and a blue button-down his sister had forced him to buy. Though he kept his favorite sweater vest over it. He'd even attempted to style his usually messy white hair, but it still fell in his eyes no matter what he did.

Walking into the packed stadium felt like stepping into another world. He had never been to a college game before — his weekends usually involved physics journals and quiet library corners, not roaring crowds and marching bands.

He found a seat near the front, as your text had instructed, and immediately spotted you warming up with the rest of the team. The energy you brought to math was nothing compared to this. Your movements were precise, athletic, stunning. Your uniform shimmered under the stadium lights and your smile could have lit up the entire campus.

When the game began, he tried to follow the action on the field, he really did. But his eyes kept gravitating towards you, leading your squad through each cheer. He found himself analyzing the physics of your movements — the perfect parabolic arc of your jumps, the calculated precision of each flip, the way you seemed to defy gravity itself when thrown into the air.

But it was during halftime that his brain truly short-circuited. Your squad took the field for their main routine, and there you were, front and center, exactly as promised. He watched in awe as you were lifted into complicated formations, your movements so graceful they made his carefully ordered world tilt on its axis. When you pulled off a series of flips that seemed to defy gravity, he actually found himself calculating the rotational velocity in his head, just to make sense of how you'd done it.

You spotted him in the crowd during one sequence, flashing him a smile that made him forget every equation he'd ever memorized from his mental hard drive. Your eyes met his just before you were launched into another stunt, and he swore his heart momentarily flatlined, a zero on the number line of his existence, until you landed safely.

Even from the bleachers, he could see how the effort brought a lovely pink blush to your cheeks, and yet you made it all look so effortless. You were radiant, breathtaking in a way that no mathematical formula could ever quantify. And in that moment, watching you shine in your element, Satoru realized he was in serious trouble. 

After the routine, you broke away from your squad and made your way up to where he sat. Your face was still flushed, loose strands of hair clinging to your neck, and even slightly out of breath, you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"So?" you asked, dropping onto the bench beside him. "How'd I do? Any notes on my rotational mechanics, professor?" Your attempt at a teasing smile turned into a slight wince as you rolled your shoulder.

"Are you okay?" His hands hover uncertainly near your shoulder.

"Just a bit sore. That last lift was..." You rolled your shoulder again, grimacing.

Without thinking, Satoru shrugged off his sweater vest and draped it over your shoulders. "You'll catch a cold." He noticed how the cooling sweat had left your arms covered in goosebumps. His vest was ridiculously large on you, but something about seeing you wrapped in his clothes made his heart do strange things in his chest.

"My hero." You smiled tiredly and pulled the vest tighter around you. It smelled like him, like clean laundry and whatever subtly pleasant cologne he wore. "But you didn't answer my question. What did you think?"

"I think you broke all known laws of physics out there. Your trajectory during that last flip sequence was..." He caught himself rambling on about angles and momentum and quickly changed course. "You were amazing."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, the simple gesture making his breath catch. "Thanks for coming. It's nice to see a familiar face in the crowd."

"You have plenty of people watching you," he said , hesitantly letting his arm settle around your shoulders when you shivered slightly. "The whole stadium was cheering for you."

"Yeah, but..." you paused, and he could feel your smile against his shoulder. "Somehow, seeing your face out there made me the happiest. Especially since I know this isn't really your scene."

"I'm glad I came," he said. "Though I did bring flash cards, just in case."

Your laugh was warm against his neck. "Of course you did, you giant nerd." There was unmistakable affection in your voice that made his pulse quicken.

"Someone has to keep your GPA up." He was proud that his voice remained steady, even as you snuggled closer into his side.

"Mmm, about that..." You stifled a yawn. "I might need extra help with derivatives next week."

"Of course." Satoru tried to ignore how right it felt to have you leaning against him. "Same time as always."

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The following week, something had shifted between you. Maybe it was because he'd seen you in your element, or because you were still wearing his sweater vest (which you'd "forgotten" to return), but the usual study room felt different somehow. Warmer. More intimate.

You'd chosen to sit closer to him than usual, close enough that your arm brushed his whenever you reached for your calculator all while the light, floral scent of your shampoo kept pulling his focus away from the equations.

"So, if we take the derivative here…" he began, but lost his train of thought when you leaned closer to see what he was writing, your ponytail brushing against his shoulder.

"Like this?" You picked up your pencil to attempt the problem, your free hand absently playing with the sleeve of his sweater vest you wore. 

He had to clear his throat before speaking. "Almost. Here, let me show you." His hand covered yours as he guided your pencil through the correct steps, and he couldn't help but notice how soft your skin was, or how neither of you pulled away even after the equation was solved.

"You're a really good teacher, you know?" you said quietly, your hand still beneath his. "I actually understand this stuff now." 

The proud smile you gave him made his heart flutter in his chest. Somehow, making you understand calculus felt more significant than any academic achievement he'd ever earned.

"You know," you said, finally pulling your hand away from his to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "you help me so much with all this. I feel like I should do something for you in return."

His glasses fogged up slightly as he rushed to respond. "Oh! No, you don't have to—I mean, this is... I enjoy—"

"Come on, there must be something." You turned in your chair to face him. "Oh! Do you need help meeting someone? Like, dating-wise?"

Satoru nearly chocked on air. "What?"

"Yeah! I mean, I could introduce you to someone! Actually, Sarah from my squad was just saying how smart guys are totally her type—"

"I'm not—" he started, then stopped, his cheeks flushing. "That is…I'm already…there's someone I…"

"Oh? Tell me! Who's the lucky girl?" You tried to keep your voice light and cheerful even as something heavy settled in your chest. You weren't sure why the thought of Satoru being interested in someone made your stomach twist so uncomfortably. After all, it made sense — he was brilliant, kind, and underneath those sweater vests and thick glasses, he was actually really handsome. Of course he'd have feelings for someone.

"It's... complicated. She's way out of my league. Popular, athletic, beautiful..." He trailed off, adjusting his glasses.

"Satoru Gojo," you said, poking his arm, ignoring the way your heart seemed to sink with each word he spoke about this mystery girl, "are you holding out on me? Come on, spill! Who is she? Maybe I can help—" Even as you offered, you realized you really, really didn't want to help him get together with anyone else.

"We should probably get back to derivatives," he cut in quickly, his face now completely red. "Don't you have a exam next week?"

"Right. Yeah. The exam." You turned back to your textbook, trying to focus on the equations that suddenly seemed blurry. 

You found yourself stealing glances at him as he explained the next problem, wondering about this girl who had caught his attention. Was she in one of his advanced physics classes? Someone who could actually understand all the complex theories he got so excited about? The thought made your chest ache, like a bruise blooming beneath your ribs.

Satoru seemed equally distracted. His usually clear explanations were interrupted by nervous pauses whenever your hands accidentally brushed. He kept adjusting his glasses, and somehow managed to knock over his pencil three times in the span of five minutes.

"Sorry," he mumbled after the third time, both of you reaching for the pencil at the same time and quickly pulling back when your fingers touched. "I'm not usually this... I mean, I should be more..."

"It's okay." You smiled, even though your heart felt heavy. "We all have off days. Even brilliant tutors."

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and in his blue eyes, you saw a question hanging in the air between you. For a moment, it seemed like he might voice it, but then he quickly looked away, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Maybe we should call it a day." You needed to get out of there, needed space to process why knowing he liked someone hurt so much. "I think my brain is full of derivatives anyway."

"Oh. Yes. Of course." Was it your imagination, or did he sound disappointed? "Same time next week?"

"Yeah," you managed, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You were still wearing his sweater vest, you realized. "Oh, I should give this back—"

"Keep it," he said quickly, then immediately looked like he regretted speaking. "I mean, if you want to. For studying. It might help with... derivatives."

"Derivatives. Right." You hugged the vest closer. "Well, thanks for today." You hesitated at the door, fingers playing nervously with the soft fabric of the vest. "Oh, um... we have another game next Friday. Against Eastern. If you're not too busy, maybe you could come? You don't have to, obviously, but it was nice having you there last time."

"I'll be there." And those simple words made you feel lighter than air.

"Great," you said. "And good luck with... you know. Your crush and everything." 

You hurried out before he could respond, missing the way he watched you leave with a longing expression, or how he whispered "You have no idea" to the empty study room.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡♡ ⋆｡°✩

The next Friday came quickly, and true to his word, Satoru was there in the same spot as last time, his blue eyes following your every movement. The game was going well, the energy in the stadium electric, and your squad was nailing every routine.

Then came the halftime show.

Everything started perfectly — the music, the formations, the stunts all flowing together just as practiced. You caught Satoru's eye just before your final sequence, his presence somehow both calming and exciting at the same time. But then something went wrong.

Your base thrower put too much power into the toss. You felt it the moment you left his hands. Too much height, too much force. Your trained body tried to adjust in the air, but the angle was off. Instead of landing cleanly in the waiting arms of your teammates, you came down awkwardly, taking most of the impact on your left side.

The crowd gasped. You bounced up immediately, muscle memory and pride making you finish the routine with a smile, even as pain shot through your shoulder and hip. Your squad mates shot you concerned looks, but you waved them off.

But as soon as the music ended and the crowd's attention returned to the game, you felt the full effect of the fall. Your vision swam slightly, and your left arm didn't want to move quite right. Still, you maintained your smile, not wanting to worry anyone.

After the game, you tried to slip away unnoticed, your shoulder still hurting from the bad landing, when Jake — your base thrower — cornered you near the locker rooms.

"Hey, wait up!" Jake had been trying to get your attention for weeks, his throws getting more aggressive as if he wanted to prove something. "You okay? That last stunt was pretty intense."

"I'm fine," you said curtly, taking a step back. "Though maybe next time try not to throw me into orbit?"

He moved closer, using his height to crowd your space. "Come on, don't be like that. I was just trying to make you look good out there. You know I'd never hurt you on purpose." His voice dropped lower as he leaned in. "Maybe I could make it up to you? There's a party at my place tonight..."

"I said I'm fine." You tried to step around him, but he blocked your path with his arm against the wall. "Jake, back off."

"Why are you being so cold? Everyone knows you're the best flyer on the squad, I was just trying to show that off. Besides," his eyes narrowed slightly, "I've seen how you've been spending time with that nerdy tutor. What's his deal anyway?"

"That's none of your—"

"Is there a problem here?"

Satoru's voice cut through the scene, surprisingly firm for someone who usually stumbled over casual greetings. He stepped between you and Jake, and for the first time, you realized just how physically imposing Satoru actually was. His usual oversized sweaters and shy demeanor had always made him seem smaller somehow, but standing next to Jake, you could see that Satoru was actually taller, his shoulders just as broad. Something about the way he positioned himself — protective, solid, unmovable — made your heart race.

"This is none of your business," Jake snapped, but you noticed how he took a small step back, clearly reassessing the situation now that he was face-to-face with someone who matched him physically.

"When you throw my friend at dangerous velocities and then proceed to intimidate her?" Satoru's voice was cold in a way you'd never heard before. "That makes it my business."

"Your friend?" Jake scoffed. "Since when does a nerd like you—"

"Back. Off." Each word was precise, and though Satoru's voice remained quiet, there was steel beneath the softness. He shifted slightly, making sure you were completely shielded behind him.

Something in his tone must have registered because Jake finally stepped back, holding up his hands. "Whatever, man. Didn't realize she had a bodyguard." He shot you one last look before walking away. "See you at practice."

The moment Jake was gone, Satoru turned to you, his stern expression melting into concern. "Are you okay? That landing looked bad, and now this... Do you need to report him? I can go with you to—"

"I'm okay," you said. "Just sore. And annoyed. Jake's been... difficult lately."

"He shouldn't have thrown you like that. The angle was completely wrong and the force way too much. I calculated the trajectory and it was at least thirty percent more power than necessary for—" He caught himself rambling and adjusted his glasses. "Sorry. I just... I was worried."

You couldn't help but smile at how quickly he'd switched from intimidating protector back to your adorably nervous tutor. It was also…endearing. And it did something strange to your insides, a fluttery sensation, like a thousand tiny butterflies had suddenly taken flight in your stomach. It was a feeling you couldn't quite name, but it made you want to lean closer to him, to thank him, to…something. You weren't sure what.

"Don't apologize. It's cute when you get all mathematical about things. And... thank you. For stepping in like that."

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly flustered by your praise. "Um, are you... hungry?"

You smiled. "Starving, actually."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡♡ ⋆｡°✩

You and Satoru headed to the diner around the corner from the stadium, a cozy, retro place you loved — all chrome and neon, red vinyl booths, and a jukebox humming in the corner. You slid into a booth while Satoru ordered milkshakes and burgers for both of you, and somehow you weren't surprised that he remembered your favorite flavor from that one time you'd mentioned it during a study session weeks ago.

You talked about everything. Silly stories, your cheerleading, his lab accidents and he even revealed that he rock climbed in his spare time, which, you realized, explained a lot. You found yourself laughing more than you had in ages, and every time you made him laugh in return, that warm feeling in your chest grew stronger. 

Before you knew it, two hours had passed, your milkshakes long empty and the burgers nothing but crumbs. The diner had mostly emptied out, the neon lights outside casting colorful shadows across your table.

"Is that what you want to do?" you said as your eyes fell on the physics textbook peeking out of Satoru's bag while you stole one of his remaining fries, "After college, I mean? Something with physics?"

"Yeah, I'm hoping to get into the quantum physics program. They only accept a few students each year, but their research on quantum entanglement is insane. They're working on this project with superconductors that could change how we think about wave function collapse. And their particle accelerator facility is one of the best in the country, so I really hope to..." he trailed off, suddenly looking shy. "Sorry, I'm probably boring you."

"No, not at all!" You found yourself genuinely interested in the way his whole face brightened when talking about physics. "It's nice seeing someone who knows exactly what they want."

"What about you?" he asked softly, pushing another fry your way. "Any plans?"

You sighed, slumping back in the booth. "Honestly? I have no idea. Something that doesn't involve math, that's for sure." You tried to laugh it off. "Maybe communications? Or business? I just... sometimes it feels like everyone else has it all figured out."

"You're actually better at math than you think. You just approach problems differently. More creatively. Like how you connected those derivatives to your cheer routines last week? That was smart."

You felt your face warm at his words and fidgeted with your straw wrapper. "You're just saying that because you're my tutor."

"I'm saying it because it's true." The firmness in his voice made you look up. His blue eyes met yours with an intensity that made you feel truly seen. "And whatever you choose to do, you'll be amazing at it. You're brilliant in ways that can't be measured by math."

Something in your chest squeezed at his words, at how completely sincere he sounded. No one had ever looked at you quite like that before, like they could see past the cheerleader uniform to something more. You opened your mouth to respond, but found yourself at a loss for words. Seeming to sense your nervousness, Satoru cleared his throat and changed the subject. "So, um... about earlier. Does that happen often? With Jake, I mean?"

You let out a heavy sigh. "Jake's been... persistent. We went on one date last semester. Probably the worst decision I've ever made. He spent the whole time talking about himself and got angry when I wouldn't kiss him goodnight." You stirred your melting milkshake absently. "Ever since then, he's been acting like he has some kind of claim on me. Using our stunts to show off, getting too close during practice."

"Has he hurt you before? During practice?"

"Not exactly, but..." you hesitated. "Sometimes the way he throws me feels more like he's trying to prove something than actually do the routine right. Like today."

"You should report him. What he's doing isn't safe. If he's letting his personal feelings affect—" Satoru's hands tightened around his milkshake glass. "Sorry, I just... I don't like the idea of him putting you at risk."

You paused at the sudden intensity of his words, and somehow they made your heart melt like ice cream on a summer day. "You're so sweet," you said quietly.

"I'm just worried," he replied, then quickly added, "As your tutor, I mean. Can't have my student getting injured."

"Right. As my tutor," you echoed, trying to ignore the strange ache at his words. "Of course."

The walk back to your dorm was quiet but comfortable, the night air cool against your skin. Satoru walked close enough that your arms occasionally brushed, sending little sparks through you each time. You found yourself walking slower than necessary, trying to stretch out these last few moments with him. When you reached your building, you turned to face him, suddenly nervous. 

"Thanks for everything tonight. The rescue, the dinner, just... everything."

"Anytime," he said softly, the streetlight catching his blue eyes, making them seem impossibly bright beneath his white lashes.

Before you could overthink it, you rose on your tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm under your lips, and you could feel him freeze at the contact. When you pulled back, his face was completely red, one hand touching the spot where you'd kissed him like he couldn't quite believe it had happened. His glasses were slightly fogged up, and something about how adorably flustered he looked made you brave.

"Can I ask you something?" The words tumbled out before you could stop them. "Have you... I mean, do you have much experience? With girls?" You immediately wanted to die of embarrassment. "Sorry, that's so personal, you don't have to—"

"No!" he blurted, then winced at how loud that came out. "I mean, not really. I've been... focused on academics mostly. And girls don't usually..." he trailed off, adjusting his glasses in that nervous way of his. "Why do you ask?"

Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. "Can I..." You swallowed hard, gathering every bit of strength you had. "Would it be okay if I kissed you?"

His eyes widened behind his glasses, lips parting in surprise. For a moment, he seemed to be running calculations in his head, processing your words like data input. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

Rising on your tiptoes again, you gently pressed your lips to his. He was completely still at first, seemingly frozen in shock, and for a terrifying moment you thought you'd made a horrible mistake. But then his hand came up to cup your face, surprisingly steady for someone who'd been so nervous moments before, and suddenly he was kissing you back.

And oh — for someone with "not really" any experience, he kissed like he'd been thinking about this for ages. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss with a confidence that made your knees weak. Your hands fisted in his sweater vest as his thumb stroked your cheek, and you couldn't help the small sound that escaped when he gently caught your lower lip between his.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathing hard. His glasses were completely fogged up now, but you could still see the intensity in his eyes behind them. He hadn't moved away completely, his hand still cupping your face, your bodies close enough that you could feel the slight trembling in his breathing as you tried to process how your adorably awkward tutor had just given you the best kiss of your life. 

"See you at our next tutoring session?" His thumb brushed your cheek one last time before he slowly pulled back.

You could only manage a nod, your mind still fuzzy from the kiss. As you watched him walk away, occasionally glancing back at you with that sweet, slightly dazed smile, you realized math had suddenly become your favorite subject.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡♡ ⋆｡°✩

You'd been staring at the same equation for ten minutes now, but none of the numbers made sense. How could they, when all you could think about was that kiss from the other night? The way Satoru's hand had felt on your face, how confidently he'd pulled you closer, the soft brush of his thumb against your cheek—

"Are you okay? You seem distracted."

His voice snapped you back to reality. You were in your usual study room, but everything felt different now. The space seemed smaller somehow, more crowded. The fact that it was unusually warm for spring didn't help. Satoru had rolled up the sleeves of his button-down to his elbows, his sweater vest abandoned over the back of his chair. You'd never realized how distracting forearms could be until now.

"I'm fine!" you said too quickly, forcing your eyes back to your textbook. "Just... struggling with this problem."

"Here, let me show you." He leaned closer and reached for your pencil, his hand brushing yours in the process. You both froze at the contact, the air between you growing thick with unspoken thoughts.

"Sorry," he murmured, but didn't move away. This close, you could see the faint freckles dusting his cheeks and nose, how his blue eyes darted briefly to your lips before returning to the textbook.  

You weren't sure who was actually more distracted. You, who couldn't stop thinking about that kiss, or him, who kept adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat whenever your hands accidentally touched. The usual comfortable silence of your study sessions had turned electric, charged with everything neither of you were saying.

"Maybe we should take a break," you suggested, your voice coming out slightly breathless when he reached across you to grab an eraser, his arm brushing your shoulder.

"Right. Yeah. Good idea." He leaned back in his chair, both of you falling quiet. You could practically see him thinking, the way he always did before solving a complex problem, while your own thoughts kept drifting back to that kiss, to how surprisingly confident he'd been—

"About the other night—" you both started at the same time, then laughed nervously.

"You go first," he said, adjusting his glasses.

You took a deep breath. "I liked it." Your face felt hot, but you forced yourself to continue. "I mean the kiss. It was good. Like, really good. Which kind of surprised me because you said you didn't have much experience, and I was wondering..."

"If I lied?" He gave a small, self-ironic laugh. "No, I meant what I said. I haven't... I mean, there haven't been many girls. Actually," he cleared his throat, looking everywhere but at you, "there haven't been any. Girls, I mean. Before."

Your eyes widened. "Wait, was that your first kiss?"

"No! I mean… I've kissed a few girls before, but nothing serious. I was always too focused on academics to really... pursue anything."

Pursue anything? What did that even mean? Your mind was already racing with thoughts of how much you wanted to pursue everything with him. The study room suddenly felt too small, too warm. You stood up abruptly, needing to move, to do something with this nervous energy coursing through you.

After pacing a few steps, you turned back to him. "Would you... want to kiss me again?" The words came out in a rush, and you immediately wanted to take them back when you saw his stunned expression. "Sorry, that was probably too forward. If you don't want to, that's totally okay, I just thought—"

Your rambling stopped as Satoru stood and walked to the door behind you. He turned the lock with a soft click that made your breath catch. When he turned back to you, there was that confidence again, the kind that made you weak in the knees.

And then you were against the bookshelf, his hands cupping your face as his mouth found yours. This kiss was different from your first — more urgent, less hesitant. One of his hands slid into your hair, the other dropped to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

You gasped against his lips, your hands gripping his shirt as he kissed you like he'd been thinking about this all day — which, based on how distracted you'd both been during studying, he probably had.

He pressed your back further against the bookshelf, the force of his kiss sending several books tumbling to the floor. Neither of you paid any attention. You were too focused on his hand tightening in your hair, the surprising strength of his grip on your waist.

Then, without warning, his hands slid down to your thighs, and he lifted you effortlessly. You gasped in surprise. All those times you’d wondered about the strength of his broad shoulders hidden beneath his sweater vests… turns out you hadn't been imagining things. He carried you to the study table, setting you gently on the edge. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively as he stepped between them, one of his hands bracing on the table beside you while the other cupped your face. His kiss deepened, his tongue tracing your lips before slipping inside. "Is this okay?" he murmured against your mouth, always thoughtful even in moments like this.

You nodded, pulling him closer by his shirt. "More than okay."

"Would you want me to—I mean… can I... try something?" 

Try? What does he want to try? Your pulse quickened and you simply nodded, not trusting your voice, already breathless from how he said 'try' like you were his favorite research subject.

His lips found yours again as he gently pressed you back against the table, your math notes scattering forgotten to the floor. His mouth moved to your neck, drawing a soft gasp from you while one hand traced down your side with surprising confidence, his body fitting perfectly between your legs. And you began to wonder, for someone who claimed to be inexperienced, Satoru seemed to know exactly what he was doing — and if this was him being inexperienced, heaven help you when he gained some confidence.

His mouth then traveled lower and lower, lifting one of your legs up over his shoulder so that he could kiss down your inner thighs and your last coherent thought, before his lips were on you, was that some lessons were definitely best learned outside textbooks.

Everything that followed were barely contained curses and moans as Satoru pushed two fingers inside, pressing deep and slow while his tongue worked on you. It wasn't long before you came, you back arched, pressing closer to him as you reached your climax, your thighs involuntarily closing around his head. But he was quick to react, grabbing your thighs and spreading them apart, his tongue still on you, drawing out every last shudder of your orgasm until you thought you couldn't take it anymore, your fingers tightening in his hair, not sure if you wanted him closer or to pull him off you.

It took you a few moments to come back to reality. Your breathing heavy, body still trembling as you tried to process what just happened. Your brilliant, sweet, cute, nerdy math tutor had just made you cum on that table in the study room of your college in a matter of minutes — and it was better than any long sex you'd ever had with anyone else.

Satoru slowly eased his fingers out of you and kissed your thighs again, as if he couldn't get enough of you. You didn't say anything for a long time, so he must have been getting nervous, because then he asked, "Was that... okay?"

You pushed yourself up on your elbows to look at him. He adjusted his glasses, which were clearly covered with something liquid you were sure came from you, in that adorably nervous way of his.

"Okay?" You let out a breathless laugh. "How are you so... I mean, where did you learn to...?"

"I'm good at… studying."

You were silent.

"Hah?"

✮ ⋆ ˚｡♡ ⋆｡°✩

The days following your tutoring session in the study room felt like walking through a dream. Neither of you had explicitly talked about what happened — what it meant, what you were to each other now. Your study sessions continued like always, like he hadn’t made you cum on this precise table with his mouth just a few days before. So much for being inexperienced.

Satoru remained surprisingly composed, if a bit more touchy than before. His hand lingered on your lower back when he leaned in to check your work, his fingers brushing strands of hair behind your ear when you concentrated. You caught him watching you with that intense blue gaze more often, though he'd quickly look away and adjust his glasses when you met his eyes.

You figured he was waiting until after your upcoming exam, not wanting to distract you more than he already did. Though honestly, how were you supposed to focus on math when all you could think about was his hands, his mouth, the way he'd— okay, let's not go there.

At least cheerleading practice had gotten better. Jake had done a complete 180° shift in behavior. No more aggressive throws, no more hovering around after practice, not even the usual suggestive comments. It was almost unsettling how quickly he'd backed off, though you weren't about to question the peace.

It was during one of your regular study sessions, while you were working through practice problems for your upcoming exam, that Satoru finally brought it up.

"How has Jake been lately?"

"Oh, uhm… actually, really good. Well, not good exactly, more like... absent?" You tapped your own pencil against your textbook thoughtfully. "He barely speaks to me anymore, which is weird considering how persistent he was before. It's like someone scared him off or..." You paused, the pieces suddenly clicking together. "Satoru, did you say something to him?"

He pushed his glasses up, a tell you'd learned meant he was either nervous or hiding something. "We may have had a conversation."

"A conversation," you repeated flatly.

"About physics." The corner of his mouth twitched. "Specifically about force, momentum, and the potential consequences of their misuse."

"Satoru!"

"What?" He finally looked up at you, and there was that flash of confidence again, the kind that made your heart flutter. "I simply explained some basic principles. Like how someone with my understanding of applied physics could theoretically calculate exactly how much force it would take to—"

"You threatened him with physics?" You weren't sure whether to be horrified or impressed.

"It was more like an educational discussion." His blue eyes met yours, surprisingly serious. "I don't like seeing people I care about being put in dangerous situations."

Your heart stuttered at his words. People he cared about. That was... something. Maybe not a definition of what you were to each other, but definitely something.

"So," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite your racing pulse, "you care about me?"

His hand stilled on the page. For a moment, he just looked at you, and the intensity in his gaze made you forget how to breathe. "Didn't what happened in this room last week make that fairly obvious?"

Heat rushed to your face at the memory. "We haven't really talked about that."

"No," he agreed softly. "We haven't."

The air between you grew thick with longing. Your practice problems lay forgotten as you both gravitated closer, drawn together like opposing charges in one of his physics equations.

"I wanted to wait," he admitted. "Until after your exam. I didn't want to..." He swallowed hard as you shifted closer. "To distract you."

"You're always distracting," you whispered, close enough now to see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes. "With your stupid glasses and your physics metaphors and the way you explain math like it's poetry."

His hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek in that way that made you melt. "We should probably talk about this properly."

"Probably," you agreed, already leaning in.

"After your exam," he murmured against your lips.

"After my exam," you echoed, and then his mouth was on yours, and for a while, neither of you did much talking at all.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡♡ ⋆｡°✩

You almost floated through the library's quiet halls, clutching your exam results to your chest. The paper was slightly crumpled from how many times you'd unfolded and refolded it, just to make sure the grade was real. Third highest in the course. You. In maths. It felt surreal.

The library was nearly empty, everyone else either at the game or starting their weekend celebrations. You should have been there too, in your uniform leading cheers, but your shoulder still hurt slightly from that bad landing last week. As much as you hated missing a game, the forced rest had given you extra time to study, which clearly paid off.

Besides, you knew exactly where to find him — the same spot where he always studied on Friday nights, tucked away in the far corner between the physics and mathematics sections.

Sure enough, there he was, surrounded by his usual fortress of textbooks. His white hair caught the warm light from the desk lamp, falling into his eyes as he bent over what looked like quantum mechanics homework. He hadn't noticed you yet, and for a moment you just watched him, feeling your heart swell with affection for this brilliant, ridiculous man who had somehow made you understand derivatives.

"Guess who got an A?" you announced, dropping into the chair across from him.

Satoru's head snapped up, his blue eyes widening behind his glasses. "You got your results?"

You slid the paper across to him, unable to contain your smile. "Third highest in the course. Can you believe it?"

He scanned the paper, and the pride that bloomed across his face made your chest tight. "I can absolutely believe it." His smile was soft, genuine. "You worked so hard for this."

"I had a pretty amazing tutor," you said. "Thank you. For believing I could do this even when I didn't."

"You did all the work. I just helped you see what was already there." But as he spoke, you noticed something in his expression — a tightness around his eyes, the slight slump of his shoulders. Now that your excitement was settling, you could see his exhaustion.

"Are you okay? You look... stressed."

He let out a long breath, running his hand through his already messy white hair. "That obvious, huh?" He gestured to the complex equations covering his notebook. "I've been working on this quantum mechanics assignment. There's this one problem that's just..." He trailed off, frustration evident in his voice.

"Wait, something the great Satoru Gojo can't solve?" you teased gently, but your smile faded when you saw the genuine worry in his eyes. "How long have you been working on this?"

"Since..." He glanced at his watch and winced. "Before sunrise?"

You looked at the dark windows, realizing the sun had long since set. "You've been here all day?"

"Had to get it right." He stifled a yawn. "It's an important assignment and I just can't seem to get it right."

"You need a break."

"But I'm so close, I can feel it. If I just—" His words cut off as you disappeared under the table. He looked down, eyes widening behind his glasses as you crawl under the table to his side and settled between his legs.

"What are you..." His voice caught as your hands slid up his thighs. "Someone could—"

"The library's empty." Your fingers were already working on his belt. "And you need to relax."

"This is a terrible idea," he said, but his breathing had already grown uneven.

"Then tell me to stop." You looked up at him through your lashes, enjoying how his pupils dilated. Instead of answering, his hand slid into your hair, and you took that as permission to help him forget about quantum mechanics for a while.

His breath hitched as you undid the button of his pants, the zipper sliding down with a soft hiss. His cock was bigger than you'd thought, and your eyes widened slightly as you took in the sight, your fingers tracing the length, feeling his veins beneath your touch. Why is it always the quiet guys with the biggest cocks? 

You moved slowly at first, wanting to give him the full experience if this was to be his first blowjob ever, your breath ghosting over him before you finally took him into your mouth. You started with just the tip, your tongue swirling around it, tasting his precum, before licking along the sensitive underside of his shaft, and then sealing your lips around him.

"Oh god, that's... that's—fuck it’s so good." His head tilted back, eyes closing, his voice strained with the effort of keeping quiet. 

His hand tightened in your hair, not pushing but holding, gently guiding your movements. With his other hand, he gripped his math notes on the table, the pages crinkling under his tight grasp as if they were his last hold on sanity.

You took him deep and Satoru swore he could see stars. His moans became more urgent, less restrained. "Yes, just like that, oh fuck, feels so good." His words broken by throaty moans that he tried to muffle with his free hand pressed against his mouth. "You're going to make me—oh god, so close." 

His thighs tensed under your hands, his breathing becoming ragged. You could feel every shudder, every twitch of his body. "I'm gonna— I'm—" His words cut off as his orgasm hit, his body tensing, his hand holding your head firmly but gently as he spilled into your mouth, his cum hot against your tongue. "Oh fuck, oh fuck," he gasped, a series of curses tumbling from his lips and amidst the swearing, you swear you caught a fragment of a mathematical theorem, though you might have misheard.

Afterwards, his body trembled, his breathing heavy and uneven, his grip on your hair loosening as he slumped back in his chair, completely spent. "God, that was... fuck, that was amazing."

"Still thinking about that assignment?" you asked innocently,  emerging from under the desk to find him looking like a mess, with his face flushed, glasses askew, and his white hair a bit damp around his forehead as he tried to regain his breathing.

"I... I can't even remember my own name right now." He pulled you into his lap for a kiss. His thumb traced your cheek as he kissed you gently, making your heart flutter in your chest.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡♡ ⋆｡°✩

A few weeks later, your head rested comfortably in Satoru's lap as you watched him read through his graded quantum mechanics assignment. Warm sunshine filtered through cherry blossoms above, casting dappled shadows across your shared blanket beneath the old tree on a lazy spring afternoon on campus. A gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh grass and early flowers, ruffling his white hair as he studied the papers held above you.

His glasses caught the sunlight, making his blue eyes look like summer sky caught in glass. Your own textbook lay forgotten beside you on the blanket. You were more interested in watching Satoru and the slight smile that played on his lips.

"So?" you finally asked, reaching up to poke his cheek. "How did you do?"

He looked down at you. "Perfect score." He tilted the paper so you could see the bold A marked in red at the top. 

"I knew you could do it!" you exclaimed, reaching up to cup his cheek. "My brilliant quantum genius." You sat up, turning to face him properly, your knees brushing his thighs on the blanket. "I am so proud of you. But I didn't expect less from my tutor."

He leaned into your touch, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "Speaking of tutoring, have you checked your final grade for the semester?"

You had, actually — multiple times, still not quite believing it. "A solid A. Turns out I'm not so bad at maths."

"You were always good at it," he said softly, brushing a fallen petal from your shoulder. "You just needed someone to help you see it differently." He paused, adjusting his glasses in that endearingly nervous way of his, the lenses catching the golden afternoon light. "Though I have to admit, I'm a little sad our tutoring sessions are over."

"Who says they have to be?" You leaned into him. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. "I'm taking Advanced Calculus next semester."

His eyebrows shot up. "Voluntarily?"

"Well," you played with the collar of his sweater vest, "I heard the TA for that class is really cute. Bit of a nerd, but in a hot way. Plus, I have it on good authority that he's dating this amazing cheerleader…"

"Is he now?" His hands tightened on your waist. "Sounds like a lucky guy."

"Oh, he is." You leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Though not as lucky as she is."

He caught your chin and tilted your face up to his. "I love you," he said simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he hadn't just made your heart stop with those three words.

"I love you too," you whispered back, and when he kissed you, it was sweet and warm like the spring sunshine itself, perfect and precious as the moment suspended around you, there beneath the trees where your love had grown from equations into something far more beautiful.

You intertwined your fingers with his, loving how perfectly they fit together, and couldn't help but smile at how perfectly everything had worked out. Who would have thought that one failing grade in maths would lead to this? To finding love in derivatives and fun in mathematics, to discovering that the quiet genius in the back of class would become your everything?

But then again, maybe it was all just simple math: one struggling student plus one brilliant tutor, multiplied by countless study sessions, divided by shy laughter and hesitant kisses, equals a love story that even mathematics couldn't complicate.

And that was an equation you were more than happy to solve.

masterlist + support my writing

author's note — thank you so much for reading !! to be honest, i've been feeling pretty stuck lately with my longer series, doubting my writing and wondering if i'd lost my spark or so. but i think this story is quite cute and i had so much fun writing it. there's just something so sweet about those library crushes, and falling in love between the pages of textbooks. hope you enjoyed it too !

for more stories check out my masterlist. your support means the world to me. until next time, lots of love & happy early valentine's day <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here !

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @snowsilver2000 @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @sugurbo @janbannan

@bloopsstuff @ihearttoru @momoewn @yokosandesu @90s-belladonna

@fairygardenprincesss @juneslove21 @glenkiller338 @gojossugarcandy

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

boss levels aren’t so hard when your older brother has your back 👾

chuuya *yapping about his day*

dazai *falling for him all over again*

all credits to the original artist @perdizzion on X, ig & tumblr

boyfriend of the year (?) | k. bakugo

texts from a relationship built on mutual annoyance, emotional damage, and sour gummies from 7/11

Men who are academically gifted, very smart and calculated, but somewhat clueless when it comes to love. He has a good reason for that though; nobody before you had caught his attention. Now that he’s found you, his heart is beating faster, cheeks heating up, fingers itching to reach out and hold you. His normally cool demeanour is crumbling. Did you cast a spell on him? He has a lot to learn about romance, and the good thing is that you basically have a completely blank canvas to paint on. He didn’t pick on any bad habits and he’s already a perfect gentleman.

He would do anything for you, he might not know much about being in a relationship, but he adores you. He is eager to learn about affection, dating, kissing, establishing a routine with you, loving you. He’s an act of service kind of person, eager to please and care for you. He’s the one reminding you of your appointments, making sure you eat enough and stay hydrated, taking care of you when you’re sick, helping you study or work on whatever projects that you have. Whenever he comes over, he cleans your dishes without even a second thought, and you felt bad at first to subject him to your messes until you realized that he loves doing those things for you.

He quickly learns how and when to hold your hand, what kind of dates you like, the pet names that make your heart skips a beat, how to kiss you until you’re breathless and wanting more. He’s also a very good listener, which is actually impressive since he seemed mostly socially clueless when you first met him. He takes an interest in all the things you like. He does research on your favourite music groups, he catches up on TV shows you enjoy so he can understand what you’re talking about when you mention them, and he tries to learn the recipes of your favourite meals. He has a whole folder in his notes app dedicated to gift ideas and things he wants to remember about you — your drink order, favourite restaurant, the flowers you like, the brand of a bag you were eyeing last time he went to the mall with you. He doesn’t want to miss anything.

He’s become completely attached to you and he’s so touch starved that he takes each and every opportunity to be near you and hold you in some way, usually burying his nose in your neck. He takes note of your sweet perfume then, mentally adding it to the list of things he knows about you, right next to the flavour of chapstick he tasted on your lips the last time he kissed you.

fushiguro megumi, todoroki shoto, shinso hitoshi, tsukishima kei, kozume kenma, armin arlert, tomioka giyuu, hayakawa aki, + all your favs.

hiiiii I’m obsessed with your writing it’s so good and I have an idea. So can you write a fan fic bakugo X reader where bakugo is your bully and actually your online boyfriend but you both don’t know it. I know it’s kinda weird but like pleaseee 🙏🏼😅

Part 2???

⸻

Title: “I Hate You, Love.”

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Online Romance / Fluff overload

Summary: Bakugo is the guy who always gets under your skin at school—loud, mean, and frustratingly hot. But online? You’re in love with someone else entirely. Your anonymous boyfriend “BoomBoy” is sweet, protective, and just a little grumpy in the cutest way.

You just don’t know they’re the same person.

(And neither does he.)

⸻

You: Can’t wait to see you again tonight, BoomBoy. You’re the best part of my day.

BoomBoy: Shut up, dumbass. You’re the best part of mine.

You giggle, flopping back on your bed with your phone still in hand. He always says something mean right after something sweet. It’s adorable. You don’t even know his real name—just that he’s some guy from your school with a voice you swear sounds kind of familiar. He never turns on his cam.

But the way he talks to you—like you’re special, like he knows you—feels too good to let go.

Too real. Too safe.

Which is why it sucks that in real life, Bakugo Katsuki won’t stop making your life miserable.

⸻

“Move, dumbass.”

His voice is gravel and thunderstorms, and you roll your eyes, stepping aside in the hallway.

“Do you ever not insult me?” you mutter.

Bakugo smirks, the sharp kind of grin that makes your stomach flutter for all the wrong reasons.

“I’ll stop insulting you when you stop being so easy to mess with.”

Jerk.

You hate how pretty he looks in the sunlight, like the universe gave him too many good genes just to make you suffer.

And you really hate that you kinda, maybe, sort of think about him too much.

But it’s okay.

You have your BoomBoy.

⸻

Later that night, you’re curled up under a blanket, heart skipping every time your phone pings.

BoomBoy: Had a crappy day. Missed you.

You: I’m here now. Wanna talk about it?

BoomBoy: Just some idiot at school getting on my nerves. Wish I could see you instead.

You: What would you do if we met in real life?

BoomBoy: Kiss you so hard you forget every bad day you’ve ever had.

You let out a tiny gasp, hugging your pillow.

“BoomBoy…” you type, cheeks hot.

You: You’ve never said something like that before.

BoomBoy: Yeah, well. You bring out the soft in me. Don’t tell anyone.

You: Your secret’s safe with me.

If only you knew.

⸻

The next day at school, you pass Bakugo in the hallway.

He mutters something under his breath, and for once, you decide to snap back.

“At least I’m not hiding behind some stupid, angry persona all the time,” you hiss.

His eyes narrow. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug, walking off with your heart racing.

It’s weird.

Something about Bakugo feels so familiar lately.

⸻

That night, BoomBoy is quiet.

But then your phone buzzes.

BoomBoy: What if I told you I think I know who you are IRL?

Your heart drops.

You: Wait. Are you serious?

BoomBoy: Yeah. And I’m scared you’re gonna hate me.

You: I could never hate you.

BoomBoy: What if I’m your worst nightmare at school?

You freeze.

No.

No way.

There’s only one person who fits that description.

You: Katsuki?

It takes a long moment.

BoomBoy: Yeah.

⸻

Your phone almost slips out of your hands.

Bakugo Katsuki is BoomBoy.

Bakugo. The boy who always teased you.

Bakugo. The same boy who sent you sweet messages at midnight and told you he’d kiss you until the world disappeared.

Before you can respond, your phone lights up again.

BoomBoy: I didn’t know it was you either. I swear.

BoomBoy: I thought… I thought you hated me.

BoomBoy: But you’re the only one I can talk to. You make everything better.

BoomBoy: I’m sorry I was a jerk in real life. I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t know how to—feel.

BoomBoy: Can I come see you? Like really see you?

You swallow hard, hands shaking.

And then you smile.

You: Come to the park. I’ll be waiting.

Not Just Anybody | baby daddy!sukuna x f!reader

summary: on the rare occasion that sukuna takes his nephew out to the park, he notices another kid with blush pink hair— a baby to be exact. he tries not to stare too much, but it’s hard not to, it’s a rare hair color. it’s not until the baby’s mother takes her out of the swing set and back into her stroller when he realizes why you ghosted him almost 2 years ago.

genre/warnings: hidden child trope, ex-fwb to co-parents to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

master list

part one | part two

Sukuna wasn’t very obsessed with the thought of having children, that desire (or lack of) continued to dwindle after his nephew turned 4 and is now all over the fucking place. He doesn’t mind watching him, but with each year it's becoming more difficult trying to get the kid to focus and listen to him. 

“Yuji.” The man barks out, beginning to scold the boy because he immediately starts running across the street the moment the crosswalk sign turned on for them. Didn’t matter if it was a private neighbourhood, he’d speed through the signs as much as anyone else. “I told you to hold my fucking hand– get over here.”

“Oops, sorry!” Yuji starts to skip back. It’s almost insulting how unworried he is when it comes to Sukuna and his temper, but he’s used to it by now. He reaches out to hold his uncle’s hand– even having the audacity to swing it back and forth. Sukuna just lets him because he ends up feeling bad whenever he yells at Yuji while he’s happy. 

He guesses the one thing that’s gotten easier when it comes to watching the little crackhead is that he can now finally take him to the park. He’s able to run all that unnecessary excess energy off, making mid-afternoon to dinner time easier because he just eats and naps until Jin comes to pick him up. 

Yuji’s especially excited today, they're going to a new park that’s just down the street from Sukuna’s new house. It was a nice neighbourhood too, Sukuna already knew the place was going to be like Disneyland for the kid. 

“Uncle! Look!” Yuji yells out. 

He’s been looking this entire fucking time, why are children like this? Yuji’s slightly better than most, immediately flipping under the monkey bars like a pro after receiving his Uncle’s nod of approval. 

“Good job, Yuj.” He says in return. Jin should really take him to a parkour gym one of these days… maybe get him checked for adhd too while he’s at it. 

He continues to watch the boy until he suddenly hears some baby’s laughter on the other side of the playground. It reminded him of when Yuji was a baby, always squealing over something, even if it was something as simple as ripping a piece of paper in half. It was cute. 

He tried to drown out the noise, but this kid was having the time of their life, so he eventually looked in the direction of where the laughter was coming from. He’s genuinely surprised when he sees a little baby girl with fluffy pink hair. It’s a rare hair color and outside of his family, he’s only seen less than a handful of people that naturally had it in his entire 27 years of life. 

She couldn’t be older than a year old. Her mother– or nanny, this neighborhood has a ton of them, is kneeling in front of her and gently pushing the swing back. Everytime she pushes the swing back, the laughter gets louder.

The lady eventually picks the baby up and smothers her with kisses… the same way you used to smother him with kisses, almost 2 years ago. 

And the moment you turn around and place her back in her stroller, it becomes very apparent as to why you completely ghosted him 1 year and 7 months ago. 

Yes he’s kept track, you were the best fuck of his life. He’s been chasing that high after you practically vanished off the face of the earth, you even changed your phone number. For all he knew, you were dead.

Sure, he complained about Yuji here and there, but it couldn’t be that bad to the point where you decide not to tell him anything and just raise a baby completely on your own.

Maybe you weren’t all on your own to begin with. That thought makes him continue to mentally spiral, he’s honestly ready to fuck everyone up at this point.

“You fucking bitch.” He murmurs to himself as you begin to walk off with the child that is without a fucking doubt his. He quickly grabs his phone and calls a close friend, one that’s a little too good at finding people's personal information. 

“Hey what’s u–”

He immediately cuts Uraume off and cuts straight to the chase. “I need you to find someone’s address for me.”

---

“How’s the party planning going?” Your mother asks, trying to keep the conversation going, in hopes of her granddaughter waking up before you inevitably end the conversation. 

“It’s alright,” you vaguely answer. “I don't know, I’m not too worried about it. I told the planner to just make it pink and cute… and to trust her gut so she doesn’t bother me too much.”

“Honey!” She scolds you. “It’s your daughter's first birthday for christ sake, can you sound a little more excited about it?”

“I am excited,” you hiss back. “It just makes me sad to think about how fast time went by, I don’t want her to grow up.”

“I was sad about it too when I was planning your first birthday, but I was still included in the process.”

“Well that’s you.” You giggle as you finish wiping the kitchen counter. “It’s not that big of a deal, there’s party planners for a reason.”

“You’re going to look back one day and regret it.” She says, you can hear her shuffling around in the background. 

“Maybe.” You mumble, thinking about other things you’ll probably regret more than not being included in the process of planning a party. 

Like not telling Sayomi’s dad about her. 

You always wonder what his reaction would be if he were to ever find out. It’d most likely be one filled with rage, you’re just not sure if it would be towards having to be responsible for a little human being or towards the missed time. 

Probably the former. He was as irresponsible as they come, but so were you– at least at that time anyways.

You both were too busy in your careers to settle down, it’s why you never put a label on things. With anyone else, you would’ve put your foot down— if they’d didn’t claim you, you were gone. 

Not with Sukuna, he made you weak.

He made it so hard for you to put your foot down that you never even considered asking the dreaded “so what are we?”

He gave you just about everything during those meetups— he was fun to talk to, made you feel wanted, even the aftercare he gave you was unmatched. 

He fucked you like he loved you— slowly dragging his cock out of you, as if he wanted you to think about what you were missing in those few moments. All just so he can shove himself back into you, as a reminder that everything you needed was right there, on top of you. 

He’s a fucking asshole, but knew how to play the role of a loving boyfriend in the hours you visited him. 

Keyword: in those hours. Outside of that, he was practically none existent. But you couldn’t blame him, he was an up and coming rugby star. He spent his days training or strategizing with his teammates for the next game, he spent half of his year traveling. He didn’t have time for anyone but himself.

Eventually, you started ditching a condom all together. You swore your birth control would do the job— it fucking didn’t, and a part of you still wants to sue that company. 

But you don’t, because it wouldn’t hold up in court due to the 1% chance it won’t work, or whatever that percentage is. Plus, you don’t want your daughter getting on your case over it one day if she did find out. 

It’s not her, it’s the principle.

It was your fault at the end of the day. You were just straight up reckless with the way you let him.. ahem— begged— him to come inside of you each time he was all up in your guts. He’d taunt you for being weak, driving his dick inside of you even faster and harder whenever you showed signs that you were close, then encourage you to cum right on his cock that’d split you open each and everytime time you met up with him. 

You were so scared at first, going back and forth on how you should tell him– if you should tell him. A big part of you wanted the baby and convinced yourself he’d make you get an abortion out of fear that you might just be after money, so you never did. 

Yeah, you gaslit yourself.

But everything turned out better than you thought it’d be. Your parents were willing to set you up in a gated community just because it was safer for you and your daughter to live there. They pay the rent while you pay for everything else. 

You now run your own business managing multiple businesses’ social media accounts. It’s quite lucrative, so you’re able to afford a nanny while working from home.

Your parents love Sayomi and don’t hold back showing it. They don’t know who her father is, you won’t tell them… but she oddly looks like a well known rugby player that's from the region. 

It's a suspicion they keep to themselves though, they like spending time with her and would rather not start an argument with you after asking who the father is. It didn’t end well last time, so they just avoid the topic now. 

You’re suddenly pulled out of your thoughts after someone rang your doorbell, must be your neighbor that you became friends with shortly after moving here. She’s the typical neighbour that shows up at your door asking for sugar or eggs comically enough. 

“Can I call you back, mom? Someone’s at the door.” You kindly interrupt her. 

“Actually, we can continue this later.” She sighs, you can hear her keys jiggling. “I’m leaving for a yoga class right now.”

“Okay. Have fun!”

“Thank you sweetheart. Give Yomi a kiss for me when she wakes up.”

“I will, bye.” The doorbell rings again right after you hang up, which slightly annoys you since they haven’t been waiting that long. It’s like they think a second ring is gonna have you running to the door. 

It rings a third time and you hold your tongue, yelling back is just going to wake up the baby. 

You finally open the door and an immediate chill runs down your spine as you look up at a very angry Sukuna. He as tall as ever, presence as imposing as ever, and for the first time it is you that his anger is directed towards.

His eyes momentarily drift down to your chest before speaking. “We need to ta–.”

Completely terrified as to how he even found you, let alone get past security to even enter this neighborhood, you immediately slam the door in his face.

And you should be terrified, he begins to laugh before raising his voice. “I see you haven’t changed one bit.” He says— hoping you can hear him, hoping your back's up against the wall and panicking right now. “I haven’t changed either, sweetheart. Better open up before I show you I’m still crazy as fuck if you piss me off.”

You’ve seen it before, multiple times, just not towards you. Each time you saw it, you’d always pray that you’d never find yourself on the receiving end of the man's wrath. 

“You need to leave before I call the cops. You can’t just go around threatening people like that.” You say, powering through the shakiness of your voice. 

“And you can’t just hide a child from their father either. I saw you two at the park, let me see her.” His voice is still calm, but becoming more firm. He knows you're bluffing. “I’m giving you 10 seconds to open this door before I give you a reason to call the cops.”

There’s nothing but silence from your end, it’s infuriating to him. Each second that passes, he feels like he’s slowly being removed from his own body, being replaced by something that thrives off rage. 

And for you, you kind of wanna die right now, but unfortunately you can’t because you have a daughter to take care of. The sound of his voice ends up being drowned out by your own thoughts, thinking about the possibilities of what would happen if you opened that door. 

But before you know it, you’re quickly pulled back to reality as he ends his countdown and begins to bang on your door incessantly. 

“Open the door— I’m not fuckin’ around, open the FUCKING DOOR.” He yells out your name, pounding at the door so hard you’re sure he’ll break it off its hinges. “I’m not fucking leaving until you open up and let me see her! You should be glad I came here instead of going straight to my lawyer you piece of SHIT– OPEN THE FUCK UP.”

As if it couldn't have gotten any worse, your daughter wakes up from the ruckus. Her cries will always be ten times worse than Sukuna’s knocking, you’re convinced from the way she is screaming from the top of her lungs as if someone were hurting her.

“Fine just.. shut up! Please!” You finally snap and nearly beg from the overstimulation of listening to your daughter crying and a grown man literally barking at the same time. You begrudgingly swing the door open and he’s met with a set of tired, glossy eyes and decides to settle down. “I just put her down and it takes forever doing it.” You lightly complain.

He says nothing in the response, slightly stunned at how quick your mood changed. Not like he has much of a choice though, you storm off before he gets the chance too– being left to shut the front door on his own and awkwardly wait at the foyer because he doesn’t know where the hell you went off to. 

The house is nice, almost as big as his. But it’s also too big for just the two of you, leaving him to wonder again if you had a partner or something. Not that he’s one to talk. He lives alone, but he has his family and girlfriend over often since he has the space to entertain guests.

Fuck— he just asked if she wanted to make things official last month. She’s not gonna be happy about this.

His thoughts are quickly pushed away though when he hears the sounds of footsteps, whimpering, and you gently shushing them. 

You and the baby finally come into view, both frowning at him for different reasons. He was too far away earlier to see, but aside from your eyes and death glare, the girl looks just like him. 

Sayomi’s staring at him with a look that screams “what the fuck is this stranger doing in my house”, all while gently sniffling because she is rightfully pissed about being woken up. 

You can’t help but notice how stiff he is while looking at his carbon copy and decide to be the first one to speak up, by formally introducing him to her. 

“This is Sayomi and she’ll be 10 months old in a week.” It’s cuter when you say it to other people, their reactions are usually squishing her cheeks and raving about how adorable she is. Sukuna looks more shell shocked than anything. “...Do you wanna hold her?”

“I mean… yeah, but not if she’s just gonna get mad at me and start crying.” He says, while Sayomi continues to stare him down. Well, at least he respects boundaries, that’s sort of a good sign. 

“Lucky for you, she stares at things she finds interesting. If she didn’t want you to hold her, she’d have a death grip on to me right now with her face tucked into the crook of my neck.” 

He has a quick flashback of how he used to do the same with you whenever he was tired, but quickly shakes it off. Now’s not the time to start yearning for you or your touch all over again, he literally just got over you. 

“You sure about that?” He says, slightly hurt from the way she’s side eyeing him. 

“Positive.” You hold back a sigh at his hesitance. He was acting like he was going to murder you just 5 minutes ago, now he looks like he’s scared of an innocent baby. “Just take her please, my arms are starting to hurt.”

It’s one of the things that comes with having a child with a rugby player, they’re chunky. But you can’t complain too much, she’s very huggable. 

You end up handing her to him before he gets another chance to protest, not bothering to instruct him on how to hold her because you know all about how he’d watch Yuji. Even with your child being in the 90th percentile, she still looks miniature when being held by him. 

“Look at you, cheeks are all wet from cryin’.” He murmurs, beginning to wipe them off. She sniffles again and lets out a deep sigh in response– you both know it's a good sign, she’s finally settling down after getting ripped out of her sleep. “M’sorry, I just wanted to meet you.”

You talk to her normally too, so she usually babbles back to people in response, which is what she does in response to his words. It’s ridiculous(ly) (cute), watching her slowly open up to him just minutes after losing her shit— something she gets from her father. Each time she babbles out some incoherent sentence, he acts like he knows what she’s saying and she smiles a little more each time. 

“Mama.” She suddenly turns to you and says, pointing her finger at him. It's her little way of asking who he is since you always tell her the names of things she points at.

“That’s Dada.” You say in response. “Can you say Dada?”

“…Ada.” She confidently says.

Close enough. 

You avoid Sukuna’s gaze, you can just feel how annoyed he is at this point. “Has she said Dada before?”

“Mhm, last week.” You say enthusiastically, playing with Sayomi’s hand after she grabbed onto your thumb.

“Must’ve been her tryna manifest me. Probably thinking, ‘let me meet my dad, you conniving bitch’ or something.” He says in the same smooth tone.

“Watch it.” If he weren’t holding her right now, you would’ve smacked him for calling you that. 

“Did I lie?” He argues with you in a playful tone, then turns his attention back to his daughter who’s completely unaware of anything for obvious reasons. “‘Cause last time I checked, your Mama hid you from me.”

“Don’t do this in front of her.” You warn him.

“Fine.” He lets it go, after getting one last jab in. “Any other words that I missed out on?” 

“She also knows how to say no.” 

He chuckles, “sounds like my kid.” 

“Unfortunately.” You say under your breath. It wipes the smirk off of his face but you don’t notice it since you start to walk away from him, he quickly follows with little Sayomi in his arms. 

“How did you find me? Actually, how did you even get past security?” You ask, leading him to the living room.

“I know someone. I also live in the northern part of the neighborhood.” He not-so-humbly brags. That’s the area where you need to go through three different gates just to get to a house. “Just moved there last week.” 

No wonder why you haven’t seen him at the private grocery store yet.

“Well that’s… good.” 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“I don’t know what else to say. I don’t even know what to think right now to completely tell you the truth.” You admit.

“Yeah? Imagine how I feel.” He scoffs, plopping down on the couch with the baby still in his arms. “Can she walk yet?”

“No, she’s able to pull herself up and stand for a couple seconds though.”

“Is that so?” He looks back at her, at this point her interest has moved on to something else— the little bunny plush on the other side of the couch that she’s pointing and humming at. 

You beat him to it and hand it to her before sitting down beside him, with a reasonable amount of space between you two. He’s taking this a lot better than you thought he would, probably because he wants to behave right now in front of her. 

“Why’d you do it?” He murmurs as he fiddles with the bunny’s ear while Sayomi continues to play with it. 

“Guess I was scared of your reaction,” you begin to pick at your cuticles— a bad habit that should’ve been dropped a long time ago. “Thought you’d make me get an abortion or something.”

“That wasn’t for you to decide.” He sighs, surprised that you thought that low of him. He wasn’t around a lot, but he was nice to you when he was. Not once did he ever raise his voice at you, never snapped at you. Even when he was ordering food delivery, he'd let you pick-- every single time. “It wasn’t for me to decide whether you wanted to keep her or not either.” 

“I know.” You sigh, leaning back out the couch and giving yourself a moment. “I was scared.” 

“You said that already.” He looks down at the kid then back up at you, unsure if he should just feel thankful that he’s here now or if he should just continue to be pissed. “That’ll never be a good enough answer for me.”

“For what it’s worth, it was something I’ve always regretted after giving birth to her.”

He only hums in response to that, trying his best to hold his tongue because it’s hard to believe. If you truly did regret it, you would’ve reached out to him. He’s convinced you would’ve gone the rest of your life without telling him. “Are you gonna let me be in her life now or am I gonna have to fight you over that too?”

“What does being in her life look like to you?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs, taking the time to think it through. He works a lot, travels a lot, parties a lot. “We’re technically neighbors, so how about I just start coming over to see her for now. I’ll figure the rest out later.”

“We can do that.” You cautiously say. 

Hopefully he keeps it fair, he has the upper hand already by being the good guy for once.

a/n: soooo do we think sukuna's gonna be a good boy?

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I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME - Masterpost

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Warnings: 18+, smut, fuckbuddies to lovers, semipublic/public sex, dirty talk, creampie, oral, handjobs, fingering, hickeys, mentions of cigarettes + alcohol. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 13 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

Chapter 11 - coming soon -

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Accompanying art for this series:

Smoke break with Sukuna by @sweetlandspos

Sukuna during practice by @samaraxmorgan

Thank you so much for those beautiful and sexy pictures!!

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