Hi, Can I Request A Yandere Ranpo X Reader Obsessed With Puzzles And (ranpo) The Reader Doesn't Stop

I love reading fics with Megumi as a toddler BC he is such a cutie! I will never get sick of it. I eat it every damn time.

nerd bakugou p!links (NSFW do not open in public!!)

📖𓂃 ࣪˖♡

him wearing his glasses while eating u outt!

he loves ur thighs !! > <

^ loves ur ass too!!!

making out with you >> studying (lowk bimbo coded)

u just cant sit still, can you?

giving ur man a handy :3

they were "staring right at him"!

the need to drown in your tits

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

summary: co-parenting is hard, especially when it's with someone that's spent nearly two years lying to you. you and sukuna are doing the best you can do for your baby girl, but sometimes things just boil up and spill over. especially when there's unresolved feelings involved.

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

master list

part one | part two | part three

notes: taglist is closed!!!

True to his word, Sukuna has started coming over to see the baby– every single fucking day. People would think you’d at least feel a little happy over it, since you're getting extra help and all, but this man is going to drive you nuts. 

And he doesn’t even do anything that bad, it’s just the subtle pettiness from him that’s starting to build up over time. You’re stressed enough from work as is, it doesn’t help when Sukuna comes over in the afternoon with a bag of donuts and makes it a point to tell you there’s not enough for you, when:

There’s absolutely more than enough donuts to share with you.

You never asked or wanted any in the first place.

Sayomi’s not even supposed to have sweets before she turns one. 

But oh well, at least now you know she’s not allergic to donuts. The visits aren’t ever too long, they’re usually a couple hours at most, with the shortest one being 5 minutes when Sukuna had come by to say good morning before going to training. 

Today’s a huge change from the usual visits, he’s watching Yomi for an entire 8 hours. After finding out you had a nanny come by during the weekdays, he was able to convince you to let him take over on Tuesdays. Bless his heart, he has no idea how fast that little girl’s mood changes when she gets tired. 

Lunchtime is usually her nap time and unfortunately, you end up running a little late to go downstairs and see her due to a last minute meeting. By the time 1:00 pm rolls around, you can hear your daughter wailing downstairs, accompanied by the sounds of Sukuna doing his best to calm her down.

Nothing works, she wants you right now and he doesn’t know that since you haven’t really warned him about her record breaking meltdowns just yet. A part of you is genuinely scared for when she becomes an angsty teenager, you’ll probably put yourself in therapy to deal with it. 

He panics slightly when you step into the living room, hoping you didn’t think he did anything to make her cry as hard as she is right now.

“She just freaked out on me, I tried giving her a bottle too but she won’t take it— nothing works.” He immediately begins to defend himself. You just barely hear him through her cries.

“Yeah, she turns into a little demon when she’s tired and wants the boob.” You calmly say while plucking her out of his arms and taking a seat on the couch. He’s amazed at how silent the room became once you started feeding her, he didn’t think it would end at some point and almost wanted to sob with her. 

Now she’s back to being a little angel— must be something she got from you.

“You uh— you don’t have to do that you know.” He mumbles, making some awkward hand gesture at the baby blanket that you’re covering yourself with.

You scoff and shoot him a disgusted look.

“What? She’s my kid too.” He says in defense. “Not like I haven’t sucked on your ti—“

“Don’t finish that fucking sentence.” You cut him off.

“Okay.” He immediately gives up. He’s been enjoying pushing your buttons but knows when to stop, now's the perfect time. “So uhh… my brother’s been wanting to meet her. He wants to meet you too.”

“Oh god is he gonna try to grill me too?” 

“Nah. He’s really nice, just wants to meet his niece and her mother.” He assures you. “I figured it’d be a good way to start getting her involved in my life, introducing her to everyone and all. Yorozu’s been asking to meet her too.” 

“You want my daughter to meet your plaything?” The sly remark slips through your tongue before you even realize how bitter you sound. 

“Girlfriend, actually.” His words stung, especially when he began to laugh in your face. It’s not long until he deadpans and crouches down to meet you at eye level. “Let’s get one thing straight— don’t fuckin’ sit here and act like I played you and broke your heart. I never even tried to get with anyone else when we were fucking each other, so you don’t get to make your little passive aggressive comments when it was you that didn’t want me.”

“Get out of my fuckin’ face Sukuna.” 

“Get your head out of fuckin’ your ass.” He quickly retorts, but does find it in himself to respect your personal space and take a step back. 

This usually happens whenever you’re in a room with him for longer than 20 minutes— the arguments, taking jabs at each other. You two cussed each other out just a few days ago after putting the baby down for her nap. But it usually ends with a quick apology, always from him, never from you. Everything goes back to normal just as fast as it goes downhill. 

The tension in the room ends up getting cut by Yomi’s light snores, bringing you both back to reality. You both honestly forgot she was here for a moment because of how quiet she was and the fact that she was hidden under a blanket.

“She’s knocked out.” He holds back a laugh at how easy it was to get her to stop crying. “Alright, give her back.”

“Don’t you want to take a break and eat or something?” Your voice finally softens. He’s a little surprised that you’re taking his well-being into consideration right now, especially after you told him you hoped he broke both of his legs just last week. 

“I’m good— I was eating some of her snacks with her earlier.”

“That’s disgusting.” You grimace, ruining what could’ve finally been a sweet moment between you two.

“You’re just a picky eater.” 

“Am not.” 

“Most people would eat whatever’s offered to them after getting their brains fucked out for hours on end, yet you still used to find the time to pick out restaurants and which entrees you wanted.” He doesn’t fail to bring your old sex life back up. You don’t know why he does it, especially when he claims to have a girlfriend. You just chalk it up to him being an asshole, it somewhat makes you feel better over hiding from him all this time. 

“That was two years ago.” You try to defend yourself. 

“Yeah? Wanna head up to your room and prove it?” He flashes the world's most smackable smile at you, paired with an evil little twinkle in his eyes. “Yomi’s gonna be knocked out for a good hour, I doubt she’ll hear us.”

That’s your queue to get the fuck away from him and go back to work.

“Take your daughter.” You scoff and hand the milk drunk child over. She fusses just a little bit when you set her into his arms, but she must’ve recognized who her father was and immediately settled down after he started to softly shush her.

He's always so surprisingly gentle with her, even his eyes soften when he looks at her. Couldn’t say the same for when he looks at you, his pupils may as well turn into slits.

“I’m going back to work, don’t bother me until I come back down.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” He says, sounding very pleased with himself as he sat back down and put on something to watch while he waited for her to wake up. 

—-

Sukuna was able to set something up with his brother the following Sunday and you opted to walk the 20 minutes to his house rather than driving there. It’s more fun for Sayomi, she’s able to look around more and get some fresh air. 

You reach the gate that leads to the street he lives on, enter the code he texted you, and wait for him to respond through the speaker. 

“Took you long enough.” He immediately complains through the intercom. 

“Did you think I’d actually run here?” You bite back, annoyed he couldn’t even say hi or hello. It’s gonna be a long day and you’re already regretting not making some excuse as to why you couldn’t come. 

“Wait– you walked here?”

“Obviously.”

“Why?” He continues to question you, baffled over a reason you don’t really care to know.

“Because I felt like it, Sukuna. Now can you please open the gate.”

Without another word, the large gate begins to open and you immediately understand why the prices of the homes are astronomically higher than the rest in this neighbourhood. They were all beautiful, yet unique in their own right– with their very own gates. It’s kind of ridiculous, you don’t understand why someone would need that much security, especially someone like Sukuna. He’d probably end up robbing a burglar if he caught one snooping around his home. 

You soon see him jogging up to you, meeting you both half way to his house. 

“You could’ve driven here.” He says, taking over stroller duty since there's an incline on the walk up to his home. You know you’ve made some progress in your co-parenting relationship with him when you don’t even bat an eye at the way he blatantly checks you out before pushing the stroller.

“Relax Dad, it was only 20 minutes and she likes waving at her neighbors and their dogs.” You sarcastically say, he lets out a low laugh at the thought of her waving to everyone walking by. 

“Thought I told you to call me Daddy?”

“Not doing that.” You immediately say before changing the subject. “Is your brother here yet?”

“Yeah, him and Yuji got here like 30 minutes ago.” 

You hum in response, you weren’t too nervous on the way here, but the feeling starts to creep up on you the moment you get through his personal gate and finally see what his house looks like. It wasn’t bad when it was just him being around Yomi, but the thought of introducing her to more people was daunting. It made everything feel so much more real. 

“Don’t look so nervous.” He pulls you out of your thoughts, Sukuna’s surprisingly intuitive sometimes. “I wasn’t kidding when I said my brother’s a nice person. The first thing he asked when I told him about you two was what did I do to piss you off. I haven’t talked shit about you in front of him either… yet.”

“Well thanks.” You mutter back to him. You two finally reach his front door and you pull Sayomi out of the stroller and hold her at your hips, sheepishly following behind her father. 

“Daddy look!! A baby!” A little boy immediately yells out. “Her hair is pink like mine!”

“Yeah Yuj,” Sukuna smiles and chuckles at his nephew's sudden excitement. He was a sweet kid at the end of the day and already knew he didn’t have to worry about him being too rough with her. “This is your cousin, Sayomi.” 

“Is she your baby?” 

“Yes she’s my baby.” He nods at how quickly he put the two together without being walked through it. 

Jin was quick to walk around them and introduce himself to you, just as excited as his son was. Sukuna was right, he was really sweet, it made you wonder if they were raised separately, because there’s no way in hell these two grew up together. 

Sayomi however, was very confused and found herself looking back and forth between her dad and her uncle. She didn’t like it and cried for a good 20 minutes— refusing to even be held by her own father because she probably didn’t know what to believe at that point, poor girl. 

Take the tattoos and beefiness away from Sukuna and he is Jin. You started lightly teasing your daughter to make her feel better and it somewhat worked. Sukuna was definitely offended though since it was at his expense. 

You said all sorts of stuff to her, like how Jin was just Sukuna after a good shower. You and Jin got a good laugh out of that.

“M’kay I think that’s enough, yeah?” He grumbles, wiping a tear streak off his daughter's cheek because she’s a little crybaby. He scoops her up into his arms and begins to playfully scold her. “I’ve seen you everyday for almost 3 weeks now, you should know who I am.”

You and Jin talked for a little bit while Sukuna watched the two kids play. Nobody was worried about Yuji getting bored with her, he talked enough for the two of them and eventually started answering his own questions for her right after asking them. 

Jin kept the conversation light and didn’t bother asking anything too personal, which you greatly appreciated. You’re sure someone will overstep one of these days and you’re glad today’s not one of them. He just kept it about the baby, asking all kinds of questions about her, from milestones to allergies. 

“Do you have anything planned for her birthday?” He got around to asking, since it was two months away. 

“Yeah, her actual birthday falls on a Thursday, so the party’s going to be on the following Saturday.” You say, reaching for the drink you ended up making for yourself. Sukuna tried to say something about you rummaging through his mini bar without permission, but ultimately let it go in hopes that you’d finally be nice to him. “Please feel free to come by the way. A lot of the neighborhood kids will be there too, I’m sure Yuji will make a ton of new friends.”

“Of course we’ll be there.” He smiles. Today’s going better than he had expected. He doesn’t have much of an opinion on what you did and why you chose to do it. His brother has a… strong personality. Whether he’s the good guy in this situation or not, no one’s actually surprised that something like this happened.

Well, except for Yorozu. She’s more than surprised, she’s pissed. But that’s a conversation for another day.

“I can invite some of my teammates right?” Sukuna finally cuts in and asks, after waiting for you to finish your drink. 

“No.” You’re quick to tell him, and he looks like you just shot him in the heart. “We already talked about this, there’s not enough room for them either. You can invite them for her second birthday or something.”

“Whatever.” He waves you off and puts his attention back on the two kids. It was worth a shot, even if he did fail miserably at that.

Jin and Yuji finally leave around 8 when you finish eating dinner together. Even Sayomi surprisingly stayed up to eat with you all. You’re slowly introducing new foods to her, so Sukuna had the idea to overcook some spaghetti for her and she was obsessed. It also put her in a little food coma and made her fall asleep right after, which kinda sucked for you since it made the car ride back to your house extra quiet.

Silence with Sukuna was uncomfortable. There’s nothing to talk about when you’re not fighting over something stupid.

Not one word was uttered during the car ride. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t use your daughter as a shield from that discomfort, but it’s inevitable. You need to get used to it, this’ll be your life for the next 18 years. 

He finally pulls up to your driveway. Despite it only being a less than a ten minute drive, it felt like it went on for forever. 

“Thanks for giving us a ride back.” You avoid his gaze while you say it. 

“Yeah.” He mutters, hoping you’d look at him, but you don’t. “Thanks for coming over and meeting some of my family.”

“Mhm.” You take off the seatbelt and hop out of his escalade, he unfortunately follows suit. The kid’s asleep but he’d damned if he still didn’t say bye. 

“Need help getting her out?”

“Not really, but you can still do it and put her in her crib if you want.” You suggest. It gives him that little extra time he’s looking to have with her. If he didn’t want it, he wouldn’t have asked if you needed help in the first place. 

He’s been good with her so far, so you didn’t feel the need to hover over him while he went upstairs. You didn’t even follow him and went to the kitchen instead to make yourself a cup of tea.  

“Hey.” He finally comes back down after 10 minutes to let you know he was headed out, but then decides to try to have a civil conversation with you.

“Hey,” you turn around and see him leaning against the entryway. “Are you leaving?”

“In a minute– I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay... over what?”

“The little fight we had over me wanting to introduce Yomi to my girlfriend.” 

You let out a little laugh— it wasn’t a little fight, nor was it only once. “Which one? The one where you called me bitter and accused me of being jealous, or the one where you just straight up told me you were going to do whatever the hell you wanted?”

He had a feeling you’d say something like that. It was true, he said all those things in the heat of the moment, but he genuinely didn’t mean them. “Both. I know I said I was sorry right after, but I wanted to apologize again. I’ll back off from trying to introduce her to new people unless you say it's okay.”

You stare at him for a moment and wonder what’s gotten into him, but it all starts to make sense after realizing he probably saw you texting the guy you’ve been talking to earlier. Funny how when the tables turn, he starts to play nice. At one point during one of those fights, he got so mad that you genuinely thought he’d take you to court over custody. 

“Alright.” You end up saying, there was no point in trying to argue with him any further. You got what you wanted, and that’s for him to respect your boundaries as a mother. Maybe you should’ve just told him about Suguru to begin with instead of letting him find out for himself. You set your cup down and cross your arms. “Thanks for the apology, I appreciate it.”

“Mhm.” He grows a little awkward. He’s not used to people thanking him for apologizing because he doesn’t apologize too often. He’s pretty sure this month is the most he’s apologized in his life too. All of the other times he has, you'd just ignore him or tell him to shut up, this is the first time you’ve actually accepted one. “You’d tell me if you were seeing anybody, right?”

You knew that was coming, but still have to take a moment to think about it. “If I wanted them to meet Sayomi, then yeah. If not, I don’t think it would be anyone’s business but my own.”

His eyes slightly darken and zero in on you after you say that. If anything, it’d be him who would be the jealous one, he’s already starting to show it from his physical reaction after the vague answer. “So if you were seeing someone right now, you wouldn’t tell me?”

“No.” You simply say right before taking a sip of your tea. “I’d only tell you if I started bringing him around her.”

“So you are seeing someone?” He asks, trying his best to decipher your words as if you were talking in fucking code. “You just said you’d tell me when you start to bring him around.”

“Hypothetically speaking.” 

He ends up laughing rather darkly at that, he looks like he’s going to explode. While you’d rather not fight with him again, it’s kind of nice seeing him lose a part of his sanity over this, only because of how open he is about his relationship. You’re starting to think he brought her up in the first place to make you jealous after ghosting him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you end up cutting him off.

“Anyways, it’s getting pretty late and I still have work in the morning.” 

You’re feeling confident that if you stop the conversation here, there won't be any awkward tension when he comes back tomorrow. It doesn’t seem to work though, you can see the wheels turning in his head.

“Right. M’kay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He murmurs back, it sounds more like a threat than anything else, but you’ll deal with it tomorrow when you're a little more well rested. 

He stays pretty civil, up until you begin to close the front door and you hear him grumble to himself while opening his car door. But once again, it’s not your problem for tonight. 

—

As if Sukuna’s mood couldn’t get any worse, he comes home to a phone that has 23 missed calls and 18 text messages. Thank god he left his phone at home, you would’ve definitely found a way to use that against him. He takes a deep breath before calling Yorozu back, hoping to god she just fucking believes that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, even though not responding to her all day looks bad.

“Hey babe.” He says after she picks up, not even bothering to greet him. “It’s been a long ass day, I just got home.”

“I thought you said your brother and baby mama were visiting you.” She immediately tries to call him out, trying to catch him in a lie. 

“They did. She just walked here with the kid, they all ended up staying longer than I thought they would so I ended up just driving them back.” 

Yorozu’s not very trusting of him when it comes to you, especially when she already knew about you before he found out he had a child with you. She’s not even sure if Sukuna remembers it himself— getting absolutely plastered around 8 months ago, then going off on her because he was so drunk that he thought she was you. 

He said a lot that night, from saying you broke his heart to begging you to take him back. It’s probably best he doesn’t know about that night either, that was a really low point for him.

He was just starting to get over you too, hence why he finally asked her if she wanted to make things official. 

And now you’re back, ruining everything again.

"I bet you she only walked there just so you'd give her a ride back."

notes: lol so much drama hope u guys enjoyed

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I need this man so bad

nerdjo in spiderverse 🕷️

pm!ranpo who LOVES having you beside him during meetings so his hands can wander your pretty body. It's not like he pays attention to these meetings anyways.

pm!ranpo who has you sitting pretty in his office while he does his paperwork for once. Oh? You're praising him? He's done in an hour.

pm!ranpo doesn't give a damn if people know you're together. It's not like anyone can do anything. He knows when an enemy will eventually attack, so when that time comes he'll have personal escorts for you.

pm!ranpo can't help but prioritize you over his work. Mori needs him in his office asap? Oh well, he can wait a minute, you're more interesting.

pm!ranpo who –when you aren't allowed to attend a meeting– texts you during the entire session. He knows Mori is staring, but he doesn't care.

pm!ranpo who not only spoils himself, but you as well. A piece of jewelry caught your eye? It's wrapped up and waiting on your side of the bed. You liked a certain dress? It's in his arms– waiting for you to try it on. Though, he expects your endless attention in return.

pm!ranpo who shows up at your door unannounced at random hours, sometimes with candies – that he will eat of course.

pm!ranpo who watches you do paperwork over your shoulder. If you look closely, you'll see him admiring your features as you work.

pm!ranpo will take forever admitting that he actually loves you, but once he does, he's stuck to you like glue.

✽ HEAD OVER HEELS ⸺ ₍ g. suguru ! ₎

⸝⸝⸝⸝ You'd grown accustomed to the sacrifices of dating a firefighter. The late-night calls, the sudden departures, the silent prayers every time he walked out the door in his uniform. But tonight felt different. Maybe it was the way his dark eyes lingered on you as he pulled on his jacket, his usual reassuring smile faltering just a little. Or the way his voice softened when he kissed your forehead and whispered, "I’ll be back soon. I promise." ★ [N]SFW + firefighter!geto + fem!reader + established relationship + blowjob + unprotected sex + size kink + petnames ( baby, pretty girl, mama, angel ) + light mocking + suguru is in love.

The bedside lamp cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating the unmade bed where you had been moments ago, curled up against Suguru, savoring the quiet intimacy of the night. You could still feel the lingering warmth of his body against yours, a memory cruelly interrupted by the shrill ring of his emergency pager.

A fire. Urgent. He had to go.

You'd grown accustomed to the sacrifices of dating a firefighter. The late-night calls, the sudden departures, the silent prayers every time he walked out the door in his uniform. But tonight felt different. Maybe it was the way his dark eyes lingered on you as he pulled on his jacket, his usual reassuring smile faltering just a little. Or the way his voice softened when he kissed your forehead and whispered, "I’ll be back soon. I promise."

Now, the quiet of the apartment felt deafening, Suguru's absence stretching across the space like a tangible weight. The clock on the nightstand ticked mercilessly, each second a reminder that he was out there, in danger, while you were helplessly safe at home.

Sleep was impossible.

With a frustrated sigh, you threw off the covers and padded into the living room. The couch wasn’t comfortable—Suguru had grumbled about replacing it more times than you could count—but it offered a better vantage point to keep an eye on the front door. You wrapped yourself in the blanket Suguru always used, his scent faint but comforting, and curled up, staring at the shadows dancing across the walls.

You tried distracting yourself, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, but every notification made your heart leap, hoping it was him. Eventually, the phone slipped from your grasp, and you sat in silence, letting your thoughts wander.

Images flashed unbidden in your mind: flames licking at buildings, the heavy weight of his gear, the heat, the danger. You hated these thoughts, but they always came, no matter how much you tried to push them away. Suguru was brave—fearless, even—but bravery didn’t make him invincible.

The hours dragged on, the night growing colder. You shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn’t make your neck ache. Your eyes burned with exhaustion, but you didn’t dare fall asleep. Not here, not while he was still out there.

Then, finally, the sound of a key turning in the lock.

You bolted upright, heart pounding, as the door creaked open. Suguru stepped in, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. He looked exhausted, soot streaking his face and dark hair sticking to his forehead, but he was here. He was safe.

"You're still up, mama?" he asked, his voice rough with fatigue but laced with concern.

You didn’t answer, instead rushing to him and wrapping your arms around his waist. He stiffened for a moment, then melted into the embrace, his arms encircling you tightly.

"I was worried," you murmured against his chest, your voice trembling despite your efforts to keep it steady.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I’m okay. I promise." He stands there with you in his arms for a few more seconds before gently pulling you away from him. "Gonna get cleaned up, okay? Wait for me in bed.”

You watched as he trudged toward the bathroom, his shoulders heavy with fatigue, his steps slower than usual. The door clicked shut behind him, and the faint sound of water running soon followed. It was tempting to join him, to help him wash away the stress and grime of the night, but something about the way he carried himself made you hold back. Suguru needed a moment to breathe, to let the night slip away in solitude.

So, instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen. You set the kettle on the stove, the gentle hum of the heating water a small comfort. Pulling out his favorite mug, the one with the chipped handle that he refused to part with, you prepared everything for tea—something soothing to help him relax before bed.

The kettle whistled just as you heard the bathroom door open. Suguru emerged, his hair damp and sticking to his temples, dressed in a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked cleaner but still tired, his dark eyes meeting yours with a soft, grateful smile as he crossed the room toward you.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he murmured, taking the mug from your hands. His fingers brushed yours, and the warmth of the moment settled between you like a quiet reassurance.

“You’re always doing so much for everyone else,” you replied, your voice tender. “Let me take care of you for a change.”

Suguru chuckled softly, his lips curling into that familiar grin. “You already do. More than you know.”

You led him back to the living room, and the two of you sank onto the couch, sitting closer than necessary. He sipped his tea in silence for a moment, his free hand finding yours and threading your fingers together. The weight of his palm against yours was grounding, the calluses on his skin a reminder of everything he gave to keep others safe.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not until you came back.”

He takes another sip of his tea before putting the mug aside and tapping his thigh, you quickly straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. His hands are warm and they cup your cheeks in a loving manner, fingers brushing your hair away from your face.

“I hate that you have to worry,” he said, his tone heavy with guilt. “But I love knowing you care that much. It keeps me grounded out there.”

Your chest tightened at his words. “I do care, Suguru. So much. I just… I wish I could do more.”

“You do plenty,” he said. “You give me a reason to come home.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you blinked them away, leaning into his touch. “Just promise me you’ll keep coming home.”

“You’re not getting rid of me so early, baby.”

The kiss you share is filled with a warmth and softness Suguru learned to exercise with you, leaving little kisses on your cheeks and jaw before pressing his lips against yours, soft yet sure, with an unspoken tenderness that made your heart ache. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers tangling gently in your hair, anchoring you to him. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss in a way that sent a wave of warmth cascading through your chest. The taste of him was familiar and comforting, with a hint of the tea he’d just sipped lingering faintly on his lips.

You separate from the kiss, hands sliding down to his chest covered by the black loose t-shirt.

“Wanna take care of you,” you whisper as if you’re telling him a secret, feeling his fingers deepening in the soft flesh of your hips.

You crawl out of his lap to kneel on the carpet, curious hands caressing his thighs for a moment, feeling his strong muscles under your palm, before pulling down the hem of his sweatpants just enough to free his cock, standing in its full glory in front of your eyes. You get closer to him, wrapping your small hand around his girth and that's enough to make Suguru groan, as if he’s been waiting for this moment the whole day and wasn’t able to keep his reactions to himself. You both shared an intimacy so deep that it was almost like a ritual, your lips kissing the head of his cock softly and then wrapping around it in a sucking motion.

Suguru spreads his legs further and leans back on the couch, one hand covering his mouth briefly and the other one holding the back of your neck firmly but without making you do anything other than lick his shaft from the base to the tip. His chest goes up and down with rapid breaths, knowing that if he locked eyes with you, looking up at him with the most pure adoration as you try to fit more of him into your mouth, he would lose his mind completely.

"Fuck," he breathes, your warm mouth enveloping him with more ease as you coat his dick with your saliva, your hand masturbating him everytime you have to pull away from him to take a breath. You're about to put him again in your mouth when he softly pulls on your hair. "C'mere," he commands, hands on your hips to make you stand up before him. He loses no time, fingers pulling down your panties in less than a second, leaving you only in his oversized Deftones t-shirt that you always wore to bed.

Suguru was a man of few words when you started dating him.

He spoke only when necessary, a habit that often left you second-guessing and filled with an uneasy longing for more—more reassurance, more affection, more of him. That quiet reserve had planted seeds of insecurity in your chest, leaving you yearning for the pieces of him he kept hidden.

But now, after all these years, Suguru couldn’t hold back—not when you were straddling his lap, your lips crashing into his with a passion that stole the very breath from his lungs. His hands gripped your waist firmly, grounding himself in the intensity of the moment, and his words—soft, raspy, and unrestrained—spilled between kisses, leaving no doubt of how deeply he felt for you.

"Gonna sit down on my cock, baby?" he asks against your lips, sliding his hands under your shirt to squeeze your breasts firmly. You can only whine at that, rubbing yourself down on his cock settled between your folds, the movement of your hips is enough to make you both sigh in pleasure. Geto grabs your waist to align you with his lap, his other hand holding his cock as he pushes you down on him. “Just like that, angel, nice and slow.” 

“So big,” you complain with a pout, pressing your face in the crook of his neck.

The stretch always has you on the edge, your own arousal making it easier for him to slip into your tight walls but it doesn’t make it less painful. You know it’s temporary, and your boyfriend makes sure you’re okay while peppering your neck and jaw with wet kisses.

He licks his lips, looking down at where you’re both connected, “Just a little bit more, pretty girl.” A few more seconds and he’s completely inside you, he quickly rewards you pressing his lips against yours again.

Suguru always liked being in control. Especially when you’re on top of him, with your pretty teary eyes and making such pretty sounds, he can’t hold back from taking control and making you remember why you’re his. He lifts you by your waist just enough so he can thrust his hips upwards against you, his cock slipping out of you slowly and going back in a swift motion. It feels like you’re floating, all you can do is grip his shoulders and pray he doesn’t break you. Geto’s eyes stared at the way your cunt swallowed him whole, the abused walls spasming around him with every move. 

“Oh my—Suguru!” you whine out, your body being jolted everytime he pounds into you. “Please, please, please!”

“Wanna cum, baby?” his hand reaches down to your pussy, fingers rubbing your swollen clit with quick movements. You feel the familiar heat boiling inside of your body as he pulls you closer to him, hips hammering into you slower but with the same prior strength. “Such a needy girl letting me fuck you as I want, hum? You like when I use your little pussy to get off?” You nod and bite your lip tauntingly, watching his eyes with a glint of pure desire in them as he smirks at you. “Go on, then. Cum all over your man, baby.”

His words are nothing more than a command to which you obey immediately, his raspy voice combined with his ruthless thrusts and long fingers harshly rubbing your clit send your mind into short circuit, a white filled haze that makes you lose your breath and your legs shake. Suguru holds you tightly against him with his beefy arms, using the small space he has between your body and his to thrust into you and rub against your cunt, cumming with a groan that’s stifled by the skin of your neck.

You listen to his breath calming down, hands playing with his hair while he holds your tightly. When he finally pulled back, it was only enough to rest his forehead against yours. Both of you were breathing a little heavier, the room filled with the quiet intimacy of the moment. His eyes searched yours, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

“I’m so in love with you” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “I love you too, baby” you replied, your voice steady despite the lingering flutter in your chest.

And with that, he kissed you again—just once, quick and sweet, as if sealing a promise.

All Mine｡°✩ Bakugou Katsuki

Masterlist ୨ৎ

is it normal for a tinder hookup to invite you to his birthday party? only one way to find out.

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒

Glitter 𐔌 𐦯 : happy birthday Katsuki!! you guys voted for this on the poll (Sorry if you were expecting smut... but I cringe at myself attempting to write it so suggestive is all you get), enjoy!

Warnings : VERY SUGGESTIVNESS so minors beware (nothing explict but still), Female!Reader, modernAU, aged-up, drinking, mention of drugs, classic Bakugou warnings

W/C : 3k

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊

[10:37 PM] B: you got plans tmrw

B is Bakugou Katsuki. The guy you've been enjoying lately. To say the least.

You met in the classic way—late-night Tinder, you feeling lonely and a little reckless. He had only one picture—a sharp jawline, messy blond hair, and not much else to go off. But he looked good. Really good. So, feeling lucky, you swiped right.

Match. Instantly.

He messaged first. You messaged back. Five minutes later, you were making plans to meet at a bar downtown. All you could hope for was that he wasn’t a catfish, and that getting dressed up wouldn’t be for nothing.

It definitely wasn’t.

You barely spent time at the bar. Most of the night was spent tangled up at your place. And that’s kind of how it went from there—he’d text, you’d text back. He’d come over, he’d leave. That was the thing. Sometimes you’d text first—on the nights you were feeling extra needy, craving hot hands and hungry lips.

You didn’t even know much about him. Just his name, his major, and the sounds he makes when he’s close. You didn’t think of him as much else. Didn’t let your mind drift into soft little daydreams about who he might be outside of your bedroom. What he was like with friends, what music he listened to, what kind of kid he was in high school.

Because Bakugou Katsuki didn’t seem like that kinda guy. There was nothing lovey-dovey about him. Just low curses and hard thrusts. 

So this message? Felt different.

For one—you never made plans. That wasn’t how this thing worked.Just heat-of-the-moment, spur-of-the-night kind of energy.

And two—it wasn’t even his usual type of text. He didn’t ask. He told. Normally, it was a blunt little “im comin over”—not a question, but something close to a courtesy. A way of saying: I’m giving you the out, if you want it.

You scroll back at your texts these past few months and see the same pattern over and over, this one sticking out like a sore thumb from the rest. 

[10:40 PM] You : idk. 

[10:40 PM] You : why

Does he notice the difference, too? The pause in your rhythm. The hesitation. Why does it matter if he does?

[10:42 PM] B : im having a party tmrw

[10:42 PM] B : or my flatmate is 

[10:42 PM] B : u should come

You stare at the screen for a second, not sure if you’re more confused or just… surprised. Not that it matters.

The read receipt doesn’t faze him. He doesn’t even wait for a response. Just sends the address, followed by a quick “starts at 7. let me know if ur coming and il order an uber.”

You don’t reply.

You don’t reply, because this isn’t part of the unspoken deal that you are familiar with. And maybe he just wants a pretty girl to stand near the drinks, someone to make the party pictures look good. Because Bakugou Katsuki is probably nothing more than an asshole. Probably. 

~~~

Maybe curiosity really does kill the cat. Because somehow, you decide to go.

You never reply to him, leave him to conclude that the silence means no, you idiot, I only want you for one thing. But against your better judgement, you pull something skimpy on and brace yourself for what's to come, because you are curious.

You want to see where he lives. Who he likes. What he looks like when he’s out of his element. You want to see if it all matches the version you've been playing in your head. The version you’ve carefully constructed while you’ve kept things simple, kept it just about the physical.

But you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking you’re actually going to show up. So, you leave him hanging, go radio silent, and step out at 10 PM. Plus a glass of wine or two before you leave—just enough to make the shyness a little easier to ignore.

The alcohol burns nice in your veins… for a bit, until you’re standing outside the apartment door and the cold air cuts right through you, sobering you up fast.

At least you know it’s the right address, because you can hear the light thumping of bass and loud voices from out here (Not Bakugou’s though, but what would he even sound like loud, all you know is the low rough murmurs as he-). No turning back now. Not because you feel good about this decision, but because it’s freezing and your dress is doing absolutely nothing. So, you knock. Lightly.

And no one answers. Obviously. It’s a party, and half the people inside are probably too drunk or too distracted to notice. And none of them know who the hell you are anyway, so it’s not like anyone’s waiting at the door.

You check the handle. It turns. It’s open.

So, you step inside.

And it hits—hard. Like sensory overload dialed to ten. The place is decked out top to bottom, barely recognizable as a regular apartment. Streamers, lights, drinks in every corner. And before you can even take it all in, your eyes land on the handmade banner slapped across the wall: Happy Birthday Katsuki!

You don’t even need to ask. A quick glance around says it all—loud and clear.

There are old photos strung up along the walls, clipped to fairy lights that flicker unevenly. Most of the pictures are clearly from childhood—blond hair, scowling even as a toddler, surrounded by messy frosting and crooked party hats. One’s shows him mid-scream, cake all over his face. It’s kind of cute. Kind of surreal. Because this is his party.

It’s Bakugou’s birthday.

And he invited you to his birthday party?

You scan the room again, sharper this time. The place is crowded, but not enough to lose someone like him. And he’s not here. That heavy, sinking feeling creeps into your chest.

Maybe he invited someone else.

Maybe when you didn’t text back, he moved on, picked another warm body to fill the space. It wouldn’t be crazy. It wouldn’t be wrong. You don’t owe each other anything, and that’s the whole point of this thing—or at least it was. But still, the thought lands heavy, makes something sour churn low in your gut. Makes your throat go tight in that way you hate.

You swallow it down, hard.

You’re already halfway through turning around, ready to slip back out before you embarrass yourself any further, when a voice cuts through the noise. One you don’t recognize, but it says your name like it knows you.

It’s coming from a big, beefy redhead, cheeks flushed pink from alcohol, smile wide and boyish like he’s genuinely thrilled to see you. There’s this urgent sparkle in his eyes, and for a second you’re stuck wondering how the hell does he know your name.

“You’re here! Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re actually here,” he laughs, loud and booming and way too happy.

Before you can say anything, he’s placing a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder, “Hey, let me take your jacket. I’m Kirishima, by the way! Don’t think we’ve met yet.”

And you just… let him. Because honestly, you can’t think of anything else to do. You shrug your jacket off, hand it over, and he somehow manages to wedge it onto an already overflowing coat rack like it’s no big deal.

“Katsuki is…” he glances around, squinting into the crowd, “—well, I think he already snuck off somewhere. Classic. Gets sick of his own birthday halfway through every year.”

He laughs again, easy and fond, like that’s something everyone should know. Like you’re part of the group that gets Bakugou Katsuki.

And when it’s clear you’re not going to laugh with him—that you’re not in on the joke—he shifts, scratching the back of his neck, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

“Let’s get you a drink, yeah? Before Katsuki finds out you’re here and steals you away.”

Then he’s already turning, guiding you through the tangle of bodies toward the kitchen. You follow, trying not to overthink that last part. Steals you away. Like you’re some prize Bakugou might casually claim.

Does everyone think you’re just a body to him? And would that really be so bad… if it meant he’d picked you?

Fuck you need that drink. You toss the first one back the second it’s in your hand—barely tastes like anything, just cold and sharp. Kirishima lets out a loud laugh, already reaching to pour you another like it’s a challenge. As he talks, he’s all bright chatter—rambling about how annoying the setup was, how they almost didn’t get enough booze. He asks when your birthday is like it’s just part of the conversation, like none of this is weird.

He’s mid-sentence when someone interrupts—a blond, all pretty eyes and glazed-over smile, leaning in over Kirishima’s shoulder like he’s got zero sense of personal space. Drunk, maybe high. Definitely nosy, not that Kirishima seems to mind anyway. 

“Who’s the pretty girl, Ei?” he slurs, trying for a smirk that doesn’t quite land.

Kirishima just laughs, easily wrapping an arm around the guy to steady him. “This is Bakugou’s girl, bro. Back off.”

The blond seems as thrown by that as you are. Bakugou’s girl? Since when?

“Wait… I thought she wasn’t coming,” he frowns, looking a little too disappointed. “That’s why Bakubro was being extra mean to me today…”

You expect Kirishima to jump in with something. But instead, he just gives you this look—his brows raised slightly, an expectant glint in his eyes, like he's silently nudging you to explain yourself too. 

“Oh, um…” You twist uncomfortably under their gazes, feeling the weight of the attention. “I didn’t think I’d be able to, but… I am here now, so…” You shrug, the words feeling clumsy even to you.

Kirishima just watches you, his expression blank, and you get the sense that he’s not exactly thrilled with your answer—or with your whole last-minute appearance. Blondie, on the other hand, pouts deeper, his voice laced with a hint of teasing frustration. “Well, I would’ve preferred if you came before the beer pong… He was so aggressive with it…”. Kirishima gives the guy a playful pat on the head in response, a silent gesture that seems to acknowledge the comment without words.

This whole interaction has you itching to find Bakugou, to see why everyone’s been expecting you, why his flatmate seems annoyed by your absence. And, of course, to catch a glimpse of his handsome face too. “Where’s the birthday boy? I haven’t been here before, so…”

At the mention of Bakugou, Kirishima’s energy shifts, his enthusiasm returning like flipping a switch. “Let me show you,” he says, peeling Denki off his shoulder with a gentle but firm hand. “Denks, drink some water, okay?” Kirishima adds, his tone casual but with a hint of concern, before turning back to you to lead you back through the crowd. 

Eventually, Kirishima stops in front of a hallway door, turning back to give you a quick grin. “He’s probably hiding out in there,” he says, giving the door a casual knock. “Don’t be too shocked, though. He’s a little… cranky tonight.” He flashes you one last smile before turning and walking away, leaving you standing there at the door.

You push the door open, silently wishing you will either find him inside alone, or not at all. 

The room is dimly lit, the faint glow of string lights hanging lazily in the corners, old posters covering the walls. The scent of cigarette smoke lingers in the air, mixing with the faint buzz of the party from down the hall. Your eyes scan the room, searching for him, and that's when you see him: Bakugou, slouched in a chair by the window, arms crossed over his chest.

He doesn’t seem to notice you at first, too caught up in his own world. You can’t help but watch him for a moment, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens slightly as he breathes in. You hesitate for a moment, but before you can second-guess yourself, his voice breaks the silence.

"Didn't think you'd actually show," he mutters, his gaze still locked on the window, his tone rougher than usual.

"You didn’t tell me it was your birthday," you say, unmoving from your place at the door.

He doesn’t respond right away, his silence thick in the air between you. The seconds stretch on, but then, slowly, he turns to face you. His brow furrows, lips curling into something between a frown and a smirk, but it’s his eyes that catch you off guard. They’re wide, not shy, but hungry, tracing your frame with an intensity that makes the space between you feel smaller than it is.

"Come closer," he demands, voice low, almost challenging. "I want a better look at you."

You hate how easily you obey, the words pulling you forward like a magnet. Until finally, you’re close enough that the air between you feels thick, charged. His legs caging your own as you stand between them. 

He doesn't move, not yet, but you feel the weight of his gaze, steady and intense. And when his hands finally find your waist, it’s almost a relief. Almost. They tug you forward, pulling you down onto his lap with a quiet but unmistakable force.

You try to steady yourself, to regain control, but his grip tightens just enough to remind you who’s in charge here. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening at the feel of his body so close to yours.

"Is this how you like it?" His voice is rougher now, darker, a question more than anything else.

“You know how I like it.” 

He lets out a dry chuckle, the sound rough. "Damn right," he mutters, his hands sliding through your hair, fingers pulling roughly at your scalp, forcing your eyes to meet his. You hold in the quiet noise already threatening to come out from the treatment. 

"I was pissed when you didn’t reply," he says, his gaze burning into yours. “Told everyone my girl was coming, even helped Shitty hair with putting the decks up, got the good drinks too. But you didn’t show.”

His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you in just a little closer, the light scent of alcohol on his breath. "Do you always keep people waiting?" he asks, his voice rougher now, low and almost a growl. "Or was this just for me?"

You hate how his words vibrate through you, how you have to resist the temptation to press your legs together while spread out on his lap, refusing to let him feel the impact of his own words. “But what is it you want from me, Katsuki?” You breathe out, close enough now to see his eyes flash at the name change. “I thought this was just sex, and now you’re inviting me to your birthday party and getting pissy when I don’t show... Is meeting your friends part of the deal now, too?”

“You think this is just sex?” he says, voice rougher now, like he’s testing the words himself. “You think I don’t hate walking away every time? That I haven’t thought about just… staying? Not leaving for once. Keeping you.” A beat. “Keeping you as mine?”

Your breath catches.

“Katsuki… then why didn’t you just ask?” you whisper. “Instead of always running off.”

“Never the right fuckin’ time,” he mutters, his fingers brushing the side of your face, his touch unexpectedly gentle. “You were always either sleeping or too fucked out to hold a conversation. And you... you sure know how to make a guy nervous Angel.”

You blink. “I make you nervous?”

His hand moves to the back of your neck, his grip tightening just enough to pull you closer, “You think I do this often?” His laugh is low, a little dry, but there’s a sincerity to it that catches you off guard. “I downloaded Tinder as a fuckin’ joke. But when I saw your face... couldn’t resist. And the second I had you? Casual was never gonna work for me.”

The weight of his words settles in your chest. You can’t look away, not when he’s watching you like that, like he’s been starving for this moment.

“But hey,” he says, voice dipping low, almost a murmur now. “If you don’t want more, that’s fine. I’ll still give you what you need.” His thumb traces your lower lip, a delicate contrast to everything else about him. “But I want all of it, Angel. I want everything you’ll give me.”

You stare at him, your voice steady despite the heat flooding your veins. “You think I’d be here if you hadn’t caught me too?” you say quietly. “I don’t get this pretty for just anyone.”

His expression shifts. The hunger softens into something warmer, heavier. Something like possession. “You better not,” he says, almost reverently. “You’re mine now.”

And then his mouth is on yours.

Your lips crash together, like they have a million times before, and then he’s picking you up and caging you on the bed underneath you. He dives into your neck, his lips trailing fire across your skin, a low, satisfied groan vibrating from his chest as he kisses you like a man starved. You gasp, trying to hold onto the moment, but you can barely keep your thoughts straight.

You laugh, a little tipsy on him more than the alcohol now. “Katsuki, wait—” You reach up to gently tug at his hair, trying to pull him back. “There’s like a million people in your apartment.”

He barely registers the comment, his hands already at your waist, pulling you closer. “Don’t care,” he mutters, ripping off his shirt with frustration, exposing his toned chest as he leans down to kiss you again.

“I care,” you protest weakly, though the excitement burning in you is undeniable. “I just met them… I want to leave a good impression.”

His eyes darken, a smirk tugging at his lips as he stares down at you. “Fuck that,” he growls, his hands tracing the curves of your body possessively. “The only person you need to be good for is me.”

You roll your eyes, trying to bite back a grin. “Yeah, sure, but I’d prefer not to be that girl at your party—”

“Angel,” he interrupts, voice full of mischief, “I’m the birthday boy.”

His breath ghosts over your ear, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

“Now…” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin, “let me open my present.”

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊

general taglist 🏷️ : @cristy-101 @cielito--lindo @waterfal-ling

nerdjo x reader ⟢ real man

"... did you know that a quasar emits more energy in a second than our sun will in its entire lifetime?"

"uh... sure?"

༄.° pairing . nerd! gojo x popular! reader (f)

⤷ summary . a low grade lands you a tutor session with the nerdiest boy at your university with the help of the best wingman, your professor, who knows that gojo is your only way of improving that 59.6% in your physics class. your annoyance soon turns into admiration and maybe something else as you find yourself enjoying the late night study sessions. but what happens when the physic sessions turn into sex education?

warning ⓘ tags . (18+), porn with plot me thinks, smut, gojo will give you second hand embarrassment bless his soul, protected sex that will lead to unprotected, masturbation, praise kink, oral, p in v, cream pie. sub gojo heh. jealous gojo. perv gojo. obsessive gojo.

⤷ wc . 4k (not proofread)

a/n . this is my first actual attempt to writing good smut. never got the hang of it so hopefully this turns out good. the 59.6% is specific because that is MY current grade and I might just kms if nerdjo doesn't help me out.

a/n . 2 I enjoyed writing the friendship buildup more than the actual smut :p

waking up to an email sent by your physics professor was not the best way to start off the day.

"you've got to be kidding me.." you grumbled, with your morning voice attempting to read the title of the email as your blurry eyes adjusted to the bright screen of your phone. you weren't surprised when the subject was that you are being assigned a tutor. you were aware of your current grade, but you swore you would be able to raise it up. right after partying.

your roommate, and long term friend, peaks over your shoulder as she buttoned up her pants. "yikes, I'm surprised he hasn't admitted you to a tutor earlier, haven't you had the same grade for a while now?"

you sighed knowing she was right. your grade hasn't gone up even a percentage for the past two weeks.

'meet me in class before it begins today, perhaps 10 minutes before, ill be introducing you to your tutor and we'll discuss how things will work.'

and that's how you found yourself standing in front of your teachers desk awkwardly. "he'll be here soon, he's very punctual."

you nodded in acknowledgment. you wanted to play it safe and come a few minutes earlier than the given time written on the email. '10 minutes before class'. the said class begins at 9:40. it is currently 9:28.

he was punctual alright. the moment it struck the half hour, the door swung open to reveal a tall boy- no, a really tall boy. he had white hair and blinding blue eyes behind dorky glasses. despite his nerdy look, the boy had a few facial piercings. one on his eyebrow and his lip.

that's hot.

"satoru! come in, come" your professor gestured the boy to be next to you. satoru offered a small, shy wave, which you responded with a warm smile.

"so as we all know, y/n isn't doing so well in this class." you cringed feeling your face heat up. being exposed in front of someone as smart as satoru was the ultimate humiliation.

"here's what's going to happen. there is an upcoming review test before the final. you pass that and im 99.9 percent sure that you will pass the final with enough studying. I'll leave satoru to decide how the tutoring will work, but I expect you both to meet up at least four times a week."

four times a week? four times? a week. great.

session 1.

you dragged your body into the library with your tote bag full of textbooks and practice worksheets. the library was fairly crowded with students studying for upcoming exams. you being one of them.

making your way deeper into the study area, your eyes landed on gojo who was setting up the table with his headphones plugged in. you approached him but he didn't notice you.

"satoru..?"

no answer. he was in a completely different world with the way he was humming a tune which only brought you to your last resort.

you poked his shoulder lightly which caused him to jump a little, looking over his shoulder to meet eyes with you.

"oh! hi uhm im sorry..! I didn't notice you I was just uh setting up the table. is this place okay with you? we can always pick somewhere else if your uncomfortable with being way too-"

"no no its fine with me." you interrupted his babbling which you found endearing.

"right." he chuckled before sitting down which you followed.

"alright so what exactly are you struggling with?" he asked.

what are you struggling with? "everything" you answered honestly looking at the organized textbooks- all related to physics and.. digimon?

"so.. we can start off with the basics of fundamentals of motion. such as speed and distance and maybe add in some kinematic equations. you are familiar with newtons law, right?"

you nodded as you recalled to the only thing you remembered from this god awful class.

"okay so we can skip that.. but ill still explain a little bit of it towards the end, just to make sure."

that's how you spent your first session with the boy. he's amazing at explaining, learning more from him than any past lectures. the way he is so into it you can't help but space out at the way his lips move.

"for the equations, there are a few of them, ill give you three examples then write one of each so you can practice."

your eyes fixated at the way he neatly wrote down the letters.

"so uhm.. do I multiply or-"

"you subtract this from both sides."

"got it."

this was definitely going to take a while if you couldn't even handle the basics. you handed him back the sheet where you attempted the problems.

"seems like you have a bit of difficulty deriving the equations."

you sighed. how long has it been? forty minutes? and hour?

checking your phone you were surprised to see that only 15 minutes have passed?

'just kill me at this point' you thought.

"hey hey, no phones. can't have you getting distracted, hand it over"

"I was just checking the time! don't take it away pleaseee" you begged.

"you'll be tempted to check the time every five seconds, just hand it over." you reluctantly placed it in his hand. his fingers brushed against yours and you were surprised to see how soft his were.

"lets try again. this time ill watch you solve them so I can see where you start to go wrong."

2 hours have gone by and you finally grasped how to solve the equations involving motion and acceleration.

"good job!" the praise boosted up your confidence. "only took ya thirty practice problems but you got there." he teased as he adjusted his glasses. "thanks satoru." you rolled your eyes at him.

the way you said his name went straight into his head. both of them actually.

"we should wrap it up for today"

he reached into his bag pulling out a few sheets before sliding them to you. "try and finish these by wednesday, which will be our next session. oh-" the pale boy reached for his examples. "use these for reference if you forget again."

accepting the papers, you placed them in your folder before tucking it back into your bag. "thank you, I know i'm not the easiest to teach."

"non sense. you're the first person i've tutored to actually have motivation to learn."

"you've tutored others?" you tilted your head.

"course I have. anyways, study what we've gone over today. here's my phone number-"

"youre going to have to give me back my phone in order for that" you chuckled. it felt like satorus world paused for a second as he saw your smile.

"uh right.. sorry"

it felt great to have your beautiful cellular device in the comfort of your hands.

"I usually ignore my messages.. can I give you my instagram instead?" you asked.

satoru was a bit disappointed to not be able to have your phone number, but your insta was just as good. that way he'd be able to see pictures of you.

you both exchanged users, you with your whopping 2.3k followers and him with his 40. 41 including you.

he noticed that out of the 2.3k people that follow you, you only follow around 90. he felt honored that he would be one of the lucky ones to be blessed with your follow.

"great!" satoru couldn't help the dorky grin that crept up on his face. "text me if you have any issues with the work, mkay?"

multiple sessions have passed.

you felt yourself warm up with the boy, learning more about him and his nerdy interests and the upcoming 'name as many digimon characters as you can' contest that he's pumped for explained the character book you'd see every time you met up at the library.

which you both eventually ditched after accidentally catching a couple doing... activities one shouldn't be doing in a quiet environment.

satoru couldn't help but wish that was you and him.

you both settled for a nearby cafe where he always paid for your drinks and sugary treat which he's memorized by now.

"we should go over the vocabulary today" his fingers skimmed through several papers before pulling one out that had the key to all the words you had to remember.

you were progressing and you felt confident for the review and final which were both in three months.

"here write down the words on a separate sheet and try to answer them to see which you know and which you don't."

outside of your tutor sessions, you began saying hi to each other in the hallways, exchanging small smiles in class, and late night texts.

satoru [ 10: 37 PM]

-you complete the worksheets?

you [ 10: 40 PM]

-hi! I just need to finish up the last one then im all done

satoru [ 10: 41 PM]

-thats good, mind sending me what you've done?

you [ 10 : 45 PM]

[image attached]

-im actually at a party right now..

that led to a scolding from him the next day. he couldn't care less actually no matter how many times he said to restrain yourself from partying for now because of your studies. in reality, he just didn't want any boy to see you wearing whatever revealing outfit you decided to put on.

satoru would be lying that he wouldn't feel the way his inexperienced cock would harden whenever he would see the way your skirt would ride up your thighs as you sat so prettily in front of him.

you were completely unaware of how much you affected the poor boy.

"so how'd the contest go?"

"I won obviously. named all 1400 of em." he put his hands up in victory.

you laughed at how cute you found it. him being proud over beating a bunch of kids?

"what was the price?"

"a limited edition card. super rare by the way, you have like one in a thousand chance of getting it. here! I have it on me actually."

he pulled out a card that resembled Pokemon cards which he would get annoyed when you got the two of them mixed up.

"this is the ghost bt1 diamond. you can pick one out of any Digimon of your opponent or you can delete all the Digimon if they share a name with it."

his eyes lit up whenever he talked about his interests. and you loved that about him.

"sounds cool, how much is it worth?"

"hmm I think like 300 at most."

"yeah well I remember my brother has a Pokemon card that's worth 78 grand."

"do your damn work."

as you prepared to leave, he stopped you.

"here."

he handed you the digimon card making your eyes widen.

"you're giving it to me?"

"mhm, just remembered I already have a similar card that does the exact same as this one. no need for me to have it. besides I think it would look great on your phone case."

now, whenever he takes away your phone for your study time, he can't help but smile when he looked at the card neatly placed inside the clear case with a few stickers around it.

he’d find himself late at night in the comfort of his own dorm, with his hand hesitantly palming his growing bulge at the sight of your story. the picture was of you smiling cutely at the cafe you both went at. a picture he took.

you looked gorgeous. you are gorgeous.

he doesn't remember the last time he's jerked off. maybe once in high school when his favorite cosplayer dressed up as a beloved female character of his?

pulling out his needy length, he imagined it was you. a finger grazed upon his tip smearing the pre-cum a bit as he let out a few whimpers. would you hate him if you saw him like this? all horny and pent up because of your post? or would you help him?

no matter how much he stroked himself, he just couldn't finish. he needed you.

his eyes skimmed through various websites to help his situation out.

‘how to have the best orgasm in your life’

‘best stroking methods’

‘how the female anatomy works and how to pleasure it’

‘man finishes threehu-‘

wait what was that? he scrolls back up a bit clicking on the female anatomy one. he was met with several images. diagrams showing where the most pleasurable part was for a woman.

gojo hasn’t done this much studying since his calculus exam back in elementary. who the hell let’s a seven year old solve that shit?!

by the end of the day, his brain is now stuffed with knowledge on how to pleasure you. still zero clue on how he’s ever going to bust.

2 days.

2 days until you review test and you were.. stressed to say the least. thankfully you have gone over everything from the semester and gojo made sure that you were well prepared even offering to make you a cheat sheet, allowed by the professor, to help you out during the test just in case.

"toru."

fuck. when did you begin calling him that nickname? it made gojo feel lightheaded to the point where he had to grip the end of his chair as you approached him.

"hey I was wondering if we could study at my place tonight?" you asked sweetly.

“your place..? like, where you live?”

“I hope so?” you giggled.

“y-yeah i guess but why?”

you took a seat next to him placing your bag next to your feet on the floor.

“walked past the cafe and saw that it was closed due to some renovations”

“god i hope it’s the bathroom sink. that thing sprayed me”

you both laugh at the memory of him coming out the bathroom with his hair sticking to his forehead and clothes dampened. that was the first time you’ve seen him without his glasses.

you preferred him with them on.

but you couldn’t deny that either way he still looked so handsome especially when he rolled up his now wet sleeves of his black sweater revealing veins that adorned his arms.

“I hope so. anyways I’ll text you the address later.. or actually, we can walk together if you’d like?” you offered and who was he to decline?

“sure sweetheart.”

gojo recently picked up the habit of calling you sweet names which never failed in making your stomach leap in happiness. where’s he get the sudden habit?

‘how to fluster a girl.com’

god knows where.

your house wasn’t far from the campus since you’ve been planning on attending this university ever since you were a kid due to living 20 minutes away at a walking distance.

“my parents are away at a trip so we’ll have the house to ourselves”

fuck yeah.

“they doing a business trip or..?”

“it’s their anniversary. they flew out to france and didn’t even bother inviting me” you rolled your eyes playfully making the pierced boy laugh. he recently switched out his lip piercing after his last one fell off while drinking his coffee.

he took in your house as you arrived. looking at the memories plastered on the walls. this is where you grew up..

“want anything eat?”

you.

he shook his head. “I’m alright, I ate something not long ago.” you hummed while walking upstairs, him trailing behind just to get a glimpse up your skirt seeing the pink laced panties that made him let out a low groan. his pants were uncomfortable by the time you reached your room. it was a warm environment, posters on the walls, stuffed animals on the bed. the bed he would love to fuck you in.

“s’cute” he complimented placing his bag down before he stretched out his lanky body on your bed.

his sweater slipped up a bit revealing his v line as well as his white happy trail. your breath hitched as your eyes trailed down the patch of hair before landing on the raging boner that he had. no way.

was he hard?

despite having past experience yourself, no one has ever made you finish.

gojo propped himself on both his arms. “let’s just review what I taught you at the beginning first to freshen up your memory.” you barely took in anything he said as you approached the bed as well sitting down next to him before you felt bold. you shifted sitting down on his lap instead.

satoru let out a gasp before moaning. his hands found your hips immediately. “fuck.. what are you-“ he was cut off by your subtle grinding.

“we shouldn’t..” your heart sank a bit. “you don’t want this..? I’m just trying to help you toru.”

“I know baby but I haven’t.. well I’m.. I’ve never done t-this before, god..” he mumbled embarrassed. oh so that’s what this is. he’s a virgin. “I don’t mind.. let me help you”

“please-“

“shh..” you tugged at his jeans bringing down to his knees. “You’ve never done this before?” you asked letting your acrylics tease him through his digimon boxers.

“no.. no please fuck..”

his cute whimpers went straight to your heat as you finally tugged down his boxers only to be met with the biggest cock you’ve seen. it slapped his stomach the second it was released. he was thick. the pretty pink tip was slowly turning an angry red color as he panted.

you wrapped your hand around him stroking up and down his base watching him twitch. while keeping eye contact, you let some spit fall down his cock making him moan as you used your drool as lube. his hips bucked up as he felt the warmth of your mouth around him.

“t-that’s it..”

for the first time, your lips met in a sweet and needy kiss, your hand still working wonders on him. he placed a shaking hand on your ass cupping it making sure not to break the heated kiss.

“can.. can you ride me?” the way he asked shyly made you want to ruin him even more. you nodded watching him pull off his sweater. now by all means you had zero clue that this man was built as if god made him with his own hands. you did the same, quickly undressing before he stopped you.

“please.. please keep the panties on”

“you like em?”

“fucking love them.”

after carefully placing a condom you found in your drawer on him, you guided his tip to grind just right against you. “lift up your hips a bit toru.. just move them.. back.. and forth.. good job love”

the praise didn’t help Gojos situation at all. “keep praising me..” at this point his glasses were all fogged up. your finger hooked into your panties slipping them to the side so you could slip his cock in.

“so big..” you cood

“oh god, you’re right.. fuckkk baby wait.. wait wait” he moaned filling up the room with lewd noises. the plap, plap, plap echoed. large hands found your waist helping you ride him at a quick pace.

“shit.. you’re better than I imagined.” he groaned out biting your neck sweetly. “you’ve imagined.. this? ngh!” you were surprised to see him pick up the pace. “all the time.”

gojo thought back to the website he visited frequently. his finger found your clit circling it before rubbing it repeatedly. you head fell on his shoulder as you began to shake from overstimulation. “Toru..!”

“this is where you’re weak, right? most girls have an orgasm immediately after teasing the clit”

“ngh.. nerd..!”

“so sensitive”

the raspiness in his voice was enough to make you finish. for the first time ever. gojos hips stuttered as he pulled out watching your juices spill out. he brought his fingers to his mouth tasting you. “you taste good babe”

panting, you removed the condom from his still hard length before slipping him back in.

he wasn’t even half way in before ropes of cum went inside you making gojo close his eyes letting tears of being overstimulated fall down his pretty flushed cheeks.

“be my girl..”

four things happened that day.

you came for the first time

you took away gojos virginity

you were both now dating

you didn’t study at all

but the cheat sheet did help you out a bit. after finishing up the last question, gojo walked over to the teachers desk placing it on top of it. he was the first one out of everyone to finish, like always. he looked up to where you were seated.

there you were, more focused than ever biting your nail as you answered the equations as if it was muscle memory. he was proud, smiling to himself before leaving the classroom.

toru ! [ 7: 45 AM ]

-results are in today 👀

you [ 7:46 AM]

-im nervous… i think i failed it bro im so scared toru

toru ! [ 7: 48 AM]

-I doubt that sweetheart

and he was right because the second you received back your paper with a beautiful 92% written on top of it you felt like you were in heaven. you ran towards gojo wrapping your arms around him excitedly.

“I did it! look!” you showed him your paper.

“told you. good job am proud of ya” he grinned as he once again felt his cock throb at the way you were squeezing him. “what’d you get?”

“100%”

“show off.”

he barked out a laugh before placing his hands on your hips. “we should celebrate.” he suggested. “with cake?” he hummed tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear before letting his thumb rub on your cheek affectionately. “sure pretty.”

operation: get over your childhood crush! — gojo satoru

synopsis. in an attempt to move on from your childhood best friend—who definitely doesn’t see you the way you want—you hatch a series of plans to help you get over him. it doesn't go as planned.

contents. hurt/comfort, fluff, nerd!gojo, college au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, unreliable narrator, miscommunication, insecurity, dorky references bc u make him go dumb and digimon inaccuracies probably

notes. i did not proofread this monster!! enjoy :P

The hum of the air conditioning fills the room as night settles in, the light from Satoru’s bedside lamp casting a soft glow over his mess of a room. You’re both sprawled out across his bed, limbs entangled like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Because, for the two of you, it is.

Satoru’s Nintendo Switch is balanced on his stomach, hands lazily tapping away as his little Digimon charges into battle on screen. You’re curled into his side, one leg hooked around his and a blanket thrown haphazardly across you both. The half-abandoned textbooks sit at the edge of the mattress, tragically ignored. Another study session: failed. Not that Satoru needed it. He passed everything with flying colors. It was more of an excuse for you to come over.

“Your room still smells like that cheap vanilla air freshener,” you mumble, nose scrunching.

“That’s because you bought it,” he replies without looking up, thumb expertly guiding his character through an attack.

“Because your room would end up stinking with sweat and whatever freaky stuff you do in here.”

“Hey!” He whines. “I shower everyday and you know it. The stink is all you. Have you ever sniffed yourself, princess?”

You swat at his stomach, and he lets out a dramatic grunt. “Rude. I brought that candle to add ambiance.”

“Ah yes,” he deadpans, “nothing like artificial sugar scent.’”

You snort, settling your head back down on his shoulder, the fabric of his hoodie soft beneath your cheek. There’s a long pause before you say, “You know, if we fail our exams, I’m blaming your Digimon addiction.”

He grins. “I’m raising digital warriors, thank you very much. And I’ve never failed an exam, don’t wound me now!”

“They look like mutant toddlers with attitude problems.”

He gasps, clutching his heart. “They’re champions, you monster.”

You laugh, letting the sound dissolve into something quieter as your fingers absentmindedly trace a pattern into the blanket. His hand rests near yours. Not holding it. Not not holding it.

His glasses are tilted again. Of course.

You reach up and straighten them with a sigh. “Honestly, you’d be lost without me.”

“Not true.” He says it reflexively, then pauses. His voice softens. “Okay, maybe. I’d probably just let them slide down until I walked into a wall.”

You smile faintly. “And there’d be no one there to patch you up.”

“Tragic,” he agrees. “Would bleed out on the floor, probably.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re so bossy,” he counters, shooting you a sideways look. 

“Admit it,” he says, voice full of faux-smugness, “you’d miss me if I died tragically and left you all alone.”

You hesitate for a second too long before mumbling, “Don’t joke about that.”

It’s quiet. The game music loops in the background as his Digimon wins the battle with a triumphant fanfare.

He doesn’t say anything.

You suddenly feel too warm under the blanket. The joke had been harmless, stupid even.

But something inside you twists, the same something that’s been unraveling lately every time he mentions another girl.

Another type. That’s not you.

“You know,” you say slowly, eyes peeling from the screen to his phone, which lights up with a notification, revealing one of his favorite gravure model’s latest issues as its wallpaper. “You could probably date any girl you wanted. Why do you partake in freak stuff like this? It’s anti-girl repellent.”

He makes a noncommittal sound. “Doubt it.”

“I don’t. You’ve got that whole genius-who-doesn’t-realize-he’s-hot thing going on.”

He glances at you, skeptical. “Is that… a thing?”

“It is. Annoying, but effective. Girls love it.”

He hums, clearly amused, cheeks slightly flushed. “Well, good to know I have options.”

You try to laugh, but it catches in your throat.

You shouldn’t ask. You really shouldn’t.

But you’re lying in his bed. Wrapped up in him like you belong here. And some part of you aches to know the answer.

So you pretend it’s a joke. You tilt your head against his shoulder, voice airy, teasing. “Hey, be honest—do you think I’m cute?”

He goes still.

His hand tightens slightly on the Switch. You think you’ve pushed too far, so you try to backpedal before he can respond.

“Not like… like that,” you say quickly. “I just meant, like, in general. Compared to those girls you’re into. Say, Waka Inoue. You know, long legs, shiny hair, cute face?”

His jaw tightens.

You’re still trying to play it off. “I mean, I’m not fishing for compliments. I just—was wondering. Curiosity. Science.”

He finally turns to look at you.

His gaze lingers. And for the first time all night, he’s not smiling.

You feel your breath stutter in your throat underneath his gaze.

Then he shrugs.

“…Nah.”

It slices through the air with quiet finality.

Your heart drops. You don’t let it show. Not fully. But it must flicker in your face, because he quickly looks away.

You laugh. It sounds forced.

“Yeah, that’s fair. I mean, I wasn’t expecting a yes or anything.”

He’s silent.

You shift away from him slightly, giving him space. “I should head home soon. We didn’t really get any studying done, anyway.”

“It’s late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Usually, you’d accept his offer with a smile, but you really wanted to go home and wallow in your own self pity.

“It’s fine, I have something to do anyway,” the lie slips out of your mouth easily as you begin to pack your things.

And you miss the way he watches you—guilt in his eyes, frustration on his tongue. 

You knew it was time. Ten years of hopeless, fruitless pining had done enough damage to your heart.

It had started the day your parents moved next door. Satoru had been the loud, obnoxious, too-pretty-for-his-own-good boy on the playground who shoved candy in your hand and asked if you wanted to be friends.

You’d been doomed since day one.

And to make things worse, you’d both gotten into Japan’s most competitive university—together. Same neighborhood. Same school. Same train route. You weren’t just stuck with him. You were haunted.

But you were young. And hot. And allegedly in your prime. You couldn’t keep orbiting around a guy who still thought microwave gyoza was a food group and used your shampoo because it “smelled like you, so why not?”

You were sipping coffee with your two closest friends, and today’s topic was—unfortunately—your love life.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’ve been stuck on Gojo for this long,” Utahime said, disgusted, as she stirred her latte like it personally offended her. “You could do so much better.”

“It was kind of cute in high school,” Shoko added “but now it’s just sad.”

You sighed, blowing on your drink. “I know, okay? It’s not like I haven’t tried. But he’s literally the only guy I’ve ever been close to. I don’t even talk to guys besides him.”

“That’s because he’s been gatekeeping you since the two of you met,” Utahime said flatly. “I swear, every time someone so much as glanced at you, he pulled that overprotective act.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That doesn’t sound like ’Toru…”

Shoko and Utahime exchanged a look. One of those knowing glances.

Utahime cleared her throat. “It doesn’t matter! What matters is you are hot. You’ve got the face, the body, the grades, the personality. You just need the confidence.”

You peeked up at her, unsure. “You really think so?”

Utahime leaned forward, smirking like she’d just won a war. “I know so. And that’s why I’ve come up with a plan.”

You narrowed your eyes. “A plan?”

She slammed her hands down on the table, eyes alight. “Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru.”

You blinked. “That’s… a long title.”

Shoko blew a slow stream of smoke. “It’s either this or pine until you die and haunt him as a love-sick ghost.”

You stared into your cup, sighing. “Fine. I’m in. What’s step one?”

Utahime grinned.

“Whatcha doing?” 

Gojo’s voice drifts lazily over your shoulder, followed by the soft rustle of his hoodie as he leans in. He’s far too close, obnoxiously so, his breath tickling your ear and his chin was nearly resting on your shoulder.

You don’t even glance up. “Studying.”

The two of you are supposed to be studying— finals loom overhead like a guillotine, but as usual, very little academic progress has been made. Mostly because your study partner is a six-foot-something genius who insists on sitting sideways in the booth, long legs tangled in yours under the table like it’s second nature.

He hums, skeptical. “Liar.”

You hum noncommittally, thumbing through the dating app Utahime suggested with vague disinterest. The guys blur together: not tall enough, too cocky, too bland, too not Satoru. One makes a joke suspiciously close to a Gojo classic, and you immediately hit unmatch with a scowl.

“Wait,” Satoru says slowly. “Are you on a dating app?!” He practically yells the last part. Half the cafe turns to glare at the source of the disruption.

You hiss under your breath, mortified, swatting at him. “Keep your voice down, idiot!”

His eyes widen dramatically, hands thrown up like you’ve stabbed him. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you’re already planning a life with someone named ‘Keita, aspiring DJ and spiritual healer’? I’m wounded.”

“You weren’t supposed to read that far.”

“I’m a speed-reader,” he says with a smug grin. “It’s part of the whole ‘genius’ thing.”

Before you can argue, he snatches your phone with a level of ease that tells you this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. He grins like he’s won a prize.

“Satoru!”

“Relax, I’m not texting anyone,” he says, fingers flying across the screen. “Just… optimizing.”

Your heart drops. “What are you typing?”

“Nothing~”

You make a grab for your phone, but he effortlessly leans back, holding it above his head with those ridiculously long limbs. You glare at him from across the table, arm outstretched like a furious cat trying to swat at the moon.

“Give it back!”

“Patience.”

“Gojo Satoru—”

“Okay, okay!” he relents with a dramatic sigh, finally placing your phone face-down on the table like he’s done you a huge favor.

You snatch it up immediately, eyes scanning for damage. No weird messages. No unsolicited likes. No new matches.

“…What did you do?”

“I didn’t message anyone,” he assures, too innocent to be trusted. “I’m not that cruel.”

You narrow your eyes, suspicious.

“But,” he adds with a grin, “I didn’t know you were dating.”

“I’m not,” you mutter, clicking your phone off. “Just… considering it. Trying. It’s not going well.”

“Good.”

The word comes out too fast. Too sharp. And his face doesn’t match the light tone he’s trying to play off.

You raise an eyebrow. “Good?”

He shifts, leaning back in his seat, suddenly very interested in stirring the foam in his overpriced coffee. “I mean, it’s good you’re not settling. You should be picky. Guys are the worst.”

You snort. “You are a guy.”

“Exactly. I know what we’re like.”

You smile despite yourself, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure you think you’re the exception.”

“I know I am,” he says, winking. Then he sobers slightly, eyes flickering to yours. “I’m just… looking out for you.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You wish it was more than just him being protective in that big-brotherly, annoyingly loyal kind of way.

You take a sip of your coffee to cool your nerves. It doesn’t help. The words come out before you can stop them.

“You know with the way things are going… maybe you should just date me at this point.”

Silence.

It’s a joke. Supposed to be. But the second it leaves your lips, it tastes real.

Gojo freezes.

You panic. “I didn’t mean—like, I was just joking—”

But he turns toward you, eyes unreadable behind the fringe of snowy white hair. “Maybe I should.”

You blink.

And then, with infuriating ease, he grins.

“Anyway,” he says quickly, swiping your phone from the table again before you can stop him, “Yuto here looks like the type to ghost you after three dates and a karaoke duet. You can do better.”

You gape at him, completely thrown off, your heart slamming in your chest.

You don’t even notice what he’s done until later—until you get home and open your app to find that your bio has been changed.

Taken. Mentally married to a nerd since birth.

You want to scream.

Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru?

Yeah. Not going great.

Not at all.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to it.

Maybe it was the look in Utahime’s eyes—determined, dangerous, hopeful. Maybe it was Shoko promising she wouldn’t let you walk out of her apartment looking like a clown. Maybe it was the quiet part of you that wanted to see yourself through someone else’s eyes. Someone who wasn’t Gojo Satoru.

“Today,” Utahime had declared, curling the last strand of your hair like she was threading a spell, “is the first day of your Gojo-less future”

You laughed nervously, tugging at the hem of your skirt. It wasn’t your usual style—not the dewy makeup you weren’t used to seeing in the mirror, not the new haircut that made your eyes look almost too bright, not the blouse that left your shoulders bare in a way that made you feel strangely noticed.

But when you caught your reflection, your heart fluttered. You looked… beautiful.

When you stepped onto campus, the sun was out, the wind teasing the edge of your coat. You spotted him immediately—Gojo, slouched against the wall outside your lecture hall, nose buried in his Switch as he muttered something under his breath about evolving stats and attack modifiers.

He didn’t notice you at first.

Then he looked up.

His game froze mid-battle. His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, like someone had unplugged his brain.

“Wha—” he said eloquently. “Wh—what did you do.”

You blinked. “Hi to you too.”

He stared, unabashed. His glasses were slightly crooked, his ears glowing scarlet. He looked like someone had just told him Digimon was real and living in your shoes.

He blinked. “You look like… like you skipped two evolution stages overnight. Straight to Mega. Like if Angewomon fused with… I don’t know, some kind of rare, limited-release goddess-type Digimon that only spawns on a lunar eclipse.”

You blinked.

Utahime’s voice in your head: You’re hot. Unstoppable. He’s going to be speechless.

And Gojo was. But not in the way you wanted.

You tried to laugh. “So I look like a cartoon?”

“A beautiful cartoon,” he said, serious now. “Like the kind of boss character they only show for two frames because animating her costs too much.”

Your heart stuttered. It was the sort of compliment only Gojo could give: clumsy and dorky, yet brilliant in its own way.

But the moment passed.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, sunglasses slipping slightly as he muttered, “You just… you look different. That’s all.”

Different.

Not better. Not prettier.

Just different.

You swallowed. “Yeah, well. Thought I’d try something new.”

“I didn’t say it was bad,” he added quickly, but the words felt unsure. Flimsy.

“I should… use the restroom,” you mumbled, turning before he could say anything else.

In the bathroom, you stared at your reflection. Your lipstick looked too bold now. Your lashes too heavy. Despite the change, you were still painfully you— the you Gojo teased during study sessions, the one he let borrow his hoodie when it rained, the one who sat next to him during endless all-nighters. And maybe that was the problem. You weren’t like those girls on the magazines. 

What you didn’t see, what you couldn’t see, was Gojo still standing outside the lecture hall, staring after you, Switch forgotten, game over screen blinking on the screen.

He didn’t even notice.

“You good, Satoru?” Shoko asked, walking by.

He blinked. “I think I just saw my best friend… and my final boss… and my future wife… all at once.”

Shoko snorted. “You’re a dork.”

Gojo just sighed, shoulders slumping as he muttered, “I’m so doomed.”

It’s a mild Friday evening when you meet him—Kazuya, the guy from your psychology class. He’s polite, articulate, and kind of cute. The kind of guy who asks if you prefer cats or dogs before ordering his drink, and actually listens when you answer.

Utahime and Shoko had insisted you say yes. “A change of pace,” they called it. “You need a baseline. Not every guy is going to be Gojo Satoru.”

Exactly. That was the point.

You’re sipping a matcha latte and nodding along as Kazuya explains his thesis on cognitive development when a very familiar voice cuts through the air.

“Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here.”

Your stomach drops. You look up, and sure enough—

Satoru.

In all his tall, obnoxiously eye-catching glory, wearing a white t-shirt that was inside out and a grin like he just won the lottery. He's holding a bottle of ramune and standing directly next to your table, like he’s been there the whole time.

You blink. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “Thirsty. Wanted a drink.”

“At this café? On this side of campus?”

“Yeah,” he says, tone innocent. “Weird coincidence, huh?”

Kazuya offers a polite smile. “You’re her friend, right? Gojo?”

“Oh, best friend. Lifelong. Practically her shadow.” He plops into the empty seat beside you without asking, casually tossing his ramune onto the table. “What’s your name again? Kaname?”

“…Kazuya.”

“Right, right. I always mix those up. You look like a Kaname, though. Or maybe a Yusuke.”

You stare at him, incredulous. “Satoru—”

But he’s already leaning over, squinting at the book tucked under Kazuya’s arm. “Ooh, Piaget. Bold move. Love that for you.”

Kazuya blinks. “Do you… like developmental theory?”

“I like being correct,” Gojo says with a cheeky smile. “Also, [Name] hates Piaget. She called him ‘the Freud of toddlers’ last semester.”

Kazuya turns to you in mild surprise. “Really?”

“I—I mean, yeah,” you mumble. “Sort of.”

Gojo beams. “Told you.”

Kazuya makes a valiant effort to steer the conversation back to safe, neutral ground.

“So, you mentioned you're interested in behaviorism, right?” he says, offering a gentle smile. “I thought Dr. Takeda's lecture on conditioned responses was kind of fascinating—”

“Oh, riveting,” Satoru cuts in, lounging back in his chair like he owns the café. “Nothing like bonding over Pavlov’s dogs to spark romance. Did she tell you she cried during Inside Out because the depiction of core memories was ‘psychologically resonant’? Real charmer, this one.”

You shoot Satoru a look. “I was twelve!”

Kazuya blinks, trying not to smile. “I actually thought that was pretty moving, too.”

“Wow,” Satoru deadpans. “A match made in neuroscience.”

Kazuya laughs politely and continues, undeterred. “So, uh, any research plans after graduation?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Satoru beats you to it again.

“She used to want to be a vet. Cried when she had to dissect a frog in middle school. Tragic day.”

“Is that true?” Kazuya turns to you, amused now.

“Technically, yes,” you mutter into your drink.

By the time your cup is empty, you realize you’ve laughed more at Satoru’s interjections than you have at anything Kazuya’s said. Not because Kazuya wasn’t interesting—he was. He was calm, thoughtful, well-read, and clearly trying. But next to Satoru, whose entire presence seemed impossible to ignore, Kazuya didn’t stand a chance.

Still, to his credit, Kazuya maintains a steady, if slightly strained, expression as he sets down his cup and finally says, carefully,

“So… is Gojo your boyfriend?”

The question hangs awkwardly.

You and Satoru answer at the same time.

“No,” you say quickly.

“Yes,” he says with a smile.

You both turn to stare at each other.

“I mean—no,” he corrects, waving his hands. “Just a joke. Hah. Obviously.”

Kazuya blinks. “Right.”

You can’t meet either of their eyes. Your drink is finished, your palms are damp, and the café is suddenly too warm, too small. You push back your chair and stand.

“I should go. Early lab meeting tomorrow.” It’s the weakest excuse, but neither of them calls you on it.

Kazuya stands too, polite as ever. “Thanks for meeting up. You seem like a really cool person.” He hesitates, then adds, gently, “I just think maybe you’ve already got someone.”

You freeze. You open your mouth, then close it again. There’s nothing to say.

Outside, the cold air kisses your cheeks like a reminder. It stings a little, or maybe that’s just the confusion burning in your chest.

Satoru’s already waiting for you. Of course he is. He’s leaning against the lamppost, silver hair catching in the wind. But his eyes are downcast, trained on the sidewalk.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Neither do you.

You exhale, watching your breath curl white in the air. “You didn’t have to crash it, y’know.”

“I didn’t crash,” he replies without looking at you. “I was invited.”

“By who?”

“Fate. Karma. The gods of poor decision-making.” He shrugs.

You roll your eyes, but it tugs a laugh from you anyway. Stupid, annoying, charming Gojo.

“So,” he says after a beat, nudging your arm gently with his elbow, “how’d it go?”

You glance at him. He still won’t meet your gaze. His lips are pursed like he’s holding back a hundred words and none of them are funny.

“He was nice,” you admit. Despite being rudely interrupted by the white haired idiot beside you.

“Nice is boring,” he mutters, kicking at a loose stone on the pavement.

You laugh, soft and tired. “You’re the worst.”

He finally looks at you then, lips quirking into that smug, too-knowing smile. “But you like me anyway.”

You look away, cheeks burning, heart thudding like a traitor in your chest.

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

Despite Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru failing in every imaginable way, things were starting to feel… bearable.

Almost good, even.

Satoru still hovered a little too close, always with that same half-smile like he knew something you didn’t. And maybe, just maybe— his constant sabotage, the teasing, the jealousy, the way he looked at you like he was about to say something important but never did… maybe it all meant something.

You let yourself believe it, just a little.

And that was your first mistake.

It happens quietly, without fanfare or warning. Just a throwaway line between sips of lukewarm coffee and the soft shuffle of paper. You’re both at your usual spot in the library, surrounded by open notebooks and highlighted packets, pretending to study more than you actually are.

You’re halfway through underlining a term in your psychology notes when Satoru leans back in his chair, stretches like a cat, and says—far too casually:

“So, guess who asked me out?”

You hum absentmindedly. “Who?”

“Ayane.”

The name hits you like a slap.

You freeze, highlighter paused mid-sentence. “…Ayane? From the biochem track?”

“Yeah,” he says, practically glowing. “You know her, right? She's in your study group sometimes.”

You do know her. Of course you do. Everyone knows her.

She’s beautiful, with this effortless, clean kind of elegance—long legs, perfect posture, and that quiet, poised confidence that makes professors adore her and guys fall over themselves. The kind of girl who posts one blurry bookshelf photo and still racks up a thousand likes. The kind of girl Gojo always jokes about marrying.

But he’s not joking now. He’s beaming.

“She asked me out to dinner this Friday. She’s so smart, too—I didn’t even have to pretend to know what quantum entanglement was. It’s wild.” He laughs, brushing a hand through his hair. “I thought she’d never go for a guy like me, y’know?”

You force a laugh. “A guy like you?”

“Yeah. I dunno. Too much, I guess? But she said I was ‘refreshing.’” He grins. 

Your stomach sinks.

This is what you thought you wanted—for him to move on, so you could finally do the same. For Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru to succeed, for real this time.

But now that it’s happening, it feels like someone’s slowly pulling your ribs apart.

“Oh,” you manage, smiling like you’ve practiced it. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

He doesn’t notice the way your voice cracks on happy. He just keeps talking, rambling about restaurant reservations and how she likes contemporary poetry and used to live in France. You nod in all the right places, but your thoughts are already slipping away.

Because it isn’t just that he’s going out with someone else.

It’s that he chose her.

Her with her flawless skin and quiet charm and the kind of beauty that doesn’t need to try. Her, with everything you’re not. And more than that, it’s that he made you believe you could have meant more to him—when really, he’d been searching for someone else all along.

You excuse yourself early, mumbling something about laundry.

He doesn’t follow.

You don’t cry until you’re halfway home, the cold air biting at your cheeks as your vision blurs.

For the first time in years, you don’t text him goodnight.

You don’t wait for a meme. Or a dumb joke. Or his usual, “Hey, genius. Sleep.”

You go silent.

And when he texts the next day, you don’t reply.

You skip your library meet-up. You don’t sit next to him in class. You even duck into the stairwell when you see his ridiculous white hair from across campus.

It’s not because you’re mad. It’s because you’re heartbroken.

And you can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter—that he doesn’t matter.

You weren’t just losing your best friend.

You were losing the love of your life.

And he didn’t even notice.

It takes him three days to notice you’re gone.

Well—no. That’s a lie.

He notices immediately. The moment your usual seat in the library stays empty. When your laugh doesn’t echo in the café line. When your name doesn’t pop up on his screen at 2AM with some stupid meme captioned, “this reminded me of you, idiot.”

But he tells himself you’re busy.

Midterms, right? Stress. Coffee. You get like this sometimes, and he gets it. He really does.

So he waits. Tells himself not to be clingy.

But then Friday comes.

And he's sitting across from Ayane in some expensive, quiet restaurant where the napkins are folded like origami cranes and the water tastes filtered. She’s telling him about her research internship in Osaka, about enzymes and international grants, and all he can think is—

You’d be making fun of me right now.

You’d be kicking him under the table. Whispering some dumb pun about digimon. You’d be pulling faces every time he tried to pronounce the items on the menu. You’d be… you.

Ayane is lovely.

But she doesn’t laugh when he says something stupid. She just smiles politely.

She doesn’t ask about why his glasses are always crooked (it’s so you could fix them). Doesn’t tease him for double-knotting his laces like a paranoid grandma. Doesn’t call him “Sato” like it’s some private joke only the two of you get.

He walks her home. Thanks her for a nice evening.

Then he goes to the convenience store. Alone.

And he sees your favorite snack on the shelf and buys two out of habit.

He stares at his phone the entire train ride back.

No new messages.

Just the last one you sent days ago:

“Laundry. Rain check?”

And nothing since.

He waits. Another day. Then two.

You don’t show up to class again.

You don’t like his latest meme.

You don’t comment on the Digimon pun he texted you out of desperation.

You are silent.

And Satoru Gojo—brilliant, blind-sighted, the golden boy of theoretical physics, always five steps ahead—realizes, too late, that he’s been a fool.

That he didn’t just lose a study partner.

He lost the one person who knew him better than he knew himself.

The one person he couldn’t replace with rare Digimon pulls, half-solved physics equations, or overly sweet desserts.

And for the first time since he was a kid—

He’s afraid.

It’s been a little over a week.

A little over a week since Gojo Satoru has heard your voice. Since you shoved your coffee at him without asking, muttering “too sweet for me” when you really meant “I got this for you.” Since you poked fun at his stupid sock choices, or knocked your foot against his under the table like it was nothing.

And Satoru is suffering.

He's tried everything. Showed up to your house with excuses too weak to be called plans (“Hey, I brought your favorite snacks. I just... figured maybe you forgot you liked them?”). Waited outside your lecture hall until a security guard asked if he was lost. Took detours between classes hoping to catch a glimpse of your ponytail, your laugh, anything.

But you were always one step ahead.

You stopped answering his texts. Blocked him on that stupid dating app (which—ouch, even though you hadn’t used it seriously). You didn’t even show up to the library anymore. And even Shoko started looking at him with thinly veiled pity and a “you really fumbled the bag” look in her eyes.

Gojo Satoru is… just tired.

Miserable.

So when he finally finds you—not because he’s chasing you down this time, but because he’s walking the long way home, and there you are, sitting on the old swings at the park where you first met—it knocks the wind out of him.

You don’t look surprised to see him. Just... tired too.

“I figured you’d find me eventually,” you say quietly.

He swallows. His hands curl at his sides like he’s preparing for a fight.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, like it isn’t obvious. “Why?”

You look away. “You’re smart. Figure it out.”

Gojo looks down at his feet.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and stinging. The playground is empty except for the wind dragging a soda can down the sidewalk and the faint creak of the swing chain.

Then he exhales, ragged and unsure. “Look, I can’t—I can’t take this anymore.”

You glance up.

“I can’t either.”

Hope flares too fast, too naive in his chest. His shoulders drop like he’s been holding up the world. “That’s good,” he breathes, stepping forward. “Because the silent treatment—God, I thought I was going to—”

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

The words stop him cold.

“What?” he breathes.

You laugh, but it’s hollow. Like something already broken. “Don’t you get it? I can’t be friends with you and pretend that nothing’s changed. That I’m okay just being your best friend. I’ve been in love with you for years, Satoru.”

His heart stutters. You don’t stop.

“And I love myself too much to keep hurting for someone who doesn’t even look at me that way.” Your voice cracks, but you push through. “Do you know how humiliating it feels? To love someone so much it aches, and still feel like you’ll never be enough?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You never even thought I was cute.”

He looks like he’s been hit.

“I’ve been chasing scraps. Leftovers. Mixed signals and stupid inside jokes. I—I can’t do it anymore.”

You finally meet his eyes, and that’s when he sees it: the hurt you’ve been hiding behind every smile, every brush-off, every joke you cracked to keep the silence from swallowing you.

And for once, Gojo Satoru can’t find a single thing to say.

Not yet.

Not until he stops you from walking away.

“Where did you get an idea like that?” His cerulean eyes search yours desperately. “I-I don’t think you’re just cute, are you kidding?” he blurts, eyes wild.

“Y-you’re breathtaking! Everything I’ve dreamt of and more! That night when you asked me if I thought you were cute, I only said no because it would be a divine crime to reduce to such. All of my fantasies have been centered around you since we first met on that playground—since you tripped over your shoelaces trying to race me to the monkey bars!”

Your breath catches.

He continues, desperate now, like every second of silence might kill him.

“I love you! And not like a brother. Like—I want to marry you. Like, small wedding in Okinawa, barefoot on the beach, you wearing that soft blue dress you like. I already planned it. Our firstborn would be a daughter, with your eyes, my hair. She’d be the boss of the house.”

You gape.

“Wait—”

“I’m not done!” he says, hands thrown up. “Then we’d have twins. Boys. Chaos gremlins. One would look like my twin and the other yours, and they’d absolutely terrorize us—but their sister keeps them in check, she’s fierce like you.”

You blink. A tear slides down your cheek.

“I want to move to Kyoto,” he says, softer now. “Buy a house with a dumb little garden. Grow tomatoes we’ll never eat. Live out the rest of our lives where it’s quiet.”

You cover your mouth, stunned. “You… really thought all that out?”

“It’s easy,” he breathes, “when all I can think about is you.”

He steps closer. The wind tugs his white hair into his eyes, but he doesn’t blink.

“I go to study nonlinear quantum field theory and all I see is your face. I try to cool off and play Digimon, and even that’s ruined—my lineup is garbage now! I only keep the ones you said were cute!”

A laugh bubbles out of you, fragile and watery.

“You idiot,” you murmur.

“I am,” he nods solemnly. “I’m the world’s biggest idiot. And I’m in love with you.”

Another tear slips down. He wipes it away before you can.

“Is it too late?” he asks, voice cracking slightly. “Please tell me it’s not too late.”

You stare at him—this man, this brilliant, ridiculous, loyal boy who had held your heart long before you ever admitted it.

“It’s not too late,” you whisper.

He doesn’t speak. Just steps closer. Gently and carefully, like he's handling something sacred, he cups your cheek in his hand.

Your nose bumps his. His breath ghosts over your lips.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for years,” he whispers.

And then, finally, he kisses you.

It’s not perfect, your cheeks are still wet, his nose bumps yours again, and his hand trembles just a little, but it’s warm and sweet and soft. It tastes like home. Like every unanswered question finally getting its answer.

When he pulls away, his smile is sheepish. “So… are we still doing the whole ‘Operation: Get Over Gojo’ thing, or?”

You laugh, heart full, forehead pressed to his.

“Mission failed,” you whisper.

He grins. “Good.”

And then he kisses you again.

art by leimiruu on x!

[papagojo au 🐺] comfy buddies 🧣