Momobaku !

kirishima was made for a bitchy gf......sorry.....the vision is so clear in my minds eye

☆༉ — RYOMEN SUKUNA. a better man.

about. you’re a girl that’s way out of his league and he’s the bad boy you couldn’t help but fall for. what happens when ryomen sukuna fails to meet you in the middle?

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, suggestive towards the end, no curses!au, modern!au, it’s implied that sukuna is in a gang, mentions of fights, reader is a rich girl, they’re kinda in love :( bad boy!sukuna, fem!reader.

“you’re mad at me. aren’cha?”

sukuna mutters with an air of faux nonchalance as he lazily jogs up the final marble steps that lead up to the restaurant he was supposed to meet you at nearly two hours ago. the evening traffic zips by, red and white headlights parting through the rain to illuminate your boyfriend’s features. heavy water droplets take residence on the slope of his nose and Cupid’s bow, some even daring to cling on to the tips of dusty rose-coloured hair.

if you weren’t so angry right now, you might take a moment to appreciate how good sukuna looks in the moment — especially with the way the rain makes the designer tux you’d gotten for him cling to his skin. exposing every ridge and dip and curve in his muscle while his inky black tattoos become all the more visible.

“of course i’m mad.” you step aside to let sukuna under the shelter of the entrance, avoiding him as he swoops down for his usual hug and kiss. “tonight is important. it was important.”

“babe c’mon on, i was—“

“you were late. they’re serving dessert in there, ryomen.” your tone is coloured with shades of annoyance and a hint of warning. like a mother about to lecture her child. you’re pissed. it’s written all over your face too — in the way that your brows crease and you pout so adorably. he’ll try to play it off, like he doesn’t care, but it almost makes sukuna sick to his stomach to know that you’re angry with him.

the rain picks up outside of the restaurant and you continue. “all you had to do was show up on time. come to this stupid fancy restaurant and be there to meet my parents. but of course, you got yourself caught up in—“ you grab his dress shirt in frustration, noticing the blood on the collar that doesn’t belong to him. his split knuckles and the bruise on his lips. “— in whatever this is.” you roll your eyes, blood boiling.

“it’s nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about,” sukuna scoffs, lips spreading wide in his signature smirk. the excuse is lame, but he doesn’t want you to worry for him any longer. “since when did you care about what your parents think, anyways?” but you see it in his eyes, that same old worry. that he’s not good enough for you, that a scumbag like him doesn’t deserve a pretty girl like you. he’s always told you to find someone better, someone able to feed into the glitz and glamour that you were brought up in.

but you’ve always told ryomen sukuna that you have everything you need right there with him.

cupping his face, the heat of anger dispels from your body and you exhale deeply though your nose. “i don’t care about what my parents think. if i did, i wouldn’t be dating you.” you cast a thumb over the thick lines of ink decorating his face, accenting sukuna’s high cheekbones and chiselled features while the rest of your fingers sink into his smooth, dark undercut. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t want you to meet them. they’re just as special to me as you are. i want the most important people in my life to know each other.”

your boyfriend’s hands settle on your wrists as he grunts noncommittally, indicating that he’s aware of his wrong doings. if there’s one thing that sukuna hates, it’s upsetting you. he doesn’t care what the world thinks of him, it’s never mattered before. yet, even the slightest look of disappointment from you has the man in shambles. “‘m sorry,” he drawls, his grip on you shifting down to cup your waist — pulling you flush against him. “what can a guy like me do to make it up to you?”

“you can go on in there and charm the hell out of my rich, uptight parents so that we can hurry up and go home,” your voice lowers an octave as you stand on your tip toes for the extra height so that you can nip at the shell of sukuna’s ear. “where you can rip this dress off’a me.”

“such a dirty mouth for such’a prim ‘n proper girl, hm? i should wash it out with soap.” he purrs right back, leaning down to kiss at your neck until you’ve had enough of his frayed pink hair tickling your skin. he damn near melts when your fingers inch up to tug at his roots — earning a deep and thrilling growl from the man. “that was a dirty move. who taught you that?”

“my good for nothing boyfriend, he’s kind of a bad influence.” you tease back, despite having to physically push sukuna away in order to avoid setting off his inner beast before dinner with your parents is done — and instead, take to grabbing his larger hand in yours so you can lead him from the front of house to your family’s reserved table.

and like always, sukuna trails after you like a lost puppy enamoured with the person that found them, have them love and warmth. because, while you didn’t change him, you made him want to be better — to give up the knives in his back and the bullets looking over his head for something better. something softer.

something like you.

ryomen sukuna wanted to become the someone he thought you deserved.

that’s why he put on this stupid suit and tie, why he let you take his hand, why he follows you to the the table that’s sure to seal his fate with you.

behind all that rough exterior, is a man who loves you.

and in front of sukuna, is a girl who loves him and all of his flaws right back.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

I FOUND ONE OMFG

more than me

pairing: spider-man!midoriya izuku x reaader

synopsis: izuku is a terrible friend. he’s been lying to his best friend, y/n for over two years now. they’ve been friends since they started high school, but izuku can’t bring himself to burden y/n with a secret that could be dangerous for them. and he also hasn’t fully realized his feelings for them, so he’s just full of struggles at this point.

content: superhero stuff, makeout sesh at the end, clueless izuku

word count: 4.1k

3/5 of my 500 follower celebration

“Oh shi—”

“Language, Midoriya!” Izuku contained a scream when he realized this was a livestream and not a pre-recorded video of his mentor talking to him. 

“Sorry!” he squeaked. He adjusted his seat on the rooftop, his legs dangling over the edge. He’d gotten a message from an unknown number to leave his apartment for a while to answer a call, so he’d swung up to one of his favorite rooftops (while wearing his suit to avoid extra attention as some random kid using web shooters to travel from rooftop to rooftop). He was glad he’d kept his suit’s mask on, if only to conceal the way his jaw dropped when he realized it was the one and only All Might who’d called him.

Keep reading

hii! if youre still taking requests could i either get headcanons or drabble for sero x fem!reader who’s quirk is related to healing (and she has angel wings)?

tysm!!! if your requests are closed please ignore this :) <3

★﹒₊‧sero w an angel / healer s/o

< hiii thank i sm for requesting anon!! i did a short little hc and drabble bc i couldn't think of much but i hope you like this ! :)>

angelic.

only work to describe you. not only do you literally look like an angle !! but you using your quirk to help other people is so heroic to him.

he loves to hug you from behind but his arms go around your hips more than your waist

he really likes when y'all are cuddling and you wrap your wings around him too 🥺🥺 he melts. he feels so safe in those moments.

*ok so in this little hc you're not in the hero course but instead you kinda intern under recovery girl some days

he makes sure to get a little tossed around by bakugou on days he knows you work in the nurse office, just to see you.

he literally gets hurt just so you can fix him up. (it's never bad at all !! it's just a couple bits maybe. he mostly exaggerates)

< "come on man! just do it real quick." sero whisper shouted at bakugou. "i'm not going to punch you so you can go see your little girl friend. that's seriously disturbing." sero relaxes in his stance in front of the blonde. "yeah yeah whatever. i'll go ask midoryia, he'll give me a harder punch too" he said too nonchalantly. "THE HELL-"

and that's how sero hanta, a 16 year old man ended up walking proudly to recovery girls office with a nice fresh balck eye. "good afternoon sweetheart!" he says knocking on the frame of the door as he walks in. "hi han- OMFG what happened !!" you almost drop your chart and rush to his side. grabbing his arm and steadily trying to lay him down on the beds. "mmm just a little something something." he replied, smiling like an absolute dork. you sat him up and put on his self made playlist on your phone, at a low volume as you cleaned up any dirt and bacteria that was most likely around his bruise. as you were sobbing his cheek with a red slit across it, you asked him how the hell this happened? "oh yk. just a little uh, miscommunication ? between bakugou and i." you pulled back and gave him a look. "miscommunication, huh? mm" you went back to cleaning and you started bad mouthing this bakugou character, who you've never formally met. "i dont get why you hang around him. he seems like an absolute ass. all i ever hear is how abrasive he his, and-", "no no y/n sweetie," he interupts you. "he's not that bad at all. most of the time we do stuff to get this rise outta him." he closes his eyes, expecting you to go back to icing his wound. "huh... and was this just one of those pranks gone wrong?" you ask rolling your eyes but when you meet sero's apologetic expression, like a child being caught stealing candy, it tells you all you need. "YOU INSTOGATED THIS ! sero honey, you got hurt !! you can't be putting yourself in harms way just to get a couple laughs in" you place your hands over his eye and activate your quirk. after a good two minutes standing there, you let go and his eyes fluttered open. revealing it perfectly healed. "mmm i feel better already" he states with that lovesick smile. "thank you, sweetness." he pulls you in by your waist and pecks your cheek. "yeah yeah, what am i here for" you say rolling your eyes and wrapping your arms around his neck.

french toast

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

an: enabled by @babiemay thank her for giving me the BIGGEST best friends older brother sukuna brain rot i've ever had in my life. (ooc sukuna again btw)

**part of my best friends (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

--

based on the seventeen years that sukuna has known you, he figures that you’ve already worked up some type of overthinking storm in your head when you arrive at his apartment two days later. and he knows for a fact that he’s right, because you’re at his doorstep with a pinched look on your face, clutching your purse like you’re about to get robbed. 

“hi pretty girl. did someone make an attempt on your life today?” 

you can feel your cheeks burning at the term of endearment, so phased you can barely coherently respond - or understand - what it is he said. 

“no?” you respond, nearly sweating under his eye contact as he smiles. 

“then why are you looking at me like you think i’m going to eat you?” he asks, annoyed as he gestures for you to walk into the kitchen. 

you feel your head run in a spiral, at the implication of his words, as he places his hands flat on your shoulders, and guides you to sit at the stool on his little kitchen island. the entire ordeal - the breakfast, the fact that he’s peeling off your coat and pressing a kiss to your temple, and the lingering touches - they make your skin burn, almost itch with nervousness. 

he stands on the other side of the counter, leaning forward on his forearms, as he smiles at you. and you try your best to figure out what exactly it is that’s beaming in his eyes as he leans forward. 

“pick your poison.” 

you feel yourself pale. 

“huh?” 

he frowns, as he leans back. 

“for breakfast? what did you want to eat?” he clarifies. 

you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“anything’s okay. don’t trouble yourself. i-i can even help.” 

you walk over to his side, pulling up your sleeves and giving him a peachy smile, as he takes the opportunity to step towards you. your back hits the counter and sukuna makes it a point - resting both of his arms at your sides - as he traps you within his hold. 

“talk.” he states, almost sternly. 

“hm?” 

sukuna leans closer, leaning his forehead against yours, as he takes a deep breath. it reminds you vividly, of two nights ago, when he pulled you straight onto his lap. and murmured into your skin that you were his pretty girl. and that he was going to prove it to you. 

“talk.” he states, the tone in his voice irritated. 

you look up at him, at his eyes razor focused in on yours, and spot no inclination of irritation on his face. despite the fact that you were almost positive that it was dripping from his tone. though, you always found him particularly hard to read.  

“now.” he murmurs. 

you sigh. 

“what are you trying to do right now?” you ask. 

he rolls his eyes. there’s the irritation you were hearing. 

“make you breakfast.” he deadpans. 

“is that all?” 

“what are you getting at?” he asks. 

sukuna often finds that talking to you is like digging a hole. that it takes patience. because he’s not going to find what he’s looking for forthright. but he knows for a fact that there’s something down there. 

it’s aggravating. but he persists.  

“promise you won’t make fun?” you ask. 

“i will do no such thing.” 

“sukuna.” you whine, crossing your hands against your chest. 

sukuna finds this part of you endearing. because it reminds him of all the different ways he’s seen you. when you were four and barging into his house to play wii with his little brother, explaining barbie movies at the dinner table, and tagging along on his family vacation when he was fourteen. 

and how after all this time, you still have the same tendencies. you bounce your right leg when you’re nervous, tuck your hair behind your ears when you’re finished rambling, and curl your hands into little fists and cross your arms - entirely unable to meet his eyes - when you’re embarrassed. 

sukuna clears his throat, as you look up at him. and you know the expression all too well. that he’ll wait all day if he has to. 

“no making fun. i’m serious, sukuna.” 

“it’s almost like you know you’re going to say something stupid.” 

“don’t call my feelings stupid.” you murmur. 

“well, i’ll keep calling them stupid until you tell me what they are. i’ll be honest if you let me.” 

this is something you can appreciate about sukuna. that he won’t beat around the bush. or say things just to coddle. it’s the same as the other night, where you told him about what happened at the bar, when he didn’t rush to your defense like almost everyone else does. and when it comes to this, you figure that he’ll be straightforward. 

“are you trying to have sex with me right now?” you ask. 

you look at sukuna, specifically at the way his eyes widen, before he breaks out into a laugh. and not just any laugh, because he’s nearly keeling over with how amusing he finds it. howling even. and it makes even more blood rush to your cheeks, humiliated for even bringing it up. 

sukuna grins, lifting his hands up from the sides of the counter and wrapping them around your neck.you can feel your breath hitch in your throat, as you instinctively shut your eyes. he’s going to be straightforward. 

“your feelings are stupid.” he whispers, right into your skin. 

you pull back, staring at him dumbfounded, as he places one of his hands on your waist. and he’s staring back at you, the expression in his face slightly amused. 

“that’s not nice.” 

“i’m not a nice person.” 

it’s frustrating. the tone that he uses with you. it teeters between placating and teasing you and you find it hard to decide which one exactly it is. and it seeps right under your skin, lets your irritation come to a head faster than it usually would.

“okay, well. sue me! you had no problems doing god knows what in my room the other day. and-and then you were making jokes about how you were going to eat me. the second that i got here. and-and you know how you are-” 

“and what’s that?” 

you pause.

“what?” 

“you said you know how you are. well, i don’t. enlighten me please.” he clarifies. 

sukuna’s pleased with himself. because he’s figured out exactly what it is, that’s brewing in that head of yours. and naturally, he has every intention to make you mince your words. 

“you-” 

you’re not sure how to say this. if there’s a polite way to call him what he is. 

“i’m what? a manwhore?” he asks. 

“no! you-” 

“you think i’m a horny freak, right? that i want to lift you up, take your skirt off, and have you right here on my kitchen counter?” 

you feel your eyes go wide, as you swallow hard, and feel the nervousness take residence in your stomach. sukuna senses it fast enough and makes his efforts to diffuse it. 

“do you think i would only invite you here because i want you to please me? do you think that’s the only way i can enjoy your company?” 

you can feel yourself getting too overstimulated, your head nearly steaming - at the implication, at the way he’s looking at you, and the fact that his lips are a few feet away from yours - and his smug grin crawling underneath your skin and making you twitch. 

you cover your face with your hands, feeling the warmth on your palms, as you feel his hands curl around your wrists, prying them off of your face. and when you look up at him, at the soft smile on his face, as you can’t help but frown at him. 

“no…” 

sukuna smiles. 

“are you lying to me?” 

you deflate. 

“maybe a little.” 

sukuna secures his hands around your waist, before fully lifting you up and placing you on the counter. and he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek before he wordlessly starts rummaging through different cabinets in his kitchen and the fridge, fully intent on making you the breakfast you were promised. 

you can’t help but watch him, as he muses around his kitchen, slicing vegetables on the cutting board and fruits on the side. at how he entirely discards the conversation you just had like it was nothing. 

from two feet away, sukuna is very, very appreciative of you. because you’re not very proud. and despite your first attempts, you’re honest too. because he knows for a fact that your hesitation to state your thoughts is because you don’t want to write sukuna off as something so…lewd. even if you think it’s true. and that of course, any hesitation on your part comes from something deeper than him. 

the deep seated distaste you seem to have for yourself. though sukuna’s entirely unsure why it’s there in the first place. he slices a strawberry in half, letting the eggs cook at his side, before he makes a residence standing in between your legs. 

he hands you one of the halves of the strawberry, before popping the other in his mouth and leaning into your space. 

“i don’t think you’re a manwhore.” you clarify. 

“okay. i don’t think you’re one either.” he responds. 

you smile.

“but you do think that’s the only reason you’re here?” he pokes. 

“no! no, i don’t think that. i just-” 

you sigh, placing your hands flat on the fabric of his hoodie, as you crumple it into your fists. 

“sorry. i’m not very good at this type of thing. and-and you’re like…you know. reputation. and you obviously have needs! and megumi thinks you’re a womanizer.” 

sukuna snickers, as you release his hoodie, and you deflate slightly. mainly at the fact that he’s not offended. and letting you ramble - and say ten different things you shouldn’t - openly. 

sukuna doesn’t shy away from what exactly it is that you think of him. or what that godawful sea urchin megumi thinks either. because it’s naturally, quite simple. and somewhat true. because he finds it hard to stay in one place for a long time. and as you very keenly put it, he had needs. 

though, that rule, as sukuna was painstakingly reminded of, didn’t apply to you. because again, you transcended any normal guideline that sukuna had. which is why he was keen on making you breakfast two days later, on his day off. and make your favorite, which he specifically remembers from the camping trip. 

“i’m not sure what thing you’re referencing. and make no mistake. i don’t talk in tongues like you do. if i invite you over for breakfast, it’s because i want to eat breakfast with you.” he responds. 

“you were the one who said you were going to eat me.” you defend. 

“you were looking at me like you were scared of me. like how prey looks at a predator before it gets eaten?” 

“oh.” 

sukuna pushes off the counter as he starts plating the food onto and feels his ego inflate when you jump off the counter and cling to his arm when you realize what exactly it is that he made. 

“sukuna. i love french toast!” 

“yes. i’m well aware.” 

"how'd you know?" you ask.

sukuna looks over at you, the look in his eyes so devious, that you know you've certainly walked into something by stating it.

"you told us. on the camping trip. you've always been my pretty girl. even when you were fourteen."

you barely have time to even stomach what it is that he said as he lifts both plates as he makes a gesture for you to follow, seating the two of you back on his kitchen island. and when you settle in, sukuna gets to pick at your mind, with the questions that have been stuck in his head for the past two days. 

“before i divulge my manwhore adventures for you, you have to indulge me first. how many guys have you dated? or talked to?” sukuna asks. 

you hate sukuna’s choice of words sometimes. indulge. it’s almost like he knows he’s saying words that make you nervous. that make the sweat accumulate on the palms of your hands. 

“where’d you learn how to make french toast like this?” you ask, deflecting. 

“i asked first.” 

you swirl the eggs around on the plate - moving them from the left, to the right, and back to the left - before you answer. 

“i had a crush on this guy named dean from sixth grade to eighth grade. all of the boys in school got dared to slow dance with different girls and he picked me. it was an awkward four minutes of halo by beyonce but i loved him after that. he was funny. and cute.” 

“did you date?” he asks. 

“oh, of course not. he started liking this girl named kimi in eighth grade.” 

sukuna’s not exactly sure if this is the question he asked. but you keep going. and it’s intriguing to him nonetheless. 

“in my sophomore year of highschool, i had a crush on this guy named parker. he was kind of nerdy, like the stupid type? my english teacher would always put us in group projects together, and when i asked him why, he said it was because he wanted us to get married.” 

“that’s an appropriate thing to say to a fifteen year old.” sukuna bites. 

“no! my teacher had this dream to go to two of his students weddings, that met in his class.” 

“and what killed that extremely inapprorpiate dream, dead in its tracks?” 

“my best friend. we all somehow ended up in the same friends group our junior year. and they kind of started flirting. dated all the way till our freshman year of college.” you respond. 

sukuna curbs the question that comes to the forefront of his mind. because it occurs to him that his plausible answer to it, one that he despises, is exactly what’s going to be the answer. that if they liked each other, you were going to let them. despite the fact that you liked him first. 

“any more for me?” sukuna asks. 

“my first boyfriend was in my senior year of highschool.” 

sukuna feigns shock, as you fight the urge to laugh. 

“have we finally arrived to a real boyfriend?” 

you laugh, as you settle your hand into his underneath the table. there’s something so inviting about him, the way he’s hanging off the ends of your words and listening intently, that makes you continue. 

“we don’t speak his name.” you state. 

“oh?” 

“he’s not a good guy. we dated until….my freshman year of college. december. and we officially stopped talking the summer of my sophomore year.” you state. 

sukuna bites the urge to ask every question in his mind. on who this guy is, why you continued to talk to him almost an entire year after, and most importantly, why you haven’t talked to anyone else since. 

except for him anyways. for the first time, sukuna finds himself being the exception. in a way that’s favorable to him. 

“that’s all of them! your turn.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“that’s all?” 

“mhm! it’s kind of boring, i’m assuming. in comparison to you.” 

sukuna concludes one thing. that all three of these men, especially the last, were not deserving of you. in the slightest. and that each one had wrecked a sizeable amount of havoc. he curses himself for not paying attention when he was still there.

“oh definitely. you’d need to stay here all day if you wanted to here that.” 

you smile brightly. 

“that can be arranged.” you respond. 

sukuna leans forward, lips a few feet away from yours, before he speaks again. 

“you like to play hard to get, don’t you?” sukuna asks. 

“what? what do you mean?” 

sukuna places his hands on the rung of your chair, before pulling it flesh with his own. and he tests the waters, by placing his hand on your bare knee, right near the pleats of your black skirt. and he feels you instinctively press your legs together, but make no moves to push him off. 

“i didn’t make the list?” 

you swallow hard, entirely embarrassed. though, your first real crush you supposed is naturally the one that you’ve denied, vehemently, since you were four years old and yuuji asked you in passing. 

because when your eyes lingered on him for too long, after he fixed the wii controls and dutifully handed you both your controllers back - of his wii, that he was letting you play on - yuuji halfmindedly asked the question. 

why are you looking at him like that? do you like him or something? 

it was a joke, of course. because yuuji just asked so he could start the match of wii tennis while you weren’t paying attention. that in the rush of it, you never got to consider the answer to it in full. though you suppose there’s no better time to answer it than now. 

“i have this best friend. his name is yuuji.” you start. 

sukuna’s alarmed. so alarmed that he pulls his hand off of your thigh, retreating it behind his back. 

surely you didn’t really like yuuji. because that would stop whatever it was that was blooming right now. because he was not his brother, despite their identical pink hair. the farthest thing from it actually. 

“i met him when i was four. and i barged into his house because he wanted me to play wii with him. you see, his big brother didn’t really like to play with him so he figured that i was the next best thing.” you state. 

“he had greasy hands. so did you. it was disgusting.” he states. 

“and yuuji didn’t know how to turn on the game. or-or remember which one it was in. so he called his very cool, much older brother, to help us. i’d never met a six year old before, and naturally if i had, i wouldn’t have thought he was so cool.” 

“shut up.” 

sukuna desperately wants you to continue. 

“seemed like the real serious type. kind of quiet. dark blue shirt, black shorts. the socks that only go to your ankles. i didn’t even know that his name was sukuna until a few days later, when he walked with us to school. he didn’t even introduce himself to me.” 

“did you want to know him that badly?” 

“and he fixed the remote, obviously. had some six year knowledge we didn’t clearly. and-and he turned to me. gave me a smile before he handed one to me and walked away.” you state, shrugging at him. 

sukuna’s satiated with your answer. mostly because, it seems you seem to remember the ordeal in as excruticating detail as he has. that you were wearing a pink dress, gold earrings, and a ribbon in your hair. that your skin was the softest he had ever felt, that you were the first girl who had brushed fingers with him when he handed you the remote, save for his mom of course 

sukuna brings his hand back into your hair, feeling the fabric of the blue ribbon in your hair today, matching with the short cardigan that you were wearing. and he wants to keep this one too. yank it out of your hair and secure it to his keys next to the pink one he refused to return. 

sukuna looks down at the fabric, at your hair sprawled over your shoulder. he can make out the length of your collarbone from underneath your tanktop and settles his lips right into divot, before pressing a lingering kiss into your skin and feeling you keel over in his arms. 

“france.” he murmurs, right into your skin. 

“what’s that?” you ask, dazed from the contact. 

“i learned to make the french toast in france.”

he kisses up the length of your neck, making no inclination to stop even as you barely stutter your words out. and for the second time, can't resist and places his hands on your waist just to pull you straight on top of him.

"makes sense. that's just-just toast for them." you mumble.

sukuna can't help but laugh. he's never going to tire of you.

--

an: ask for a part three I DARE you. (no I really don't but if I did write one reader is meeting sukuna's friends AND the guy who called her ugly ends up being one of them. anyways.)

taglist: @ghostreadersthings @porridgesblog  @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks

sleepover

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friends older brother fic

previous part here

--

sukuna hums into the softness of your cheek from the back of the chair, right before pressing a warm kiss into your skin. you squirm away when you feel the slightest bit of his teeth, your suspicions confirmed when he only laughs in response. 

“did you just bite me, sukuna?” 

“you smell good. good enough to eat.” he muses. 

“and now you’re just trying to make me mad.” you grumble, before shoving him off. 

sukuna laughs as he reaches for your bag slung across the chair, before slightly gesturing for you to look at the clock. 

“has it ever occurred to you..” he starts. 

“oh shit. i’m so sorry, i didn’t even realize it was so late.” you stammer, slamming your computer shut and reaching for your bag to pack your things. 

sukuna reaches for your hand, curling your knuckles straight into his hand as he shakes your arm, stopping your rambling and gesturing for you to look at him. 

“are you ever going to let me finish what i’m saying?” 

you lean your head to the side, giving him your best smile. 

“nope!” you respond. 

“figures.” 

sukuna found that you were slowly melting over the past month. that in all of your awkward uneasiness - which was still present almost any time he touched you, let his lips linger for a little too long - had slightly diminished. that you were sarcastic at times, that you loved to push his buttons, and make him laugh. 

“has it ever occurred to you that you can sleep here?” sukuna murmurs, reaching his hand right past your shoulder and handing you the last of your things to shuffle into your bag. 

he’s almost positive. that you won’t take up his offer on the first try. because naturally, you were stubborn and almost never did. you had warmed up to his key fast enough - and his efforts were always rewarded with time and patience. 

“is this because of the train? you know, you don’t really have to ride it with me all the way back and drop me home.” you murmur. 

you found yourself at sukuna’s apartment more often than not. his space was nice and big - two bedrooms, a soft couch, and his fridge that he always keeps stocked with all of the things that you had asked him for. it was already hard enough to stay away from him, always finding your feet dragging you to wherever he was in your free time, and now he was making it damn near impossible to stay away. 

and sometimes your work would keep you late. or sukuna would keep you tangled up in his arms for too long after dinner. so you’d be catching the last train home, all the way into the dark hours of the night. 

“yes, i do.” he states. 

“i’m a big girl. i know how to use my metrocard.” you respond. 

“my insistence on accompanying you has nothing to do with your capabilities. more with the fact that i’d rather not have you get harassed by a lewd lunatic on your way home. at least when i’m not there to beat it out of them anyways.” 

“no one does that type of stuff anymore.” you murmur. 

“have you ever been harassed on a train?” he asks. 

“once. when i was like twenty.” 

“one time too many. get your things.” 

you frown as sukuna slings your backpack over his shoulder, before holding his hand out to you. you very begrudgingly place your hand into his, mustering your best glare possible as he shuts the door behind you. 

“look at that face. so cute.” he coos, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“do you ever think you’re too overprotective?” 

“i’d argue that it’s my job to protect you. and you know i’ve always been an overachiever.” he retorts back. 

--

Dear Y/N,  Which train are you catching? I’ll meet you there.  Best,  Sukuna 

you shoot him a quick response. 

dear the prime minister of my headache,  tell satoru i say hi!!!! i think you should download a game on your phone for him to play. and try NOT to piss off your LITERAL boss today, please :)  and sorry! i can’t come tonight. dinner w/ my parents (commence ugly screaming)  aggressive meowing,  y/n 

you look up from your phone to find yuuji staring up at you, keys hanging from his hand as he gestures for you to follow him out the door. 

“what are you doing?” he asks. 

“sorry, sorry! i was responding to an email. i’m coming.” 

on the first of every month, you and yuuji trek out into the suburbs to have dinner with your parents. it was the only way that you could stomach them together. the mix of yuuji’s homophobic dad and your downright homicidal sister was a battle the two of you never did alone. 

dear president of my migraine,  i told satoru you want him to die. he is now inviting you to karaoke and has made it very explicit that i am not invited. (i will attack you if you go)  after reading your email, i decided to go spit in naoya’s face. and then paid a witch to hex his entire lineage.  and yes, i’m aware. what train are you catching? i’ll accompany you on the bus there.  equally aggressive barking,  sukuna 

“hey. did you tell sukuna about dinner today?” you ask. 

“yeah, he might try and stop by. why do you ask?” yuuji adds. 

“no reason. that’s nice of him. it’ll make your mom happy.” you murmur. 

sukuna,  i’m driving w/ yuuji and megs. you can accompany me on the bus + train back since yuuji’s going to go see the fushiguro’s while he’s here.  best,  y/n 

--

thirty minutes into dinner is when sukuna arrives. and in a total of five minutes, he’s overwhelmingly reminded of why he ran out of this place so fast and never returned in the first place. he can tell that you and yuuji are already cutting your losses - from the way yuuji’s fists are curled in anger and the fact that you’ve already slumped down to the bottom of your seat. he’d figured that you were going to be down in the dumps - your lack of ridiculous email signature downright haunting - and was already prepared in best efforts to fix it. 

he slides into the open spot at your side, his teenage agitation coming to a head at the empty seat to your mother’s left. sukuna thought it was a shame, a disgrace that any of you had left the seat open in the first place. that even in the metaphorical sense, there would ever be a place for your father in any of their lives again. not after he was so intent on leaving when you needed him. 

sukuna would sit in it himself, if it weren’t you. if you were present at the dinner, not swimming in your own pool of thoughts, sukuna supposes that you’d even signal to him not to. eyes wide in warning, telling him to not even dare. he had every intent to badger you, to convince you to never return here again. 

“how are you, sukuna? it’s been a while since we’ve seen you.” your mother asks, warm smile at him. 

sukuna tries to muster down that acidic feeling he had in an effort to be polite. and it was almost working, because he could see every semblance of your smile on her face. in the light of her hair. 

“i’m good, thank you.” he responds. 

“it’s been a while since you’ve come to see us. any particular reason?” your mom asks. 

“a girl, maybe? are you getting ready to propose under our noses?” mrs. itadori adds, the two of them sharing a giggling smile. 

you spit straight into your cup, to which yuuji shoots you an alarmed look at your side. you wave him off as you turn to sukuna, cheeks pink. you hadn’t even told yuuji that you were seeing sukuna yet, let alone your combined overbearing mothers. though that was for an entirely different reason. 

“not right now, no.” he offers, his hand finding its way into yours under the table to which you squeeze once in affirmation. 

“what about you, yuuji? are you seeing any girls?” mr. itadori asks, eyes pointed at yuuji. 

you fight the urge to audibly groan at the question, as you feel both sukuna and yuuji clench at your sides. sukuna’s your bigger concern, only because yuuji won’t do anything, but you still reach for him regardless. you place your palm flat on his knee and push down, trying to stop his bouncing leg from shaking the whole table. 

“no, dad.” yuuji grates. 

“what happened to that grump? fushiguro?” your sister sammy prods, flaring up special irritation that only she could invoke. you fought every urge you had to kick her straight under the table. 

“sammy.” you grate. 

“thank god that’s over. i heard his father lived on the bad side of town.” sammy states, head gleaning to the side for his approval. 

before sammy can get her sweet satisfaction from the adults, yuuji pulls his chair back, the wood screeching against the tile, as he takes his glass and heads to the kitchen. you sigh, giving your best glare to her and seeing your moms eyes fill with warm tears, as you follow yuuji as fast as you can. 

“yuuji.” you whisper. 

“if she wasn’t a woman, i’d slap her.” yuuji states. 

“and i’d let you. just relax.” you state, placing your hands on his shoulder and squeezing hard at the taut muscle, at the tension in his frame. 

“you slap her. you could you know.”

“yuuji. they don’t know megumi like-” 

“he doesn’t even talk to his father. his father was fucking horrible to him, he-he’s nothing like megumi.” 

“i know, yuuji. they-they just don’t know okay? we know-” 

“and what the fuck is sukuna doing here? he took his leave the first chance he got and now he’s here playing high and mighty?” 

you quickly shush him, his voice getting increasingly louder with every second.  

“yuuji. you guys are way past that. that was years ago.” you murmur, brushing the ends of his jacket, as he angrily sighs into your space. 

“still. even he’s pissing me off. we’re leaving within the hour. megumi’s already at his mom’s.” 

yuuji storms back into the dining room as you bring your fingertips to your forehead, massaging the pulsating feeling cooking in your head. sukuna’s eyes follow you as you settle back into your seat, as he reaches for your hand under the table again. 

“sukuna? sammy here is still single.” mrs. itadori comments, her eyebrows raised at sukuna in a smile. 

sukuna can tell that his mother must have hit some nerve, because you’re digging your hand into his so hard that he’s almost positive that you’re breaking skin on his palm. 

“oh, i could never.” sammy responds, biting the bullet for him. 

you swear to god that she bats her eyelashes at him when she speaks, the look on her face so smug that it makes you want to lift your fork and stab it straight in between her eyes. 

“right. not my type.” he states, dismissing her in one fell swoop. 

“oh sukuna, don’t be that way. we’ve been saying it since the two of you were kids! you’re both smart. dress well. you’d make beautiful grandchildren for us.” mrs. itadori states. 

“really, i-” sukuna starts. 

“you were gone for a long time, sukuna! things could be different now and…you’re both grown up. a conversation wouldn’t do any harm!” your mom adds. 

“plus. we have a lot of the same friends. some of them are actually in town.” sammy offers, which is your final straw. 

“i’m going to get dessert.” you state, pulling your chair back as you march into the kitchen. 

you can feel your hands shaking as you pull the cake out of the fridge, nearly dropping it, before sukuna’s immediately at your side, his hands stabilizing yours as he all but steals it from your hands. you curse that he rushed in here so fast, that now he was going to gloat in your space while you were already down. 

“be careful.” he warns. 

you cross your hands against your chest, head burning as sukuna takes over for you, opening the little plastic box and sliding the cake onto the little platter at the side. you can tell that he’s staring at you, his eyes focused on your frame in your peripheral vision. 

“what the fuck are you looking at?” you ask. 

this one’s new, sukuna thinks. 

“y/n.” 

you groan, embarrassed at your words, as the warm, frustrated tears start filling your eyes. at yuuji’s stupid dad, at what yuuji said about sukuna, about your mom, and your godawful sister. 

you cover your face with your hands, turning your back to him as you press your forehead against the cold metal of the fridge, trying your best to swallow the wave of shame that’s coursing through your body. 

it stings so much that when sukuna puts his hand on your shoulder that you all but shrug him off in response. sukuna himself has very little patience, almost none when it comes to you being so upset, so he pulls you in straight to his chest, hands secured right against your waist. 

“pretty girl.” he murmurs, almost like an invitation. you shoot it down. 

“shut up. you-i think it’s really stupid when you call me that. do you think you look better just because you have me pathetically standing next to you?” you respond. 

“y/n.”  he responds, his tone equally stern.

you look up to find him staring at you, jaw clenched as he towers over you as you feel even worse. you had no reason to say that to him. and as always, they had the tendency to bring this side out of you. even in front of him. 

“sukuna. wait, i’m sor-” 

sukuna takes his chance.

“make it up to me by sleeping at mine tonight.” he states, pushing off of you. 

“wait, what?” 

sukuna’s eyes waiver to the side, as your mom rushes in, hand warm on your shoulder as she squeezes. 

“you okay, princess?” she asks. 

you quickly wipe your eyes, slight smudges of black on your hands, as you muster your best smile. 

“yeah. yeah, sorry.” 

“something i said?” she offers. 

“no, no. you know-” 

“i know. sammy talk and all that. i’ll try and stop. sukuna, be a dear and take this out for me?” she asks, as sukuna obeys and shuffles out of the room. 

you hike your hands into your armpits, as your mom stacks the plates in her hands. 

“did you ever…would you ever think about suggesting me for something like that?” 

“what ever do you mean?” 

“you know…like as a prospect.”

“oh don’t be silly honey. we both know that yuuji is gay.” 

you frown as she walks out of the room, filled with annoyance at the premise. that your mom wouldn’t even consider that you and sukuna could even be together.  

--

you and sukuna head home in complete silence. you wave yuuji goodbye at the doorstep, shooting megumi a warning text when the group of you split that he was going to be worked up. 

“you can get your things from your dorm. we’re sleeping at mine.” sukuna states. 

so he was serious about that. you curl your hands into little fists, placing them under the warmth of your thighs as you look over at him. you quickly dart your head around the train car, only three people, sitting a sizeable distance away, before you talk. 

“sukuna, i don’t think it’s a good idea. i think we should just-” 

“are you sorry for what you said?” he asks. 

“yes. really, i- i was just mad at them. they made me mad the second i walked through the door and i had no right to take it out on you.” 

“good. make it up to me then.” he responds, his eyes focused on your lips. 

sukuna wonders if he could kiss the attitude out of you. 

“what?” 

“if you feel bad, then make it up to me. you’re staying with me tonight.” 

sukuna half debates taking it back. that you were the one who was wound up from the dinner and that you had the right to sleep where you were comfortable. but the part of him that wants to comfort you, that has silently waited for you to crawl out of your hole, is fully intent on dragging you out of it tonight. 

and when sukuna’s pushed you into his apartment, his hands quickly find their way to your neck, almost toppling your balance as his lips meet yours. his lips are warm, the remnants of the sweet frosting still present, as he all but knocks you into the wall, unrelenting. 

“suk-” 

“shut up. you are in no position to be making demands.” 

sukuna’s almost positive. that if he riles you up enough, he’ll get you to break. that you’ll spill your secrets, instead of him having to intently watch you and use his head to piece them together. he tangles his fingers into your hair, before using it to hold you back against the wall. 

“still jealous of your big sister?” he asks. 

“i am not-” 

“does it make you mad? thinking about me with her?” 

“sukuna.” 

“what was it they said about her? that she was smart? that she dressed well?” 

the tone in his voice was aggravating. like it was some kind of game. that sammy was just some lay person who made you jealous, like a girl flirting with him at the bar or an idiot like naoya. like she wasn’t your sister. 

“don’t say the last one.” you respond, glaring at him. 

sukuna’s got you right where he wants you. 

“is that what’s bothering my pretty girl? grandchildren?” he asks. 

his tone is enough to piss you off, for the second time. 

“what the fuck is your problem? go fuck my sister then if you want her that bad. i’m sorry i can’t be good enough for you, but-but i’m trying to do the best with what i have. i know i can’t be her, but if you didn’t want me, you should have just said so. if you were intent on bringing me to your apartment to make fun of me, you shouldn’t have.” 

sukuna watches as you break from his grasp, shoving past him as you brace your hands on the counter and lean forward. sukuna reasons that it’s enough. a part of him almost feels bad for pushing so hard, that if he was more patient he could have waited for you to tell. but he was always impatient when it came to you.

a part of him wishes that he could read your mind at times, only so he could shut up every idiotic thought you seemed to make up when you were riled up. 

he tangles his hand with yours, as he drags you - and your needlessly heavy bag of things - towards his bathroom. you’re following him with no pushback, which he takes as a good sign despite your words, as he sets the bag down at your feet. 

“wash up for bed.” he demands. 

you sigh. you reach for your skincare, hyperaware of sukuna still standing against the wall, hands crossed against his chest as he watches you follow through your routine. the first time he breaks, making it a point to walk over to you, is well after you’ve dried your face of all your makeup. 

he softly puts his hands on your cheeks, thumbs brushing underneath your eyes, as he murmurs. 

“freckles.” 

you don’t say anything as he silently leans forward, lips soft on your cheeks as he leaves a kiss on your skin. sukuna always felt gentle when it came to how he touched you, something you weren’t half expecting, but the softness was enough to make you nearly keel over into his arms. you both take a deep breath in at the same time, sukuna’s voice filling the quiet space. 

“that god awful shit you put on your face. it’s covering up your freckles. don’t ever wear it around me again.” 

sukuna shuffles out of the room as you watch him retreat through the mirror, taking a second to ground yourself out of his presence. his warm, vanilla smell is still in the air, but you lean against the wall and take a few breaths and gather your bearings. you shoot a quick text to megumi, finally remembering to gauge how yuuji is doing, before letting mai know of your whereabouts. 

and in full flesh realize what you did. 

you yelled at sukuna. when he was trying to comfort you. twice. and told him it was stupid that he called you his pretty girl. 

you shuffle out after changing into your pajamas to find sukuna standing near the window, pulling the shades as you walk up behind him and bury your face into his back. he’s not wearing a shirt - confirming your suspicions that sukuna was the type to at least very least sleep semi-nude - as his hands meet yours on his stomach. 

“feel bad?” he asks. 

he turns around to find you standing there, pouting at him with tears in your eyes, as he fights the urge to laugh. you’re wearing some type of cartoonish pajamas, arms bare in a thin tank top resembling the one you had worn in attempts to impress him at the bar. he relishes in the fact that he won’t have to wrestle you out of this one, as he places his hands at your side. 

“like shit. i’m so sorry, sukuna.” 

“how bad, huh? gonna do something for me in return?” he asks. 

you're shocked at the fact that sukuna's not even mad. that he's trying to flirt even.

sukuna knows that he’s just goading you now. because he can see your eyes go wide and is almost positive that your mind has gone to somewhere sexual in nature. 

“y-yeah. sure.” you respond. 

“okay. sleep with me.” he states. 

you swallow hard, shaking your head of your nervousness, as you oblige. 

“right. well…take your pants off then.” you murmur, cheeks burning. 

sukuna laughs, as he quickly steps towards you, noticing that you’re stepping backwards so fast that you fall straight onto his bed. 

“who knew you were the type to sleep nude?” he asks. 

“what? i don’t sleep nude!” 

“then why are you asking me to take my pants off, pervert?” 

“you just told me to sleep with you!” you complain. 

sukuna crawls into the bed, before shoving his arm straight under your waist to pull you right on top of him. you’re propped up on your own hands, looking down at him from your vantage point of his chest, as he reaches forward and tucks your hair behind your ear. you absentmindedly reach forward, your thumb brushing past one of his dimples. 

“you're filthy. do you always have such lewd thoughts about me?” he coos. 

“i didn’t realize you meant sleep sleep.” you mumble, embarrassed. 

“for the hundredth time, i mean what i say. you have always been my pretty girl, because i find most other girls, including your horrendous sister, annoying. and when i say i want to sleep with you, i want you to sleep next to me.” 

“really? you think she’s annoying?” you ask. 

“absolute bitch. i’ll make you an itemized list of everything i hate tomorrow morning over breakfast for you. the first thing on that list is that she isn’t you.” he states. 

you lean down and press a kiss to his lips. sukuna notes that it's the first time you've ever initiated anything with him.

“you really know how to romance a girl.” you murmur, as you roll off of his chest and tuck yourself straight into his arms. 

“we’ll talk about the dinner tomorrow. go to bed, baby.” he murmurs, littering an indecent amount of kisses around your neck and shoulder as you drift off to sleep. 

--

an: everyone say happy bday to @babiemay <3 also pls let me cook my lore pleek I know this one was bad he'll comfort her at breakfast ok 😔

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemell @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth

get the words together // touya todoroki

a/n: i need to be held back and strapped down in a padded cell after this like i am going insane!!!!! happy birthday touya babyyyyyy <3 <3 <3

-

touya tag: @kaldurahms-lover @moonchild701 @themultifandomgirl @devilslittlehelper @porusuniverse @ratatellie @katbug37 @ggriwm @moonlitmorganite @touyas-wife @bitchyfestivalbouquet @haruhi269

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0 @kaldurahms-lover

get a taste // tomura shigaraki

a/n: in the gc talking abt vape and cig discourse between dabi n shigs -> fujos out a bit -> wait this is kinda hot -> sick n twisted brainrot aaaahhh

you reach over and press your index finger right in between his eyebrows.

there's nearly nothing that could melt that scowl from tomura's face- especially when everyone's behind him obnoxiously crowded around the bar with playing cards and drinks in hand, the music's a bit too loud for his liking, and he's having a hard time focusing.

"tomura, i can't take you seriously with that thing attached to your mouth like a fucking binky." you call over the music, dropping your hand back into your lap.

his eyes slowly travel up from his phone screen to meet yours. you weren't even sure if he caught anything you said over the blaring music, but you could still read the irritation in his face. his gaze flickers back and forth between the clash of clans running on his phone and you.

he blinks once. twice.

tomura drops the vape from his mouth, letting it fall into his lap, and without missing a beat, blows the intoxicatingly sweet smoke into your face, engulfing you whole with a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

"better than whatever the fuck you're smoking over there, right?" he nods towards the half smoked cigarette in between your fingers that you stole from touya's pack.

"better?" you roll your eyes, waving away the lingering smoke. "grow up, tomu. you're smoking birthday cake flavored nicotine. you haven't even smoked a cigarette before."

"i don't need to smoke it to know it tastes like shit." he stretches his legs over your lap, leaning back against the armrest of the couch.

you turn your hand around, facing the orange filter of the cigarette towards him. with your eyebrow slightly cocked and mouth parted into a smirk, tomura knew it was less of an invitation, but rather a dare. a challenge.

"go ahead, babe. give it a try if you're not a bitch."

tomura wets his lips with his tongue. his gaze drops down to the lipstick stained orange filter hanging from between your fingers. he wonders if he could taste your chapstick residue on it, or what your skin smells like brushed against his nose.

would you put your lips on it right after his drag? willingly taste him?

he silently cursed himself.

"pass." he scoffs, turning his head to the side, unsure if the heat crawling up his neck had taken form in a flush. 

he was halfway surprised that you hadn't noticed his piercing stare every time your lips wrapped around the cigarette for a drag. he swore the desperate look in his eyes was so obvious- a silent wish that it was him between your lips instead.

you press your lips together in a line as you take another glance around the room. everyone seemed occupied. drunk. sloppy. no one's paying attention.

you lean forward, catching his face in your free hand, and forcing him to look up towards you.

"the fuck-" he starts.

"don't freak out, tomu." you interrupt. "you know what to do."

you hum to yourself as you bring your fingers up to your lips, deeply inhaling the bitter tang of burnt tobacco.

your eyes remained locked onto tomura's. he's looking at you in a sickly satisfying horror with his eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and mouth slightly gaped open from your firm grasp on his jaw.

he squirms a bit under your grasp, but tomura doesn’t look away from you- he doesn't dare to. not with you over him like this and your face only inching closer to his.

you pull yourself down over him, mere millimeters away from connecting your lips.

the smoke slowly wisp out of your mouth and into his- a slow acceptance before both of your eyes flutter shut and you empty your lungs into his. 

you feel his hands climb up the side of your thighs and rest on your hips, lightly squeezing you through the fabric of your pants.

"fuck." he mutters, trails of smoke escaping his mouth.

"yummy?" you chuckle, exhaling any remnants of smoke in your lungs.

it doesn't seem like you care or noticed at all, but all tomura could think about was you straddling him on the couch and your warm thighs hugging his torso.

he felt hot all over, his lungs were burning, there's a bitter taste in the back of his throat, his head feels light, and despite it all, he wanted more.

"do you, um, wanna taste mine?"

-

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0

yesterday afternoon - after an unsuccessful coffee shop date - you’d decided that dating sucked. it was much too awkward and formal and not at all like it was in the movies, putting too much pressure on the people involved.

last night - after watching shoko flirt her way into free drinks - you’d been tipsy enough to take her advice. 

casual sex! it doesn't have to be with a stranger, just pick someone you know. someone you’re sure you won't fall in love with.

this morning you’d woken up to find gojo laying in bed next to you.

you lay shoulder to shoulder with the one person you should not have picked, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the other person to speak. 

“did we really–” 

“three times,” satoru confirms happily, rolling onto his side to grin down at you. “i'm surprised we didn't do this sooner, really. our sexual tension has always been off the charts.”

when he leans in to kiss you, his lips meet your palm as your expression wrinkles. “don’t get familiar.”

“we’re naked together in bed– we slept together in more than the literal sense. can’t get more familiar than that.” 

“and this never happen again,” you promise, refusing to look at him. 

“why? because you’re afraid you’ll fall in love with me? it’s okay to admit it. i'm extremely lovable.” 

you’ve seen the way girls fawn over him. how they swoon over his pretty eyes and confident smile. he’s satoru gojo. a legend amongst jujutsu society. you’re no one in comparison, not a user of an otherworldly cursed technique, not from a major clan. 

people like him don’t fall for people like you. you’re afraid of rejection, afraid of being hurt. 

“we’re friends,” you tell him honestly. “i don’t want to risk ruining our friendship over something like this.” 

he tilts his head as your look at him. “shoko told you to try casual sex, didn't she? why not with me?”

“she told you?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face and making a mental note to never ask your roommate for advice for anything ever again. 

“hey, look at me,” he urges, grasping your hand. you do as he says, meeting his earnest gaze. “i can be casual and chill, it’s not like i have a huge crush on you or anything.” 

it’s so hard to say no to him. you really wish you could.  

“i’ll think about it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes when he fist pumps. “but you need to go home before shoko sees you.” 

but you’re dealing with satoru gojo, who almost never does what he’s told. “you’re not getting rid of me that easily. come here.”

he winds an arm around you, pulli my you in so you’re snug against his chest. explicit memories of last night flash through your mind, sending heat through your veins.

 “i can’t.” you tell him (though you’re mostly reminding yourself.) this is insane— satoru, what are you—”

you’re cut off when he shushes you, whispering let’s sleep in for a little while longer. 

he starts to drift off again as you struggle to escape his grasp, but your efforts are futile. even on the throes of sleep, satoru is stronger than you. 

so you give up, resigning yourself to a few more minutes of…cuddling. shoko isn’t a morning person anyways.

after a minute, you find it's not entirely awful. it’s a purely physical reaction. gojo is good looking, even with his hair mussed with sleep and his mouth hanging open. because you know that under the softness of his skin lays defined muscle, and spending the morning in his nicely toned arms isn’t the worst thing in the world. 

(it’s purely physical, is what your head tries to convince your heart, which is beating a little faster than usual.)

a very soft, content sigh slips past your lips. 

then, shoko knocks on your door. 

“hey! don’t tell me you’re too hungover for grocery shopping.” 

“shit!” you whisper harshly, shoving him away from you. “she cannot see you in here.” 

“afraid you’ll have to share?” he teases, narrowly avoiding being hit with a pillow. “okay, okay! where do you want me?”

“closet!” you instruct, scrambling my around the room to make sure none of his clothes are lying around. you thrust them into his hands, pushing him into your closet. 

he catches the door before you can close it, smiling down at you. “aren’t you glad we’re doing this?”

you shove him inside, slamming the door shut just ask shoko bursts into the room.

“hey,” you greet, trying your best to appear casual as you lean against the door. your heart beats in your throat, as she squints at you, then lets her gaze sweep across the room.

“did you bring someone home last night?”

“no.”

she looks at you. really looks at you, you think. 

“okay,” she finally says, though you can’t tell if she believes you. “i just– i thought i saw you leave with gojo. suguru said you two were flirting all night.”

“gojo and i?” you try to laugh, but it comes out a little strained. “never in a million years.”

shoko only shrugs, and you let yourself relax when she turns to leave…

…only for her to turn around once more, leaning the the doorframe. “well if you really don't like him, just let him down easy, alright? suguru told me he has a huge crush on you.” 

wait–

“gojo?”

you hear a sharp inhale through the door. 

“yeah,” she nods. “you really couldn't tell?”

gojo…has a crush on you. it takes a few seconds to truly sink in. “i had no idea.” 

“of course you didn't. he’s definitely got a really weird way of showing it.”

she turns to leave for real this time, but you wait a couple extra seconds before opening your closet, finding a wide eyed, blushing satoru staring at you. 

you can't help but laugh. at his expression, at shoko’s revelation, at this entire situation.

dating sucks, but maybe it won’t be that bad if it’s with him.