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satoru thought this was gonna go differently.
like, way differently.
there was supposed to be sparkles. blushing. a dreamy sigh and you flinging yourself into his arms like, âsatoru, that was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. i think i love you. i think i wanna marry you and have your absurdly pretty babies.â
but no.
youâre just standing there. blinking. in silence. on the private rooftop he rented. at sunset. where a live quartet is playing your favorite song in the background.
you look like you're still buffering.
heâs smiling on the outside but internally? heâs going through it. heâs sweating. he thinks his lungs collapsed five seconds ago. he might actually pass out.
because instead of melting into his arms and swooning like a lovestruck anime girl, you're staring at him like heâs grown two heads. (whichâokay, to be fairâif he had, heâd still look majestic as hell.)
but that is not in his ten-step seduction plan.
â...so?â he says, trying to recover, giving you his best wink. âpretty romantic, huh? for our third date?â
you finally blink. you slowly tilt your head. âdid you⊠rent a rooftop?â
ââŠyes.â
âand a live band?â
âyes?â
ââŠfor dinner?â
âyes?!â
you keep staring. like youâre waiting for him to yell âgotcha!â and reveal that this was all an elaborate prank. but itâs not. itâs real. he's real. he just wanted to see you smile.
and now heâs spiraling. because what if itâs too much? what if he overwhelmed you?? what if youâre like ew he's insane i just wanted ramen and a walk and youâre going to ghost him right after this and marry someone normal??
he fidgets. plays it cool. leans against the table casually like âhaha unless itâs weird. is it weird? no pressure. i can cancel the shooting stars. i mean theyâre just drones, not real stars, i didnât bribe the universe or anythingâunless that wouldâve been more impressive, in which case, iâll try harder next timeââ
you blink again and finally, finallyâyou laugh. soft and breathless. a hand to your face like you canât believe him. â...youâre insane.â
he thinks he might actually ascend from relief.
he breathes. barely. something uncurls in his chest. âyeah,â he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck, grinning like he doesn't know where to look, âbut iâm your problem now, right?â
you roll your eyes and reach for his hand anyway. and thatâs all he could ever need. he doesnât care that the pastaâs gone cold or that the damn string quartetâs been playing the same song twice now. you smiled. you stayed.
heâll call that a win.
(even if he does need to rethink the proposal plan because this woman clearly doesnât rattle easy.)
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âyou know,â yaga started slowly, side-eyeing the sea of alumini surrounding him. covered in wounds and scratches alike. yet all eyes fix to the scene only a few metres away.
the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, bent and observing every inch of your being. you, his wife. his large hands cupping your face once he's assured no fatal harm has come onto you.
some eyes soften as you're dragged into satoru's strong arms. some hitch their breaths at the look of softness in bright blue eyes that boasted utmost feralness but a moment ago. when your life was on the line. when the sea of opponents thought it a grand idea to target you â the honoured one's beloved.
âif anything happens to that woman," yaga continued, blank, despite the small throat clear.
âwe're all done for.â
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CRUEL â Satoru G.
⥠â đđđđđđđ: He screwed up. He knew he was going to die soon. Desperate to hear your voice just one last time, Satoru decides to call you.
⥠â đđđđđđđ: 18+ only || heavy angst, character death, descriptions of blood and injuries, brief mention of smut, canonverse, friends to loversâŠ
⥠â đđđđ đđđđđ: 2K
⥠â đđđđđđâđ đđđđ: (Spoiler warning) just to clarify, this does not follow the way Gojo died in the manga!
As Satoru Gojo stared at the bright stars in the night sky, a sad smile formed on his blood-coated, dry lips.
This death was cruel.
Not just the nature of it â his internal organs scrambled to hell, holes decorating his body, or rather, what was left of it, leaving him no choice but to lay in a pool of his own blood that turned the back of his messy white hair crimson red â but the one thing Satoru often silently prayed to a god for, to the universe, to whoever was listening, was to not die alone. Please.
But no one was around. Even the uncut grass surrounding him that would serve as his place of death was void of insects.
How cruel.
It was his fault.
A team of the strongest special-grade curses and curse users he had ever seen ambushed him in what was clearly a thoroughly planned attack. After all, they couldnât beat him with their own strength and power. Satoru Gojo was the strongest for a reason. But they knew about his weakness: you, his best friend.
One of the curse users started spouting off personal information they had gathered about you. Your full name. Your address. They even bothered to mention how youâd often go to the grocery store every Thursday evening.
Next came the threats â the brutal, unspeakable death they wanted to subject you to.
Satoru should have known better than to lose his temper. He knew â he knew â those bastards just wanted to get him all riled up, but his better instincts fled his exhausted brain and nothing was left except burning rage.
Adrenaline worked in his favor at first. He killed them all.
But he was careless with his own life, leaving himself open to attack. And now, here he was, paying the ultimate price. Dying, and dying alone.
Cruel.
Satoru didnât understand why he was searching around for his phone at first, patting his ripped, wet clothes. The thing was bound to be broken or soaked in his own blood by now, rendering it useless, but it was worth a shot.
Pulling it out of his right pocket made him all too aware that most of his right leg was missing. But he couldnât think about that right now. His final thoughts wouldnât be centered around great concern over his own body, or rather, what was left of it. They would be centered around you.
His blurry blue eyes stared at the cracked phone screen he held above his face. His finger clicked the power button, and when he saw that dull screen flicker to life, he figured that perhaps, in some sick twisted way, his prayers had been answered.
Trying to find your contact was pure hell. He could hardly see, which pissed him off greatly, because he wanted to soak in every photographed detail of the picture you and him took at the Cherry Blossom Festival last spring that served as his home and lock screen.
It would be his last time seeing that bright smile of yours. It would be his last time remembering the sweet treats you both shared. Heâd always let you have the last bite.
âWhy didnât I kiss her that day?â Satoru thought. âWhy havenât I kissed her at all? What the hell is wrong with me?â
A tear rolled down Satoruâs bruised cheek. The thought of dying without having kissed you was unbearable. He had found himself in the perfect First Kiss Scenarios several times but chickened out at the last minute, thinking that he had time . . . time to build up the courage to ask you to be his. To turn a friendship into something greater.
But it was too late now.
It wasnât fair.
He couldnât die yet, he couldnât. He fucking couldnât. He didnât want to. Not when he hadnât yet told you he was in love with you. Not when his lips havenât touched your soft ones in a deep, passionate kiss. He imagined it quite often. Pulling you close, his hands either on your waist or cradling your breathtaking face. The kiss would last until your lungs burned from a lack of significant air, or until both of your unwavering urges to smile interrupted it.
He hadnât touched your body beyond the regular, friendly âhey, how are you?â hugs and your cuddling sessions on the couch during monthly movie nights. What would it have been like? To have your warm figure underneath him, your faces inches apart, as you moaned his name softly?
Perhaps, having sex with you would spell the difference between hooking up with someone versus making love, because when he closed his eyes at night and imagined your first time together, those sinful thoughts were lust-filled, that much was true, but at its core, they were romantic. He vividly pictured the sight of your stunning eyes. Holding your hand during. Running a warm bubble bath for you afterward. All of those little, heart-warming things; he imagined it more than the sex itself.
But it was too late now.
It wasnât fair.
At the very least, he hoped he could hear your voice one last time. You truly loved to ramble. Hearing you go on, on, and on about whatever crossed your mind was one of the circumstances that made him fall for you, as it always made his heart skip a beat.
Now, he wanted to hear you go on, on, and on about whatever crossed your mind as his heart started to give out.
Satoru dialed your number, pressed the speaker button, and rested his phone on his slow-rising chest. He waited. After a couple of rings, your voice, filled with blissful unawareness, came through his phone.
âDamn it, âToru. Your phone call made me lose my game,â you said playfully. âWhatâs up?â
âSorry.â Satoruâs voice was hoarse. Lower than usual. Lacking its usual enthusiastic tone.
âYou okay?â You asked worriedly.
âIâm fine . . . just woke up from a nap . . . is all.â
âAt this hour? Itâs almost time for bed!â You paused. Satoru could hear you sip something â mustâve been another cup of that new, flavored tea you purchased last week and raved about on a daily basis, he guessed.
Continuing on, you said, âWell, anyway, if you want some company, you could come over and spend the night. You were coming over tomorrow for dinner anyway.â
âI wonât be able to make it.â A string of blood slipped from Satoruâs mouth as he spoke.
âOh, well, no worries. Youâre still coming tomorrow then, right? I got everything we need to try to make noodles from scratch. You wouldnât believe how long the line was at the grocery store today. This lady tried to cut in front of me, claiming she had ice cream or something, and I was like, boo-fucking-hoo, I have ice cream too. I let her cut in front of me though âcause she handed me five dollars. Thatâs just how long the line was. People were paying other people to get in front of them. Let that sink in. Crazy, right?â
That was right. It was Thursday. Your favorite shopping day. If Satoru had the energy, heâd smile at the thought of you strolling around a store, smiling happily at the sight of your favorite snacks being on sale.
âTell me more about . . . about your day,â Satoru asked weakly. He wanted to hear your voice. He had to hear you ramble to him, just one last time. God, he loved it more than anything.
âHmm,â you shuffled around a bit. âWell, I didnât do much. Aside from grocery shopping, I spent some time playing that game I told you about, walking around town, um, thatâs about it I think. Oh! I found this cute shop selling mochi! I bought you some. It was a brand-new shop too. It still smells like fresh paint in there. The owner was nice as well. There was this other place selling lemon milk, which sounds kinda gross, but itâs basically just creamy lemonade I think, but I could be wrong. I think Iâll let you waste your money and try it before I do, just in case itâs disgusting. But yeah, that was my day. How was yours?â
âIâve had better days. I donât really . . .â
Satoru was cut off by his own choking. He coughed, then coughed again, coating his chin with that crimson-red fluid.
ââToru? Are you sure youâre okay? Are you sick or something? Is that why you took a nap?â
âDonât you worry about me,â Satoru whispered.
He wasnât certain you heard him at first, as you were quiet for a brief moment.
âNo, no, Iâm gonna worry about you. Iâm always gonna worry about you,â you said. This time, it was Satoruâs turn to meet your words with silence.
ââToru?â You called out.
He tried to speak. He wanted to. But he could only cough and choke. Choke and cough.
âOkay, Iâm on my way to your house. You sound horrible, like when someoneâs drinking water and it goes down the wrong pipe, you know?â
âIâm not home,â Satoru responded.
âWhere are you then?â
He could hear the worry in your voice.
âSatoru, where the hell are you? Whatâs going on?â
He coughed. More crimson-red.
âOkay, thatâs it. Iâm checking your location. Youâre scaring me right now.â You paused for a moment, and when you spoke again, your voice was distant. Satoru gathered that you had put him on speaker as you checked your phone for his whereabouts. âYouâre . . . it looks like youâre in the middle of nowhere. Iâm on my way. What exactly happened? Were you walking to the store or something and passed out? When I get there, youâre going straight to the ER, I donât care if you just have a small cold-â
âIâll be dead by the time you get here, sweetie.â
The silence that followed his words snapped his slow-beating heart into pieces, because just as his heart was shattered, your world was as well, and he couldnât stand being the reason for your suffering.
Another tear fell from his blue eyes, splattering onto the grass below him.
âIâm sorry. Iâm so . . . sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe-â Satoru coughed again.
âYouâre messing with me, right? This is some sort of prank or-or sick joke?â Your shaky voice softened. âRight?â
Satoru stared at the luminous stars above. They reminded him of you. Bright and pretty.
âLook up. The stars are bright and pretty like my sweetie,â he once said to you amidst a late-night walk.
You gave him a goofy grin that matched his own, swatting at the hand he pinched your cheek with. âStop it, thatâs the cheesiest shit Iâve ever heard. And it doesnât even rhyme.â
âYeah it does, depending on how you say the word pretty. Iâm the poet-in-the-making here.â
âIt doesnât rhyme, you fool.â
The corner of Satoruâs lips twitched as if his soul wanted him to smile at the memory. But he refused to waste his dwindling strength on smiling. He needed his strength for something else right now: to tell his sweetie the truth.
Because, damn it all, he refused to die without you knowing how he truly felt about you. It was the best he could do, seeing as he would never, ever get the chance to kiss you.
How cruel.
âListen . . . I know weâre just friends, but . . . Iâm in love with you. I wish I told you sooner, sweetie. But I kept it to myself âcause . . . I didnât wanna fall in love with you. Loving someone means having someone you could lose, and the thought of losing you killed me . . . I couldnât handle it. But now, thereâs nothing about you that I donât love. You donât know what your smile does to me. And I could listen to you talk for hours, nonstop. Iâm pretty sure I already have. I love hearing your awful jokes, and hearing you sing, even when youâre out of tune. It still sounds perfect . . . to me. I love the little frown you make when you canât make decisions . . . the way your eyebrows would pinch together . . . then youâd always a-ask me. What milk to buy . . . if you should mop first or do laundry first . . . what to have for lunch. God, youâre just so-â Satoru coughed. Crimson red.
âYouâre the most beautiful person Iâve ever seen. I know you never believe me when I tell you that, but you are. My eyes werenât prepared to handle the sight of your pretty face the first time we met. I had a headache for three days. Three days. I swear itâs the truth. Thatâs just how gorgeous you are to me. And I wish I could see you one last time. No . . . no I wish . . . I wish I couldâve kissed you. Iâll never get the chance now, not in this life at least. I donât know h-how any of this . . . afterlife mess works, but I hope . . . Iâll get to see you again. I really . . . I really . . . I re . . .â
His words were becoming incomprehensible. His eyelids felt heavy. The twinkling stars above seemed less like stars, but blobs of fuzzy light.
âSatoru? Please, keep talking. I need you to keep talking,â you said.
He could hear the rumbling engine of your car through the phone.
â. . . Trying,â Satoru mumbled, though uttering that word? It took more energy than it should have.
âThis canât be happening. Not you, âToru, not you. I canât lose you. I-I wonât be able to handle it . . . I canât handle it.â
He heard you sniffle as you started to cry. He could imagine the tears streaming down the soft cheeks he wanted to stroke and kiss so desperately.
âSatoru?â You called out urgently when he didnât respond.
âIâm here,â he whispered, but the words that rolled off of his red tongue were so low, you couldnât hear him. He wanted to scream it, but he couldnât speak above that pathetic whisper so easily carried away by the brisk wind.
How cruel.
âCome on, Satoru! Donât do this to me. Please donât do this to me,â you cried. âPlease donât die, donât do this to me . . .â
Satoru closed his eyes â an act that wasnât of his own choosing.
It felt as if he was falling asleep. Falling asleep while floating in a pool or lake. But, in reality, he was dying in a pool of his own blood.
â
ââToru!â
The loud shout of his name made his eyes snap open.
Just how much time had passed?
He wasnât staring at the stars above, but at you, his sweetie. Your face was right above his.
His breathing sped up. His heartbeat quickened at the sight of you, and more and more uncountable tears fell from his eyes. The sight of you alone was quite literally taking his breath away.
âOh my god. I found you,â you fell to your knees in the blood-soaked grass, pulling his head in your lap as gently as you could. âThe ambulance is right behind me. They can fix this, right?â
âYouâre . . . here,â Satoru whispered. You leaned down, turning your head to the side until your ear was practically pressed against his lips, trying to hear his barely audible words. âI wonât . . . die . . . alone.â
âThatâs right. Iâm right here. Iâm not going anywhere,â you sniffled. You turned your head, your eyes staring at his lips.
You kissed them without a thought. Damn the blood, damn it all â this was not how you wanted your first kiss with your best friend to go, but you knew from his confession that it was his dying wish. You could feel Satoru use his little energy to kiss you back with as much passion as a dying man could. Your tears splattered against his cheeks.
When you pulled away and moved back a smidge, your face only an inch away from his, you whispered, âAnd I love you too. Do you hear me?â
His messy white hair â no, it was practically red now, crimson red â shifted as he nodded weakly, his hair tickling your face.
âCan you . . .â Satoru paused. You turned your head yet again, almost ear to lip. He tried to speak once more. âCan you . . . talk to me?â
âAbout what?â
âAnything,â he coughed. His blood sprayed across your cheek and nose. Crimson red. âHurry. Sweetie, please hurry.â
His eyelids were getting heavy. Call it a feeling from his impaired gut, but he gathered that when his eyes closed this time, they wouldnât open again. The faint sirens he heard in the distance couldnât save him.
All he wanted now was to hear his sweetie ramble on, on, and on.
âDo you remember when we-we went on that trip to the beach together a few years ago?â You stroked his forehead with your trembling fingers, staring into his glassy eyes. âThat stupid seagull took my sandwich, and you tried to avenge me, but the seagull won that fight. Iâve never seen someone run away from something so fast in my life. Remember that? You, um, bought me a new sandwich afterward and spent our entire beach trip trying to fight a bird. You wouldnât hurt it for real, even though you could have. Youâre too kind for that, even if it did yank your hair at one point. You probably didnât get a chance to notice how beautiful that beach was, though. So vast and blue. I couldnât help but imagine what it would have felt like to get married there. When I had that thought at the time, the only person I could imagine as the groom was you. Thatâs when I knew I was in love with my best friend. I knew that Iâd . . . life . . . you . . .â
Satoru could no longer understand the final words you would ever say to him. He couldnât hear you anymore.
His eyes closed. He couldnât see you anymore.
The last thing he felt was your hand shaking his shoulder as if trying to awaken him from death itself, but as his chest rose and fell one last time, he couldnât feel you anymore either.
How cruel.
⥠â @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @thequeenofcurses @he11okitty-mari @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @preciousamethyst @kxmorrx @iwanttohitmyself @ellaumbrella1 @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @ioveartfilm @filhadaanarquia @blackdxggr @jaegergirl @gunslxtz @he11okitty-mari @deadrevenge @koikohib @http-bell
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What was that?
Dad Gojo :>
Gojo Satoru, many years before, said that if he were to ever have a child, he wanted it to be a boy.
"Don't you like girls or something?" You asked, sitting to a chair next to him as Suguru and Shoko smoke a cigarette not too far.
"Hell nah. I hate all that cute bullshit." He spat, face morphing with anger and disgust.
"C'mon it's not that bad." Suguru spoke, glancing at his way.
"It's annoying. I can't stand the thought of dealing with make-up, princesses, pink everywhere, ribbons, a million stickers, glitter.. Eugh."
But life is a funny thing, and here he is with his 5 year old daughter, laying in the floor on top of the pink carpet of her pink room, two ribbons in his white hair, a sticker on his left cheekbone and terrible make-up on his face while drawing a princess with her.
You watched them silently until you let a giggle.
Satoru turned his head and looked at you. "What's up?" He asked with genuine curiosity, passing a marker to his daughter while holdin glitter to his other hand.
"Nothing, just...what was that again about not wanting a daughter?" You teased.
"Ha ha." He stared at you unimpressed and went back to spending time with his little princess who he loved more than anything in this world, shamelessly embarrassing his younger self who was stupid enough to say that he didn't want a girl. How dare he? That fucker...
"Dad! I need the glitter."
"Of course sweetheart, here you go."
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AWWWWW
headcanon that satoruâs sadly missed some of his daughterâs first milestones like the moment she first laughed, rolled over on her tummy by herself, sat up on her own, said her first word and the fact it was mama and not papa bc he is so buy with work. it breaks his heart and he thinks his baby girl barely knows him bc heâs so busy and most of her achievements are during the daytime. sometimes youâll catch them on video for him but itâs not the same if he isnât there for her in person. he assumed itâd be the same for her first steps, but heâs proved wrong one night in the kitchen. as usual, satoru comes home a little late, greets you with that greedy and heavy hello there kiss. your baby watches wide eyed from the floor, before attempting to push herself up on her own. this gets both of your attention as sheâs making lots of struggling noises, and in your excitement you both encourage her. while you crouch and hold out your hands, satoru stands absolutely still â bc he knows she wonât come to him. he smiles down though, warmth blooming in his chest as he watches her take her first little steps and canât help instinctively kneeling down a little. in a rush, youâre both surprised to see her walking past you and giggling straight into his arms
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with the language barrier between you and satoru combined with your lackluster skills in understanding japanese, you find that satoru often calls you by words you donât exactly know the meaning to. it irritates you bc he wonât tell you what heâs saying or explain â and neither will anyone else. but based on the reactions from his coworkers and students you assume it must be bad from how their eyes widen in disbelief. shoko might ask if you two are dating to which you shake your head feverishly in disagreement to get your point across. with that, sheâll give you an odd stare and mumble a knowing âhm, okayâŠâ under her breath. it irks you a little bc you donât understand how the two things could ever correlate when that doofus is making fun of you in his native tongue. you realize only later that the names satoru has been calling you this whole time are along the lines of âmy loveâ and âbeautifulâ and other endearing terms people use to refer to each other as their spouse or significant other, that the weird looks youâve garnered from everyone is them trying to figure out what you mean to him while satoru himself is scared to find out too
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sukuna having a gym playlist made for him | f. reader, s/h prns., crack 'n fluff, estb. rl Ű àŹ
it begins, as most things in the sukuna household do, with suspicious whispering and a very obvious attempt at stealth. youâre scrolling on your phone in peace â a rare, quiet moment â when your daughter plops onto your lap, all sugar and scheming.
âmama,â she coos, âdo you still have the... music machine?â
ââŠmy phone?â
âyes. the⊠spootiefay.â
you blink. ââŠspotify?â
âthat one!â she chirps, triumphant. âwe need it. for daddy.â
behind her, her brother peeks over the couch, half-hidden, holding a crayon like a baton. âhe listens to music when heâs lifting the big weights.â
âthe really big ones,â the girl nods solemnly. âso he needs music that makes him strong.â
âweâre gonna make him a play-listed,â the boy declares like itâs a state secret.
and because you are not made of stone, you hand over your phone, already bracing for whatever chaos is about to unfold.
they work on it with the seriousness of seasoned producers.
âno sad songs,â the boy insists, scrolling past some instrumental lo-fi.
âno songs about kissing,â the girl adds, deleting your entire 2000s pop playlist with surgical precision.
they take turns speaking into the phone, using voice search like itâs black magic.
âplay twinkle twinkle remix.â
âadd the sparkly barbie song. no, not that one. the other sparkly one.â
âwhat about that taytay song?â
âwhich one?â
âthe one where she shakes it a lot.â
by the end of it, the playlist has:
âtwinkle twinkle little starâ (classic version)
âtwinkle twinkle little star (trap remix)â
âtwinkle twinkle little star (rainforest instrumental)â
âbarbie: here i am / princesses just wanna have funâ (extended)
âshake it offâ â taylor swift
kidz bop cover of âlil boo thangâ
and inexplicably, âwhat does the fox say?â because apparently, your son still thinks it âis the best song ever.â
they name it: papa pleylist
later that evening, sukuna is lacing up his gym shoes when they ambush him. âdonât press play on your scary music,â his daughter warns.
âwhy?â
âbecause we made you a new one,â the boy says, shoving your phone into his hand with the pride of someone who just solved world hunger.
sukuna stares at the playlist title. he blinks slowly. then again.
ââŠwhat the hell is this.â
âpress play,â they chant, âpress play, press play, press playââ
so he does.
his face remains a neutral wall of stone as twinkle twinkle little star (trap remix) begins, baby piano keys thumping under an aggressive beat drop. you, behind them, are biting your lip to keep from laughing.
âyou like it?â they ask, eyes shining like stars.
ââŠyeah,â he mutters. âyeah, alright.â
cut to twenty minutes later.
sukunaâs tearing down the street on his kawasaki ninja, the evening wind slicing past, helmet on, veins pumping with adrenaline as he heads to the gym. from his earbuds, âshake it offâ blares at full volume.
his foot taps involuntarily on the brake in rhythm. he hates that he knows the lyrics. he really hates that heâs humming.
but then the kidz bop version of lil boo thang hits, and he remembers how his son yelled the chorus while flexing in front of the mirror and how his daughter said the barbie song made her âfeel like a sparkly wonder woman.â
and suddenly, the playlist doesnât feel like a joke. it feels like armor.
ridiculous, glittery, bubblegum armor â but armor nonetheless.
he revs the engine at a red light, head bobbing once, just once, in time with the beat.
in his gym bag is a towel, a protein bar, and a pink plastic clip his daughter âgave for luck.â
heâs going to deadlift twice his body weight with twinkle twinkle in his ears, and not a single soul can stop him.
because thatâs what daddies do.
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B-B-BOYFRIEND!

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader
scenario: he wants that cookie so effing bad but reader is oblivious to it all.
clueless.
you were damn clueless about what you were so sure you wanted.
look. bakugou didnât mean to overhear unlike other times (ehem the sports festival) but you werenât really being quite about it. often complaining to the other girls about how youâre looking for a boyfriend, how you want someone to be there for you yet no one seems interested.
mina in particular would glance over where he sat, laughing at your obliviousness. pointing out your blindness to the fact that someone IS interested but you waved it off like a fool as if he doesnât cook your favorite food each time when heâs assigned dinner duty, as if he doesnât walk by the road so youâre on the safer side, as if he doesnât let you ramble whatever it is you wanted to talk about listening genuinely and how if it were anyone else heâd walk away without a second thought. yet you canât see all the lengths heâs going through just to show you how capable he is to fulfill that role.
itâs getting to the point where he thinks you donât like him specifically because how can you not get it? are you avoiding him by pretending not to know on purpose to lightly let him down?
fuck, he even talked about his situation with his self proclaimed friends and they all told him to just fess up to you but damn it do you make him feel like a fool himself.
âdude why donât you ask her yourself?â sero genuinely asked, wondering why his strong headed friend who doesnât hesitate in the face of danger become so suddenly hesitant when it came to you.
âyeah! be a manly man and just do it.â the red headed boy spoke all fired up, patting the unshaken boy on the back whose face never seemed to cease from its frown.
âwhat? donât tell me youâre scared kacchan?â kaminari teased and for whatâs probably the hundredth time he got blown up by bakugouâs quirk, again, he really never learns his lesson.
so when the end of the year party eventually comes up you find yourself cornered by the explosive boy. dragged firmly away from the crowd of your peers, looking at you with angered brows and an upset pout. you supposed he tried to look indifferent and unaffected but he looked like anything but.
âwhatâs up bakugou?â you asked smiling up at his sharp expression.
âyouâre blind as fuck.â
âwhat theâ not even a hello???â you asked incredulously at his unprompted comment.
âshit. okay wait, let me think. you are unaware of things you should be aware of.â
âŠblinkâŠ..blink...blink
âis this about the homework I totally failed? I told you not to bring it up bakubroââ
âno and donât call me that!â he shouted, popping a red vein.
âwhy??!â
âbecause I donât want to be your âbroââ
âwhat. you donât want to be friends anymore?â you wobbly asked, eyes watering like that one emoji you always fucking send him. for instance,
messages
you: can you help me prepare for the test plz
katkat: where
you: wait actually I just remembered you and kiri were gonna study together
katkat: weâre not
you: I heard you two plan it after class?
katkat: he planned it
you: can you ask kiri if I could join then đ„č
katkat: no because Iâm coming to your room, get your shit ready.
you: so no kirishima? (â€)
you: so (â€)
you: kk pal!
katkat: donât call me that.
messages
katkat: mina saw you.
katkat: said you looked upset or something.
you: no Iâm fine!!!
you: totally not crying over being stood up or whatever. đ„čđ„čđ„čđ„čđ„č
katkat: that business class hataro shitsuko was a loser anyway.
you: itâs shizuku lol
katkat: just come over.
you: wait how did you know who (â€)
you: wait (â€)
you: wa (â€)
you: okay bae
messages
katkat <3: Iâm not getting you that mochi
you: please I want you
katkat <3: what?
you: to get it for me PLEASSSEEEE đ„č đ„č
katkat <3: âŠ
katkat <3: fine.
you: yayyyyyyyy
you: I want a specific flavor though.
katkat <3: I know what it is dumbass, Iâll see you later.
you: can you look for (â€)
you: THANK YOU!!
and many more but none of that ever clicked in your mind and so here you two were.
âno I want to be more than that.â he spoke seriously, red eyes set firmly on yours.
âdonât tell meâŠ.â you looked to the side shedding a tear as you leaned behind the wall further.
finally you understood.
âyou want to be best friââ
âFUCK NO! WEâRE NOT DOING THAT SHIT SO IâM JUST GONNA SAY IT.â he exasperatedly yelled, grabbing both your shoulders. breathing in once and out he spoke loud and clear, the feelings he held close and dear.
âI WANT YOU, YOU DAMN IDIOT! LET ME BE YOUR BOYFRIEND!!!â
âwhat?â you stared at him all startled and wide eyed as your mouth pulled downwards and eyes squinted to tears as you began to cry.
âwhat theâ why are you crying!? do you hate me that bad?â bakugou asked hiding his hurt by wiping your tears away with his thumb as he gently held your face.
âno I want you too!!!! I just never thought you felt that way about me.â you whined planting your face in his chest.
âyeah no shit.â
âwhat?â you asked, slightly pulling away.
ânothing.â he answered shoving your face back in his body with one hand, relived that you actually felt the same way all this time.

inspo: âdon't be scared to come put your trust in me can't you see all I really want to be is your boyfriend.â â Big Time Rush
©windyremedy
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POV : you have been scrolling for the past hour and all you see is SMUT




Please...life is lot more than fuckingđđ»
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tsumiki gets the lead in her schoolâs winter play.
sheâs glowing when she tells you, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes bright like sheâs been holding the news in all day just to tell you first.Â
satoru lifts her up the second she walks through the door, spinning her in a wide circle that makes her shriek with laughter. âthatâs my star!â he shouts, nearly knocking over the coat rack. âdo you want a limo? should i hire a red carpet?â
tsumiki clings to his shoulders and giggles. âno! just come watch.â
and of course you do. you both promise. you mark it on the calendar taped to the fridge door in bold red marker. you talk about it at dinner almost every night. she rehearses in the living room with megumi reading out lines in monotone, and satoru insists on calling her miss celebrity for an entire week. you watch the little girl bloom like a cherry blossom in the midst of snow with pride in your chest and love in your eyes.
but the night of the performance, satoru gets called away. something urgent. something that doesnât leave room for arguments or excuses, no matter how much you want to make one.
youâre the one who tells her.
you kneel beside her as she adjusts her costume in the mirror, her little paper crown slightly askew. she turns to you with a grinââis it time yet?ââand you hate how it fades when she sees your face.
âhe canât come?â tsumiki asks quietly.
you shake your head. âhe wanted to. really badly. but something came up.â
thereâs a pause. a long one. then she nods, like she was expecting it. âitâs okay,â she says. âheâs busy.â
she tries to smile, and itâs brave. but her fingers tug at the hem of her sleeves for the rest of the evening. on the ride to school, she looks out the window the whole time, quiet in a way that makes your chest ache. you reach for her hand at a red light. she squeezes back, but doesnât say a word.
backstage, she lets the other kids chatter around her. you help fix her hair, check her costume one last time, and whisper, âyouâre going to be amazing.â
âi know,â tsumiki says, and stands in the spotlight with her chin high and her voice steady. she recites every line like she was born to do it. she draws laughs during her funny bits and beams when the audience claps.Â
but you see the little glances she throws to the crowd when she thinks no oneâs watching. the flicker of hope she holds onto, just in case. the way her smile faltersâbriefly, just for a secondâwhen she doesnât see him there.
you take a hundred pictures. you record every single scene sheâs in. your phone storage nearly fills up, but you donât care. you want to capture it all. every little piece, so he wonât miss anything.
after, when you hand her flowers and hug her tight, she grins again, tired but happy. she doesnât say anything about him not being there. doesnât bring it up at all. she just brushes her teeth at home, changes into her pajamas, and climbs into bed.
later, when the house is still and the kids are asleep, the front door creaks open. youâre curled up on the couch in the dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamp turned on in the corner of the room.
satoru steps inside, hair windblown, shirt untucked, eyes searching. âdid i miss everything?â he asks.
you nod, your heart twisting for both of them. you pull out your phone, unlock it, and hold it out. âhere,â you say. âyou didnât miss it completely.â
he takes it from your hand and sinks down onto the couch like his legs have given up on him. you sit next to him in silence while he watches the first video, his face unreadable, like heâs holding his breath.
satoru watches every single video twice. the third time, he starts crying.

âą a/n: i wrote this because i was bored in class and ended up daydreaming about having a family with someone. sue me. + inspired by real life events.
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confession so good i shed tears
operation: get over your childhood crush! â gojo satoru



synopsis. in an attempt to move on from your childhood best friendâwho definitely doesnât see you the way you wantâyou 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 Satoruâs bedside lamp casting a soft glow over his mess of a room. Youâre both sprawled out across his bed, limbs entangled like itâs the most normal thing in the world. Because, for the two of you, it is.
Satoruâs Nintendo Switch is balanced on his stomach, hands lazily tapping away as his little Digimon charges into battle on screen. Youâre 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.
âYour room still smells like that cheap vanilla air freshener,â you mumble, nose scrunching.
âThatâs because you bought it,â he replies without looking up, thumb expertly guiding his character through an attack.
âBecause your room would end up stinking with sweat and whatever freaky stuff you do in here.â
âHey!â He whines. âI shower everyday and you know it. The stink is all you. Have you ever sniffed yourself, princess?â
You swat at his stomach, and he lets out a dramatic grunt. âRude. I brought that candle to add ambiance.â
âAh yes,â he deadpans, ânothing like artificial sugar scent.ââ
You snort, settling your head back down on his shoulder, the fabric of his hoodie soft beneath your cheek. Thereâs a long pause before you say, âYou know, if we fail our exams, Iâm blaming your Digimon addiction.â
He grins. âIâm raising digital warriors, thank you very much. And Iâve never failed an exam, donât wound me now!â
âThey look like mutant toddlers with attitude problems.â
He gasps, clutching his heart. âTheyâre champions, you monster.â
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. âHonestly, youâd be lost without me.â
âNot true.â He says it reflexively, then pauses. His voice softens. âOkay, maybe. Iâd probably just let them slide down until I walked into a wall.â
You smile faintly. âAnd thereâd be no one there to patch you up.â
âTragic,â he agrees. âWould bleed out on the floor, probably.â
âYouâre so dramatic.â
âYouâre so bossy,â he counters, shooting you a sideways look.Â
âAdmit it,â he says, voice full of faux-smugness, âyouâd miss me if I died tragically and left you all alone.â
You hesitate for a second too long before mumbling, âDonât joke about that.â
Itâs quiet. The game music loops in the background as his Digimon wins the battle with a triumphant fanfare.
He doesnât 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 thatâs been unraveling lately every time he mentions another girl.
Another type. Thatâs not you.
âYou know,â you say slowly, eyes peeling from the screen to his phone, which lights up with a notification, revealing one of his favorite gravure modelâs latest issues as its wallpaper. âYou could probably date any girl you wanted. Why do you partake in freak stuff like this? Itâs anti-girl repellent.â
He makes a noncommittal sound. âDoubt it.â
âI donât. Youâve got that whole genius-who-doesnât-realize-heâs-hot thing going on.â
He glances at you, skeptical. âIs that⊠a thing?â
âIt is. Annoying, but effective. Girls love it.â
He hums, clearly amused, cheeks slightly flushed. âWell, good to know I have options.â
You try to laugh, but it catches in your throat.
You shouldnât ask. You really shouldnât.
But youâre 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 itâs a joke. You tilt your head against his shoulder, voice airy, teasing. âHey, be honestâdo you think Iâm cute?â
He goes still.
His hand tightens slightly on the Switch. You think youâve pushed too far, so you try to backpedal before he can respond.
âNot like⊠like that,â you say quickly. âI just meant, like, in general. Compared to those girls youâre into. Say, Waka Inoue. You know, long legs, shiny hair, cute face?â
His jaw tightens.
Youâre still trying to play it off. âI mean, Iâm not fishing for compliments. I justâwas wondering. Curiosity. Science.â
He finally turns to look at you.
His gaze lingers. And for the first time all night, heâs not smiling.
You feel your breath stutter in your throat underneath his gaze.
Then he shrugs.
ââŠNah.â
It slices through the air with quiet finality.
Your heart drops. You donât let it show. Not fully. But it must flicker in your face, because he quickly looks away.
You laugh. It sounds forced.
âYeah, thatâs fair. I mean, I wasnât expecting a yes or anything.â
Heâs silent.
You shift away from him slightly, giving him space. âI should head home soon. We didnât really get any studying done, anyway.â
âItâs late. Why donât you stay the night?â
Usually, youâd accept his offer with a smile, but you really wanted to go home and wallow in your own self pity.
âItâs fine, I have something to do anyway,â the lie slips out of your mouth easily as you begin to pack your things.
And you miss the way he watches youâguilt in his eyes, frustration on his tongue.Â
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.
Youâd been doomed since day one.
And to make things worse, youâd both gotten into Japanâs most competitive universityâtogether. Same neighborhood. Same school. Same train route. You werenât just stuck with him. You were haunted.
But you were young. And hot. And allegedly in your prime. You couldnât keep orbiting around a guy who still thought microwave gyoza was a food group and used your shampoo because it âsmelled like you, so why not?â
You were sipping coffee with your two closest friends, and todayâs topic wasâunfortunatelyâyour love life.
âHonestly, I canât believe youâve been stuck on Gojo for this long,â Utahime said, disgusted, as she stirred her latte like it personally offended her. âYou could do so much better.â
âIt was kind of cute in high school,â Shoko added âbut now itâs just sad.â
You sighed, blowing on your drink. âI know, okay? Itâs not like I havenât tried. But heâs literally the only guy Iâve ever been close to. I donât even talk to guys besides him.â
âThatâs because heâs been gatekeeping you since the two of you met,â Utahime said flatly. âI swear, every time someone so much as glanced at you, he pulled that overprotective act.â
You wrinkled your nose. âThat doesnât sound like âToruâŠâ
Shoko and Utahime exchanged a look. One of those knowing glances.
Utahime cleared her throat. âIt doesnât matter! What matters is you are hot. Youâve got the face, the body, the grades, the personality. You just need the confidence.â
You peeked up at her, unsure. âYou really think so?â
Utahime leaned forward, smirking like sheâd just won a war. âI know so. And thatâs why Iâve come up with a plan.â
You narrowed your eyes. âA plan?â
She slammed her hands down on the table, eyes alight. âOperation: Get Over Gojo Satoru.â
You blinked. âThatâs⊠a long title.â
Shoko blew a slow stream of smoke. âItâs either this or pine until you die and haunt him as a love-sick ghost.â
You stared into your cup, sighing. âFine. Iâm in. Whatâs step one?â
Utahime grinned.
âWhatcha doing?âÂ
Gojoâs voice drifts lazily over your shoulder, followed by the soft rustle of his hoodie as he leans in. Heâs far too close, obnoxiously so, his breath tickling your ear and his chin was nearly resting on your shoulder.
You donât even glance up. âStudying.â
The two of you are supposed to be studyingâ 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 itâs second nature.
He hums, skeptical. âLiar.â
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.
âWait,â Satoru says slowly. âAre you on a dating app?!â 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. âKeep your voice down, idiot!â
His eyes widen dramatically, hands thrown up like youâve stabbed him. âI leave you alone for two minutes and youâre already planning a life with someone named âKeita, aspiring DJ and spiritual healerâ? Iâm wounded.â
âYou werenât supposed to read that far.â
âIâm a speed-reader,â he says with a smug grin. âItâs part of the whole âgeniusâ thing.â
Before you can argue, he snatches your phone with a level of ease that tells you this isnât the first time heâs done something like this. He grins like heâs won a prize.
âSatoru!â
âRelax, Iâm not texting anyone,â he says, fingers flying across the screen. âJust⊠optimizing.â
Your heart drops. âWhat are you typing?â
âNothing~â
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.
âGive it back!â
âPatience.â
âGojo Satoruââ
âOkay, okay!â he relents with a dramatic sigh, finally placing your phone face-down on the table like heâs done you a huge favor.
You snatch it up immediately, eyes scanning for damage. No weird messages. No unsolicited likes. No new matches.
ââŠWhat did you do?â
âI didnât message anyone,â he assures, too innocent to be trusted. âIâm not that cruel.â
You narrow your eyes, suspicious.
âBut,â he adds with a grin, âI didnât know you were dating.â
âIâm not,â you mutter, clicking your phone off. âJust⊠considering it. Trying. Itâs not going well.â
âGood.â
The word comes out too fast. Too sharp. And his face doesnât match the light tone heâs trying to play off.
You raise an eyebrow. âGood?â
He shifts, leaning back in his seat, suddenly very interested in stirring the foam in his overpriced coffee. âI mean, itâs good youâre not settling. You should be picky. Guys are the worst.â
You snort. âYou are a guy.â
âExactly. I know what weâre like.â
You smile despite yourself, rolling your eyes. âIâm sure you think youâre the exception.â
âI know I am,â he says, winking. Then he sobers slightly, eyes flickering to yours. âIâm just⊠looking out for you.â
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 doesnât help. The words come out before you can stop them.
âYou know with the way things are going⊠maybe you should just date me at this point.â
Silence.
Itâs a joke. Supposed to be. But the second it leaves your lips, it tastes real.
Gojo freezes.
You panic. âI didnât meanâlike, I was just jokingââ
But he turns toward you, eyes unreadable behind the fringe of snowy white hair. âMaybe I should.â
You blink.
And then, with infuriating ease, he grins.
âAnyway,â he says quickly, swiping your phone from the table again before you can stop him, âYuto here looks like the type to ghost you after three dates and a karaoke duet. You can do better.â
You gape at him, completely thrown off, your heart slamming in your chest.
You donât even notice what heâs done until laterâuntil 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 werenât sure why you agreed to it.
Maybe it was the look in Utahimeâs eyesâdetermined, dangerous, hopeful. Maybe it was Shoko promising she wouldnât 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 elseâs eyes. Someone who wasnât Gojo Satoru.
âToday,â Utahime had declared, curling the last strand of your hair like she was threading a spell, âis the first day of your Gojo-less futureâ
You laughed nervously, tugging at the hem of your skirt. It wasnât your usual styleânot the dewy makeup you werenât 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 immediatelyâGojo, 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 didnât 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.
âWhaââ he said eloquently. âWhâwhat did you do.â
You blinked. âHi to you too.â
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. âYou look like⊠like you skipped two evolution stages overnight. Straight to Mega. Like if Angewomon fused with⊠I donât know, some kind of rare, limited-release goddess-type Digimon that only spawns on a lunar eclipse.â
You blinked.
Utahimeâs voice in your head: Youâre hot. Unstoppable. Heâs going to be speechless.
And Gojo was. But not in the way you wanted.
You tried to laugh. âSo I look like a cartoon?â
âA beautiful cartoon,â he said, serious now. âLike the kind of boss character they only show for two frames because animating her costs too much.â
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, âYou just⊠you look different. Thatâs all.â
Different.
Not better. Not prettier.
Just different.
You swallowed. âYeah, well. Thought Iâd try something new.â
âI didnât say it was bad,â he added quickly, but the words felt unsure. Flimsy.
âI should⊠use the restroom,â 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 youâ 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 werenât like those girls on the magazines.Â
What you didnât see, what you couldnât see, was Gojo still standing outside the lecture hall, staring after you, Switch forgotten, game over screen blinking on the screen.
He didnât even notice.
âYou good, Satoru?â Shoko asked, walking by.
He blinked. âI think I just saw my best friend⊠and my final boss⊠and my future wife⊠all at once.â
Shoko snorted. âYouâre a dork.â
Gojo just sighed, shoulders slumping as he muttered, âIâm so doomed.â
Itâs a mild Friday evening when you meet himâKazuya, the guy from your psychology class. Heâs 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. âA change of pace,â they called it. âYou need a baseline. Not every guy is going to be Gojo Satoru.â
Exactly. That was the point.
Youâre sipping a matcha latte and nodding along as Kazuya explains his thesis on cognitive development when a very familiar voice cuts through the air.
âWell, well, well. Fancy seeing you here.â
Your stomach drops. You look up, and sure enoughâ
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 heâs been there the whole time.
You blink. âWhat are you doing here?â
He shrugs. âThirsty. Wanted a drink.â
âAt this cafĂ©? On this side of campus?â
âYeah,â he says, tone innocent. âWeird coincidence, huh?â
Kazuya offers a polite smile. âYouâre her friend, right? Gojo?â
âOh, best friend. Lifelong. Practically her shadow.â He plops into the empty seat beside you without asking, casually tossing his ramune onto the table. âWhatâs your name again? Kaname?â
ââŠKazuya.â
âRight, right. I always mix those up. You look like a Kaname, though. Or maybe a Yusuke.â
You stare at him, incredulous. âSatoruââ
But heâs already leaning over, squinting at the book tucked under Kazuyaâs arm. âOoh, Piaget. Bold move. Love that for you.â
Kazuya blinks. âDo you⊠like developmental theory?â
âI like being correct,â Gojo says with a cheeky smile. âAlso, [Name] hates Piaget. She called him âthe Freud of toddlersâ last semester.â
Kazuya turns to you in mild surprise. âReally?â
âIâI mean, yeah,â you mumble. âSort of.â
Gojo beams. âTold you.â
Kazuya makes a valiant effort to steer the conversation back to safe, neutral ground.
âSo, you mentioned you're interested in behaviorism, right?â he says, offering a gentle smile. âI thought Dr. Takeda's lecture on conditioned responses was kind of fascinatingââ
âOh, riveting,â Satoru cuts in, lounging back in his chair like he owns the cafĂ©. âNothing like bonding over Pavlovâs dogs to spark romance. Did she tell you she cried during Inside Out because the depiction of core memories was âpsychologically resonantâ? Real charmer, this one.â
You shoot Satoru a look. âI was twelve!â
Kazuya blinks, trying not to smile. âI actually thought that was pretty moving, too.â
âWow,â Satoru deadpans. âA match made in neuroscience.â
Kazuya laughs politely and continues, undeterred. âSo, uh, any research plans after graduation?â
You open your mouth to answer, but Satoru beats you to it again.
âShe used to want to be a vet. Cried when she had to dissect a frog in middle school. Tragic day.â
âIs that true?â Kazuya turns to you, amused now.
âTechnically, yes,â you mutter into your drink.
By the time your cup is empty, you realize youâve laughed more at Satoruâs interjections than you have at anything Kazuyaâs said. Not because Kazuya wasnât interestingâhe was. He was calm, thoughtful, well-read, and clearly trying. But next to Satoru, whose entire presence seemed impossible to ignore, Kazuya didnât 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,
âSo⊠is Gojo your boyfriend?â
The question hangs awkwardly.
You and Satoru answer at the same time.
âNo,â you say quickly.
âYes,â he says with a smile.
You both turn to stare at each other.
âI meanâno,â he corrects, waving his hands. âJust a joke. Hah. Obviously.â
Kazuya blinks. âRight.â
You canât meet either of their eyes. Your drink is finished, your palms are damp, and the cafĂ© is suddenly too warm, too small. You push back your chair and stand.
âI should go. Early lab meeting tomorrow.â Itâs the weakest excuse, but neither of them calls you on it.
Kazuya stands too, polite as ever. âThanks for meeting up. You seem like a really cool person.â He hesitates, then adds, gently, âI just think maybe youâve already got someone.â
You freeze. You open your mouth, then close it again. Thereâs nothing to say.
Outside, the cold air kisses your cheeks like a reminder. It stings a little, or maybe thatâs just the confusion burning in your chest.
Satoruâs already waiting for you. Of course he is. Heâs leaning against the lamppost, silver hair catching in the wind. But his eyes are downcast, trained on the sidewalk.
He doesnât say anything right away. Neither do you.
You exhale, watching your breath curl white in the air. âYou didnât have to crash it, yâknow.â
âI didnât crash,â he replies without looking at you. âI was invited.â
âBy who?â
âFate. Karma. The gods of poor decision-making.â He shrugs.
You roll your eyes, but it tugs a laugh from you anyway. Stupid, annoying, charming Gojo.
âSo,â he says after a beat, nudging your arm gently with his elbow, âhowâd it go?â
You glance at him. He still wonât meet your gaze. His lips are pursed like heâs holding back a hundred words and none of them are funny.
âHe was nice,â you admit. Despite being rudely interrupted by the white haired idiot beside you.
âNice is boring,â he mutters, kicking at a loose stone on the pavement.
You laugh, soft and tired. âYouâre the worst.â
He finally looks at you then, lips quirking into that smug, too-knowing smile. âBut you like me anyway.â
You look away, cheeks burning, heart thudding like a traitor in your chest.
You donât answer.
You donât 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 didnât. And maybe, just maybeâ 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. Youâre both at your usual spot in the library, surrounded by open notebooks and highlighted packets, pretending to study more than you actually are.
Youâre halfway through underlining a term in your psychology notes when Satoru leans back in his chair, stretches like a cat, and saysâfar too casually:
âSo, guess who asked me out?â
You hum absentmindedly. âWho?â
âAyane.â
The name hits you like a slap.
You freeze, highlighter paused mid-sentence. ââŠAyane? From the biochem track?â
âYeah,â he says, practically glowing. âYou know her, right? She's in your study group sometimes.â
You do know her. Of course you do. Everyone knows her.
Sheâs beautiful, with this effortless, clean kind of eleganceâlong 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 heâs not joking now. Heâs beaming.
âShe asked me out to dinner this Friday. Sheâs so smart, tooâI didnât even have to pretend to know what quantum entanglement was. Itâs wild.â He laughs, brushing a hand through his hair. âI thought sheâd never go for a guy like me, yâknow?â
You force a laugh. âA guy like you?â
âYeah. I dunno. Too much, I guess? But she said I was ârefreshing.ââ He grins.Â
Your stomach sinks.
This is what you thought you wantedâfor 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 itâs happening, it feels like someoneâs slowly pulling your ribs apart.
âOh,â you manage, smiling like youâve practiced it. âThatâs great. Iâm happy for you.â
He doesnât 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 isnât just that heâs going out with someone else.
Itâs that he chose her.
Her with her flawless skin and quiet charm and the kind of beauty that doesnât need to try. Her, with everything youâre not. And more than that, itâs that he made you believe you could have meant more to himâwhen really, heâd been searching for someone else all along.
You excuse yourself early, mumbling something about laundry.
He doesnât follow.
You donât cry until youâre halfway home, the cold air biting at your cheeks as your vision blurs.
For the first time in years, you donât text him goodnight.
You donât wait for a meme. Or a dumb joke. Or his usual, âHey, genius. Sleep.â
You go silent.
And when he texts the next day, you donât reply.
You skip your library meet-up. You donât sit next to him in class. You even duck into the stairwell when you see his ridiculous white hair from across campus.
Itâs not because youâre mad. Itâs because youâre heartbroken.
And you canât keep pretending it doesnât matterâthat he doesnât matter.
You werenât just losing your best friend.
You were losing the love of your life.
And he didnât even notice.
It takes him three days to notice youâre gone.
Wellâno. Thatâs a lie.
He notices immediately. The moment your usual seat in the library stays empty. When your laugh doesnât echo in the cafĂ© line. When your name doesnât pop up on his screen at 2AM with some stupid meme captioned, âthis reminded me of you, idiot.â
But he tells himself youâre 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. Sheâs telling him about her research internship in Osaka, about enzymes and international grants, and all he can think isâ
Youâd be making fun of me right now.
Youâd be kicking him under the table. Whispering some dumb pun about digimon. Youâd be pulling faces every time he tried to pronounce the items on the menu. Youâd be⊠you.
Ayane is lovely.
But she doesnât laugh when he says something stupid. She just smiles politely.
She doesnât ask about why his glasses are always crooked (itâs so you could fix them). Doesnât tease him for double-knotting his laces like a paranoid grandma. Doesnât call him âSatoâ like itâs 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:
âLaundry. Rain check?â
And nothing since.
He waits. Another day. Then two.
You donât show up to class again.
You donât like his latest meme.
You donât comment on the Digimon pun he texted you out of desperation.
You are silent.
And Satoru Gojoâbrilliant, blind-sighted, the golden boy of theoretical physics, always five steps aheadârealizes, too late, that heâs been a fool.
That he didnât just lose a study partner.
He lost the one person who knew him better than he knew himself.
The one person he couldnât replace with rare Digimon pulls, half-solved physics equations, or overly sweet desserts.
And for the first time since he was a kidâ
Heâs afraid.
Itâs 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 âtoo sweet for meâ when you really meant âI got this for you.â 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 (âHey, I brought your favorite snacks. I just... figured maybe you forgot you liked them?â). 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 (whichâouch, even though you hadnât used it seriously). You didnât even show up to the library anymore. And even Shoko started looking at him with thinly veiled pity and a âyou really fumbled the bagâ look in her eyes.
Gojo Satoru is⊠just tired.
Miserable.
So when he finally finds youânot because heâs chasing you down this time, but because heâs walking the long way home, and there you are, sitting on the old swings at the park where you first metâit knocks the wind out of him.
You donât look surprised to see him. Just... tired too.
âI figured youâd find me eventually,â you say quietly.
He swallows. His hands curl at his sides like heâs preparing for a fight.
âYouâve been avoiding me,â he says, like it isnât obvious. âWhy?â
You look away. âYouâre smart. Figure it out.â
Gojo looks down at his feet.
âI didnât know you felt that way.â
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. âLook, I canâtâI canât take this anymore.â
You glance up.
âI canât either.â
Hope flares too fast, too naive in his chest. His shoulders drop like heâs been holding up the world. âThatâs good,â he breathes, stepping forward. âBecause the silent treatmentâGod, I thought I was going toââ
âI donât think we can be friends anymore.â
The words stop him cold.
âWhat?â he breathes.
You laugh, but itâs hollow. Like something already broken. âDonât you get it? I canât be friends with you and pretend that nothingâs changed. That Iâm okay just being your best friend. Iâve been in love with you for years, Satoru.â
His heart stutters. You donât stop.
âAnd I love myself too much to keep hurting for someone who doesnât even look at me that way.â Your voice cracks, but you push through. âDo you know how humiliating it feels? To love someone so much it aches, and still feel like youâll never be enough?â
He opens his mouth. Closes it.
You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, swallowing the lump in your throat. âYou never even thought I was cute.â
He looks like heâs been hit.
âIâve been chasing scraps. Leftovers. Mixed signals and stupid inside jokes. IâI canât do it anymore.â
You finally meet his eyes, and thatâs when he sees it: the hurt youâve been hiding behind every smile, every brush-off, every joke you cracked to keep the silence from swallowing you.
And for once, Gojo Satoru canât find a single thing to say.
Not yet.
Not until he stops you from walking away.
âWhere did you get an idea like that?â His cerulean eyes search yours desperately. âI-I donât think youâre just cute, are you kidding?â he blurts, eyes wild.
âY-youâre breathtaking! Everything Iâve 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 playgroundâsince you tripped over your shoelaces trying to race me to the monkey bars!â
Your breath catches.
He continues, desperate now, like every second of silence might kill him.
âI love you! And not like a brother. LikeâI 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. Sheâd be the boss of the house.â
You gape.
âWaitââ
âIâm not done!â he says, hands thrown up. âThen weâd have twins. Boys. Chaos gremlins. One would look like my twin and the other yours, and theyâd absolutely terrorize usâbut their sister keeps them in check, sheâs fierce like you.â
You blink. A tear slides down your cheek.
âI want to move to Kyoto,â he says, softer now. âBuy a house with a dumb little garden. Grow tomatoes weâll never eat. Live out the rest of our lives where itâs quiet.â
You cover your mouth, stunned. âYou⊠really thought all that out?â
âItâs easy,â he breathes, âwhen all I can think about is you.â
He steps closer. The wind tugs his white hair into his eyes, but he doesnât blink.
âI go to study nonlinear quantum field theory and all I see is your face. I try to cool off and play Digimon, and even thatâs ruinedâmy lineup is garbage now! I only keep the ones you said were cute!â
A laugh bubbles out of you, fragile and watery.
âYou idiot,â you murmur.
âI am,â he nods solemnly. âIâm the worldâs biggest idiot. And Iâm in love with you.â
Another tear slips down. He wipes it away before you can.
âIs it too late?â he asks, voice cracking slightly. âPlease tell me itâs not too late.â
You stare at himâthis man, this brilliant, ridiculous, loyal boy who had held your heart long before you ever admitted it.
âItâs not too late,â you whisper.
He doesnât 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.
âIâve been waiting to do this for years,â he whispers.
And then, finally, he kisses you.
Itâs not perfect, your cheeks are still wet, his nose bumps yours again, and his hand trembles just a little, but itâs 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. âSo⊠are we still doing the whole âOperation: Get Over Gojoâ thing, or?â
You laugh, heart full, forehead pressed to his.
âMission failed,â you whisper.
He grins. âGood.â
And then he kisses you again.
art by leimiruu on x!
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Till Kingdom Come
cw: fluff, angst, royalty au, war, blood, violence, character death, grief/loss, whipped gojo, love at first sight, he fell first and harder, bros obssessed, politics blegh /j, power imbalance?, all characters are 18+, SFW
a/n: dropped a lil fic while Iâm on break. also ignore any minor changes, Iâm indecisive lol.. see you all soon! art credits to @/loquatini on tiktok <3

So this is what your life has come to?
Perched upon the throne, in a kingdom that had long lost hope in its monarchy, you remain as its sole heir. The royal family lineage had long been dead, with no prospect of future heirs due to your husbandâs poor, sickly condition, whichâbless his soulâsent him to an early grave.
You were a widowed queen, in a land that did not belong to you, but was still your home.
So, like the dutiful wife and queen you were, you took your place on the dusty throne, not once batting an eye at the objections of the Kingâs council nor the high court.
You became a beacon of hope to your kingdom, which, although small in size, was great in strength. You became what the kingdom needed in a time of despair and crisis, in a time of famine and fear. You carved your place into the very stone walls of the kingdom, and the nation rejoiced, welcoming your rule with open arms.
Your people loved you, and under your rule, Veralia thrived.
The nation stood strong and prosperous beneath your iron will until one day, the gates of your kingdom were breached. An emperor from beyond the oceans and seas, who dared to weasel his way into your high walls.
Emperor Gojo Satoru.
A man feared across kingdoms and lands, a man who dared to threaten your rule.
Though you had taken your place on the throne, soon you would take your place on the battlefield, charging through the hordes of horses and knights with your blade held up high, aiming straight at Gojo Satoru.
And Satoru, nonetheless, felt the true meaning of love at first sight in that very moment.
All it took was one look at youâhair disheveled, clothes bloodied and in tatters, chest rising with every breathâas you stood before him, blade pressed to his throat, eyes sharper than a knife, piercing straight into his soul.
Just one look in your eyes, and he was done for. The only thought left in his mind was, "God, I have to marry her."
Amidst the chaos of war, surrounded by clashing fleets and the sound of an ongoing battle, Gojo Satoru knelt before you, smiling like a madman with that charming, boyish grin.
Your hand trembled in his as he brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your delicate skin as he dared to speak those four forbidden words.
âWill you marry me?â
Your blade fell to the ground, a sound so loud, so final, that the battle itself seemed to halt. Soldiers from both kingdoms remained frozen, awaiting the command of their ruler as they bore witness to this spectacle.
"You want to marry me?" You scoffed, sneering at the audacity of this man, and yet, your heart couldn't help but race. Whether it was from the rush of battle or the shiver that ran down your spine from a mere kiss, youâd rather not say. âThen leave your throne.â
Your eyes blazed like a warm fire, stirring his insides with butterflies as you stared at him, unyielding and challenging.
"You must leave your throne then," you said in a tone so final, "recall your troops and betray your kingdom for me. Forsake everything you know, and live the rest of your life beside me, in my kingdom, under my rule."
And Gojo, being the lovesick idiot he was, merely grinned.
"So," he said, rising to his full height, towering over you with fingers tangled in yours, "when do I start packing?"
Then, softer, almost inaudible, he spoke. Words meant only for you, whispered amid the quietness of the battlefield.
âI'd rather kneel before your throneâto your every whim, to bow down at your very feet, and kiss the ground you walk on, Your Majestyâthan sit alone on mine."
After all, Gojo Satoru was a fool in love.
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lipstick experiment / k. bakugo
trying new shades of lipsticks on your boyfriend! (spoiler: he loves it so much)
last week, you received a package from a known lipstick brand that you once saved from their company's headquarters against the villains. so as their thank you gift to you, they sent you a box containing about fifteen different shades of lipsticks.
and right now, the lipsticks were scattered across your vanity as you gleefully unpacked your new treasures. meanwhile. katsuki bakugo sat on the bed behind you, arms crossed, pretending not to careâbut his eyes kept flicking toward you in the mirror.
an idea popped in your head as you turned at him with a grin. âkatsukiâŠâ
he glanced up with suspicion. âwhat now?â
since you already prepared your lips with your moisturizer, you popped open a rosy pink lipstick and carefully applied it on your lips. âsince they sent me so many shades and i really want to test them all outâŠi was hoping if i could test these outâŠon you.â
his brows furrowed. âthe hell does that mean?â
instead of answering, you lay all of the lipsticks on the bed as you marched over and climbed onto his lap, straddling him with a smile that was wayyyy too sweet to be innocent.
thenâmwahâyou kissed his cheek, leaving a perfect pink print.
âwhat the hellââ he started, but froze as you pulled back to admire your work.
you beamed as you wiped your lips. âhmmâŠtoo pinkish for me. let's try another shade.â
âdonât you daââ
pop. new lipstick. a bold red this time.
âkatsuki,â you said sweetly, cupping his face, âlook at me, baby.â
he tried to look anywhere but you, but you gently turned his face back. now, his half-lidded eyes are now looking at you quietly. then, you smiled at him and kissed his nose.
a red mark. right on the tip.
his eyes twitched.
âyouâre really enjoying this, arenât you?â he muttered, his hands going on your waist to support you as you're literally straddling his lap.
you giggled softly, already reaching for another shade. âyes. but youâre letting me do it, so youâre enjoying it too.â
âtch.â
still, he didnât stop you.
not when you kissed his forehead in coral. not when you pressed three peony-pink kisses across his jaw. not even when you left a nude kiss mark on his neck.
by the end of it, his entire face was covered in different lip printsâeach one messier than the last, because you were laughing so hard and he was definitely holding back a smile.
âyou look adorable, kat.â you teased, wiping a tear from your eye.
âshut up,â he muttered, eyes flicking to your lips.
as you were still sitting in his lap again, lipstick in one hand, amusement in your smile, and katsukiâŠwell, he looked like he was trying to stay annoyed. keyword: trying.
you kissed his cheek for the fifth time, the soft press of your lips leaving another markâthis one a warm rose shade that looked kind of perfect against his skin. you leaned back to admire it, grinning.
he didnât say a word. he didnât flinch. he didnât pull away.
you caught it thenâa flicker. the smallest twitch at the corner of his lips, like he was fighting off a smile and losing.
your heart fluttered.
âkatsukiâŠâ you whispered teasingly, âyou sure you're not enjoying this?â
he scoffed. âyouâre makinâ a mess.â
but his hands were still on your waistâgentle, possessive, like he didnât want you to move. his red eyes darted to your lips every time you reached for a new shade, and when you kissed the tip of his nose?
thatâs when you saw it.
the softness in his face.
his whole expression cracked for just a secondâno scowl, no sarcasm. just him. completely vulnerable, eyes warm, like he forgot the rest of the world existed and could only see you.
your breath caught.
you werenât even sure if he knew how he was looking at you. like every kiss was a promise. like he was trying to memorize the shape of your smile. like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
and stillâhe let you keep kissing him.
cheeks, jaw, forehead, nose, lips
you were leaving prints everywhere, and he didnât stop you once.
when you kissed his jaw again, he muttered under his breath, âyouâre such a damn menaceâŠâ
but his voice was rough. soft around the edges. like maybe he didnât want you to stop.
you pulled back and whispered, âyou look even more pretty with my kisses.â
he didnât answer.
but his hands held you tighter.
and that look in his eyes? yeah. that was all the answer you needed.
fast forward, you are now finished testing out all of the shades and his face was literally colorful and full of your kiss marks. surprisingly, katsuki stayed quiet as he just kept on looking at you and his eyes would close whenever you land a kiss on his face.
you reached for a makeup wipe, giggling softly as you hovered near his cheek. âokay, let me clean you up before the color stains your skin.â
but before you could touch him, katsuki grabbed your wristâgently, but firmly.
âdonât.â
you blinked. âhuh?â
he looked away, ears tinged red. âleave it. just for a while.â he mumbled softly.
you stared at him in disbelief. âyou wanna walk around looking like you got attacked by a lipstick-loving ghost?â
he gave you a half-hearted glare. âi like it, alright? itâsâŠproof.â
âproof of what?â
he tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you flush against him. âthat youâre mine. and that i let you get away with this kinda shit.â
your heart skipped, and suddenly the urge to tease him vanished into something softer, warmer.
ââŠyouâre such a sap when you try to hide it,â you whispered, pressing your forehead against his.
he grumbled under his breath but didnât deny it.
you pulled back just a littleâjust enough to grab your phone from the nightstand. bakugo immediately narrowed his eyes but didn't question you.
you opened the camera and set it on selfie mode as you fit your faces on the screen. you hugged him close, making your cheeks smashed to each other.
âlook at the camera, kat.â you said as you smiled, then clicked the button. katsuki just looked at the camera but didn't smile. he saw his face all covered with your kisses, and if he would be honest, that made him feel oddly giddy in his chest.
âokay, one more.â this time, you placed a kiss on his cheek and snapped the picture.
you took more photos and when you're finally done, you set your phone down and formally looked at your boyfriend. you cupped his cheek as your thumb grazed over his lower lip.
âthanks for letting me test these shades.â
âeven though i looked like a damn lipstick experiment, have you finally picked out your shade yet?â
you nodded and showed him your top three lipstick shades. âthese suit me better.â
âhow about you? what do you think is the best shade for me?â
âanything as long as it's your lips.â he said.
you couldn't help but to crackle a laugh. âis that a flirting attempt or what?â
he glared at you but there's no hostility in those eyes. âshut up.â he mumbled as you continued to laugh.
his arms wrapped around you tighter.
and for once, bakugo katsuki didnât feel like he had to be explosive or loud or strong to be loved.
he just had to be hereâwith you.
lipstick stains and all, he's glad to do this lipstick experiment with you.
masterlist
©luvvixu2025
a/n: AHHH I LIED GUYS, THIS HAS TO BE MY MOST FAVORITE BAKUGO KATSUKI FF I HAD WRITTEN CUZ HUHUHU CAN U GUYS IMAGINE HOW GIGGLY I AM WHILE WRITING THIS???
no mind over matter update today, but here's your daily dose of katsuki once again hahah i think i have serious hyperfixation about writing this dude...
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figuring out who KATSUKI BAKUGOU liked was impossible. every name you guessed, he shut downâhard. and god forbid you asked for a hint.
you werenât even supposed to know he had a crush in the first place. it just slipped one day while you were walking around campus. ever since, youâve been on his case about it. which, in your defense, is valid. itâs just hard to imagine bakugou of all people being into anyone.
so, of course, youâre now putting off a last-minute cram session for one of the most important exams of the semesterâsimply just to get an answer.
âcome on,â you groan, tugging his arm. âjust give me one physical trait!â
âhell no,â he mutters, roughly pulling away. âi already told you no hints.â
âyouâre so annoying,â you huff. âokay, fineâmomo? no, waitâitâs deku, isnât it? i knewââ
âiâm not gay,â he snaps, loud enough that people around you look up from their books. he scowls. âshut the hell up.â
you laugh, smacking his back. ârelax, i was kidding.â
you sit up straighter, arms crossed. âokay, then. personality. describe her.â
he hesitates, then sighs. âsheâs annoying as fuck,â he mutters. âalways talkinâ. always gettinâ on my nerves. just⊠does shit to piss me off on purpose.â
you blink. âthat could be half the girls here.â
he then proceeds to keeps going. âsheâs loud as hell for no damn reason, always runninâ her mouth, thinks sheâs the funny, never shuts up about whatever dumb thingâs on her mindâand somehow, sheâs still full of energy, regardless of what happens.â
his hands go in his pockets and his voice softens.
ââŠbut sheâs fuckinâ nice. even when i donât deserve it. been that way since middle school. probably one of the only decent people iâve met.â
you stare. ââŠuh⊠is itââ
âitâs you, dumbass,â he says, finally making eye contact with you.
the next day, you both bomb the exam. but heyâat least now youâve got boyfriend to complain with! â^. .^ââ


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mha & general taglist â @livteracts @esotericsorrow @evesfairytale @lizbix @lacel0veletters @ayatakanosstuff (taglist form linked here)
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"Ok...."
Sukuna was never the clingy type. Every girlfriend heâd had before chased him. He wasnât the kind to call or text ten times a dayâhell, sometimes not even once. Detached. Aloof. The classic nonchalant boyfriend. And he liked it that way.
Until he met youâhis equal. Or, if weâre being honest, his superior in emotional detachment.
You werenât just low-maintenance. You were barely-there maintenance. A ghost with a phone plan. How someone could be in a relationship and not text for an entire week? Sukuna didnât know whether to be impressed or mildly concerned.
Youâd told him more than once, âI just donât have the energy to talk all the time.â And it wasnât a passive-aggressive dig, it was just⊠a fact. Facetiming 24/7? Constant texting? Contact every five minutes to say absolutely nothing? No thanks. You had a life. And more importantly, you had a limited social battery that you werenât about to waste on a conversation about what you had for lunchâunless it was really good.
It wasnât that you didnât care. You just didnât see the point in forcing communication for the sake of it. When something actually happened, you'd tell him. Youâd call. Youâd text. If the world was ending, youâd let him know. Probably.
To you, that was how relationships worked. You didnât love him any less just because you werenât glued to your phone. If anything, you were doing him a favor by not flooding his notifications. Youâd seen what some people did in relationshipsâ24/7 access, reporting live from their kitchen. Youâd rather not become that.
And besides, you knew yourself. You knew what happened when you got tired and overstimulated. You got snappy, said things like âWhy are you breathing so loud?â and suddenly thereâs a fight over a tone that didnât exist. So no, you were doing the mature thing by keeping your distance. For everyoneâs safety.
What you needed was someone who respected your space, but knew when to pushâgently. Someone who didnât take your quiet as coldness. Sukuna, for all his big talk and bigger ego, was starting to realize he might not be that someone⊠or worse, that he cared more than he thought.
-------------,------------------,-----------------,------------------,----------
You and Sukuna first crossed paths at a loud, crowded bar during a group night out. He was there with his friends. You were with yours.
You didnât say muchâjust smiled politely, laughed at a few jokes, sipped your drink, and left early without a trace. Quiet. Low-key. Unbothered.
And for some reason, that stuck with him.
It wasnât even anything dramatic. You didnât flirt, didnât throw glances his way. Honestly, it felt like you barely noticed he was there. Like the noise of the bar, the people, even himânone of it seemed to register.
Your eyes were distant. Detached. Not cold, exactly, but...unreadable. Like you were tuned into a different frequency the rest of the room couldnât access. And Sukunaâwho was used to being the center of attentionâhad no idea why he noticed you so much, and why you didnât seem to care that he existed.
He never asked for your number. Didnât even speak to you that night. But after that? He started showing up at those same friend gatherings more often than heâd like to admit. Not for the drinks. Not for the people.
Just to see if you would be there.
Eventually, curiosity got the better of him. Halfway through one of those meetups, he casually brought your name up. Real smooth. âSo... your friend. Y/N, right? She doesnât come out often?â
One of your friends snorted, already a little tipsy. âAhhh, Y/N? Yeah, sheâs quiet. That time we were at the club together? Didnât see her for like four months before.â
Another chimed in, laughing. âSheâs hilarious though. I heard a bunch of guys tried to get her number, but she just... works from home and sleeps all day. Like, aggressively avoids being perceived.â
The first friend nodded. âBack in high school, there was this super popular guy who liked her. She ghosted him in real life. Just full-on ignored him and didnât even realize he was crying until someone pointed it out.â
The whole group burst into laughter. Sukuna blinked. You've made a popular guy cry... by accident?
Sukuna leaned back on the worn-out couch, beer bottle in hand, watching your friends lose it over the story like it was some iconic tale of legend. Which, apparently, it was.
He didnât even realize heâd zoned out until someone waved a hand in front of his face.
âYou good?â one of the guys asked. âYeah,â Sukuna muttered. âJust thinking.â
Which was a lie. He didnât think. Not like this. Definitely not about some girl heâd only seen once. But here he was, piecing together your entire personality based off half-drunk friend chatter like he was a detective on a case no one assigned him.
She sleeps. She works. She ignores people into tears.
Sukuna tilted the bottle to his lips and stared blankly at the wall. Why the hell was that so attractive?
Heâd been with needy girls. Loud girls. Girls who texted â???â if he didnât reply in thirty minutes. Girls who demanded constant validation, presence, connection. He was used to being the one pulling away.
And now⊠He was the one showing up to events, hoping to catch a glimpse of you like some kind of side character.
It was humiliating.
He didnât even know what your voice sounded like beyond a polite laugh. He didnât know what your job was. Or your hobbies. Did you even have hobbies? Or were you one of those people who simply... existed?
And yet, he was in a group chat called âFriday Night Drinks đ»â and actually replying to it. Voluntarily.
This was rock bottom.
âY/Nâs cool though,â one of your friends added, completely unaware of the identity crisis unfolding in his head. âSheâs just hard to read. Not mean or anything, just... in her own world, you know?â
In her own world. Yeah. That sounded about right.
Sukuna smirked to himself. âSounds like she needs someone to drag her out of it,â he muttered.
The group just laughed and kept drinking, not realizing that was the moment Sukuna decided he was going to make you notice him. And not in a subtle way.
He wasnât desperate. He was just... curious. Painfully, violently curious. Which, in his case, might as well be the same thing.
--------
A week later, you showed up again.
Same group. Same vibe. Some random bar with dim lighting and overpriced drinks.
You walked in late, like someone who didn't owe the world punctuality. Your hair was half-up, half-downâpitch black and the outfit in question was just a long, tight, black dress. Nothing flashy. Just clean lines and fabric that fit too well. He had never seen something so normal be so sexy.
It didnât make sense. Sukuna turned back to his drink and muttered, âJesus Christ,â under his breath.
Across from him, one of your friends noticed. âOh hey, Y/Nâs here.â
You walked in, nodded at a few friends, and sat down like you hadnât just months. You ordered a drink, checked your phone once, then stared off like the wall was playing a movie only you could see.
So, he did what any self-respecting man with dignity and a very fragile ego would do: he waited five full minutes before casually sliding into the seat next to you.
âDidnât think you were real for a second,â he said.
You blinked. Slowly. Turned your head just slightly.
âOh,â you said. Then a pause. âYouâre... friends with Satoru and them?â
Not even fake recognition. Just stating facts like a very underpaid receptionist.
Sukuna smiled, the kind of smile that said, Iâm confused but I want more of this suffering.
âYeah.â âCool.â
You turned back to your drink like he hadnât just walked over here, full of unearned confidence and possibly cologne.
Heâd once had a girl cry because he forgot to like her Instagram story, and now he was sitting next to a woman who couldnât be bothered to pretend to know who he was.
âYouâre hard to get a hold of,â he tried again.
You glanced sideways. âNot really. I just donât answer if I donât feel like it.â No shame. Just the emotional equivalent of a blank screen.
âThatâs brutal.â âItâs honest.â âYou ghost all your friends too?â âIf Iâm tired, yeah.â âThatâs it?â â...Should there be more?â
You were so damn dry, it felt like talking to someone whose phone was stuck on Do Not Disturbâexcept it was you in real life.
âRight. So what do you do when youâre not ghosting humanity?â âWork. Sleep. Eat.â âSounds thrilling.â âIâm living the dream.â
You said it so flatly that it nearly knocked the sarcasm out of him.
He leaned back, watching you sip your drink like he was studying a wild animal he wasnât allowed to pet. He studied your face. Still unreadable.
Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck, and for the first time in a long time, didnât know what to say next.
You turned back to your drink.
â...Youâre not going to ask for my number, are you?â you asked casually.
He blinked. âWas thinking about it.â
You hummed. âDonât bother if youâre expecting good morning texts.â âOh, so you do give your number out.â âOccasionally. To people who can handle the silence.â
He exhaled through a laugh, suddenly unsure if he was flirting or being screened for a psychological experiment.
You looked over again, one brow raised. âStill want it?â
Sukuna grinned, absolutely down bad already.
âYeah,â he said. âI really, really do.â
-----
Day 1 Sukuna waited two hours before texting you. Not because he was playing it coolâhe actually just stared at your contact name for that long, wondering if âY/N đâ was appropriate or too accurate.
[ Sukuna | 8:42 PM ]
hey, itâs me from the bar. the tall one. tattoos.
He stared at the screen. Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
He went through five stages of grief before your reply finally came.
[ Y/N | 8:47 PM ]
ok
That was it. Just ok.
You can kill him, and heâd say thank you.
Day 3 Sukuna, being bold (read: delusional), texted again.
[ Sukuna | 2:13 PM ]
you ever wanna get coffee or is texting already too much interaction for you
[ Y/N | 2:56 PM ]
depends do i have to sit and talk to you for a full hour or can i just get coffee and leave
He read it five times. Was she joking? Was this her flirting? Was this a cry for help??
[ Sukuna | 2:57 PM ]
that was cold i think i liked it
[ Y/N | 3:10 PM ]
ok then get coffee i donât mind sitting i just donât like people who chew loud
[ Sukuna | 3:11 PM ]
âŠdo i look like a loud chewer to you??
[ Y/N | 3:13 PM ]
weâll see
This was, by far, the most energy youâd given him, and he celebrated like he just won the lottery.
Date Day
You showed up exactly on time. Not early. Not fashionably late. Just⊠on time. Dressed in all black again, minimal effort but somehow looking like you were cast in an expensive indie film.
He opened the café door for you.
You nodded. âThanks.â That was it.
You ordered a black coffee. No sugar, no milk. Just like your personality. He got some sweet sugary thing and decided not to comment out of fear youâd actually judge him out loud.
Ten minutes in, you said nothing.
Fifteen minutes in, still nothing.
Sukuna, finally: âDo you always just⊠sit in silence?â You sipped your coffee. âOnly when thereâs nothing important to say.â He blinked. âYou donât believe in small talk?â You made a face. âItâs like diet conversation. Empty calories.â
He nearly dropped his drink. âJesus Christ.â You shrugged. âWhat?â
He leaned back and stared at you. âYouâre either going to ruin my life or accidentally fix it.â
You stirred your coffee, unfazed. â50/50 chance. Either way, not my problem.â
Day 5
He sent a voice note.
Which was already wildly out of character, but he couldnât help itâtexting wasnât working and the silence from you was making him feral.
He tried to sound casual. Cool. Unbothered.
But he played it back twelve times before hitting send.
[Voice Note â 0:07] âHey. I saw this ugly painting today that reminded me of you. Thought that was romantic. Hope your coffee sucked without me.â
No response.
Thenâ
[ Y/N | 6:03 PM ] i didnât get coffee today but if i did, it wouldâve tasted fine youâre not the milk or the sugar
He laid down on the floor. Just. Flat. Face to the hardwood.
Day 6
He invited you to a small art exhibit.
You agreed.
Sort of.
[ Y/N | 1:32 PM ] only if you donât talk through the whole thing
He kept his mouth shut the entire time.
Except once, when you stopped in front of a painting and tilted your head.
âLooks like something youâd like,â he said.
You glanced at him. âBecause itâs moody and boring?â
âNo. Because itâs sharp. Kind of brutal. But it still makes you stop and stare.â
You didnât say anything.
But he saw your lip twitch like you were trying very hard not to smile.
Day 10
He didnât text.
You didnât either.
He paced.
Did pushups.
Almost posted a thirst trap but deleted it last second because what if you thought it was about you?
It was about you.
Everything is.
Day 18
He texts you at 2AM.
Heâs been staring at the ceiling for hours, trying to figure out what your favorite color is like itâs a government secret.
[ Sukuna | 2:01 AM ] be honest. what color do you think you are?
You reply instantly.
[ Y/N | 2:02 AM ] dark green. like the kind that looks black until you shine a light on it.
He stares at that.
Then stares at the ceiling again.
Then texts back:
[ Sukuna | 2:04 AM ] yeah i think iâm completely fucked
You donât reply.
Because you know.
-----
i can do part 2 if I have the energy bestie
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