katsukijo

[katsukijo]

I LOVE YOU I’M SORRY | part one | home | next

note: hello everyone! i was shocked at the reception of this idea!! i hope i live up to your expectations, it is a little nerve wracking! i’ve decided since this is going to be very long, to split it into either two or three large chunks. this first one being 25k words!! this is HEAVY on the angst forewarning & please read the tropes/warnings<3

this is all leading up to graduation!! hopefully this doesn’t disappoint, promise we’ll get into the healing & university bit next!!! that’s the next part!! i hope you enjoy!

synopsis: for you, satoru gojo was the sun. you flew to close, and you got burnt. or alternatively; you’ve been in love with your best friend for years, and when he destroys his relationship with you and your two other closest friends for his new girlfriend? you save him the trouble and remove yourself from his life after you overhear her give him an ultimatum. leaving him in the past as you move on and start fresh in college.

tropes/info: modern setting, set in the usa, currently placed in high school, underage drinking, underage smoking, codependency, unrequited love, violence (not to reader), mentions of shitty parents, attempted assault (its stopped!!), heartbreak, just lots of angst!

pairing: childhood best friends!satoru gojo x geto twin!reader, college football captain!sukuna itadori x geto twin!reader(not yet)

word count: 25k

for you, satoru gojo was like the sun. beautiful, bright, and something you needed to continue breathing.

it's a bit of a blur now, meeting him, because god it's been nearly thirteen years, maybe longer? from the time you were small you knew he would break your heart. he was just too beautiful for you to keep him for yourself.

and you were right. he did break your heart— but… he also learned to mend it. not without a few hiccups in the road though.

first day of kindergarten

you and suguru had always been close, obviously that typically comes with the twin territory. the two of you had always seemed to operate within your own world, just the two of you. not even your parents could penetrate your little safety bubble, not that they tried very hard. they were hardly around, leaving you with a slew of babysitters and nannies while they worked 80-hour work weeks and only came home to rip each other's throats out.

elementary school, kindergarten to be precise, is where the trajectory of your lives completely changed. because in your tiny little class, the two of you were grouped at a table— with the other kids whose last names started with 'g'. the only other person at the table? a pretty boy, your age, with snowy hair and blue eyes that looked like the ocean was flowing within them.

he was bright, all vibrant grins and cheeky little laughs. "i'm satoru gojo, and one day, i'll be in outer space." he said it so matter-of-factly, as if he just knew it was his destiny.

to your left suguru gives him an unimpressed look. "i'm suguru geto and this is my twin sister," he gestures at you, and you smile, waving lightly and stating your first name.

"you really think you'll go to space one day?" you ask, full of wonder and curiosity.

satoru grins, all teeth, one missing but a little stub already growing in its place. "yup! i'll bring you. if you want,"

you nod, "i want to see outer space," then you glance at your brother, "don't you suguru?"

suguru shrugs, "i guess so."

satoru huffs, "well, it'll be super cool. your loss if you don't go."

you giggle a bit, and then you pull out your sparkly pink pencil pouch, and begin to line up the cute markers and pencils your mom sent you with. (more like the nanny your parents paid, but whatever.) satoru leans over and gasps when he spots a small crumpled sheet of stickers mixed in with your writing utensils.

"you like digimon too?!"

you blink, looking at where he's pointing. "oh, i forgot about those." you tilt your head, "i don't really like digimon, so you can have them. i prefer pokémon."

the boy lights up and quickly snatches the stickers and immediately peels one off and smacks it onto his spiral notebook. "thanks! i think i have some old pokémon cards you can have… i can bring them tomorrow!"

suguru scrunches his nose up, "you guys are so weird."

you glare at him, tiny lips pulling into a frown, "says you! you wouldn't put anything on the tv but dragon ball all last week!"

suguru tries to defend himself, and as the minutes wear on— a little bond forms between the three of you. the beginning of something unshakeable.

first day of sixth grade

kindergarten was just the start of your friendship— elementary school passed in a blur of sleepovers, shared lunches, bus rides home, and lots of laughter. satoru and suguru became very close, best friends, not that they ever left you out. you were the other part of them— couldn't have one without the other two. a package deal that everyone around you had long since learned to accept.

when you and suguru weren't doing extracurriculars that your parents forced upon you; like martial arts, art classes, music classes, and so on— you spent every bit of time you could with satoru. whether you guys were at the park or each other's homes, the three of you were stuck together like glue.

nobody had managed to penetrate the little shield the three of you had put up. not until you met shoko ieiri the first day of middle school at the ripe age of twelve– she was so cool with her soft brown hair that reached her shoulders and her endless supply of lollipops that always seemed to be dangling from her lips.

you were put in the same homeroom as the boys— and thankfully there wasn't assigned seating or anything. so you were free to sit together as usual, satoru on one end, suguru in the middle, and you on the other end. which left an open desk to your left.

"this seat open?"

you look up and see her leaning over, lollipop in her mouth, hair fanning over her shoulder, and her warm brown eyes watching you with curiosity.

"yeah, feel free!" you tell her with a grin, gesturing at the empty spot beside you.

she smiles back, drops her bag and flops into the chair and glances over at you. "shoko ieiri, i just moved here from the east coast."

"nice to meet you shoko," you tell her your name then you gesture to your right, "next to me is my twin brother suguru, and next to him is our best friend satoru gojo."

shoko nods giving a little wave, before focusing her attention back to you. "wanna compare schedules? i still don't really know where anything is. would be helpful to have someone show me around."

you immediately reach into your cream canvas bag and pull out your bright turquoise three-ring binder. it's the first page you flip to, and you quickly glance between your schedule and shoko's— and a smile lights up your face. "woah! we must be lucky, we have every class together except 4th period, which is right after lunch." you hum, tapping your index finger to your chin. "ah wait," you turn to glance at the boys, "doesn't one of you have 4th period with mrs. welsh?"

suguru nods, "i do, i could take her there after lunch. if you'd like that?"

shoko nods, "that'd be awesome. could i maybe sit with you guys at lunch? i've got a giant bag of these suckers in my bag if that helps."

satoru perks up, "do you have strawberry?"

she rolls her eyes, "duh. it's only the best flavor."

"sold. bring her to lunch," he says looking at you, "anyone who wants to give me sweets is always welcome."

"that's literally a lie. you literally refused to let amelia crowell sit with us last year even though she baked you a dozen brownies from scratch." suguru chimes in giving satoru a deadpan look.

"okay that's different, i don't want girls who are weird and giggly with me at the table. but shoko seems cool. so, that's different!"

you laugh and look away from them and back to shoko, "guess you're in now, fair warning though everyone thinks we're kinda weird and 'exclusive' cause these two hate most people. so consider yourself lucky to get so easily accepted."

shoko laughs, "well it's my honor, i hope i live up to expectations."

after that day, you don't think you've ever really gone a full day without some sort of contact with her. whether you're together at school, hanging out on the weekends, calling over school breaks and family vacations— shoko became the puzzle piece you didn't realize your group was missing.

the summer before freshman year

you lay sprawled out on a lounge chair beside your family's pool. while you didn't live in a mansion like satoru, your family home is decently sized in a more than nice neighborhood in your hometown. which meant due to the lack of parental supervision, your little group tended to gravitate towards your and suguru's home more often than not.

"ugh," you groan as you feel sweat beading along your neck and trickling down your skin. "it's too hot, when is it going to stop being like this?"

nearby shoko snorts, her nose in her book, chilled lemonade in her hand. "you're being a baby. if it's so hot then get in the pool."

you toss a glare at your best friend, "sho, you know that i can't do that. i am working on my tan!"

"you can jump in, get out, and go back to your 'tanning' after."

"uggggh," you let your head fall back fully onto the lounge cushion. "don't wanna."

"satoru! suguru!" shoko shouts, snagging the attention of the two teenage boys currently attempting to drown each other in the deep end of the pool. "one of you come grab our little princess here, she's melting but won't get in herself."

"do not—"

"ohhohoh, i got you shoko! i'll get her in here no problem!" satoru calls back as he swims towards the edge of the pool, gripping the edge and hoisting himself up. you quickly avert your eyes so you're not staring at the way the water rivers down his newly muscular chest—

you try to burrow deeper into your chair and cross your arms, glaring as he walks towards you. "satoru, i swear to god."

he just grins, and then he's standing over you, water droplets falling from his sopping wet hair onto your lounger and onto your skin. "cmoonnn, you'll feel way better!"

"i said no, i'm not getting in the pool."

"if you say so…" and for a moment you think you've won. but really, this is satoru, you should know better. because suddenly the sun is blocked and he's bending down, arms slipping beneath your knees and your back, and lifting you into his arms as if you're weightless.

you squeal as the dampness of his skin makes your skin stick together. "put me down!"

"nope," he singsongs, grinning like he's won a prize. "gonna dunk you now!" he says, crouching down so he can enter the deep end gently with you still secured in his arms. he doesn't give you a moment to gather yourself, he simply holds tighter and dunks you both beneath the water, before pushing back up.

by the time you resurface you're spluttering for air, arms wrapped around his neck, as you glare up at him, your faces are mere inches apart. that does something to your stomach but you fight to ignore it in favor of your anger. "i'm going to seriously murder you."

"awwwh, really?" he tilts his head grinning, "you're so cute when you're angry. you know that?"

you scoff, unwinding your arms from his neck, and shove at his chest, trying to get him to release you. "let me go satoru."

he laughs and eases you into a standing position, "you feel way better though right? niiiice and cool now?"

you do but that is completely irrelevant to your whole point. "whatever, jerk." you glance out at shoko who's still reading her book, but you see her sneaking looks at the two of you. that subtle little knowing smirk says everything. she absolutely did that on purpose, she knew satoru would do that and that it would fluster you— that evil witch.

"well, if we're done dunking my sister in the water now, we should set up the volleyball net and play a few games." suguru's annoyingly calm voice cuts in from behind you, "you up for that sho?"

shoko snaps her book shut, and gently tosses it aside before getting to her feet and stretching her arms over her head like a cat. "mmm, yeah. i'm ready to kick your asses, you know you boys don't stand a chance against me and my girl."

you grin as she joins you in the water, bumping her hip with yours beneath the cool liquid. "right, babes?" she asks and winds her arm through yours.

"damn right," you nod in agreement, watching your brother and satoru go to the edge of the pool and begin to drag the retractable net across the center of the pool and secure it to the opposite side.

"for the record," satoru starts loudly as he hops out of the pool once more, this time to snag a volleyball. "she was mine loooong before she ever met you, so watch your back sho."

you feel yourself flush at his brazen comment, sometimes you wonder if he even realizes half the things he says about you and how they can be perceived to outsiders.

"whatever, i'm not threatened by someone who can't operate a washing machine." she replies flippantly, tugging you a little closer, "we all know i'm her favorite anyways."

satoru tosses the volleyball into the water, it skips and lands in suguru's hands. he jumps back in, shooting a scowl at shoko, "yeah right. you know that's a lie." he then turns to you, his face softening into a goofy smile, "right? i'm your favorite?"

you open your mouth to reply, not even sure how to respond. but suguru beats you to it, rolling his eyes at the stupid argument. "face it you both lose in the favorite person department to me. i'm her twin. twin privileges outrank friend privileges."

then he lobs the ball at satoru's head, making satoru wince and mutter a string of expletives as he rubs his head. "let's start yeah? whoever loses two of three matches is on kitchen duty tonight."

you grin, "game on!"

though, to be fair, suguru will probably end up cooking even if he wins. he's definitely way better at it than any of you, it's like a weird talent he's acquired thanks to the prominent absence of your parents.

that night after you and shoko absolutely destroy the boys at volleyball— you find yourself curled up on the sofa, squished between shoko and satoru, suguru on the end— a steaming bowl of curry in your lap and another terrible movie playing that satoru had chosen.

it was another perfect summer day.

the stars dot the sky, and the moon looms above, bright and ethereal. goddess of the night, that's what satoru always tells you when he's excited and talking about the ‘magic’ of outer space.

tonight is one of those somewhat rare occasions where it's just the two of you alone. shoko is on a cruise with her parents for the next two weeks, and suguru somehow got roped into visiting your grandmother this weekend to fix up her front and back yards. thankfully you were able to escape that because you still had your weekly martial arts classes despite it being summer break. suguru had dropped out a few years ago, but you loved it, so you took advantage of your parents' desire for their children to be accomplished in whatever aspects possible and continued taking classes with the top instructors in the area.

none of that really matters though— what matters is that you and satoru are sprawled out on the soft grass of the park you used to always go to as kids. it was nestled perfectly between your two neighborhoods.

if you were brave enough, which shoko and suguru very much were not, if you walked a few minutes into the forest lingering at the edge, you'd find an abandoned outpost. the massive wooden structure towers above the trees and looks out over the ridges and mountains, giving you a view you can only find in person, images would never do it justice.

that was your and satoru's spot. but tonight, you didn't need to venture all the way out there to stargaze. the center of the field was perfect, just far enough from light pollution to get a good view of all the constellations overhead. which at this point you had memorized just as well as satoru, due to all the nights you'd lay here just like this staring into the sky as he whispered about the different stars and the stories behind them.

"what greek god do you think i would be?"

you turn over on your side, to get a better look at satoru. you're both laying on the soft fuzzy blanket, burrowed into sweatpants and sweatshirts. you can't help but snort, he always asks such silly questions. but you can't help but answer them.

"dunno. probably zeus, he's got an ego about as big as yours." you tell him with a mischievous grin, poking fun at him.

he flicks your forehead, "rude!" he huffs, then he lets his arm drop, leaving his hand on the blanket beside your head. "seriously though zeus? nobody else you'd choose for me?" he's pouting a bit, making it clear he'd definitely had an answer in mind and you didn't choose it correctly.

you shrug, "not sure. who would you associate with me?"

his eyes soften a bit, "persephone."

you blink, "the girl who got imprisoned by hades?"

he rolls his eyes, "i seriously need to help you read up more on this stuff." but he shakes his head; his fingers mindlessly toying with the ends of your hair that splays across the shared fabric beneath you. "persephone is the goddess of spring, when she's on earth with her mother she brings about new life and the change of the seasons. reminds me of you 'cause you breathe life into everything you touch."

"so… you think i'm persephone? does that mean i'm also queen of the underworld? cause that's kinda badass."

he laughs, shaking his head, "yeah that too. she rules beside hades, the love of her life. the love story between them is extraordinary."

"are you talking about the actual greek mythology or are you basing this off that little comic you love? uhh… lore olympics?"

"it's lore olympus," he corrects, a soft pink dusting his cheeks. "but yeah i'm mostly basing it off that. more fitting for you."

you hum, "well if you don't think you fit zeus, who do you identify with then?"

"hades." he says it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that you feel like the air is sucked from your lungs.

"wait so," you furrow your eyebrows. "i'm persephone… and you're hades? the couple that you just said have an extraordinary love story?"

"yeah, that's what i said?" he gives you an odd look, "i identify with hades, a lot. and… i just think i'm a lot more like him than i am any of the others."

it's not quite the answer you wanted, but who are you kidding? did you seriously think he was about to confess his feelings to you via greek mythology? yeah freaking right.

the two of you delve into more nonsensical conversations as the stars shine brightly overhead. like you're trapped in a world all of your own, nobody else to interrupt. and you think, as you look into his pretty blue eyes, the stars and moon refracting in them— you are just so in love with the boy in front of you.

and you pause, "satoru?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

"hm?"

"i love you," you say, and it comes out fast and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest, and anxiety snaking into your chest and squeezing your lungs like a vice.

he just smiles, "you're so funny," he murmurs. "i love you too, always will."

and just like that, the little bit of hope in your chest goes out like a candle flame. of course he didn't understand you weren't saying that as his best friend. you were trying to tell him how hopelessly gone you are for him. but it's probably for the best that he didn't understand.

maybe one day you'll get the courage to tell him for real. but for now, you'll take these late nights watching the stars together.

sophomore year

you were used to it by now, after over a decade of satoru's affectionate habits. but it still manages to get your heart in a tizzy every time he rests his head in your lap, or asks you to play with his hair. or worse, whenever he comes up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and breathing you in. there are times when you're sitting across from each other studying in the library that he'll trace the backs of his fingers against your jaw— almost like he's unconsciously doing so.

it's bizarre to you that he doesn't understand how intimate these gestures are. especially considering you get asked every other day if the two of you are dating because he does things like that in plain sight for everyone to see.

he's constantly turning girls down and waving them off— yet if you need help with homework or if you're craving something sweet he drops everything for you. it's always been that way though. he's always treated you like you're the center of his little carefully constructed universe. sure he treats shoko and suguru similarly, he's loyal to a fault and he adores them and knows them inside and out— but he isn't nearly as clingy or smitten with them as he is with you.

sometimes it's like living in the seventh circle of hell experiencing his easy affection and sweet gestures. because he does all these different things that make you think maybe just maybe he feels the same way you do. but then, whenever anyone asks if you're dating he just laughs and says no way, you're just friends.

and god that hurts.

yet you let him walk all over you and do whatever he wants because you'd rather have these pieces of him than having none of him at all.

which is why you're laying with your back against your headboard, with him half sprawled across your lap. he has his arms wound around your waist and his face buried in the softness of your stomach, and he's practically purring like a cat as you card your hands through his hair.

"mmmm," he nuzzles you more, "feels s'good. love when you use your nails like that. should get them done more often," he murmurs, referring to the cute pointed acrylics you had gotten done with shoko over the weekend.

"we'll see, depends on if the birth givers want to shell the money out every three weeks or not." you shake your head, your parents are a bit odd with the money they give out to you and suguru— sometimes they just want you to have whatever you want, other times they're nitpicky and condescending.

"i will pay for them, every month—" he huffs out, "as long as you keep doing that, ugh yeah."

you roll your eyes at him, "you're being ridiculous, 'toru. you're not paying for my nails. that's boyfriend duty not a best friend one."

"so? i'll gladly do it, a win for me 'cause i love when you scratch my scalp or my back— and a win for you cause you get cute nails, though that is sort of a win for me too…."

you give him an odd look, "my nails being cute is a win for you?"

"mhhhm," he nods, "love how they look. so pretty."

"you're such a weirdo."

"your weirdo though, right?"

you sigh, but it's filled with affection. "yeah, 'toru. my weirdo."

junior year

every year the school hosts a winter festival, and somehow this year shoko managed to rope you, satoru, and suguru into participating. your group was assigned the hot chocolate station at the edge of the large gymnasium— each of you dressed in ridiculous elf outfits. long sleeved emerald shirts with crimson red vests with intricate embroidery over the top, and matching green trousers. to complete your little get up you each had brown shoes with curved points at the toes and little green hats that droop to the side with a massive bell.

"god this is so ugly, i hate it." you mutter picking at the fabric as you organize the cash register, waiting for 'customers' to start arriving.

"speak for yourself, i love the festive look." shoko grins to your left, leaning against the booth counter, perched and ready to take orders at any given moment.

behind you, suguru was manning the actual hot chocolate, meanwhile satoru is happily in the corner tasked with adding whipped cream and marshmallows before handing the drinks out to the customers.

"of course you would," you tell her with an eyeroll. "you volunteered us for this without even asking."

"oh stop being such a grinch," she tells you, jabbing you with an elbow. "it's better than being outside in the freezing weather and being dunked into cold water isn't it?"

you grimace, yeah. it definitely is better than that.

"well, well. if it isn't the elusive four." a haughty voice interrupts, positioning themselves in front of shoko. "aren't you guys so cute in your little get up?"

shoko gives her a deadpan look, "the hell do you want mei-mei?"

mei-mei bristles at shoko's attitude, "just as pleasant as always, shoko." mei-mei says, before her eyes roam over the tent. "you guys really think you're too good to socialize with the rest of us regular people don't you?"

"excuse me?" you ask looking at her like she's an idiot, "we're literally speaking to you right now."

"and if you weren't working a booth you'd probably pretend i didn't exist, funny that."

suguru snorts, "god i wish we could do that right now."

mei-mei glares at him shifting in place. "you'll regret staying in your little bubble eventually. being so… closed off rarely works out well for anyone."

you feel heat behind you, and then a waft of satoru's cologne invades your senses. "yeah okay, thanks for the unsolicited advice. you want hot chocolate or not? because if you're here just to harass us you can fuck off."

mei-mei glares, "what would coach yaga think if he heard his star player speaking to someone like that?"

"dunno but if he's got an issue with it i'll tell him to fuck off too," satoru drawls, slinging an arm around your waist and leaning towards her, "now seriously, order something or go find someone else to harass and stop projecting your jealousy on us. it isn't our fault you won't ever have a friendship as real as ours."

mei-mei lets out a strangled screech before she turns on her heels and stomps off.

you grab satoru's hand and remove his arm from your waist and whirl around to him, "are you trying to get yourself benched idiot?!"

he looks down at you, the tension melting from his shoulders instantly. "no, she just really pissed me off," he says sheepishly, "sorry… didn't mean to make a scene."

suguru shrugs from behind you, "at least she's gone now, i couldn't stand another second of her insolent yapping. god she's just vexatious."

shoko looks at him, "could you not use big words? not all of us have your brain."

"vexatious is hardly a big word—,"

and just like that the air is easier to breathe and you all seem to go right back to normal.

senior year

it was a few days before the start of your final year of high school. you and suguru had just returned from a lengthy summer vacation, that satoru had definitely whined about the entire time you two were gone. though it's not like he really had the right to complain when he kept gushing in your group chat about some girl he met during the tennis camp his parents sent him to. why they sent him to tennis camp when he plays basketball you had no idea.

but oh well— the girl returned home, which is far from here so that's not really of consequence anymore. satoru's never been one to have a serious girlfriend anyways, always complaining that having a girlfriend would be too much work and not give him enough time with his favorite people.

you find yourself lounging in the backyard of your and suguru's family home, seated around the custom crafted fire pit your parents had installed a few years ago.

it's become something of a tradition now, to roast marshmallows and make s'mores before school begins. the four of you crowded together around the open flames, talking about hopes and goals for the year.

satoru is blowing the flame off his nearly pitch black pile of fluff, when he glances at you all. "i think we should make each other a promise," he starts off. "it's senior year and we'll all be busy… i know we're all planning on the same university but a lot can happen during the school year."

suguru arches an eyebrow, "you planning something crazy we don't know about?"

"knowing him? probably. i'll start a budget for bail money." shoko says before she takes a bite of her golden brown s'more, clearly judging satoru's burnt one.

"focus, guys!" satoru huffs, drawing attention back to himself. "as i was saying, i want us to promise that no matter what happens, we stick together. i want to walk across that stage with all of you at the end of the year, and i don't want anything to get in the way of that."

you let yourself stare at him for a moment, just watching the way the hazy orange glow dances across his defined jaw. when did he become so handsome? so tall? so muscular? so… ugh?! it's truly unfair.

satoru looks at you and catches your eyes, and smiles. "that's a pretty good promise right?" he's asking you directly, and you nod slowly, as if your head is trapped below water.

"mhm," you manage to get out. swallowing the lump in your throat because god, how has this adonis of a man never been in a serious relationship? he's the whole package. he's handsome, he's smart, he's loyal, he's kind, he's caring, he's passionate, he's funny— he's everything. though you suppose he's also extremely stubborn, closed off, and stand-offish to anyone that's not… you, suguru, or shoko.

"okay we gotta do some sort of… super secret ritual or something."

you all give satoru a look, and suguru is the one who speaks. "satoru, we are not performing a ritual, why don't we just pinky promise like normal people."

shoko nods, "yeah, and we can do the whole 'if you break the promise you break the pinky' thing."

you side eye her, "is that really how that goes? or are you just psychotic and watching too much true crime lately?"

your best friend's lips twitch and she shrugs, "maybe a bit of both."

satoru huffs, and shoves his s'more into his mouth, and after several painful seconds of him trying to chew and swallow an entire s'more— he thrusts out his pinky, "okay, everyone we are going to attempt a four way pinky lock."

"is that even physically possible?" you mutter but you reach out and interlock yours with his without a second thought. then shoko and suguru add theirs to the weird little pile, and you all shout a rather cult-like chant much to suguru's chagrin— and then you pull away, soft smiles and quiet affection in the air.

it was silly, you'd already been inseparable for over seven years, and if you count the years before shoko when it was just the three of you? then it's even longer. but you suppose it's more symbolic than anything. and it'd be a precious memory to cherish forever.

you smile, tucking your knees up in your chair, glancing at the three most important people in your life. "i love you guys, i can't wait to finish high school with you and then start university together."

they all chime in with various endearments and you let your eyes slide shut, soaking in the warmth. only a few more days till school starts.

it's the second week of school, and you're towards the end of your day. only a few more minutes until the bell, then you have to meet shoko in your usual empty classroom so you can help her with some medical flash cards as she studies for scholarship programs— she has to do a test for a few of them, but if she passes, she gets help with her tuition.

after you help her study, she's supposed to pose for you in the art studio at the school, you've been trying to work on live portraits. your typical mediums are abstract, from memory or with references, or still life— not a living breathing person. but if you're going to be pursuing a career in art, you need to be well rounded.

you're tapping your glittery pink hello kitty pen against your desk— a gift from satoru— when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. you ignore the first text. but then there's another and another. with a grumble you fish it out and look at the notifications on your lock screen.

from: satoru 🤍😤

emergency!!! sos!!! emergency!!! 🚨 🆘 ‼️meet me at the vending machines by stairwell bIMMEDIATELY!!! do not be late!!!!!

you find yourself rolling your eyes affectionately. satoru had a habit of referring to the most mundane or silly things as an emergency.

the clock on the wall is ticking… ticking… ticking. maybe two minutes left until the bell. you quickly shove your belongings into your tote bag, then begin typing a message for shoko.

to: shoko 💖🩺🩻

gonna be a few mins late to our study date sorry

from: shoko 💖🩺🩻

kk. why

to: shoko 💖🩺🩻

satoru claims there's an emergency and needs me to meet him at stairwell b. no idea

from: shoko 💖🩺🩻

ugh. my own wife ditching me for a… man.i guess it's fine since it's your future husband.

to: shoko 💖🩺🩻

he's NOT my future husband he doesn't see me like that shobut anyways, see you in a few 💖😚

you click your phone off, shove it back into your back pocket and sling your bag over your shoulder. right on time… BRRRRRRIIIING. the bell's aggressive tone chimes through the classroom and you're already on your feet and rushing out the door. it doesn't take you long to reach stairwell b, and thankfully it's devoid of most people— it's always been rumored to be haunted so most people tend to avoid it. not you guys though, whether it's because you're stupid or ballsy, who knows.

"there you are!" satoru's voice cuts through the hallway, and you spot him and your twin standing by the vending machines. suguru looks exasperated, in a rather fond way, as he watches satoru lift a brown paper bag into the air like it's something sacred.

you stare at him as you get closer, "so… what's the emergency?"

he pouts, "you can't tell? based on the bag?"

"it's sort of 7 feet in the air, forgive me for not being able to make out the writing on it."

"oh, whoops—" he brings his arm down and thrusts the bag out towards you, a goofy grin on his face. "you were talking about how your favorite cookies that the bakery only makes on tuesdays are usually sold out by the time school's out sooo…"

you accept the sack, and open it gently and peer in, seeing nearly two dozen of your favorite cookies from the bakery that's about fifteen minutes away by car. "satoru… how did you get these?"

suguru snorts, "that's what the urgent matter was that he had to see to during lunch. he dragged me with him too."

"you… went to go get me cookies during lunch? just because i said i haven't been able to get them lately?"

satoru laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "well, yeah. i know they make you really happy and i wanted you to be happy so…"

you shake your head and shove the sack into your tote bag, then step forward and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest. for a moment you swear you could hear his heart rate kick up. "thanks 'toru, it really means a lot to me. you didn't have to go through all that trouble. did you even eat today?"

there seriously couldn't have been time for him or your twin to eat if they were out doing this.

"no… but i had a protein bar when we got back!" he wraps an arm around your back, and cradles your head with his opposite hand. he presses his cheek to the crown of your head and hums a bit.

you pull back and glare at him, "you are so freaking stupid." then you look at suguru, "go feed yourselves, please, i gotta go help sho study before she kills me. i'll be home later."

satoru pouts, "can't you guys do that another day? come onnnn, i wanted to watch the new episode of our show today!"

"i really have to go, sorry 'toru." you give him a sympathetic smile, "we can do that tomorrow though, promise."

he huffs, "fine. but shoko will be hearing from my lawyer."

suguru snatches his arm, "for the last time i am not your lawyer satoru. and i'm not texting shoko a cease and desist to stop 'stealing' my sister from you."

"fake ass best friend," satoru mumbles but lets suguru drag him down the stairwell. leaving you in the hallway clutching your bag with a little grin.

they were idiots, but they were your idiots.

that friday is the day sports teams announce their captains for the year. you find yourself waiting at your locker, shoving a few textbooks inside when you feel a familiar presence beside you.

"sooo," satoru begins, taking your bag from your hand and casually dropping it to the floor, "guess who's officially the captain of the varsity basketball team!"

you grin, "i knew you could do it, 'toru!"

he reaches out to shove your locker shut, then he dips down and wraps his arms around your waist, and lifts you effortlessly in the air, spinning the both of you in a circle as he laughs and smiles, like he's on top of the world. "couldn't have done it without my good luck charm," he tells you as he gently sets you back down on your feet.

"yeah yeah, whatever." you tell him swatting at his chest, before bending down to grab your bag and hoist it over your shoulder again. "when does practice start?"

"next week, practice will be five to six days a week depending on how the season is going," he says, and he frowns, "i'll be stuck here for probably two to three hours everyday after school gets out. so i can still pick you up but, unless you want to wait… i won't be able to drive you home."

you snort, "you realize i can in fact ride with suguru or i could yknow… drive myself."

he gives you a look, "the last time i let you drive you bent a rim because you jumped a curb."

"the curb was not visible okay!"

"uh huh, sure," he says as he idly reaches a hand out to twirl his fingers in the ends of your hair. "just catch a ride with suguru, for everyone's sake and for my mental health, yeah?"

you roll your eyes but nod, "yeah yeah, fine. whatever you say, mister know it all."

he grins, "'kay well i gotta get to class before mr. haywiner gives me another late slip. see you at lunch, make sure to save my spot. if shoko takes it again i swear to god—"

"okay okay, get to class dummy."

he grins at you, beginning to walk backwards, "see you at lunch!" he calls once he's half way down the hall, still walking backwards. he blows a kiss to you, "be sure to fawn over me online! you get bragging rights as my good luck charm!"

you feel your face heat up, everyone absolutely heard that. so you quickly turn around and head down the hall towards your next class, more rumors were sure to be flying by lunchtime after that whole interaction.

you're laying sprawled across your couch, one leg dangling over the back. it's been maybe three days since practice had started back up and god you were so bored.

"you're acting like you're a military wife whose husband is at war." shoko points out as she scrolls mindlessly on her phone, giving subtle little side eyes every few moments.

"seriously," suguru agrees from his spot at the kitchen island, working on his ap math homework. "i thought i had witnessed how co-dependent the two of you are but this is a new level."

you lift your head to glare at them both, "you're both assholes, you know that?"

"funny, you don't seem to be denying anything we're saying." shoko says before she gets to her feet and stretches, "i'm gonna go have a smoke, you comin' suguru?"

suguru's hand stills, and he sets his pen on top of his papers. "sure, might as well."

you wrinkle your nose at the both of them, "you guys are disgusting. i don't understand how you can deal with the smell."

"and i don't understand how you can handle satoru the way you do. we all have our vices."

you launch a throw pillow at your twin's head, it just barely misses, and he laughs as he shuts the sliding glass door behind himself and shoko.

there was maybe only fifteen more minutes until satoru would be here— tonight was movie night. a sacred tradition you had been doing for years at this point. it's a weekly event that nobody is allowed to miss, you tend to form your schedules around it.

typically you took turns choosing the movies each time, and took turns cooking. though whenever it was satoru's turn he either cons you or suguru into cooking or he orders takeout. you're pretty sure tonight he'd just order his usual go to chinese restaurant and call it good.

you are not looking forward to whatever disgusting and horrifying movie shoko was going to choose tonight. most of the time you can't sleep for hours after her picks, but it's friday so at least you don't have to be up too early tomorrow morning.

the front door clicks open after a few minutes, and you glance over to see satoru dressed in joggers and a worn old t-shirt, his hair is still damp from his post practice shower. you can't help the smile that stretches across your face at the sight of him.

he immediately kicks his shoes off and strides towards you, "awh, did ya miss me?" he asks flopping down beside you, "i missed you. i forgot how much it sucks being away from you after school's out."

you laugh, "suguru says we're co-dependent. i told him he's an asshole."

satoru hums, as you slowly fix your position so you're sitting up properly, he throws an arm over your shoulders the moment you do. then he drags you into his side and you feel him melt into you. "maybe he's right," he mumbles into your hair. "but that's fine. he's just jealous that our bond surpasses your weird twin thing."

"uh huh…" you shake your head, he's so ridiculous.

"i was thinking chinese, sound good?"

just as you'd predicted. "yep, sounds perfect."

he pulls out his phone and swiftly presses a few buttons on the food service app, and then shuts it off. "should be here in twenty," he tells you. "they out smoking?"

you nod, "mhm, they've been out there for ages. wonder if one of them fell in the pool or something."

"maybe shoko finally snapped and suguru was her first victim."

"oh my god, shut up."

he laughs and tightens his arm around you. "so, apparently i have to play tutor now." he tells you, and you can hear the irritation in his voice. "apparently coach yaga and coach may talked and the head cheer leader? manami suda? is flunking classes already and needs help."

you feel your blood turn into ice at the mention of the prettiest, most popular girl in school, who also happens to be cheer captain. the perfect girl for satoru. "oh?"

"yeah they said something about unity in the athletics program," he says, and there's a pause. "honestly though... she's actually really sweet. asks good questions, laughs at my jokes. it's... nice having someone new to talk to, you know? still don’t get why they chose me though."

"maybe because you are on track to being valedictorian? and you're not exactly known for your... winning personality with strangers. so they probably think you'll be professional and not get distracted."

but even as you say it, something cold settles in your stomach. the way his voice softened when he called her sweet. you have the weirdest feeling about this whole thing. like... you should soak in the warmth of him pressed into your side. because... this manami... he's probably going to realize she matches him in every way he needs.

"i mean, i guess it won't be terrible," he continues, his grip unconsciously tightening around you. "it's just more time away from here, from you guys. and i already spend so much time at school."

"it'll be fine," you tell him, doing your best to seem happy, to seem okay. "who knows, maybe you'll actually enjoy the tutoring. could be good practice for college."

"maybe," he says, but there's something almost... hopeful in his voice that makes your chest ache. "it's just weird, you know? talking to someone outside of our group. but she seems... different. easier to talk to than most people."

you laugh, though it sounds forced even to your own ears. "well, it's probably good for you to meet new people and spend time with them. there is more to the world than just us you know."

"i don't know about that," he says, but his protest sounds weaker than usual. "i mean, you guys are still the most important. but... it might be nice to have someone who doesn't know all my embarrassing stories from kindergarten."

you pointedly ignore the way your heart clenches at his words and focus on encouraging him. "satoru," you begin gently. "it's okay to be friends with other people. it's good even. just give her a chance okay? plus it's not like they're asking you to date her, it's just tutoring."

he nods slowly. "yeah, you're right. and if she gets annoying, i can always just focus on the actual tutoring part. or i can tell coach yaga to find someone else."

you roll your eyes, but there's less conviction behind it than usual. "wouldn't expect anything less from you, your highness."

the sliding door opens, and the waft of cigarettes makes you nearly choke. "perfume now," you tell them with a glare, earning you two shit eating grins. "or i will eat all the chinese food when it gets here!"

suguru gasps in offense, "you wouldn't dare."

"i would. so, perfume. now."

"fine fine, god." he huffs trailing after shoko who's spritzing herself with a victoria secret body mist. she then sprays him down and he coughs, inhaling some of the mist on accident.

shoko pads back to the couch and sits down on your other side, "i think we should do ari aster tonight." she says with a grin, "what do you guys think?"

"i think you're insane." you mutter leaning further into satoru's side, "but unfortunately it's your turn so i can't bitch about whatever horrible movie you pick. just… please for the love of god don't choose anything like the lovely bones again."

"i know. that was pretty bad, huh?" she says tilting her head, "okay maybe not ari aster… promise this will be better." her finger clicks on the remote, and a title card appears on screen for 'the black phone.'

"sho… this is literally just like that damn movie!"

"it is not!"

"is too, but whatever. dammit."

satoru chuckles, bringing his free hand up to card through your hair. "let the woman watch what she wants, i'll be here to protect you, promise."

you sigh and melt into him, "okay. fine…"

the food arrives not much later, and you find yourself curled into satoru, a box of orange chicken in your lap. you aren't sure what it is that's making you indulge in his open and warm affection more than usual, but… you feel like if you don't? you won't be able to ever again.

so… you let yourself find all the comfort in him that you can. hoping that this gut feeling passes… and that you're wrong about manami. maybe she really will just be learning from him… but…

whatever. that's future you’s problem.

right now all that matters is the easy way satoru pulls you into him and wraps around you like you're this precious thing.

that night you fall asleep dreaming of his arms around you, rather than the depraved movie shoko forced you all to watch. maybe one day. maybe one day.

you're relaxing in your bedroom, working on a new painting at your easel, the natural light is perfect as the sun is beginning to dip below the horizon. shoko is at home tonight, having promised to help her mom with dinner. and suguru somehow got forced into some fancy board dinner with your father, who was once again trying to convince suguru to take pre-med instead of culinary.

this leaves you all alone in your parents' cold empty house. the only bits of warmth are in your and suguru's bedrooms, and the areas you frequent the most inside. you're fully concentrated on blending out the river you're working on, so you don't hear your front door open and close— you've got music blaring and your clothes are covered in paint splatters.

"whatcha workin' on?"

you scream bloody murder.

the paint brush in your hand clatters to the wooden floor, spraying paint across the grain. you clutch your heart, feeling it trying to escape your ribcage. you whip around and slowly your eyes drift up to meet the vibrant blue ones of your best friend.

you muster the meanest glare you possibly can, "satoru," you hiss. "you can't just sneak up on me like that!"

"well… you left the front door unlocked and had music blaring. what else was i supposed to do?"

"not…! that!"

he grins, then takes a step back and flops onto your bed like it's his. it really should irritate you but for some stupid reason it's more endearing than anything. "i just finished my first tutoring session with manami."

you stiffen slightly as you stoop down to collect your paintbrush and clean up the little bits of color that scattered everywhere. "oh?"

"yeah," he sighs, and you want to fucking puke because it's almost… dreamy. "it wasn't as bad as i thought. she's actually really funny," you can hear the grin in his voice without needing to look. "i'm actually looking forward to our next session."

"well," you start, scrubbing the last bit of paint with a stained rag that’d been tucked into your waistband, "that's… good. i'm glad it went well." your voice is so carefully neutral it physically pains you. because god that stupid gut feeling had been right. he's going to realize how perfect little miss manami is and he's going to leave you in the dust.

"yeaaah," he stretches his arms out, "so, what's for dinner?"

you feel relief flood through you at the change of conversation. "well i was going to make myself chicken alfredo. i don't know what you're doing." the sarcasm drips from your voice and it's like armor, placed to hide the unease and pain from the previous topic of discussion.

"uhhh, i'm going to eat whatever you cook. special privileges, duh."

when you stand up and finally look at him you give him an unimpressed look. "and why do you think you get special privileges?"

the corner of his lips twitch up, "cause i'm just the most amazing, incredible, totally awesome person you know?"

"i wouldn't necessarily agree with that but, sure. live in delusion."

"hey!"

you laugh setting your rag and paint brush down, and you dust your hands off. "well, come on. if you're going to insist on stealing my food you'd best help me prep for it." you head towards the bedroom door without sparing him another glance.

"aye aye captain!" he springs up from the bed and rushes after you, "i will be the best prep cook ever. just watch!"

"pretty sure that honor goes to shoko, but alright."

he pouts as he takes a seat at the island, watching you flutter around the kitchen, dragging all the necessary ingredients down from their spots. "you are so mean to me, don't you love me?"

the words take you by surprise for a moment, but you soften, and you look over at him. "of course i love you, idiot."

the smile that stretches across his face reaches his eyes, and you see them light up. "i knew it," he singsongs, "i love you too. don't worry, we can keep it a secret from shoko and suguru," he says conspiratorially, "they don't need to know that we are each other's best friends over them."

annnnd there it is. for a moment you'd thought he meant something else. but you should've known by now. you'll always just be that to him, his best friend, the girl he's grown up with. why would he ever see you as anything different? he's so goddamn perfect he could have his pick of any girl at the school and they'd trip over their feet trying to say yes fast enough.

you feel a lump form in your throat and you inhale sharply through your nose, turning your face to focus on gathering the pots and pans you'd need for cooking dinner. it takes you a moment before you can reply, but you manage to keep your voice from wavering. "speak for yourself," you say forcing a light laugh. "sho is my best friend, you're just the pest that's been following me around for years and hasn't gone away."

by the time you turn to face him again, he's pouting, and you roll your eyes, feeling the sharpness of the glass in the pit of your stomach dull the slightest bit. "i'm kidding 'toru, of course you're my best friend." you say, leaning against the kitchen island for a moment, so you can look him in those stupidly mesmerizing blue eyes of his.

he presses his elbows into the marble and meets you halfway, "that's what i thought," he says, voice softer than it was when you were turned away from him. the way he speaks is like he's telling you a secret for just the two of you. "it'll always be us. me and you against the world, forever and ever. 'kay?"

you shake your head laughing, then you lean back onto your heels and push away from the counter. giving yourself some breathing room, because whenever he gets that close and looks at you like that, a little tiny part of yourself thinks maybe he feels the same. but you know that's not true— so you shove it right back into the depths of your mind. "okay, weirdo." you turn around and flick the stove on, then turn to rummage in the fridge for the chicken. "start cutting the garlic and onion or i won't be sharing."

he jumps up immediately and rushes into the main kitchen area, sliding beside you and grabbing one of the cutting boards and a knife. "yes ma'am!"

you fall into a rhythm after that, soft and light. and god. looking back? you wish you'd have soaked it in a little more. if only you'd known, that these nights with satoru all to yourself, would begin to fade away quicker than sand slipping through your fingers.

time, it turns out, was not on your side.

it starts slow as most things do, almost imperceptibly. a few weeks into satoru's tutoring sessions with manami things begin to change. the first sign was when your friend group was spending saturday night crowded around a small high top table at your favorite local pizza spot.

satoru is seated directly to your right, and he's been on his phone more tonight than you've ever seen him in the last two years combined probably. he was always weird about that sort of thing, claiming that time together was meant to be just that—together without the distraction of your smartphones. he often would reprimand suguru and shoko for doomscrolling and snickering at memes together.

you can't help but feel a pang in your chest every time he grins down at his screen. and when he lets out this sweet little chuckle, his eyes bright, you get this overwhelming urge to stab the fork your twin's using to cut his pizza like a weirdo, straight through your hand. because that would be better than witnessing whatever the hell this is.

shoko seems to sense this, and she tilts her head giving satoru an unamused look. "so you're allowed to keep your nose buried in your phone and ignore us all night, but god forbid i show a funny meme to suguru then suddenly i'm infringing on our 'time together'."

suguru snorts, "she's got a point satoru, what or who has you so giggly like a lovesick twelve year old?"

your white haired best friend finally glances up, his cheeks dusting a light pink. "sorry guys, i've just been texting manami. she's pretty funny, and get this— she's never seen digimon! so i've been trying to explain it to her. it's pretty fun."

digimon, that was how you and satoru became friends all those years ago.

"so what, are you guys friends now or something?" you don't mean to sound so bitter but… you can't help it. emotions are bubbling up in your chest against your will.

he looks over at you, that same silly grin on his face, he must not have been paying attention enough to hear how you sounded. "yeah actually! the more time we spend together the more i'm starting to really like her. it's kinda weird… since i've never really spent much time with anyone outside of you guys."

you nod slowly, digesting the information.

shoko catches your eyes over the table, and quickly changes the topic. "well that's enough about your… questionable friendship decisions," she starts off, and satoru tries to defend manami but shoko waves him off and continues. "there's supposed to be a supermoon tonight, we gonna go watch at the park like usual?"

"already have the snacks and blankets packed back at the house," suguru says, and nods at you. "i even made sure to get the glass bottle soda you like."

you make a cooing noise and reach out to pinch your twin's cheek. "awwwh, sugu! you do love me!"

he swats at your hand. "i love you more when you don't assault me."

you all notice a distinct lack of satoru overtaking the conversation like he usually does when it's related to space or celestial bodies. in unison you glance back to him and he's looking at his phone again of course.

"dude, did you hear anything we just said?" suguru asks launching his half eaten breadstick directly at satoru's forehead.

satoru yelps, and looks up. "fuck, sorry. what's up?"

you sigh, "we were talking about going to watch the supermoon at the park. sugu already has everything ready to go at the house."

it's almost comical to watch as his eyes widen and he looks taken aback. "wait that's tonight? i didn't even realize that!"

satoru gojo, not knowing about a celestial event? that's literally unheard of. he's typically harassing you all days before they occur. and especially the night of that event itself. always spitting out facts you've heard millions of times.

"you're joking right?" shoko asks her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "this is like… your thing. we wouldn't plan this if you weren't such a huge nerd."

he laughs awkwardly, scratching his chin with his thumb. "no i really must've spaced it, sorry guys. i need to go home and sleep anyways, tomorrow i'm supposed to meet manami at the library in town super early anyways."

what?

you feel like he's speaking a foreign language.

"actually," he glances at the time on his phone. it's hardly even nine o'clock. "i should probably head home now. you guys can go watch though, i know you secretly enjoy it!"

with that, he gets to his feet, snatching his wallet and phone and shoving them in his pocket. his keys dangle from his fingers, he bends over and places a kiss to the top of your hair. at least something hadn't changed. you watch as he rounds the table, heading towards the exit— stopping to ruffle shoko's hair which makes her curse him out, and doing his quick little special handshake with suguru. "don't miss me too much!" he calls over his shoulder when he pushes the door open, then he disappears into the dark leaving the three of you confused.

shoko looks between you and suguru, "we all agree that was weird as fuck, right?"

"yeah." suguru says, a wrinkle between his brow as they pinch together. "i've known satoru since we were five years old, and he's never forgotten a single celestial event. ever."

you nod, "yeah, that's true but… these things tend to happen when you…" god it's hard to even force the words out. you take a deep breath, pressing the heels of your hands into your thighs. "when you start to develop feelings for someone. honeymoon phase or whatever."

your brother and best friend stare at you, and they don't even need to speak for you to know what they're thinking. the crush you've had on satoru for years isn't exactly subtle despite you thinking so. they obviously know.

"you okay there, babe?" shoko asks uncharacteristically soft, her voice full of concern.

you smile, but it's tight. "yeah, why wouldn't i be?"

suguru leans over and flicks you in the forehead. "stop doing that. you know i hate when you try to pretend like i can't basically feel whatever stupid shit is going through your brain."

"god, a little gentler, no need to make her cry before we even leave." shoko admonishes glaring at him.

"well, she clearly needs to cry. our idiot best friend who for some reason can't tell she's very obviously in love with him is starting to develop feelings for someone else."

"thanks, that helps so much sugu." you scoff letting your eyes slide shut.

you hear him sigh, then his chair scraping, before he slides into satoru's empty seat— the one that's pressed directly beside yours. he slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him, and you let yourself relish in the comfort of your twin.

"i'm sorry for being harsh," he says, "but if you keep pushing your feelings down and ignoring them it'll hurt you even more."

"i know sugu, why do you think i paint so damn much?"

he chuckles, "well, i suppose that does make sense. but it's not the same thing as accepting how you feel."

shoko mumbles something about grabbing boxes, leaving you with just your brother for a moment.

"it just… sucks." you tell him.

he squeezes you lightly, "i know."

"i don't know how the hell i'll be okay if they start dating, sugu." you begin to pick at your nails, "watching him be that way with someone else? i think it might kill me."

"well, lucky for you, you happen to have the most amazing twin brother and the greatest best friend in the world."

you elbow him, he winces and then laughs. "okay deserved. but seriously, lean on us. me and shoko. okay? we've got you."

"okay," you nod. "can we just go home and watch pokémon?"

"not digimon? and here i thought you'd want to watch satoru's favorite show if you're upset over him."

"ugh, as if. digimon sucks, pokémon is much better. that alone should make me lose interest in him."

suguru snorts, "yeah. we'll watch pokémon."

after a moment shoko returns with boxes and you begin to shove the left over pizza and breadsticks inside. the three of you pile into suguru's car, and head back to the house for your pokémon binge. it's times like these that remind you how wonderful they really are.

you definitely are lucky, because you do have the best twin brother and the greatest best friend in the world. but you're not about to voice that and give them— well mainly suguru— big heads.

for now you'll take sprawling across the couch, sharing fuzzy blankets and sipping glass sodas, surrounded by unconditional love.

it happens on a tuesday. you're laying on your bed working on homework while satoru lazily spins himself in circles on your desk chair. everything seems normal, he hasn't even mentioned manami once since he got here, or looked at his phone like he has been so much lately.

though this probably should've been more of a red flag than a green one.

he breaks the comfortable silence abruptly.

"i think i'm going to ask her out," he says suddenly. your grip tightens on your mechanical pencil. waiting for him to continue. "manami, i mean."

you don't look up at him, you can't. so instead you continue writing out the math equation on your worksheet. "yeah?”

"yeah," he says his voice growing a tad airy, fond almost. "she's just… amazing. she's funny, she's sweet, we work together a lot due to our sports, she's such a quick learner, and she listens to me talk about digimon and space. she even let me explain to her the entire myth behind hades and persephone."

hades and persephone.

thank god you're not using a regular wooden pencil because surely it would've snapped the moment those words left his lips. hades and persephone— your thing. the couple he'd once told you he thought of you guys as. now he's explaining them to her.

you want to cry. you want to scream. you want to break something. but instead you just nod, and practice your acting skills, maybe you should become an actress instead of an artist. "that's great, 'toru."

"i'll let you know how it goes," he says and you know he's smiling without even looking. "i'm planning to do it tomorrow after practice."

tomorrow.

air. god you need air.

"hey, 'toru?" you finally look up at him, and seeing the pure joy in his expression feels like a knife to the stomach. "i'm sort of getting a migraine. think i might take a nap."

his expression immediately morphs into one of concern, "i'll turn the lights off. and i can go grab you some medicine— do you want me to rub your head?"

"no no—," you shake your head. "it's fine, uh. i just want to try and get some rest. that cool with you?"

he frowns but nods, "yeah, but if it doesn't go away you really need to take something okay? i'll tell suguru, that way he can rub your head later too."

stupid thoughtful idiot. why did he have to be so fucking considerate?

"thanks, 'toru." you begin to clear your supplies, getting to your feet and padding across the carpet to deposit everything on your desk.

satoru is still sitting in your chair, and he reaches out a hand, wrapping it lightly around your wrist, tugging you forward. you stumble, but manage to catch yourself from falling into his lap by placing a palm against the wooden desk.

he brings his hand up to your forehead, "you're not getting sick are you?"

you roll your eyes, and step out of his hold. "no, i'm not getting sick. must've just forgot to drink enough water or something."

satoru sighs and gets to his feet, before you can get too far away, he pulls you forward into a light hug and kisses the top of your head like he always does. "just checking," he mutters, "text me if you need anything okay?"

you nod, hugging him back for a moment before pulling away. "yeah yeah, will do."

he sighs and grabs his bag, and heads towards your door, flipping the light off as he does so. "love you," he calls out glancing at you as you burrow into your bed.

not in the way i want you to.

"love you too."

the moment he clicks the door shut, you feel yourself crumple. hands clutching your comforter and the tears you'd been holding back begin to fall. you curl into yourself, feeling the heaviness fill your chest. it burns. it hurts. it's too fucking much.

you try so hard to stay quiet but you can't help the sob that rips out of your throat, and the floodgates open from there. you're shaking, sobs wracking your body as you clutch the safety of your comforter tighter.

it feels like you're losing something you never even had in the first place. you've never felt your heart shatter this way, not even when you were eight years old hiding behind suguru as your parents screamed at each other until their throats were raw. this had to be what it felt like to lose a piece of yourself.

you can hardly get enough air, gasping between your wails.

then, the mattress dips, and you feel a pair of familiar arms wrap around you. you hadn't even heard your bedroom door open. but sure enough, the familiar scent of your twin's shampoo fills your nostrils, and you feel his hand come up to gently card through your hair.

he doesn't speak, he just lays there. holding you as you break. you aren't sure how long it takes before the tears stop. minutes? hours? all you know is your throat is raw and you're definitely dehydrated for real now.

you slowly turn in suguru's hold, and you look at him with tears still clinging to your lashes. red blotches cover your face, puffing out just below your eyes. "i don't know how to be okay, sugu." your voice cracks, you blink rapidly to stop yourself from crying again.

suguru is gentle with you, more than he usually is. "then don't be. you're allowed to be hurt," he tells you. and he sighs, "i promised you that we'd get through it together, didn't i?"

you give him a barely there nod. "yeah, but…" you swallow and it feels like you're swallowing shards of glass. "i didn't expect it to hurt this bad. i feel like someone just ripped my heart out and stomped on it."

"well, he sort of did."

that earns him a small shove and he laughs, "sorry. not the time to joke i know." he tells you, "do you want to talk about it?"

you think for a moment, but you shake your head. "no. i think i'll cry more if i do… can we just… binge shrek or something? maybe order takeout?"

"shrek?" he arches an eyebrow, "that's the movie you want to watch right now?"

"uhm, shrek is a cinematic masterpiece and if you disagree you need help."

"i'm pretty sure you need help if that's what you find comforting during heartbreak."

you roll your eyes, "whatever. just order food, i'll get the tv set up."

suguru slowly removes his arms from you, and stands up. he heads towards the door, and before he can cross the threshold you call out to him, "thank you sugu. seriously."

he glances back at you and smiles, the one he usually reserves just for you. "i've always got your back. even if you think shrek is a so called, ‘cinematic masterpiece’."

"okay i take it back, get out!"

you hear him laughing the entire way down the hall as he goes to collect his phone to place an order for the both of you.

for a moment you close your eyes and let yourself sink into the bed. you cried. you let it out. now you have to try to accept it. that your best friend who you've been utterly in love with for years, is about to be very much not single anymore.

you press the heels of your hands into your eyes and grit your teeth. fuck this is going to be hard.

then you force yourself off the bed, and trudge down the hallway towards the living room. tonight you'd stuff your face, kick suguru beneath the blankets, and watch shrek. it's okay to pretend your feelings don't exist for one night. you deserve that much. before you have to brace yourself for hearing satoru tell you all about how he asked manami out.

fuck.

"whatever you're getting, order me a cake too!"

suguru enters the room his phone in hand giving you a look. "like… a mini one?"

"no. i want a whole cake. this is heartbreak suguru, not my fucking period."

he holds his hands up, "alright geez. full cake it is…" you can tell he's now slightly panicking as he scrolls through the delivery app trying to find somewhere that sells an entire cake for you.

you flop onto the couch and turn on the tv, quickly switching to the streaming platform that has the first shrek movie. it'll be okay.

you'll be okay.

right?

the following day you actively go out of your way to avoid satoru. you text him early that morning letting him know that there was a meeting for the art club so you were riding with suguru instead. it's weird, you can't quite remember the last time you'd gone to school with your twin instead of your best friend.

despite living together and it being more convenient for you to sit passenger with your twin, satoru had always insisted on driving you ever since he got his license and his shiny mercedes his parents bought him immediately after. and so it just sort of became this expected unspoken thing.

you always loved it though, because it was precious one on one time for the two of you. for just twenty blissful minutes, or maybe thirty if you stopped and got coffee— he was all yours. he always let you connect to bluetooth and play whatever music you wanted. without fail you always played your song— how the two of you came across it you can't quite remember now, but you'd belt your hearts out to each other in the car. 'come to me,' by the goo goo dolls.

though the lyrics had always meant a little extra to you. did they mean the same thing to him? you aren't sure. maybe to him it's just a song the two of you sing in the early morning, laughing and grinning like you're the only pair in the world.

so when it comes across your playlist as suguru coasts down your road, you swipe at your phone as fast as you can to skip it. he doesn't say anything, he just focuses on the road, but you could tell he noticed your actions by the slight tightening of his hands on the wheel.

"so, art club before classes start?" he finally asks sneaking a quick look at you when he rolls to a stop at the intersection near your neighborhood.

you refuse to meet his gaze, instead turning towards your window. "yep," you nod, jaw stiff as you clench unconsciously. "mrs. nara has been begging me to put in some more time in the studio for weeks now. figured there's no time like the present."

"mhm," he hums, clearly sensing why you chose now of all times. his hands tap a rhythm against the wheel, "you can't avoid him forever you know."

"obviously." you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as if that'll protect you from this conversation.

"well… as long as you're aware of it." he says with a sigh.

by the time you're pulling into the parking lot at the school you see shoko waiting for you at the edge of the dumpster enclosure, cigarette dangling from her fingertips. you immediately look at your brother an unspoken accusation there as he pulls into a spot and kills the engine.

"don't look at me like that," he rolls his eyes. "obviously i texted shoko, you can only take so much of me before you strangle me."

"well if you weren't such a dick maybe i wouldn't want to."

he just gives you that little smirk of his, "not possible."

you huff, reaching down to grab your bag, you unbuckle your seatbelt, and slam his car door open with a bit too much force. the designated smoking area isn't too far, maybe a few feet. so it takes you less than a minute to reach your concerned best friend, her usual eye bags look darker than normal. indicating she must've gotten even less sleep than she normally does, just to check on you.

"you doing okay?" she asks before she takes another slow drag of her cigarette, then turns slightly to exhale the smoke out, away from you.

"as well as i can be, i guess." you mumble adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. this area isn't technically a smoking area, because if the teachers caught students smoking on campus they'd probably be slapped with a referral or something. but this is where they'd been coming to smoke since you were sixteen and shoko was sneaking smokes from her mom's purse.

suguru eventually comes to stand beside you, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his own pack and lighter. you watch as he cups his hand around the little stick, and lights it, drawing in as he does so. he shoves the lighter back into his pocket beside the pack he'd already returned after taking one smoke out.

the way the pinched expression melts away from his face, and the tension bleeds out of his shoulders… you wonder if it'll do that for you? if it could help ease this tightness in your chest that won't seem to go away.

"can i try one?" you ask nervously, knuckles turning white from how tightly you're holding your bag now. they're totally going to make fun of you, it was a stupid question to even ask.

however instead of that, shoko arches an eyebrow, reaches into her jacket and pulls out a fresh one for you. "you know how to hold it?"

you snatch it from her fingers and slot it between your index and middle fingers, giving her a mild glare. "yes i know how to hold it sho, i'm not that clueless."

she snickers, shoving the pack back into her pocket and pulling out her pretty bedazzled sage lighter. it had been a little gift you made her awhile back, it's refillable, and she seems to love it. "i'll light it for you, just inhale slowly while i do. okay?"

you nod bringing it to your lips, faintly aware of the way it clings to your lipgloss. the moment she lights it, you inhale, trying to be slow and smooth just like she told you. just like every time you'd seen her or suguru smoke before.

the moment the smoke hits your throat, and is pulled into your lungs you rip it away from your mouth. you're coughing and spluttering trying to regain breath, suguru laughs and lightly pats your back as you hack until there's tears brimming your eyes.

"oh my god," you wheeze. "how the fuck do you guys enjoy this?"

they look at you in amusement, still smoking their little death sticks like it's the easiest thing in the world.

suguru gestures at your still lit cigarette, "that was the worst part. you're not used to it, and probably took in too much air. try again, just a tiny bit."

you huff, but do as you're told and slowly inhale again, much slower and only a tiny tiny bit. it doesn't make you cough this time you acknowledge in your mind, and you exhale the smoke, feeling a sense of calm wash over you.

"oh wow," you say bringing it to your lips once more. slow inhale, slow exhale. the air leaves your lungs and you feel your previously tightly coiled muscles begin to loosen up. "i kinda see why you guys do this now." you admit with a small little grin.

"yes, well, don't make a habit of it." suguru says giving you one of those looks, his 'we may be twins but i am older by four minutes and i will act like a protective big brother' look. "this is a one time heartbreak exception."

you roll your eyes, "yeah, yeah. whatever you say."

the three of you finish up a few minutes later, before heading into the building together. true to your word you do head into the art room to work on a few things, beforehand you spritz yourself heavily in perfume though, overly self conscious about the scent of tobacco and smoke clinging to your clothes.

you spend around an hour working on a painting you'd began for this trimester's semi-finals. your art teacher is delighted, mentioning that perhaps they could enter some of your artwork into the exhibition fundraiser this winter if you were okay with it. unable to make a well informed decision in the moment you just nod along.

by the time you exit the room and venture into the hallway it's already packed with students heading to their first class of the day, chatting against lockers, and scarfing down last minute breakfasts. you step into the sea of people and start making your way towards your locker to drop off books for the day and grab a few things you need.

it doesn't take you long to exchange the contents in your bag, you slam the door shut and lock it. when you look over you nearly jump, noticing satoru leaning against the locker directly beside yours. "how'd art club go?" he asks, looking more awake than he had any right to.

you shrug one shoulder, "it was fine."

he leans forward his eyebrows furrowing, and sniffs. you go rigid when he snatches your wrist and pulls it towards his nose, inhaling part of your jacket sleeve. "why the hell do you smell like cigarettes? shoko and you exchange jackets or something?"

you yank your arm back, taking a small step back from him. "no, i don't know what you're talking about." your tone pitches a little high at the end, giving away your defensiveness immediately.

"i'm not that much of an idiot, i know what cigarettes smell like. you clearly doused yourself in perfume trying to hide the smell."

"okay, and so what if i did? why does it matter?"

"oh i don't know, maybe because you've literally never smoked before? and you're constantly hounding shoko and suguru about their habits?" he narrows his eyes, taking a step towards you, closing the gap again. "is everything alright? you'd tell me if something was wrong right?"

no.

"yes, of course."

he stares at you for a moment. "fine. you're off the hook for now," he tells you with a huff. "but seriously the next time you're going to randomly venture out and try something new like that, tell me so we can do it together."

you roll your eyes, "yes, sorry your majesty. i didn't mean to leave you out of our chain smoking session this morning."

"chain smoking?!"

"i'm joking 'toru. i had one, and i literally almost puked when i first inhaled."

"good. maybe it'll make you think twice before doing it again."

"oh my god you sound like suguru!"

"well suguru is right! you don't need to put shit like that in your body."

the warning bell rings, interrupting your 'conversation' if you could even call it that. "i gotta get to class, see you later 'toru." you mutter quickly turning on your heel to leave before he can even try to pull you in for a hug or another damn kiss to the crown of your hair.

"wait, you didn't even hug me!" he calls down the hallway, you don't even need to turn to know he's pouting like a petulant child.

"gotta run, sorry!" you shout back, speeding up and rounding the corner. the moment you're out of his line of sight you exhale a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

there's just no way you can handle his overly affectionate gestures right now. this is for the best. strategic really, to try and get your feelings all sorted out before you let him exist in your close proximity again. that way you can learn to address the way you feel then lock it away in a very small box, so you can go back to being satoru's best friend again. just his best friend.

your eyes slide shut.

this definitely isn't going to be as easy as you want it to be.

it's been a little over a week now since satoru had officially asked manami out. things weren't that different. they weren't an official couple yet but they were 'dating' and 'getting to know each other'. he still came over for movie night every week, he still stopped by after practice to pester you. the four of you still eat lunch together every day.

and per his insistence he still takes you to school every morning. your excuse of morning art club lasted you literally one day because he just started to wake up earlier and get to your house before you could claim you had to get there way before him. now he makes sure you get there with plenty of time for your 'obligations'.

halloween is this coming saturday, and per tradition, your group usually visits one of the freakier haunted houses then binges horror movies until the sun rises. typically you go all out making little halloween snacks and goodies—one of your favorites was forming cinnamon rolls into the shapes of ghosts and pumpkins, complete with colored icing.

you're all sitting at your usual lunch table when suguru brings it up. "so, have we decided which haunted house we're going to this year?"

"ugh, can we not do another full contact one please? i think i might pass out if we do." you mutter, flashing back to being chased by a man with a jason voorhees mask and a chainsaw dripping with fake blood.

satoru, who is in the middle of snagging a fry off your plate, tosses it into his mouth then looks at the three of you a bit guilty. "oh actually guys… manami asked if i'd come to a party with her."

you all look at him like he's grown a second head. the shock makes you momentarily forget to filter yourself. "seriously? you've never liked parties."

"yeah, when we went to that beach bonfire this summer you almost decked a guy for trying to get too handsy with our resident princess." shoko says, inclining her head towards you.

satoru just laughs. "yeah well, i want to make manami happy. things have been going pretty well… i think i'll ask her to be my girlfriend for real soon." he grins, planting an elbow on the lunch table and resting his chin on his open palm.

"well, good for you, satoru." suguru says, his face not betraying any sort of emotion, as he picks at his plate. "i'm sure we'll be fine with just the three of us."

before you and shoko can agree with suguru, satoru is already moving his arm off the table and leaning back against his seat. "orrrr, you guys could come too. it'll be fun!" his eyes are twinkling as he speaks. "one of the girls from the cheerleading team is hosting. her parents are out of country on a business trip, and she lives in a huge house on the edge of town… so it's sort of perfect for a party."

shoko looks like she's about to shut him down, and you know it's for your sake, so you don't have to watch him and manami fawn over each other all night. but he looks like he wants you guys to come so bad so… you open your stupid mouth. "well, if shoko and suguru are alright with it then i'm in."

they both look at you, and now it's obvious they can't say no because you just agreed to go. and there's no way they'd let you go to that alone.

"yeah, whatever." shoko agrees flippantly.

"i suppose i'll play dd, so you idiots can get home safely." suguru says with an eyeroll.

satoru's grin could outshine the sun itself. "really? thanks guys! i'm so excited to go with you all!"

"yeah yeah, whatever." suguru waves him off. "if you puke in my car i will make you clean it up."

satoru squawks indignantly. "i won't!"

"uh huh."

for the rest of lunch you can't stop thinking about this party coming up and wondering what the hell you agreed to. how are you going to handle a night of drinking and watching the boy you love fall for someone else in front of you? well… it's probably a good thing suguru is driving then. at least you can attempt to drown it out.

you stand in front of your mirror tugging at the short purple dress shoko forced you into. a blazer in the same color is layered over the top, along with matching knee high go-go boots. your hair is already flat ironed and styled just so, with a dainty headband and lime green ascot to finish off your outfit.

"i can't believe you convinced me to wear this." you say, staring at your reflection—the girl looking back hardly even looks like you.

shoko comes to stand at your side, slinging an arm around your waist. "oh come on. we look gooood, don't we?" she smirks, pinching your side making you yelp.

she's dressed similarly in all orange, reds, and browns. a pair of fake glasses on the bridge of her nose, and her shoulder length hair fluffed up just the slightest bit. your best friend looked like the most perfect rendition of velma you'd ever seen.

"i mean, you look hot." you tell her, leaning your head on her shoulder a bit, smiling faintly.

"and so do you, don't even try to deny it."

you open your mouth again, but shoko's looking towards the door and shouting for your brother. "suguru! come in here and tell your sister she's being dumb and overthinking again!"

there's footsteps and your brother enters the room, hair tied up in a bun, his bangs hanging loose to the side. he's in a god awful green shirt and brown pants—somehow shoko had convinced him to dress up as shaggy. you don't have any clue what sort of blackmail she had on him for that.

"you look fine." he tells you, leaning against the doorway. "now, are you two done? satoru should be here any minute. i've got a few ciders downstairs so you can pregame or whatever."

you and shoko grin. she removes her arm from your waist and loops it through your own arm instead. "let's go start the night, hot stuff."

the two of you brush past suguru after grabbing your purses from the bed, and head towards the kitchen island where the beverages are waiting for you unopened. your parents always keep an excess in the garage fridge, and they're never home enough to notice when they go missing.

"dibs on the strawberry!" you shout, lunging for the pink can before shoko can, not that she cared anyways. she just chuckles and grabs the orange can beside it.

"mmm," you hum after the first swig, "forgot how yummy these things are."

suguru is rolling his eyes and leaning against the opposite side of the kitchen island. "yes well, let's try not to get too wasted tonight. i don't want to carry you back to the car."

you huff. "you will though, if i do."

"of course i will, it's my job. doesn't mean i'm not going to tell you it's a stupid idea first."

you're about to retort when the front door opens, and satoru walks in, in his regular basketball uniform? you look at him funny, because how the hell is that a halloween costume. he'd made sure to inform you guys this was a costume party.

when he settles his eyes on the three of you and your outfit choices, his eyes widen and then the corners of his lips turn down. "you did a group costume without me? i would've totally been fred!"

i would've totally been fred! he says as if he isn't going to the party with another girl. when fred and daphne are one of the most iconic cartoon couples of all time. you lift your cider to your lips and take another deep gulp.

"well considering you made a big deal about going with manami, we didn't think you'd be interested." shoko says, taking a small sip of her cider and eyeing him over the rim.

satoru huffs, coming to lean right next to you on the counter. "yeah, going to the party with her, but i'm riding there with you guys and you're my best friends! i totally would've dressed up instead of this." he says, tugging at his jersey.

"yeah, why are you dressed like you're going to a game?" suguru asks, raising his eyebrows.

"manami thinks it's cute if we both wear our uniforms, i don't know." satoru shrugs helplessly. "i didn't think you guys would actually dress up so..."

"well we did." shoko says before taking another swig, then setting the now empty can on the counter. "maybe we'll meet our fred and scooby at the party."

"uhm absolutely not! if you guys have a fred it's me, duh!"

you tilt your head, the cider starting to settle into your veins. "yeah but you're dressed as basketball player 'toru. if we find a fred, that'd be kinda cool."

satoru isn't pleased but he relents, mumbling under his breath. after a few more minutes, once you finish your cider, suguru hides the evidence of the cans, and the four of you pile into suguru's suv. shoko calls shotgun, sitting up front and controlling the music on the drive over, saying you needed good music to pump you up.

you sit in the backseat right behind shoko—expecting satoru to take the seat behind suguru. but instead, because it's satoru, he slides directly into the center seat, pressing his thigh right against yours. you can feel the flush creeping up your neck at the feeling of his skin against yours and you're trying to ignore it.

"there's an entire seat, right there you know?"

he grins, buckling himself in and leaning closer into you. "yeah, but why would i sit there when i can be close to you?"

he says the most mind numbing shit and he doesn't even realize it. so you just roll your eyes and focus on the view outside your window. "you're a weirdo." you mutter, more to get yourself to calm down than actual annoyance.

"your weirdo though, remember?"

you sigh. "yeah. my weirdo."

yours.

but how much longer until satoru is just a distant memory? living a happy perfect life with manami?

"okay, everyone buckled?" suguru asks, breaking you from your thoughts, adjusting the rearview mirror and eyeing you and satoru.

"mhm," you hum.

"let's get this disaster started then." suguru says, and with that you're heading to the halloween party. praying to whatever deity is out there, that you make it through the night with minimal problems.

by the time you arrive to the massive mansion-like house on the outskirts of town, the place is filled with cars lining the driveway and street. the music is so loud you can hear it at least a quarter mile away, and you see people milling around. there had to be more than just students from your high school here. this was an insane amount of people.

suguru parks strategically so that he's able to get out if you need to leave early for some reason. once he kills the engine you're all unbuckling and hopping out of the vehicle. you stand to the side adjusting the hem of your dress, pulling it down—it had ridden up on your thighs a bit during the ride over.

shoko stretches her arms over her head then walks to your side and links her arm through yours. "ready to go get drunk with people we hate, and have a good time?"

you snort. "ready as i'll ever be."

satoru is shutting the door behind him and jogging to your side, and suguru is locking up the suv, flanking shoko's other side. the four of you walk up the beautifully paved wrap-around driveway, watching the wide open front door that shows a preview of the people milling about within.

"shouldn't you go find your girlfriend?" shoko asks, side-eyeing satoru.

he shrugs. "i'll text her that i'm here… she isn't my girlfriend yet."

"uh huh."

you tug her a little closer to you, comforting yourself with the proximity of her. "we should go find some drinks and dance, yeah?" you say to her, not really paying much mind to your brother or satoru.

suguru glances at the two of you and extends a hand. "purses." it's not exactly an ask, more of a demand. mainly because he knows the two of you are horrible at keeping track of such things when sober—he knows it'll be much worse intoxicated.

you laugh, handing him your purse. "my phone's in there. buut i'm sure if i need you it won't be hard to find you. i'll just check wherever people aren't and follow the smell of cigarette smoke."

he rolls his eyes. "ha ha. so funny, you should be a comedian."

"thanks! maybe i'll pursue that instead of art." you quip with a toothy grin.

shoko passes him her purse as well, but her skirt has a pocket, so she has her phone unlike you. the pair of you wave the boys goodbye before satoru can protest and disappear into the throng of people inside the house.

it's loud, it's hot, and it's dim. there's barely any good light, and the music is thrumming through your body as you weave in and out of the writhing sweaty bodies across the foyer.

"i think i see the kitchen over there!" shoko shouts over the music, taking her free hand and pointing it towards much brighter lighting at the far side of the room.

you unwind your arm from hers and intertwine your hands instead, and begin to tug her through the crowd. you'd think the two of you were at a concert and plowing your way through the crowd to be at the stage, not trying to find the kitchen at an illegal high school party.

after what feels like forever you finally make it out of the crowd and into the much less packed kitchen area where liquor bottles and beer cans are sprawled across all available surfaces. there's two massive gatorade buckets with spigots and horribly labeled pieces of paper saying 'jungle juice.'

the music is considerably quieter in here and you can actually hear yourself think. you and shoko begin to peruse the selection. "don't drink anything that isn't sealed shut." she reminds you, and you nod—you'd already been given a ten minute lecture by suguru when you were straightening your hair earlier tonight on the dangers of open containers and unknown drinks.

"yeah, i know." you tell her and then your eyes catch on the holy grail—a bottle of smirnoff green apple vodka, unopened. you grin, dragging her towards it, finding red solo cups and you crack the seal and splash an unhealthy amount into both. shoko looks around and finds unopened cans of sprite, and she quickly opens one and splits it between your drinks.

you take an experimental sip, and cringe. "probably need more soda." you say as the candied vodka taste hits the back of your throat, leaving a warm burn all the way down your throat and into your belly.

shoko laughs. "it's supposed to be a little bit strong. just drink it."

so you shrug, and take another sip. it goes down easier this time, and you grin. "should we go check out the back? it seems like there's more breathing room out there." you say, peeking through the kitchen window that has a great view of the massive backyard that leads to the edge of the nearby forest.

from what you can see from your vantage point there's a pool, there's beer pong, even a bonfire closer to the trees. it seems a lot more doable than the mess you'd just fought your way through.

"sure, why not?"

the two of you find the open sliding glass doors and wander outside. off to the side near the beer pong table you spot several people from the basketball team and a multitude of cheerleaders, including perfect pretty manami. she's standing there in her pretty blue and white uniform, her hair curled just right. you see her laugh at something one of the guys says, and she plants a perfectly manicured hand on his forearm as she leans in.

you watch as satoru emerges from inside the house, clearly having just grabbed himself a drink from the kitchen like you and shoko. he's making his way towards her, and you feel your fingers instinctively tighten around your cup.

he grins and reaches her—and she immediately walks over to him and tucks herself against his side. she smiles up at him, batting her pretty long eyelashes. you can't make out what's said from this distance but you can see the way he lights up.

then he's lifting his gaze from her and looking around, like he senses you're out here. you lock eyes with him and somehow his eyes seem to brighten several notches, and he waves for you guys to come over.

"goddammit." you sigh, and turn to shoko. "if i give you a signal, you'll make an excuse to get us the hell out of there right?"

shoko nods. "duh. i'll even fake an injury."

you can't help but laugh. "a true best friend."

the two of you take another drink of your beverages then begin the trek over to the popular crowd. satoru is smiling with his pearly white teeth on display when you're within hearing range. "c'mon guys!! i want you to officially meet manami."

you and shoko stand side by side in front of him and manami. they truly look like the perfect prom king and prom queen together. picturesque.

"oh, you brought your friends! that's so sweet," manami says with what seems like a genuine smile, but something in her tone makes you feel like you're intruding. "i was hoping we could have more alone time tonight, but this works too."

satoru looks confused for a moment. "duh? who do you think i rode here with? they're my best friends, we do everything together." he says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "suguru is our dd, he's around here somewhere."

manami's smile stays perfectly in place, but her grip on satoru's arm tightens slightly. "of course! i just meant... well, you talk about them so much, i was excited to finally meet them properly." her eyes sweep over you and shoko appraisingly. "hopefully you girls won't mind sharing him a little tonight? after all, i did invite him as my date."

shoko's eyebrow arches dangerously. "oh, we wouldn't dream of disrupting your quality time. we were actually about to go check out the bonfire anyway. have a great night... what was it again? mandy?"

"it's manami," she corrects with a tight smile.

"right, that's what i said." shoko's voice is pure innocence, but her eyes are sharp. "anyway, you two lovebirds have fun."

satoru looks back and forth between you guys, clearly sensing some tension but not understanding it. "well, uhm. if you need me just come find me okay? i'll find you guys later."

you and shoko wave and turn to head towards the fire. the moment you're far enough away, shoko shakes her head.

"oh my god," you whisper. "she seems... nice enough, but did you catch that whole 'sharing him' thing?"

shoko snorts. "please. that girl's got claws underneath all that sweetness. did you see how she was marking her territory? 'i did invite him as my date,'" she mimics in a high voice. "like we were about to steal him away or something."

you're trying not to laugh despite yourself. "sho, she's probably just nervous about meeting us. we are pretty intimidating as a group."

"intimidating my ass. she's threatened and trying to play nice about it. trust me, i know the type."

the two of you come up to the edge of the crowd standing around the fire, you stay there, watching for a bit. talking amongst yourselves. eventually you both have finished your drinks, and shoko nudges you. "i'll go grab us more drinks, be right back." she snatches your cup and heads back to the house before you can protest.

so, you stand there, unsure of what to do with yourself. no phone, no drink, no shoko—completely by yourself surrounded by people you don't talk to or know.

"hey," you hear a smooth voice from beside you, and you glance up and blink. "looks like we're a pair, huh?"

you think back to your comment about finding your fred tonight. it wasn't a serious comment, but well. here you are now you suppose.

he's pretty. in this tall, chiseled way—he isn't soft like satoru, no he's all sharp features and hooded eyes. his hair is short, tousled but in a way that looks like it was on purpose, and bleach blonde. you aren't sure if it's you or the alcohol but your skin prickles and your heart rate kicks up.

"i guess we are, huh?" you say, taking him in some more. "my velma went to go grab us some drinks. where's your gang?"

he grins. "don't have one. i was hoping to find my daphne tonight, didn't think i'd actually get this lucky."

something stirs in your stomach. butterflies? wasps? you're unsure. "well, i'm happy to make your dreams come true."

"naoya zenin." he says, extending a hand towards you. "and you are?"

you take his hand, gripping it the best you can, but your hand is tiny compared to his. it takes you a moment to stammer out your name and his lips quirk back up.

"mm," he hums. "how pretty. your parents wouldn't happen to be surgeons would they?"

you blink. "actually, they are. how do you know that?"

"my family owns several hospitals in the state." he says casually. "they're some of the top surgeons who operate in our system. i recognized the last name."

"oh, that makes sense." you nod. "i don't recognize you though. are you not from here?"

he shakes his head. "i'm afraid not. private school, around twenty minutes from here." he glances over your head. "i have a few connections out here, figured it'd be fun to check out."

you turn your head to glance at the fire, watching the flames flicker back and forth before looking back at him. "so what's a fancy private school boy like you do for fun?"

"depends. what do you do for fun?"

"i asked you first," you insist. "or do you just have no hobbies like a weirdo?"

he laughs, it's sharp and loud, but that seems to be how everything about him is. "okay, fine. i like to watch car races like formula one or sometimes even drifting. and i have a thing for art museums."

the art museum part piques your interest. "you're into art?"

"yeah, i'm partial to the renaissance era. though there have been some phenomenal modern artists."

you light up, and it's like a piece of your shell has fallen away at the topic of your favorite thing. "i actually am planning to go to college to further my art career." you grin, hands beginning to gesture wildly as you speak. "i love looking at other people's work. it's so fascinating to look at what they've put down and to try and figure out what made them put it there. what inspired it. what the feeling behind it was. why they chose the colors they did. it's like… a puzzle. you know?"

naoya's interest in you seems to have heightened as he watches you speak. "you're pretty passionate about it, that's cute."

you flush, bright pink crawling up your neck all the way to your ears. "i—," you struggle to form the proper words. "it's always been something i've loved. there's nothing quite like painting."

his lips quirk. "i would love to see some of your work, if you're comfortable with that?"

you move to grab your phone to pull up photos you've taken of your canvases, only to realize it's in your purse wherever suguru's lurking. "shit. i would show you but my phone's in my purse and my twin has it and—"

"it's alright," naoya says. "you can show me another time."

another time. huh.

"oh," you squeak, nodding. "alright. yeah, another time."

that's when shoko appears at your side, drink sloshing over the rim, and she nudges it gently into your hands, giving naoya a once over. "huh, so you really did find a fred, huh?"

you laugh, taking a large gulp of your drink, feeling the familiar burn fill your veins. "yeah, i did!" you then gesture between them. "shoko meet naoya, and naoya this is my best friend shoko! the velma i told you about."

shoko nods at him, taking a sip of her drink. "thanks for keeping her company," shoko says. "now we just need a scooby then we have the whole set huh?"

naoya arches an eyebrow. "aren't you forgetting about shaggy?"

"nah. suguru, her twin, is shaggy. he's… somewhere around here."

you snort. "he's probably hiding in some shady corner chain smoking and grumbling about drunken idiots."

shoko's eyes catch on something, or someone, and you watch her brighten. "that girl from my calculus class is here. you know, the one i've been trying to flirt with for weeks?"

you nod, your eyes trailing over to where she's looking and sure enough there's a pretty redhead talking to her friends and nursing a drink. "you gonna go talk to her or be a coward?"

she hesitates for a moment. "you gonna be fine without me?"

"i'm a big girl, sho. go get your girl." you nudge her forward, and she grins at you, blowing you a kiss before she heads towards her crush, drink in hand.

"so, my legs are pretty tired," you say, looking up at naoya. "wanna go find somewhere to sit with me?"

he nods, a smirk twitching on his lips. "lead the way, daphne." you giggle and start leading him towards the deck area you'd seen off to the side—it has a row of steps, and there's hardly anyone over there. there's a sway to your step, the liquor definitely kicking in, but you don't care. you feel warm and fuzzy and you're talking to a cute boy who isn't satoru and who seems to have some sort of interest in you—you take another sip.

satoru was more than a few drinks in at this point, and he had the urge to go hunt down his friends. he whispered to manami that he needed to go find suguru and the others, he'll catch up with her later. she'd been a bit annoyed but didn't really say anything to stop him, so off he went.

he searches all over the backyard. first he spots shoko, dancing with a pretty redhead girl in the far back. but there were no signs of you anywhere and that didn't quite sit right with him. maybe you got overwhelmed and went to find suguru—things like this have never really been your scene anyways.

so, he makes his way through the kitchen and into the crowded foyer, shoving past sweaty bodies and the booming music, until he's walking out the open front door into the dark of night. he looks around for any sign of you and your purple outfit or suguru and his ugly green shirt.

he frowns, not seeing you anywhere in his line of vision. but then his nose twitches and the scent of smoke hits him, so he turns in the direction and follows it, weaving through the sardine-packed cars until he spots suguru leaning against a tree, phone in one hand, cigarette in the other. both yours and shoko's purses slung over his shoulder.

"suguru!" he calls, voice a little slurred from all the alcohol.

suguru looks up, and nods at satoru. "not hanging out with your girlfriend?"

"she's not my—" he sighs, shaking his head. "not important. have you seen your sister? i can't find her anywhere."

"isn't she with shoko?"

"no, shoko's dancing with some girl."

suguru frowns. "shoko wouldn't leave her if she didn't feel comfortable…"

satoru lets out a frustrated sigh. "well, i'm going to go find her. she doesn't drink hardly ever so who knows what she's doing, someone could really take advantage of her—"

"satoru," suguru says, trying to calm his friend. "i'm sure she's alright. she's a big girl, or did you forget she's been actively training in martial arts since we were toddlers?"

"yeah well what the hell will that do when she's drunk and someone twice her size tries to do something?"

suguru stubs his cigarette and pinches the bridge of his nose. "alright, fine." he says, adjusting the purses on his shoulder. "you take the bottom floor and the backyard, i'll go search upstairs. meet back out here when we find her, okay?"

satoru nods quickly, already turning on his heels. he couldn't quite explain why he needed to find you but he did—and now he's beginning to regret inviting you. or even agreeing to the party at all.

he makes it back into the house and starts pushing through the crowd, scanning for any sign of bright purple or a little green ascot. but nothing. there's no signs. he's growing more frustrated by the minute, grabbing people's shoulders and asking if they've seen a girl dressed as daphne, 'about this tall' he tells them, raising a hand in the air. but there's no answers. nobody's seen you.

fuck!

he barrels through the pit of bodies and he's back inside the kitchen. no sign of you here either, only a few people milling about grabbing fresh drinks. none of them have any idea who he's searching for either. so, he continues his search, heading out to the backyard once again.

"satoru!"

he looks over and sees manami heading towards him, saccharine smile on her face. "glad you're back, i've missed you!"

"not back, sorry." he says, hardly sparing her a glance. she frowns, and he gruffly tells her that they can't find you anywhere, so he's searching for you.

"i'm sure she's fine," she pouts. "come on, let's go play some beer pong!"

"i said not now." he snaps. "later. once i know where she is."

"you seem to be pretty invested in her." manami points out, narrowing her eyes, crossing her arms just beneath her chest. her head cocks to the side slightly as she scrutinizes him.

he looks at her like she just said the stupidest sentence he's ever heard. "uh, no shit. she's my best friend, you know that."

"uh huh," manami says, her expression souring further. "your best friend… right. well come find me once you've dealt with whatever this is." she turns and stomps back to the tables set up for beer pong.

satoru can't quite find it within himself to care right now, his brain is focused on only one thing right now—and that's you.

he goes further into the area, glancing all around, until he spots a flicker of purple. his heart jumps. off to the side of the house, hidden just out of sight, there's a deck. and you're right there—.

within the same moment he feels relief seeing you— he takes in the full scene and feels hot, burning anger consume him. and he's not even conscious of the moment his body makes a beeline towards the deck. fists clenched, jaw set.

he's going to fucking kill him.

you aren't quite sure how much you've drank at this point—naoya had gotten you the next few drinks— all ciders or beers that had been sealed still, per your request. and he's sat here, listening to you ramble about this and that and whatever you want. he's been attentive and kind. it's been… nice.

but the hazier your mind gets the more you can't help but notice this nagging feeling in your gut. you blink blearily, glancing up at naoya. when did he get so close? you swear he wasn't this close a few minutes ago.

"uh," you stare up at him, your head swimming. "could you maybe scoot back a little?"

he tilts his head, leaning in closer. "awh, are you sure you want that? i thought we were getting to know each other quite well."

you shift, trying to put some distance between the two of you. "i—uh, we have been yeah. but it's just… a little overwhelming to have you this close." you aren't quite sure if you're even making any sense at this point, or if your words are even coherent.

he reaches out, trailing a finger down the edge of your jaw. "you know, i think you're the prettiest girl here," he whispers to you. "it's been… quite hard to keep my hands to myself all night."

red warning bells blare in your mind, telling you that you need to get up now.

you shakily try to stand, you're unsteady on your feet as you stand too quick, reaching back to grab the edge of the railing on the deck behind you. "i think 'm gonna go find shoko." you try to say, your eyes darting towards the faint glow of the fire.

naoya rises to his feet and takes a step towards you, a hand coming to wrap around your wrist, backing you against the railing. "i think you should stay right here." his breath fans across your cheeks, and you're distinctly aware now of the fact that you never saw him touch a drop of alcohol tonight. "we can have so much fun together. i promise it'll feel good."

you shake your head sluggishly, and plant a palm against his chest. "no," you try to sound harsh but it comes out as a whine. "i need to go—you need to let me go."

naoya laughs and it makes your stomach clench and turn. "i'm trying to be gentle. but i don't think i can be if you keep fighting me like this."

"step—step away from me." you say as firmly as you can. "'m drunk but i'm still a black belt. i can kick your ass."

"that's so cute," he coos, leaning closer. "you think you could actually put up a fight against me?"

you frown, and you grip the railing behind you, giving yourself stability—then you bring your left knee up and hit him as hard as you can manage in his groin—only you miss and get him in the thigh instead. fuck!

his expression shifts as he steadies himself, a coldness fills his eyes and you know you're not safe here. "you little bitch," he reaches forward with his other hand and grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you hard, bringing your face as close to his as possible, forcing you onto your tiptoes in your go-go boots.

you yelp, feeling the pain splintering through your scalp. "let me go!" you shout, thrashing trying to get him to release you, but it's no use—you're too fucking drunk and your body isn't cooperating and he's too fucking tall.

you hear the thundering of footsteps—and suddenly the grip on your hair is gone and you wobble and fall to your knees. then, you hear the sickening sound of bone hitting flesh, and a shriek of pain. you whip your head up and see satoru standing over naoya, knuckles split, looking furious.

he reaches back down and grabs naoya by the shirt. "what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he sneers, his teeth bared, and you think his jaw might crack from how hard it's clenched.

naoya laughs in his face. "we were just having some fun, no need for dramatics." he grins despite the blood trickling down his face.

satoru fucking growls and rears his arm back again, catching naoya across the nose. you wince at the crack and you swear you're about to puke the moment you see blood gushing down the blonde man's face like a damn river.

"get the fuck off me you psycho!" naoya shouts, shoving at satoru. he leans back, cocking his own fist back and slams it into satoru's cheek.

you watch in horror as your best friend stumbles back, his head snapping to the side. but satoru just stands there, still as a statue. and then laughter. and oh my god he sounds fucking insane.

when he finally turns his head back to look at naoya, who's huffing and puffing and clutching at his nose—you can't even see the blue of his eyes anymore. his pupils are blown wide, and his grin is unhinged.

"satoru, don't!" you shout when he lunges forward again.

the commotion seems to have drawn a crowd because people are beginning to trail over to watch what's happening. satoru doesn't seem to care at all though as he reaches for naoya again, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him into the ground in a full force tackle.

someone in the crowd winces. "shit dude, he plays basketball not football. that's a meaaan tackle."

you're looking over at the people gathered. "stop fucking watching and someone help!" you shout, scrambling to your feet.

"satoru stop!" you're yelling again, but he's completely gone. you hear the sound of his knuckles striking naoya's face over and over and over.

you look desperately back to the crowd hoping someone will come stop this—and you see someone shoving their way through. then you feel relief flood through you the moment your twin appears looking exasperated, shoko trailing after him. her eyes widen and she rushes to your side, both your purses securely on her shoulders—she must've taken them back from suguru.

suguru steps forward, and places a palm on satoru's back. "satoru." his voice is calm but short. "you need to stop."

satoru's breathing is ragged. "he was going to take advantage of her," he hisses. "he had his fist in her hair and she barely had her feet on the goddamn floor, suguru."

you see something flash in your brother's eyes. "yes, well. as much as i would love to murder him for touching my sister, it seems you've done more than enough damage."

satoru's fist hovers midair, and he heaves, still straddling naoya who's hardly even conscious anymore.

"come on," suguru tells him. "we need to leave before this becomes… a thing."

satoru laughs. "yeah? naoya fucking zenin." he spits his name out like a curse. "mommy and daddy may own a few hospitals, but if he tries to come after me i'll make sure mine bankrupt his entire fucking bloodline."

the crowd ooo's and aaa's. you want to tell them all to shut up and fuck off.

shoko nudges you, gesturing towards satoru. and you know what she's saying without her needing to speak. you shakily walk towards him, and stand next to suguru. "'toru," your voice comes out small, and you reach for his arm and tug.

he glances up at you, and you see the fight drain out of him almost instantly.

"come on, can we go home 'toru? please?"

his breath hitches, and he nods. suguru helps him to his feet, and you reach out to grab his hand, lacing your fingers together, tugging him towards the edge of the house. somewhere in your significantly more sobered up brain, you decide it's probably for the best if you don't go through the house.

suguru looks to the crowd. "someone take this piece of shit to the hospital." and with that, the four of you crowd together and start towards the front of the house.

a shrill voice cuts through the air, stopping you in your tracks.

"satoru!"

you all pause and see manami standing behind you looking pissed.

"why would you do that?! do you know who he is?"

shoko scoffs. "yeah. some asshole who took advantage of our best friend. fuck off macy, satoru can talk to you tomorrow."

manami glares, ignoring shoko's misnaming once again. "he can speak for himself."

satoru pauses, looking over his shoulder. he looks exhausted. "shoko's right. about everything. i'm going home, we can talk tomorrow. let me know when you get home." he doesn't wait for her response, he just simply leans further into you and continues on towards the car.

you look up at him, the moonlight reflecting off his hair. despite the blood on him, he looks almost ethereal. "you didn't need to do that," you murmur.

he glances down at you. "of course i did. i would've killed the bastard if i could've."

"satoru."

"what? he was going to do god knows what to you. i would beat his ass another ten times if i had to. nobody touches you and gets away with it."

your treacherous heart speeds up, and your stomach flutters. "thanks, 'toru."

"always."

when you reach the vehicle he pulls the door open for you, and once you're inside he slides in right beside you. just like earlier.

"this is about you though," he says. "are you okay? i mean if i hadn't shown up…"

you look away. "it was… really scary. and—i feel like an idiot. but i'm just.. glad you found me."

"me too." after you both buckle up he pulls you into his side, guiding your head onto his shoulder.

in the front suguru glances back at you in the rearview mirror. he's been wound tightly ever since he found you guys. thank god suguru was the designated driver because if he'd been drunk too? you're pretty sure this night would've ended very differently.

"so… mcdonald's?" shoko asks, bringing her legs up to her chest in the passenger seat.

"put your legs down, what if we crash?" suguru huffs, glaring at her.

"then don't crash, dumbass."

he rolls his eyes and starts the engine. "everyone want mcdonald's?" he asks, looking at you and satoru again.

you manage a sleepy nod. and satoru's lips twitch into a small smile. "mcdonald's sounds great."

what was better than a big mac and mcflurry after the worst party of your life? probably nothing.

after the halloween incident, things were a bit more mellow. satoru seemed to be a little clingier than usual, despite manami's obvious grievances. anytime you saw her at school she would give you the iciest glare as if you were intentionally keeping satoru's attention for yourself.

it started to become obvious when she got fed up with it about two weeks into november— because satoru would miss lunches or he'd be glued to his phone more often. there were even a few mornings where he showed up at your house and she was already in the passenger seat and he looked apologetic.

that's just the way things are, that's what you keep telling yourself at least. it's completely normal for his priorities to shift.

sometime around the end of november, he makes things official, though from what you heard from suguru… it's more like manami forced him to make things official.

your twin had sighed one night over dinner. "i don't think he likes her. i don't understand why the hell he entertains her and her bullshit."

"she makes him happy, sugu." you say, picking at your food.

"does she? when's the last time you saw him actually smile? or laugh? not the fake ones he puts on for her and her little squad."

you think about it, and he's right. it's like lately he's forced himself into some sort of box. to be smaller… more manageable? less overwhelming? which makes you sad because his boisterousness and his quirks are what drew you to him in the first place.

instead of voicing any of that you shrug. "it's his life sugu. we don't really have a say."

"we damn well should. he needs an intervention."

after that night you began to notice more and more how satoru was starting to pull away. not just from you, but all of you. though to be fair pulling away may not be accurate—it's more like he was being pulled away.

for the first time ever, he missed movie night. and not just any movie night but hallmark movie night. that's his favorite, you do it every year during the first few weeks of december. instead, it was you, shoko and suguru in your christmas pajamas sipping hot chocolate and trying to laugh at the horribly overdone plots.

time felt like it was slow and fast all at once—for the first time ever it felt like you were truly losing him. life without satoru felt so weird. yeah he wasn't truly gone but… you hardly had seen him since he made things official with manami.

he no longer picked you up for school. he didn't sit at your usual lunch table. he didn't bring you cookies from your favorite bakery. he didn't send you stupid texts when he couldn't sleep. he didn't show up for group hangouts. it's like he never existed in the first place.

the event that your art teacher had told you to join months ago was finally coming up on the last weekend of december. you'd texted him an invite but he hadn't even read it. which was fine, you only sent it out of courtesy anyways. it's not like you expected him to actually show up.

so, you focus on getting dolled up in a pretty emerald silk dress that shoko and suguru helped you pick out last weekend. your hair is done up, thanks to shoko, and your makeup looks soft but professional. you forgo the heels tonight, knowing you'll be on your feet for far too long, instead opting for black ballet flats.

"you look beautiful, babes." shoko tells you as she helps clasp a delicate gold chain around your neck. a gift from your late grandmother, a dainty thing. but you'd always viewed it as your good luck charm.

you smile at her. "thanks sho."

suguru who's been lounging on your bed, already dressed in a nice crisp white button up—no tie of course, he refused—and black trousers, smiles fondly. "can't believe my baby sister is having her art showcased and auctioned today."

you roll your eyes. "i'm literally four minutes younger asshole."

"still four minutes."

shoko snickers before pulling her hands away from your neck. "alright, let's go get our artist to the venue. don't want the star to be late."

"i'm literally one of like ten artists, sho. it's fine. and it's not like it's a real event, it's hosted by the community center."

"ah ah! it's still an auction! you'll see how amazing you are when all your pieces sell out."

"mhm, okay." you say, not quite believing her enthusiasm.

the car ride to the event center isn't long, maybe ten minutes. by the time you arrive there's a decent amount of people already gathered and milling about checking out different pieces of art.

shoko nudges you, pointing at your section where a small crowd has gathered taking looks at all your pieces. you'd entered four—they were all so different from one another. but you loved each piece.

the largest by far is the group portrait you'd painted of the four of you huddled together on the beach from last summer. satoru is standing on the outside, head thrown back, sunglasses on his head as he laughs. you're beside him, tucked beneath his arm and you're grinning, eyes shut as you lean into him. shoko has her arm looped through yours and her free hand throwing up a peace sign, a cheek-splitting smile on her face. just to her right is suguru, hair up and he has a small smirk, and instead of a peace sign, he's flipping off the so-called 'camera.'

the sand and the ocean feel so lifelike and real in the portrait, and the sunlight beating down on the four of you. you'd even captured the little droplets of sweat collecting on everyone's skin.

the next painting is more abstract—two hands on opposite diagonal corners, reaching towards each other, fingers almost touching but not quite. like they want to interlock but they just… can't. a small red string winds around the more feminine hand, trailing to the masculine hand. but the string wrapped around the male fingers? leads off to the side of the portrait. indicating they're not soulmates, it's a one-way connection.

your personal favorite is the third one, which is a bird's eye view of the forest just beside your childhood park beneath the twilight sky. it captures the rickety old watch tower, the one that was your and satoru's special place, bathed in moonlight. there's constellations illustrated above, such as virgo, which is often depicted as being related to persephone. towards the furthest corner you can make out some of the planets including pluto, and its moons. you'd chosen this to represent hades—because no constellation directly correlated to him, but the moons of pluto do. styx, charon, and cerberus. the sky is a unique take, one you'd never see in real life, but it's one you see in your mind.

the last one is simple, it's fully abstract. a mix of white, blue, and black. towards the top the blue is vibrant and full, and then it begins to transition darker and darker fading into the obscurity of black, but as the darkness continues it slowly fades into white—the light. it's… what you're hoping will happen to you. moving on from your blue.

people are whispering amongst themselves looking at your art and you can't help but feel a sense of pride. suguru and shoko flank you, grinning as you watch people taking note of your paintings, whispering about purchasing them. someone even says they need to find the artist and commission them. you can't quite believe it.

"wow," you hear a familiar voice, and you turn around shocked. satoru is standing there taking in your art with a soft smile, and manami is on his arm, though she looks more interested in scanning the room than your paintings. "this is amazing," he says, looking over at you. "i… can't believe you made these."

suguru pats your shoulder looking proud. "well, considering the university is offering her a place in their exclusive high-end art program based off these, it's believable."

satoru blinks. "you got in?" he frowns a little. "why didn't you tell me?"

"oh wow, that's amazing for her! it’s a shame you’ve been too busy to know about these things." manami says, but her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "i just wish you'd told me this was an important event to you, satoru. it sounded like this was just a quick stop. i could have rearranged our plans if i'd known." she squeezes his arm. "you know how much i love supporting the people you care about."

he looks down at her, confusion flickering across his face. "i'm never too busy to hear about my best friend's achievements, manami."

then he looks back at you. "can we talk? for a minute? it's been a bit and i feel like i'm just… so out of the loop."

manami's grip tightens on his arm, her voice taking on a slightly strained quality. "of course you can talk, baby. it's just... didn't we have that reservation at the yacht club? the one your dad helped us get?" she glances around at the modest community center. "i know this is sweet and all, but we did promise we'd make an appearance at the regatta afterparty..."

satoru's jaw tightens slightly. "just give me ten minutes. then we can go."

"i'm not trying to rush you," manami says, her voice honey-sweet but her eyes flashing. "i just don't want to lose our table. you know how exclusive that place is."

"okay yeah, just let me talk to my best friend for a second. okay?"

"of course, honey." she unwinds herself from his arm, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "i'll just go touch up my makeup. but we really should leave soon if we want to make the most of tonight." she walks away, her heels clicking purposefully.

shoko watches her retreat with obvious disdain. "yacht club? regatta afterparty? jesus, satoru."

satoru stiffens. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"nothing," shoko says, but her tone says everything. "just seems like you're living a very... different life the last few weeks." she glances towards the tables at the edge of the room, “i’m going to go get some food. nice to see you or whatever.” with that she turns and heads towards the little appetizers and desserts that have been laid out. 

suguru looks between satoru and shoko and sighs. "i'm going to go make sure she doesn't start a scene." he then looks satoru up and down. "it's good to see you satoru." and with that he wanders off after the very irritated brunette.

you stand there awkwardly shifting. and satoru coughs to clear his throat, then scratches his neck. an old nervous tick of his.

"you look beautiful," he says, his eyes flickering to your outfit. "i'm sorry i've been so…" he pauses trying to find the right word. "absent lately."

you shrug half-heartedly. "it's fine. you've got a girlfriend now… so different priorities. you couldn't put us first forever, that's okay."

he frowns. "yeah but… i should know these things." he says, gesturing towards your art. "the fact that you got accepted into the program you've dreamed about for years and i didn't even know? that's not okay."

you sigh and look away. "manami's right, satoru. you're busy, you have... obligations now. this isn’t a big deal."

"not a big deal? this is huge! it's your career."

"it's fine, really." you tell him, trying to placate him, giving him a small smile.

"god no it's not, i just—" his phone buzzes and he pulls it out, glancing at it and frowning. his eyes flicker across the room to manami, who's tapping her foot impatiently by the exit.

"you should probably get going. important yacht clubs and all." you say lightly and you see his face crumple a bit.

"i guess so," his voice is hardly above a whisper. "maybe we can hang out soon?" he asks. "just us? i… i miss you."

you look away, back at your paintings. "we probably shouldn't. i don't think manami likes sharing your time very much."

"you're my best friend, i don't care about—"

"she's your girlfriend." you say firmly, and it hurts but you know it's the right thing. "she comes first."

he opens his mouth to argue, but manami's voice cuts across the room. "satoru, honey! the car's here!"

"have a good night," you tell him, giving him a small but sad smile, and you breeze past him feeling your lungs constrict. that was harder than you thought it would be, fuck.

but you couldn't break down and hide—no tonight is about you and your art. so you take a deep breath, close your eyes, and try to recenter yourself.

"hey!" you hear the familiar voice of your art teacher as she calls your name, a bright smile on her face. "i was looking for you! you won't believe this but… there's a bidding war for your entire collection!"

you look at her in surprise, satoru shifts back to the furthest bit of your mind. "are you serious?"

she nods eagerly. "yes! it's currently at nine hundred for the whole thing! that's pretty impressive for being so young!"

"woah," your mouth falls open. "that's… that's so surreal."

"you deserve it, kiddo." she pats your shoulder affectionately. "i'll keep you updated but for now go look around, eat, relax. you have a bright future ahead of you."

"thanks," you nod at her, and you drift towards the table filled with food, and you see the exit, and note your brother and shoko are outside smoking and shoving hors d'oeuvres down their throats at the same time and you roll your eyes. of course they are.

despite that weird interaction with satoru and manami… you feel oddly… optimistic. like maybe everything will be okay. maybe your blue will fade into the dark… but maybe you'll also come out lighter.

january comes and goes faster than you can blink. despite the conversation at your auction event, things haven't really changed with satoru. your once close-knit group of four has once again become a trio instead. except instead of the original trio—you, satoru, and suguru, now it's shoko instead.

slowly with the distance you've begun to start trying to work through your difficult and complex feelings regarding satoru and everything that's happened. you're still hurt, deeply, because the loss of someone who's been your best friend for thirteen years doesn't just fade away. however it isn't all consuming anymore, at least it isn't when you can avoid satoru and manami.

college admissions have been slowly rolling out. you're over the moon about the fact that you, suguru, and shoko all got into your first choice of university. you aren't sure if satoru did—you're sure he did because he's so damn smart, but who knows maybe he's chosen a different route, maybe he plans to attend wherever manami is going.

you're going to be doing an art program, and you couldn't be more excited. while suguru is still dead set on pursuing culinary despite your parents trying to sway him. and of course your dear sleep deprived shoko is determined to have even less sleep by pursuing pre-med. she wants to become a trauma surgeon one day.

your parents told you and suguru upon getting your acceptance letters—well you'd gotten yours last month, suguru's just arrived—that they were gifting the two of you an all expenses paid apartment to use during university. they'd pay your rent, all your utilities and provide money for groceries. despite neither of you pursuing the medical field, they still plan to pay your tuition as well.

it's mostly out of guilt you and suguru agree. because they've traumatized you both with their shitty coping skills and horrible marriage, and on top of that they've never really been… parents. never around, always clinical when it came to the two of you, never affectionate or parental. they treat you like patients rather than kids.

but whatever, a free apartment is a free apartment right?

you were practically chomping at the bit to graduate and leave your hometown (and satoru) behind. unfortunately for you it's only the beginning of the year and graduation isn't until the end of may. which means you have another few months to get through.

it shouldn't be that hard.

march 18th.

the date is burned into your mind.

you'd been heading towards the empty classroom you often used to study with shoko or paint when you wanted to be alone. it was after school, which meant the area was typically vacant of people. but apparently not today.

you're walking towards the stairwell to head upstairs, when you hear voices. they're not quiet either, and they're definitely not happy.

"satoru," you hear manami's voice, strained and frustrated. "i can't keep doing this anymore. i thought we talked about this whole... fixation."

you furrow your eyebrows. fixation? with what, digimon?

"it's not a fixation manami—i just want to talk to her! she's been my best friend my entire life, and i've barely talked to her the lately." he shoots back, and you hear the frustration in his tone. your stomach drops—they were talking about you.

"satoru, i've been patient. i really have. but the way you talk about her, the way you light up when someone even mentions her name... that's not normal friendship behavior."

"that's just how we are."

"is it? because most people don't stalk their best friend's social media when they think their girlfriend isn't looking. most people don't write and delete texts to their 'friend' twenty times before giving up."

there's a pause, and you can practically hear satoru's discomfort.

"and the halloween thing?" manami continues, her voice getting sharper. "you almost killed that guy. you looked unhinged, satoru. all over some girl who isn't even—"

"don't." his voice is dangerous now. "he was going to assault her. what else was i supposed to do?"

"maybe trust that she could handle it? maybe remember that you have a girlfriend who was watching you lose your mind over another woman?"

he scoffs. "that's completely different."

"is it?" manami's voice breaks slightly, and for a moment she sounds genuinely hurt. "satoru, i've tried so hard to be understanding. i've smiled and played nice when you bring her up constantly. i've pretended it doesn't bother me when you cancel our plans if she needs something. but i can't do this anymore."

"manami—"

"no, let me finish." her voice hardens again. "i've been the perfect girlfriend. i listen to your space facts, i laugh at your jokes, i go to your games, i fit into your world. but you're in love with her, and we both know it."

"i—" he groans, and you don't need to see him to know he's probably tugging at his white strands, making a mess of them. "she's my best friend and that isn't going to change."

"then neither will this." manami's voice turns cold. "i'm done competing with a ghost, satoru. it's me or her. you can't have both anymore."

you inhale sharply, and that's all you can handle before you turn and walk off. there's no way you can stick around and hear what he has to say. it'll probably break your heart all over again, after you've worked so hard to stitch it back together again. manami clearly isn’t okay with your friendship, having some ridiculous notion that satoru is in love with you. why she’d ever think that is beyond you. you’d hardly even seen him lately, except for when you would reach out if things at home boiled over or for your and sugurus birthday last month.

tears sting your eyes and you rapidly scrub at them with your sleeve. you sniffle, trying to stop. "fuck," you curse, hand tightening around your tote bag handle on your shoulder.

you aren't exactly sure what the fuck to do with yourself. but, you know one thing for sure, you have to end this. it's obviously not good for you or satoru. because somehow without even trying you're ruining his relationship with manami. and you can't bring yourself to be the person ruining that for him.

the moment you make it outside of the building your feet begin to carry you towards the old park without you even realizing. the sun is beginning to set, casting an array of reds and oranges you normally would've admired if the circumstances were different. you inhale deeply, and begin the short trek to the watch tower buried in the woods, biting your lip to stop its wobbling.

by the time you climb the steps and reach the top your hands are shaking uncontrollably. you toss your bag down at your feet and collapse onto the rickety old bench and dig out your phone. your vision is blurry as you select the contact you haven't used in weeks, maybe months.

to: satoru  

i need to talk to you.

his response is instant.

from: satoru

everything okay? i could stop by after practice tomorrow?

to: satoru

no. now.

from: satoru

okay. where?

to: satoru

our spot.

you shut your phone off and shove it into your bag and lean back, shutting your eyes and letting yourself breathe. depending on where he's at, you've got probably twenty minutes before he arrives. that's not a lot of time but it's enough for you to mentally prepare yourself to sever one of the most important relationships in your entire life.

fuck.

time seems to blend together, and you're zoning out, static in your ears, until you hear the sound of footsteps climbing the wooden stairs leading to your location. your stomach flips and churns, and you have to try to remind yourself you're safe so you don't puke all over your shoes.

he opens the door, and takes in your appearance. he says your name softly, full of concern, his brows knitting together. "what's going on—did something happen?"

you look at him, and lick your lips, and steel yourself. "i uh, we just… we need to talk about some stuff."

"okay… like what?"

"i don't think we should be in each other's lives anymore." the words tumble from your lips so fast, and he looks like you've hit him.

"what?" he asks incredulously. "where is this coming from?"

you gnaw on your lip. "i didn't mean to overhear." you tell him. "i was heading to my usual classroom to paint and i uh, i overheard you and manami."

recognition flickers in his eyes. "that wasn't—"

you shake your head. "no she's right, satoru." you shift your gaze to your feet. "we shouldn't be friends. nothing good seems to come of it anymore—and let's face it, you don't really care about me or suguru and shoko anymore anyways."

"what? of course i do!"

you lift your gaze and give him a sad smile. "when's the last time we hung out? you haven't been to a single movie night since december. i don't even know when the last time we spent time together is. the only time you’ve made an effort is when my parents were acting up again."

"we can change that, i can be better, i can make time." he says almost desperately, but you refuse to budge.

"you have a girlfriend, satoru. and she doesn't want me in your life, i have to respect that."

"that's bullshit and you know it! i don't give a fuck if she doesn't want you in my life, you've been my best friend for thirteen years!"

you sigh, reaching for your bag, hefting it up to your shoulder and getting to your feet. satoru is a few feet from you, his eyes wide and wild. "it's over, satoru. she clearly has an issue with me specifically so… i'm just taking myself out of the equation."

"that's not fair."

you shrug. "maybe not. but it's also not fair that my best friend has practically forgotten my existence for three months."

"i—"

"look, i'm not going to make suguru and shoko do the same thing. manami didn't seem to mention them… so do what you will with them. but after this? i'm going to block you. that way neither of us can give in to temptation."

"what? no, you can't just do that. you can't just… just leave."

you feel tears brimming your lashes once more. "i can. i have to. this is killing me. it's for the best for both of us, okay?" you shake your head and press the heel of your palm to your brow bone. "thank you for everything, but this is goodbye." you try to dart around him, for the door.

but he's quicker and he snatches your wrist. "please." his breathing is uneven. "i— this isn't right. it isn't supposed to be like this."

"yeah it is," your voice is soft. "she's perfect for you. pretty, sweet, funny, captain of the cheer team. she listens to you talk and she's just… the sort of girl i always pictured you ending up with."

"stop," he shakes his head and you feel a pang when you notice the tears falling down his ivory cheeks. "stop. don't leave me."

"you'll be fine, 'toru." you gently take your other hand and remove his fingers from your wrist. "i wish you guys nothing but the best." and with that, you head out the door, and you hear a thud. without looking back you know he's collapsed to his knees. but you have to force one foot in front of the other or you'll turn around and cave.

this is goodbye. this is the end.

for you, satoru gojo is the sun.

and just like icarus… you flew too close.

note: sooooo!!! yeah. I hope you enjoyed the first part!!! I know it was long and had barely any happiness I AM SORRY!!! part two will have much more happiness !!! but for your trouble.... here is a sneak peak!

you roll your eyes, thumbing out a reply when you suddenly slam into a brick wall. your phone clatters to the ground, your purse flies across the sidewalk, and you wince as you fall backwards, landing right on your ass. it takes you a moment—but then you feel a distinctly wet and sticky sensation covering the entirety of your torso.

slowly your eyes drift down and your jaw goes slack. vibrant green slush is dripping off your white. vintage. t-shirt.

"shit," curses a deep voice.

your eyes narrow as you glance up at the brick wall you'd run into. he's tall, honestly taller than anyone you'd seen before, but maybe it's because you're ass-down on the sidewalk. the black t-shirt he's wearing stretches tight across his broad chest, doing nothing to hide the obvious muscle he has underneath, and his massive corded arms stick out, covered in a sea of intricate black ink. though the thing that sticks out the most? his pink hair.

he crouches down to your level, scooping up your purse and hastily shoving your spilled items back inside—he picks up your phone quickly, looking it over for cracks. you see him literally sag with relief when he realizes it's in perfect condition somehow. he gently tucks that into your purse as well.

there's a now empty slushee cup in his other hand. the sight of it fills you with pure rage.

"you make a habit of running girls over and drenching them in your nasty neon drinks?" you ask, yanking your purse back into your own hands and slinging it over your shoulder.

he raises his eyebrows. "no, not usually. only the ones who aren't paying attention to their surroundings."

you scoff. "what about you? you ran into me!"

"nah, pretty sure it was the other way around, sweetheart."

your lip curls into a snarl. "well, either way, you ruined my shirt. this wasn't cheap, so thanks for that."

he rolls his eyes and stands back up, then offers you his hand. it's huge and covered in a multitude of rings, there's even some ink curling around the top of his hand and down his fingers. "gonna let me help you up, or you just gonna sit down there and whine?"

despite his attitude you reach up and clasp your fingers around his and let him pull you to your feet. once you're upright, you're able to fully take in his height and sure enough—he's definitely way taller than anyone you'd met before. and okay wow, despite the whole ruining your shirt and making you fall on your ass thing, he's got to be the most attractive man you've seen in well… ever?

"hello? earth to brat?"

you blink and flush bright pink, realizing you'd just been caught blatantly staring at him. "uh, sorry." you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to quell the embarrassment. "what'd you say?"

he rolls his eyes again. "i said there's a laundromat a few blocks away. i'll take you there and get the stain out before it sets."

note: so!!! I hope you guys enjoy this peace offering. I am working on the next part, it might take a bit but I will do my best to get it out next week :-) taglist is open, so feel free to comment to be added!!

[katsukijo]

Tease pt.2

Nerd!Armin x Reader

tags: teasing, tongue piercing (once again), power play, slight stalker behavior, obsessive armin, choking, threatening language, cock warming, light scratching, edging, praise kink, spanking, fellatio, mouth kink, dry humping, biting, sensory deprivation, overstimulation, auralism, smut

fanart credits to: @warmiipalomaa

→ pt.1

It has been a few days since you and Armin had sex in the club washroom. Everytime you think about it, your face heats up, making you want to dig a hole and bury yourself in it. Your whole weekend went by with you dreading meeting him and having to sit through the tutor lessons. Armin on the other hand felt the need for more. More of you in ways that he wouldn’t even dare to say out loud.

While you were drowning in your thoughts, your phone goes off with a ding. You lazily rollover to see who texted. Speak of the devil, it’s Armin.

Armin: “Next tutoring lesson will be on Monday, 7pm after the class that we have together. We will have it in my dorm room so you can focus more.”

As you read the text, you could’ve sworn your eyes were lying to you. What does he mean to have it in his dorm room so you can focus more? Little did you know that it would do the exact opposite.

You: “What do you mean focus more? Aren’t I focusing enough?”

Armin: “Yeah, you’re not actually and it’s kind of getting on my nerves.”

Huffing reading the last text he sent, you throw away your phone onto a pillow on the floor. He sounded so cold and stern. You knew he was all that, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of pain thinking he’d soften up on you now that you both shared a moment. Maybe it wasn’t new to him, but to you? Who knows. He didn’t even bother asking how you were ever since that night when you ran out of the club washroom after fixing yourself up. 

Monday came rolling in faster than you expected. You loathed having to go into class that day because you couldn’t stand the idea of facing him. You arrived to class a bit late because of a traffic jam. Walking in, having all the eyes on you felt embarrassing because you were usually never late. However, all looked at you but him. You walked to the back row and sat with your head down playing with the hem of your skirt.

Armin saw you walk in, he took a glance at you when you weren’t looking and saw how your thigh high socks hugged your legs while the skirt was flowing. He couldn’t help but bite his lips with desire while covering his face with his hair. He shook his thoughts away and forced himself to pay attention for the rest of the class. The moment it ended, he almost ran to where you sat. He reached to your desk and tapped on your shoulder making you look up. “Let’s go.” He said looking down at you through his glasses. The same glasses that fogged up that night, you thought. Nodding you stood up and grabbed your bag to follow him.

It didn’t take more than 5 minutes to reach his dorm room. Taking your shoes off, you entered after him. His room was clean, too clean almost but seeing all the posters on the well, you felt at ease. He walked to his desk, setting his bag down. He sat on the chair in front of it and signaled you to come and sit on the chair beside the desk. You decided that no matter what happened, you were going to act the same. So you went and sat with no hesitation. “So I’ll teach you a bit and finish covering half the content. Then I’ll give you a quiz to do to see how much you have improved. Is that okay?” He spoke while looking at the papers in his hands. “Fine by me.” You spoke with uninterest. Armin began the tutoring and you fought with your thoughts wanting to actually focus on what he was saying.

Yet the way his knee was touching yours kept distracting you. Whenever you’d move your hand to write a note, it’d touch his. The light physical contact kept trying to push you over the edge. Armin on the other hand knew exactly what he was doing. He deliberately sat close to you and he was monitoring the way your body stiffens with breath hitching whenever you both touched.

“Okay, that’s all. Here’s the quiz, you can start it now.” He said after closing the book he had in front of you both. You took the quiz and began examining. When you were doing so, you felt Armins heavy gaze on you. It made you uncomfortable because you couldn’t focus on what needed to be done. In fact, you felt your whole body become warmer, making you remove your hoodie revealing the tank top you wore underneath. Armin closely watched the way you did it. He stared at your chest and neck so heavily, admiring the fading marks he left on your body. It has been days so it wasn’t that visible and that made him want to leave more. As if to mark you as his.

The thing you didn’t know about him was that he always had an eye on you. You were so outgoing and carefree it intrigued him, but most of all, he loved the way you carried yourself. He wanted to know more about you, ruin you and make you his. That's why when he overheard you say how you failed an assignment, he asked the professor whether any students needed tutoring. His luck being great, your name was brought up. Which led to him being assigned as your tutor. He wonders how you would react if you knew that it wasn’t just a coincidence that he got you as a tutee, but rather it was a deliberate plan with a not so pure intent.

A few minutes goes by as Armin was lost in his thoughts. He snaps out of it when you stand up slamming your pen down. “I can’t do this, I’m leaving.” You say not wanting to explain what was on your mind and walk away getting your things. Armin shot up and walked behind you to slam the door close right when you opened it. His arms reached past your face from behind and slammed the door close taking you by surprise. You turned around with a scowl on your face and look at him. His expression was unreadable as he brought his face closer and closer until you could feel his breath on your lips. Was he going to kiss you? You wondered as your breath began getting heavy. He smiled and brought his head away. “Nope, you’re not going anywhere. In fact, I’ll help you. I’m in charge of getting your grades up after all.” You looked at him dumbfounded. Was he being serious right now? You have never had such a pushy tutor before, but deep down you actually didn’t want to leave. You just got up and walked away because you were afraid that if his gaze was on you for any longer, you might say something that makes you seem pathetic.

He held your wrist and dragged you to his desk once again. He took your bag and hoodie just to drop it off on the chair you were sitting before. He sat on his chair and patted on his lap. You raised an eyebrow wondering whether he was indicating what you thought. “Your eyes wander a lot and I need your full attention today.” He said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment when you realised what he meant. All this time you thought he didn’t notice when you looked at him, but he very much did. Reluctantly you sat on his lap making sure to not sit directly on his crotch. You didn’t mind this, it’s just that you weren’t used to any of this. He held your wrists and moved it onto the sides of the paper so he could read it to explain to you. His hot breath fanned on the back of your neck making you squirm on his lap. It kept going until you suddenly felt yourself sit directly on his crotch. You both froze and you turned around to look down at him.

His face was a rosy pink and you saw little sweat beads forming on the sides of his face. He stopped and looked up at you making eye contact. It felt as if the world stopped when you both leaned in for a kiss. His hands shot up to grip the back of your neck and around your waist while yours went to hold his face to deepen the kiss. The familiar feeling from that night came crashing when you felt his pierced tongue explore your mouth. You both broke off the kiss to catch your breath, but you lost it again as his hand reached up your skirt to feel your clothed heat. You felt yourself buck towards his hand but he quickly took it away making you whine.

“Take your panties off.” He said moving away from the desk giving you space to stand up and do so. You shyly did so and dropped the panties to the floor. He carefully watched you, eyes never leaving your hips. You felt a wave of adrenaline in the heat of the moment. It led you to lift up the front of your skirt just to show him your core dripping wet. He bit his lips, so desperate to taste you but controlled himself to do exactly what he planned. He reached to your hand and grabbed it to gently guide you in front of him. He then unbuckled his jeans and pulled his boxer down enough for his cock to spring out. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk as he lifted up your skirt and played with your folds just to bring the fingers up to his lips to taste your slick. You quietly whimpered wanting more. His one hand gripped your hip pushing you down towards his lap while the other gave a few pumps to his cock before teasing your entrance with his tip.

“Is this okay?” He whispered just enough so you could hear. You hurriedly nodded wanting it but a sharp slap on your butt made your hand slip as a gasp went past your lips. “Use your words, beautiful.” You felt yourself swoon over the compliment and gathered your thoughts before squeaking out a yes. He finally lined his cock with your entrance and held you by your hips to push you down on his full length. Your body stiffened up as you felt yourself stretch on him. Your nails dug deep into the desk and left scratches while you bit your lips trying to suppress your moans, but hearing Armin moan louder than you as your heat engulfed him made you even wetter than before.

You wanted him to move you on his length, but his hands dug deep into your hips holding you in place. “Fuck Armin, can you move already?” You asked impatiently. You heard him chuckle and say “Actually, no. You will continue to do the quiz while I’m in you. Then you won’t be able to run away like before.” You were shocked at his response hoping he was kidding but no, he wasn’t. He slipped a pen into your hand and nudged it towards the paper. “Start.” He lowly said into your ear trailing kisses down your shoulders and back. Your hands tightly gripped the pen making your fingertips hurt. You then had the idea to move on him if he wasn’t going to do anything. The moment his grip loosened from your hips, you grinded on him making him let out a choked moan. He cursed and hugged your hips with one arm while the other wrapped around your throat. “Don’t you dare try to make yourself cum. One more move and you’re kicked out.” He warned you in his stern voice making you even more excited. One thing about him is that he knew how to edge you too well.

You felt the lack of oxygen as he kept holding your throat tightly. He let go just before you began seeing stars due to the lack of oxygen. Your eyes welled up with tears as you caught your breath. His other arm was feeling your legs up and down, specifically between your thighs. He reached to the hem of your thigh high sock and slipped a hand in it. He lightly scratched your thighs up and down, just enough to make you breathless. You felt the urge to close your legs and rub them together to stimulate your core, but the moment you began moving them close together, his hands strongly gripped and spread them apart. He also felt the need to just fuck you at the moment, but he controlled himself because he knew the reward for waiting patiently would be too good.

Your hand moved with a lot of strength hoping it's the right answers being written. After what felt like hours of him feeling your thighs and playing with your boobs under your top making you mewl, you finished writing the answers. He picked up the paper when you stopped writing to examine it. The moment his touches stopped, you wanted more. So you picked up his other hand and slipped it under your bra making him play with your nipples. Your moans increased and saliva dripped onto the desk from your lips.

After a few minutes, he finished reading and surprisedly chirped. “Wow, it’s all correct. I’m amazed.” You felt a bit of relief upon hearing this but you wanted nothing more than to climax at that moment. He began peppering kisses and nipping on your shoulders. “Smart girls like you would get the best rewards.” The way he praised you made you proud and happy, but the way he held your hips before he began bucking up towards your heat, made you even happier. A loud moan broke across the room leading to a string of it. He reached to his shirt and pulled it over his head doing the same to your tank top leaving you in your bra. He then pushed the study material to the side and stood up pinning you to the desk on your stomach. Your face pressed to the cold desk while he brought both your wrists together and pinned them to your back before setting a fast pace. There was a pool of saliva forming near your mouth as the moans spilled from your lips.

Armin brought one of his hands to your clit while fucking deep into you. You wanted to ground yourself and hold onto something or somewhere because of the overstimulation, but his hand held your wrists too firmly. You began trying to free it. Fortunately, he realised and let go of them, only to hold the back of your throat as he worked to make you reach your climax. Your moans got louder while your fingernails dug into the desk again. A short while later, you clenched around him so hard that he had to stop fucking while you gushed around his cock. He rubbed circles on your clit helping you ride your high. Your body went limp once he stopped moving. He pulled out of you to let you catch your breath. You whimpered feeling the emptiness in you while you slowly pushed yourself up from the desk to turn around and lean on it to face him. He admired your fucked out face and dreamy eyes before he leaned into kiss you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer so that you both were chest to chest feeling each others heartbeats.

He slowly led you to his bed sitting down with you on top of his bulge. He moaned a little into the kiss when your core touched his cock that was well overdue for a climax. You stopped kissing and got off of him getting on your knees. He looked at you with anticipation you reached to his cock giving it a few pumps before doing kitten licks on his tip. He leaned backwards on the bed with his upper body propped up on his arms making eye contact with your pretty eyes. You felt nervous holding eye contact as you slowly took his full length and bobbed your head up and down making him throw his head back and arch his back gripping the sheets. Your tongue licked the backwards of his cock which was one of his sensitive areas. His groans became louder as his breath fastened. He then sat up to hold you by your hair making you stay in place before fucking into your throat. Your hands gripped his thighs, fingers digging deep when he he began fucking so deep into your throat that his tip kissed the back of it. Your vision became blurry as he kept doing so. He then reached down towards your butt and gave it a squeeze before spanking making you moan around him. He finally let go of your hair allowing you to move your head away with a gasp trying to catch your breath. It took everything in him to not cum on your face before he leaned down to push your hair away from your face to pepper it with kisses.

He pulled back to look at your face with glassy eyes and saliva mixed with precum glistening around your mouth. He wiped it away with one of his thumbs before slowly inching the thumb towards your lips to make you suck it. You did so wanting more of him. You felt cock drunk to the point of no coming back. While he had his thumb in your mouth, he slowly moved one of his legs between yours making you straddle it. Your heat sat directly on his foot making you sensitive. He held your jaw as your tongue kept swirling around his finger, then he moved his foot just to give pressure to your core. You accidentally bit down on his thumb hard enough to make him bleed. You felt the strong taste of iron on your tongue as you watched him bite his lips with a mix of pain and pleasure on his face. He took out his tongue and gave it a quick lick before holding you by the sides of your face to lean in for a deep kiss before making you slowly grind on his foot. You moaned into the kiss wanting to catch your release, but you felt like such a slut doing so on his leg. Nevertheless, he slyly coaxed you into doing so, making you hump on his foot. Your clit roughly brushed against his jeans pushing you over the edge.

You moaned loudly and hugged his leg as you came on it after a while. Your breath was ragged and Armin felt even more turned on seeing you make yourself cum on him. He reached down and grabbed you by your hands before pulling you up and further on the bed. You felt so sensitive when he made you sit on his bulge holding your hands. He rubbed little circles on the back of your palm and left hickeys on your chest as he let you catch your breath after your high. Every now and then, he would lick your skin making you lightly flinch when his cold piercing dragged across your skin. He let go of your hands and pulled away before he reached for a sleeping mask on his night stand. You looked at him with confusion on what he wanted to do with it and he asked “May I?” Holding it over your head to put it on. Curiously, you nodded letting him put it on your eyes.

It was pitch black with no doubt and then only you realised, this is going to heighten your other senses making you even more sensitive. Your hands roamed on his body before finding his shoulders and holding it. His hands felt your curves up and down before lifting you by your hips. When he did so, you were sitting up on your knees, legs bent on his sides. He then lined his cock with your entrance once again and slowly pushed you down on it. You felt so sore at this point but loved his length in you. Your insides hugged him perfectly and he moaned loudly when your heat engulfed him fully. He stayed in you for a few minutes just to embrace the feeling of it.

Then he suddenly bucked his hips upwards thrusting into you while holding your hips. Your body went limp onto his chest while your arms tiredly snaked around his neck hugging him closer. He softly gripped your arms to unwrap it from his neck to guide them onto the headboard of the bed. The way your body hovered over him when you didn’t know where his face was made you nervous, until you felt his teeth lightly bite your nipple. Your hands tightly gripped the headboard as you whimpered. He then held you by your butt before he set a brutal pace fucking into you trying to at last reach his climax. The way he licked and nibbled on your nipples combined with the way he was fucking you was making dizzy. You were so sure your moans were loud enough for the nearby rooms to hear but you couldn’t care less.

After a moment of going on like that, Armin's hips began to stutter as his mouth let go of your nipples. He reached up towards your hands on the headboard and brought them down to his chest making you lay on him as his warm tongue licked stripes up and down your ear while fucking into you. Your ears were particularly sensitive, so the way his piercing felt wasn’t helping one bit. You then sat up on him and began bouncing on his cock, making him moan loudly. You felt your body shiver when you heard him. His hands reached up to your hips and held it not too hard admiring the way your skirt danced around your thighs as you bounced. The feeling was giving you a sensory overload as his cock now abused your g-spot due to the angle. “Fuck, you’re so good to me.” He said in a voice dripping with desire and desperation. Your mouth hung open leaving saliva drops on him.

He then reached up to the sleeping mask on your eyes and took it away. He looked into your eyes before sharing a teeth clashing and tongues fighting rough kiss with you. You felt yourself melt into the kiss right before you both came together. You felt fuck his cum deep into you as you clenched him until he came dry. You both moaned and groaned as you both calmed down from the high. You rolled over next to him, legs on his thighs and an arm on his chest as his arm was under your neck. You both laid there, catching your breath as the room was filled only with the sound of breathing.

Armin broke the silence afterwards with some hesitation, “So, want to go on a date?” He asked with a touch of uncertainty, worried you might reject him. However to his surprise, you let out a soft yes nodding on his arm. He looked over and smiled at you before giving a kiss on your forehead. You didn’t know where and how this would go, but Armin knew exactly what he wanted and it was you to himself.

hope you guys enjoyed the pt.2 as well.♡

word count: roughly 3900 words

a/n: thank you all for the love on pt.1, it took me so long to write a pt.2 cause i was nervous lmao 😭. unfortunately, this is just it for ‘Tease’. hopefully i ended it on a satisfying note!

also, i decided to tag everyone who wanted a pt.2 + those who asked to be tagged in pt.2.

taglist: @idontdomath @lilithskywalker @snail127 @inutted0 @strawbinoamii @nejispersonalcumslut @alrihhty @xencc @kodsuken @etphonehome0623 @hunnie-bunnieee @vvanillaflowerr

[katsukijo]

Tease pt.1

Nerd!Armin x Reader

tags: teasing, drinking, tongue piercing (obviously), semi-public sex, oral fixation, cunnilingus, edging, breath play, overstimulation, gagging, mirror play, biting, mild pain play, smut

inspired by fanart from: @musapylsa

→ pt.2

You were called by your lecturer to wait along with Armin. “Yes, professor?” you said while impatiently waiting to leave class. “Your last assignment was lacking. So, I’m assigning Armin here to tutor you for a few weeks” he said while looking through some papers. You looked over at Armin who was looking at the lecturer absent-mindedly. “Is that okay with you Armin?” the lecturer asked looking up from the papers. “Yes, all good with me.” he piqued while nodding. You didn't have it in you to ask whether that was really necessary. “Alright, thank you professor. Have a good day” you said wanting to hurriedly leave. You walked out of the class not waiting to hear a response because you didn't have any interest in doing the tutoring lessons.

However, Armin on the other hand took any tutoring requests seriously. “Hey, wait up.” he lightly jogged towards you to catch up with you. “Listen Armin, I know you’re a teacher's pet or whatever but I don’t need tutoring lessons so I have to go now.” You said annoyedly. “Yeah well it’s not convenient for me either but I have to do it or else he will question my capability if he sees that your grades are still bad.” He said bluntly. You stared at him blankly, mouth ajar in shock because you didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. You always considered him to be a pushover because of how he looked. “Okay fine, let’s go to the library now if so. I have somewhere to be tonight.” He nodded and began following you to the library.

You sat across him at the table, legs crossed and bouncing under the table. You were bored out of your mind and your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing but he already gave you an annoyed look because of it so you took it off the table and kept it in your bag. Instead of looking at the words written on his book, you kept glancing towards his hand moving on it. He has really beautiful hands, you wondered and your mind wandered to what he can do with it. He then slammed his hand on the book to get your attention which pulled you out of your trance making you look up at him. “Are you even paying attention?” He said with a hint of sternness which you wouldn’t have caught if he didn’t have your full attention. “Um, yeah of course. Why would you think I’m not paying attention?” You said while giving a half hearted chuckle. He just gave you a light glare and continued on with the tutoring. You sat there intrigued by this side of him which you didn’t know existed. Heck, you even felt a bit attracted and wanted to know him more because of it. While teaching, he stretched his leg towards you brushing past your ankle. He looked up from the book to see you squirm a bit with a soft blush spread across your cheeks. He knew you were staring at his hands and he wanted to mess with you a bit more but thought it would be too mean to do so on the first day itself 

After an hour, Armin decided to wrap up because he didn’t want to overwhelm you with the content by teaching everything on the same day. “I’ll be leaving now. See you tomorrow. Same time, same place.” He said while packing up. You didn’t even realize an hour went by. “Oh, uh sure yeah. See you tomorrow.” When he walked away you kept staring at his back. Though he wasn’t the tallest, you also didn’t realize that he had kind of a lean build under the baggy t-shirts that he wear.

-

Next day you meet him at the same time, same place wearing quite a raunchy outfit you’d say. After all, you were going clubbing after this with some of your girlfriends. He glanced you up and down before pulling out and patting on the chair next to him today. You walked over and sat on it feeling a bit proud that you made a nerd like him check you out since you have never seen him talk to any girls before. You pulled the chair closer towards him and the table to settle in. “Shall we begin?” You asked him innocently with a smile on your lips. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses further on his nose bridge and nodded.

Almost half an hour into the tutoring, you started to feel bored from just looking at how his hands moved on the book with the pencil and how his adam's apple moved up and down as he kept teaching you the content. On the other hand, Armin also kept stealing glances at your chest that were slightly spilling out from your V neck top. He snapped out from both tutoring and taking looks when he felt your warm thigh press against his from the side. You moved closer towards him, both your arms slightly brushing against each other. Armin didn’t like this teasing as much as you thought he would. Solely for the reason that it wouldn’t be right to lean over to kiss and ruin you for trying to push him over the edge. He gripped the pencil even more, knuckles turning white. He continued teaching while she stared at the book. He moved towards your neck, ever so slightly just to make you feel his hot breath on your neck as he spoke. You felt yourself squirming and becoming breathless with unholy ideas running through your mind. You couldn’t take it anymore and moved your chair a bit away from him. You couldn’t risk ruining your black lace panties before the night even began.

Time passed slower than yesterday and he wrapped up. “Any plans for tonight?” You asked him curiously. “No, you?” He answered a bit surprised that you wondered about his personal life. “Yeah, I’m going to a club with some friends” You answered as you watched him pack up. “Enjoy if so. I’ll text you next week about tutoring. Goodnight.” He answered and walked away not waiting for your reply since you both exchanged numbers yesterday at the beginning of the tutoring session. You watched him walk away but was snapped out of it when you felt your phone buzz. When you moved towards the table to look at your phone screen, Armin stopped walking and turned his head a bit to take one more glance at your bare legs as you wore a mini jean skirt only. He left with a head full of dirty thoughts.

As he walked towards his dorm room, Eren stopped him just to drag him to a club. Armin has said no enough times but lost a bet the last time they hung out so he had no choice but to go with Eren after dropping his bag off in his room. 

-

You entered the club lit in a purple hue of lights with white lights brightly flashing in different spots. You head to the bar and wait while your most confident friend chatted up some guy named Jean and got him to buy you all some drinks. While you were enjoying the drinks and dancing around, at the corner of your eye you spotted a certain blonde in the same green shirt you saw him in earlier. You thought to yourself that you might or might not be mistaken so you decide to follow the blonde you saw. He stood near a round high table with a goth girl and a frat boy clinking drinks. You watched as he downed the shot with ease and felt the burn of it in his throat reflecting on his face. He then turned around and you were right, it was Armin.

You felt quite shocked and a bit betrayed if you were being honest. Because the good boy image of him that you had in your head wasn’t somewhat true, but it also made you want to approach him. Yet for some reason, now that you find him attractive you felt awfully nervous. You turned around towards where your friends were and began walking away, until you felt a hand grab your wrist. You quickly turned around just to see Armin holding your wrist with his cheeks flushed pink.

He led you to the side a bit away from the crowd and leaned towards your ear to say “Can I kiss you?”. He caught you off guard and before you could register what he said, you felt your head nod. He leaned towards your face and began slowly pecking while holding your waist. Your hands roamed on his body and gripped his shirt to pull him closer. He felt the urge to deepen the kiss so he grabbed you by the back of your throat and tilted his head to the side so that his glasses won’t dig into your cheeks too much. You took a deep breath and began kissing him back deeply while your hand planted onto his hair pushing him closer. You felt his tongue swipe on your lips indicating you to open your mouth, and when you did his tongue began roaming your mouth like it was inspecting the inside.

Suddenly, you felt a warm metal in your mouth and you pulled away wondering what it was. Armin felt your body stiffen up as you pulled away and he knew exactly what it was. He knew that you felt his tongue piercing which was a surprise to you. Before he went in for another, he took one of your hands 2 fingers to make you swipe on his tongue to make you feel his piercing after he stuck his tongue out to show it. Your eyes widened because you didn't expect him to have such a provocative piercing. You moved your hand to the side of his face to grab it towards you to go for another kiss. This time you felt confident and he felt impatient to feel your lips again.

Both of you kissed for what felt like hours before you started dragging him to an out of order washroom. It hasn’t been in use for months because of a shattered mirror so it was convenient.

You entered with him and locked the door before heading towards the countertops. You started leaving kisses and hickeys on his neck while your hand roamed on his body under the shirt inching towards his growing bulge. He let out soft whimpers and moans while breathing heavily and gripping the edge of the countertops. You palmed his bulge over his jeans just to tease him, making him buck his hips up towards your palm. You let out a quiet giggle seeing his reaction and he knew you’d be just teasing him for way too long if he let you.

So he moved his hand towards the hem of your skirt and lifted it up revealing your lacy panties. The thought of you wearing it earlier to the tutoring lesson when you both teased each other made him feral. He moved his fingers to your heat over the panties making you bite your lips and breathe towards his neck. He felt himself lean towards your hot breath as he rubbed slow circles on your clit. You wanted to release so bad at this point you couldn’t be bothered to palm his bulge. Instead your hand reached towards his wrist to keep it still as you humped his hand.

To your dismay, he moved his hand away and made you lean on the countertop instead. He reached to your top to pull it down to your waist leaving your matching bra on. He grabbed one of your boobs while he left kisses and nibbles on the other leaving your nipple alone just to edge you. He moved one of his legs in between yours making you straddle it leaving you on your tip toes. Your heat was now on his thigh making you move your hips involuntarily. He kept pushing his leg towards you just to apply pressure. You felt your eyes roll back as you rode his thigh trying to catch your release, but as soon as you got close he moved his leg away making you whine.

He unclipped your bra from the back and circled your nipple with his tongue. The feel of his tongue piercing cold on your nipples made it even harder than before. After doing so for a bit, he began squatting down, leaving soft nibbles and feeling all your curves with the same hands that you were dreaming about since yesterday. His face finally reached your heat and he looked up at you while hiking your skirt up. He then gripped your panties from the sides to pull them down and off your legs just to stuff it in his pocket. You felt a bit shy now that you were bare and more naked than him. However, all that embarrassed thoughts went out the window when he began licking your clit with his tongue and caressing your folds with his fingers. You let out a moan feeling the touch you have been edged for too long. “So wet. Just for me.” He slightly smirked against your folds as he whispered just enough for you to hear. You felt your cheeks heat up more than you thought were possible when you heard. Not a minute later, he began eating you out as if it’s the first meal he’s having today. Your hand gripped his hair pulling his face towards your heat just to ride it. The way his cold tongue piercing kept hitting different areas of your heat made you lose your mind. Not too long after that, you felt yourself reach your first climax which washed over you making you feel so much pent up relief, but as you were catching your breath, Armin had other thoughts than to let you rest.

He felt your folds even wetter than before and plunged a finger deep in you making you pull his hair a bit harder than you wanted to. The thing about him though is that he loves and can handle pain very well. One reason why he has the piercing that he has. He added 1 more finger and began fucking you at a fast pace making you overstimulated. He stood up while still having his fingers in you and began kissing you while resting his other hand on your throat with a light pressure at the right spots. You felt yourself having a hard time to breathe because of it along with the pleasure he was giving you. He moved his lips away from yours and began leaving hickeys on very visible areas but you were seeing stars at this point so you could care less. You felt another climax approach soon and he knew as he felt you clench around his fingers. He helped you ride out your high while fucking you with his fingers leaving your heat pulsating.

He looked deep in your eyes as flashed his tongue just to lick his fingers that were dripping in your wetness. He licked them suggestively enough to make sure your breath hitched as you watched. You instinctively stuck your tongue out wanting him to do the same and worse to you. He took this as a sign to do the same and gripped the back of your throat before putting the same fingers deep in your mouth reaching your throat. It made you gag and have teary eyes but it burned so good as he moved. You swirled your tongue around his fingers tasting you and himself. It felt dirty but in the best way possible. He took his fingers out with a pop before unbuckling his pants to give himself a few pumps.

He held your arm and turned you around to make you face the mirror that was behind you the whole time. You faced the mirror and watched him from the mirror as he began lining his cock towards your entrance. He gave a few teasing nudges with his tip right before he sank fully into you. To your surprise, for a nerdy guy, he sure was packing. You felt yourself stretch around him which hurt so much.

After all, you have never had sex before despite how you presented yourself. You felt your eyes tear up and he noticed it in the mirror. He began hushing you as he slowly moved hoping it would soothe the pain. After taking a hot minute to adjust yourself to his length, you lifted your head up with hands on the countertop holding onto dear life to make eye contact with him from the mirror. His glasses were starting to now fog up ever so slightly making him look even more mysterious than usual. He held your hips and began fucking you fastening the pace. Your head dropped once again, but this time, he held your jaw and forced you to look towards the mirror so you could make eye contact with him. “Watch while I fuck you.” He lowly said into your ear and moved away after licking a stripe on your ear making you shiver. He began fucking you faster while gripping your hips enough to bruise them. Every now and then he would also give your round butt a squeeze making you moan and squirm.

As he kept fucking you, you became louder which could be risky because anybody could hear. He reached into his pocket and fished out your panties that he put in earlier. He grabbed it out and stuffed them into your mouth catching you off guard. He then grabbed both your wrists with one hand and your hair with the other. He pinned your wrists to your back while he pulled you by your hair towards his chest. He then moved it to your jaw holding your face in place while he fucked you deep with hard thrusts making his tip kiss the cervix in a way you didn’t think was possible. Your mouth was salivating so much to the point that there was spit leaking from the sides because of the way your panties were gagging you. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear making you all hot and bothered even more because of his breath as he fucked you.

He pulled out and reached for the panties in your mouth taking it out. It made you cough a bit before you began catching all the breath you lost. He then flipped you towards him and made you sit on the countertop between the two mirrors. When your butt touched the cold marble countertop, you felt so sensitive. You reached towards his shirt and tugged it upwards making him remove it. You admired his flushed body that was glistening in a thin layer of sweat. He threw the shirt next to you and went in for a kiss as he entered in you again.

This time he focused on getting himself off. So he gripped your waist and began grinding into you desperately. His pubic bone kept pleasuring your clit because of the position making you leave scratches on his back shoulders. This had him moaning and whimpering while yearning for release. He kept fucking you for a good while before he finally felt himself spasm indicating climax. You felt his thrusts become sloppier and held him closer wanting him to finish in you, and he gladly did groaning into your ear. While he kept cumming in you, he rubbed circles on your clit pushing you over the edge and making you cum for the third time that night. He had you biting his shoulder blade to mask the loud moan as he hugged you while you rode out your release while shaking.

You stopped biting and looked at him trying to find his eyes, but because of his fogged up glasses you couldn’t. So you reached towards it and pushed it up to his hair before locking eyes giving one final deep kiss for the night. Afterwards only you realised what you both had done and it left you dreading for the next tutoring lesson. While Armin on the other hand knew exactly what you both had done and couldn’t wait for the next tutoring lesson.

hope you guys enjoyed this.♡ྀི

word count: roughly 3400 words

a/n: lmk if you guys want a 2nd part cause i might have an idea on how to write one more part. :3

[katsukijo]

18+ infodumping his load

nerd!gojo is in complete disbelief that you,of all people—the campus golden girl—are bouncing on his dick and demanding a physics lecture. the only thing keeping him convinced this isn’t some far-fetched wet dream is the sting of your acrylics digging into his shoulders. (he swears he could die happy right here.)

“toru, tell me about… what’s his name? feynman?” you chirp in a girlish soprano, like you’re genuinely curious and not split open on his cock. “the guy who did that… quantum thingy?”

he stares up at you like you’ve just asked him to solve the navier–stokes equations mid-thrust. glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, pale feathery lashes clumped with sweat, god. this fucking nerd is so fucking pretty.

“you-you wanna talk about richard feynman now?”

“mhm.” you nod enthusiastically, walls clamping around his cock to drive home the point. “make me a scholar, baby.”

his hands fly to cup your ass, not to dictate the motion, not evenn to knead—just to hold. like he still can’t quite believe this isn’t some fever-dream where the prettiest girl he’s ever seen is squeezing the life out of his cock.

“he, uh, he worked on the manhattan project,” he manages, voice cracking when you grind forward. “nuclear physics, path integrals—oh fuck-” his head tips back, adam’s apple bobbing. “you don’t even care-”

“i do care,” you insist, leaning in until your breasts press together right under his chin.

“c’mon, toru. give me your nerd facts. i like them!”

he pushes his glasses up with the back of his wrist, deep inhale. “richard feynman,” he starts, voice breaking around a moan when you squeeze down on him. “he—uh, he revolutionised how we understand quantum electrodynamics. instead of—oh fuck you’re so tight—just doing impossible integrals…”

you let out a little hum of encouragement, pressing your hands to his chest and stroking gently. “go on, toru.”

“he… came up with… these diagrams,” he stammers, voice cracking on every syllable as he struggles to lecture and survive your relentless, delicious onslaught at the same time. “feynman diagrams… they let you see… particle interactions.”

“mm.” you furrow your brows, pretending to be studious when in reality your pussy is wringing him out. “like… doodles?”

“y-yeah, doodles, but they—hah—they could predict how subatomic particles scatter, how photons and electrons-” his voice dissolves into a whimper and promptly chokes on the rest of the sentence as if your pussy just erased his train of thought.

“you’re so hot when you talk nerdy shit.” you purr, a wicked grin spreading across your face.

“now… tell me about star wars. i know you’ve got thoughts.”

a shaky, breathless chuckle escapes him.

“thoughts? i have entire dissertations.”

you lean forward, pressing a lazy kiss to his cheek, which is (predictably) aflame with an unmissable pink.

“then prove it,” you murmur softly, hips grinding down to punctuate the demand. he groans, absolutely wrecked. he’s not sure what’s going to make him come first—your pussy, or the chance to prove lucasfilm’s misunderstood genius while balls deep inside the most popular girl on campus.

[katsukijo]

—ㅤ꒰ྀིㅤ High Heels | a.arlert

Pairing: Armin Alert x fem! reader ( it is implied that reader is black)

Synopsis: Based off of my best friend armin drabble, read here for more context. Reader comes over to check and see if armin finished her homework as she so kindly(kind?) asked but ends up with more than just some papers.

Warnings: ୨ৎ 2.4k. fem black reader , lowercase intended on some parts, dry humping/grinding, she/ her pronouns, black coded , girly reader , sub! armin , praise, teasing, pet names (pretty , good boy, gorgeous), foot play? (not rlly). comments are welcome and loved!

“Min did you do my work like I asked you” You huffed as you slide onto his couch. Setting your pink coach purse on his lap smoothing out the wrinkles on your pretty gingham skirt.

Armin turned towards you a disappointed look on his face. “ I cant always do your work for you , how will you pass the class”

“Im going to pass just fine Armin what I dont have time for is you nagging me about something you promised you would do” You spoke bitterly crossing your arms over your chest.

Armin bristled at the bitter tone you spit out with his name. It was only “Armin” when you were annoyed with him , always a sugary “Min” or “ Minnie” when you talked to him.

With a sigh Armin took out your neatly folded homework that he had stayed up early in the morning finishing for you. “I cant always do this for you, I hardly have time to do my own work anymore”

“Sounds like a you problem not mine” you scoffed playing with the rings on your fingers. Why did he have to be so stubborn! Weren't friends supposed to help each other. You turned towards armins pouting frame a slight grin adorning your glossy lips an idea forming in your head as you slung your brown legs over his thighs bringing your hands to play with his blonde locks.

“Well I suppose if its just too much work for my little minnie to handle I could always ask rennie to do it for me dont wanna stress you out of course ” you twirled his hair between your fingers. “You know chem is his specialty”

Armin bristled at the mention of Erens name. Since when did you call him “rennie” nicknames were always something you reserved for him. He’ll be damned if he lets you spend any more time with the person who has him in this predicament in the first place

N-No its okay I can handle it dont worry your pretty head about it”

“Mhmm pretty? You think im pretty min” You leaned close brushing your lips over his ear circling your arms around his neck flirty smile adorning your perfect lips

Armin gulped , hands suddenly becoming sweaty, face growing hot. “Course I do…your the prettiest girl in the world” his cheeks flamed pink , he pushed his face into the collar of his sweater fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. God how he secretly loved when you teased him it never failed to have his dick growing tight in his boxers. He mentally sighed already knowing what game you were playing at. You always did this to him whenever you wanted him to do something using your sweet words against him.

“Well arent you adorable. But I don’t like complainers so maybe I will take my problems to eren since helping your best friend is such a chore” an annoyed expression made its way onto your face

You get up grabbing your purse off of his lap popping a piece of gum in your mouth prepared to leave for your dorm , but with one glance at his pants....you see he wasn’t embarrassed by your teasing but for another reason

“ Oh my god Minnie did you just get hard” you laughed pulling his flushed face closer to your own peering down at the obvious tent in his pants trying to get a closer look. “Thats so pathetic getting turned on from your best friend and I didnt even do anything. Giggling you bring your lips closer to his ear.

“oh my god are you like a pervert or something“

You laughed in his face relishing in how red his face got. Poking at his cheeks and grabbing his jaw in between your manicured hands. “Gosh who knew my geek of a best friend could even get it up , I mean arent you nerds supposed to only get any play from your hands and the pathetic little comic book girls and anime’s you watch, you probably jerk off to it too huh”

“ I d-dont I m-mean Im not a perv I dont jerk off to those types of t-things”

Armin stumbled over his words trying to say anything anything that would have you believe him , he didn't want you thinking he was a pervert on top of all the other things he guessed you didn't like about him anymore. The thought alone of you hating something about him made his head ache and his heart grind inside of his chest.

You stood up pressing the heel of your shoe into his growing erection “Your not a pervert? Then whats this minnie seems like you are one to me”

“You probably jerk off thinking about me when I leave dont you , I mean if something as small as a little teasing can get you this hard who knows what other perverted thought you think of me , thats so so so dirty and disgusting min”

He grabbed your ankle trying to remove your foot off of him which only made you press down harder. Armin groaned softly into the palm of his hand desperately trying to control his hips from rutting up into the palm of your shoe , your degrading words combining with how close you two were your perfume invading his senses all made his brain go foggy eyes glossing over.

“Aw look at you getting off on me stepping on your poor excuse of a dick ,is it even big? giggling you pressed your face closer to his

"Probably not I mean how could someone like you get that , the only thing your blessed with is that beautiful brain of yours and looks like thats going dumb too” you giggled moving your heel back and forth across the erection prodding at his zipper

Armin moaned at your harsh words hands shaking around your ankle as his hips started grinding up onto your shoe , pretty blue eyes starting to brim over with tears

“m-mhm sorry cant h-help it i'm sorry just feels s-so good c-causeyou ” he whined pathetically , tears slipping down his milky pink cheeks, trying to convey to you how this was technically your fault and failing miserably but his hips just couldn’t stop the slow grinding rhythm that had him start frantically humping your shoe

“God min your so pathetic look at you getting off on using my shoe like a dog in heat humping his owners leg , your fucking pathetic you know that. "so mind fucked already you cant even control your hips” You sneered taking his jaw between your fingers kissing away his tears prying open his mouth spitting your gum onto his pink tongue

“Maybe you should be like this always , my perfect pathetic little puppy" you smiled at the idea "thats all your good for anyways since you cant even handle doing a couple dumb homework assignments”

“.Y-Yea I can do that be your p-puppy mmm - love you s-so much you k-know that… dont wanna mmph - loose you” Armin whined out moving your foot to the same rhythm his hips were going trying to ease that achy feeling in his cock , all his emotions and fears of little you leaving him tumbling out in pathetic whines and whimpers.

“Oh min arent you adorable but cant have you cumming like this I mean you haven’t even thought about my needs tsk tsk such a selfish boy” You removed your heel from his body throwing a dissatisfied look his way

“I mean just look at me all drenched for you minnie” you laughed , “and who woulda thought little ol you could get me like this”

Armin went speechless watching you lift the hem of your skirt up giving him a nice pretty view of your soaked pussy through pink panties juices dripping down your thighs. you grabbed his hand placing it right where you needed it , small fingers overlapping his larger ones dragging his fingers up and down your clit circling the small bud.

Armins eyes zeroed in on your pretty panty covered pussy , eyes glossing over in a daze feeling the way the translucent slick coated his fingers feeling the heat of your pretty pussy through your panties

Finally finding some momentum to move because when would a chance to touch gorgeous you like this ever come again he thought, armin pulls your panties to the side thick fingers sliding between your gooey folds marveling in how much your dripping around him.

“I-idiot you gotta put them mhmph inside god have you even done this before” "so kay ill show you min" sliding your self onto his lap you put your back to his chest spreading your thighs over his much larger ones , bringing his hand back down over your pussy. “this is what you gotta do min make me feel good kay” you pushed two of his fingers inside your gummy walls back arching at the pleasurable intrusion.

Armin stared in awe at the swell of your breasts that started to poke out of your little top eyes trailing all the way down to where his fingers were now pushed nice and snug inside your pussy. God when was the last time you spoke to him so nicely? That sugary sweet tone you use to have for him returning to your voice. Was this all it took? His fingers plugging your hole for you to be nice to him?

“Min - Min!” You nudge the side of his face trying to nudge him out of his dazed off gaze “You gotta move your fingers dumb boy come on if you make me cum I promise Ill be reallyyy nice to you from now on” you smiled up at him leaning up just enough to press a glossy kiss to the side of his mouth

Armin’s ears perked up at that. Maybe you two could finally go back to how you used to be all he had to do was make you cum once? Armin found himself thinking he’d do anything anything to get you to look at him how you use to again without that demeaning gaze you usually held for him. He wrapped his forarm around your waist pulling you flush against him , knees pushing apart your legs to have you fully bared open for him.

He pulled his fingers slowly out of you and plunged them back into you , fingers stretching you out sliding against your gummy walls

“am I doing this right , y-you feel good look reallyy pretty like this” fingers fucking into your stuffed cunt at a brutal pace, glossy juices dripping down onto his lap. You could feel his dick twitching beneath you pressing into your behind and oh my god were you wrong about him being small.

“Min - minniee right there making me feel s-so good your such a good boy” your voice slurred trying to keep your head up but with each nasty thrust of his fingers your resolve fell. Your own fingers gripping his thighs , eyelashes fluttering shut at the familiar tight coil building in your stomach , ass rubbing back and forth over his dick squirming around in his lap

“ I-Im your g-good boy? y-yea yourgood boy” His teeth dug into his pink lips trying to suppress his pitiful noises , words slurring together at the praise you gave him. He shut his eyes in his head he knows he must sound so pathetic right now he just wanted to crawl away in embarrassment. I mean how could he be getting off on just your words praising him and the thick curve of your ass just simply pressing into him.

Even so the thought of disappointing you was even worse than his crippling embarrassment so he circled your clit with his thumb , fingers curling inside of your pink drooling hole, pampering your neck with open mouth sloppy kisses eager to do anything to make you cum to please you

“ooo minnie g-gonna cum your gonna make me cum im so close” your acrylic fingers curled around his wrist trying to drive his fat fingers deeper in your wet pussy. Armins head dropped on your shoulder slightly damp blonde hair tickling your cheek, thick rimmed glasses sliding down his nose.

“Gonna mhmm make you cum pretty gonna make you l-love me again. His words stuttered out of his mouth , his mouth making wet little hickies on your shoulder, thick fingers scissoring your drooling pussy , juices spilling into a small puddle onto his pants mixing in with his own pre cum from your mindless humping.

Armin removed his fingers from your cunt , fingers latching onto your waist arching you forward pulling his cock from the confines of his pants with a small groan from his lips. Pretty pink tip leaking so so much pre cum onto his thighs before he began moving you harshly back and forth on his dick sliding himself between your lips , pussy juices gushing down his shaft.

“Gonna cum like this pretty, p-prettiest pussy in the worlds gonna make me cum - mhmm s-so close” he rocked you back and forth against his cock gasping when he felt his head bump into your clit eyes rolling back the euphoric feeling of you humping his cock was bringing you both closer and closer to the edge “Ohgosh min angel feels so good b-best dick ever your like better than m-my pillow” you whined out , your moans bouncing off his walls, fingers grabbing his knees to leverage yourself to rut faster against him.

Angel. armin quivered at the soft name leaving your lips. Such a sweet endearment was directed towards him. If he wasn't a goner for you before he definitely was now.

The slick sounds , heavy breathing and your praise combined with all the gushing your pussy was doing and feelings he felt for you pushed him to the edge voice growing hoarse , him cumming onto your pussy with a loud moan head thrown back against the couch. You weren’t too far behind him , the feeling of his cum soaking your pussy making you cum with a soft moan , legs shaking nearly making you fall off his lap.

Armin finally gained enough strength to lift his head looking at you only to be met with the sight of your flushed fucked out face dipping between your thighs tasting the mix of cum you two left behind , tongue swirling your fingers leaving a soft pop!

“You taste good min really impressive for a dumb nerd like you” You grinned cheekily familiar teasing tone lacing into your voice.

“Tell me did grinding your dumb cock through my pussy feel good” you stroked your fingers through his hair , his head leaning into your touch before moaning into your palm when you sharply tugged at the blonde strands.

“Gonna use your shower now! Make sure my homework is done when I get out then we can finally put your looser cock to more work” taking off your clothing throwing it into his nearby hamper you blew him a kiss bouncing off to his bathroom.

Armin groaned loudly into his hand a lovesick doupy smile growing onto his lips. God what was he gonna do with you. He should have known one time wouldn’t be enough for you!

[katsukijo]

dumb ways to fall³ . . . (on his d!ck) ᝰ.ᐟ

cw: himbo bsf yuji, he's hunky, kind and as dense as a BRICK, reader is lowkey a freak, yuji is down-bad, stupid!yuji, flirty!reader, we're going full blown SMUT with this one, BIG DICK yuji cuz duhh, begging, whimpering, he sobs when he cums , yuji being the big dumb sweetheart he's (all the characters are 18+)

<< part 2 | part 3 | part 4 >>

himbo!bsf yuji didn’t mean to pop a boner when you sat in his lap—you were in just his hoodie, no shorts underneath, skin warm against his thighs—and now he’s nervously bouncing his leg, biting his lip like “shit shit shit—don’t look down.”

himbo!bsf yuji groans, breath hitching when your hips shift just right—and he knows he should move you off—but your ass is so soft and he’s so weak for you, so he just mutters “fuck…sorry, I didn’t mean to…” like he’s the one being rude.

himbo!bsf yuji gasps when you cup him through his sweats, eyes wide, lips parted—he stares at you like you’ve grown horns and whispers, “you—wanna… do stuff? With me?” like he hasn’t been jerking off to the thought of you for weeks.

himbo!bsf yuji lets you pull him out, stunned and pink in the cheeks, hands hovering awkwardly as you stroke him—he’s heavy, thick, flushed deep at the tip, and definitely too big to be handled so casually, but you’re doing it anyway.

himbo!bsf yuji whines—whines, bestie—when you straddle him again, your slick dragging over his tip, whispering how bad you want him, how full you wanna feel, and he chokes out “wait—wait, I’m kinda… y’know… not small—”

himbo!bsf yuji tries to slow you down, sweet dumb thing he is, but your hips are already sinking and his mouth drops open, eyes fluttering like “oh fuuuck, you’re really—fuck, you’re really doing it—”

himbo!bsf yuji grips your thighs like you’re about to vanish, every muscle in his arms flexing as you force him deeper—his breath shaky, his voice cracking when he gasps, “you’re so tight, s’too tight, I’m not gonna last if you keep clenching—”

himbo!bsf yuji buries his face in your neck, moaning helplessly while you bottom out, his cock stretching you wide, too wide, and now you’re both trembling, bodies sticky and breathless like you’ve just run a mile.

himbo!bsf yuji asks “you okay?” every two seconds like the sweetheart he is—even as you’re grinding on him slow and messy, eyes rolled back, jaw slack—and he kisses your temple like “you’re so good, takin’ me so good, I’m gonna lose it—”

himbo!bsf yuji whimpers when you clench around him on purpose, full body shaking as he blurts, “fuck—gonna cum, can I cum? please? gonna make a mess, please lemme cum inside—”

himbo!bsf yuji wraps you up in his arms like he’s afraid you’ll break—buries himself deep, cums so hard he sobs, shuddering as he fills you, muttering “sorry, sorry, s’just—feels too good—been wantin’ this for so long—”

himbo!bsf yuji lays there after, still inside, still hard, arms locked around you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded—and when you twitch on his cock again, he whispers, “round two? I—I think I can still go, if you want…”

[katsukijo]

DUMB WAYS TO FALL² ᝰ.ᐟ

cw: himbo bsf yuji, he's hunky, kind & as dense as a BRICK, reader is a lowkey freak, stupid!yuji, flirty!reader, suggestive to SMUT as it progresses further. (all the characters are 18+)

<< part 1 | part 2 | part 3 >>

himbo!bsf yuji doesn’t realize you grinding on his lap during a TikTok dance challenge wasn’t just for the bit—but he does excuse himself right after to “grab a drink” and spends ten minutes in the bathroom with his head in his hands, rock hard and whispering “fuck, fuck, fuck—get it together, man.”

himbo!bsf yuji lets you stretch over him on the couch to “grab the remote” even though your ass is pressed to his chest and he could definitely just hand it to you—but no, he lets it happen, stares up at your thighs, and has to tuck a pillow into his lap right after.

himbo!bsf yuji bites his lip when you casually ask if his hands are really as big as they look—holds his palm against yours, smiles shyly, and doesn’t say a damn word about the way your fingers trail down to his wrist and linger a little too long.

himbo!bsf yuji doesn’t flinch when you sit facing him, thighs spread, hoodie barely covering your underwear—just blushes and says “aren’t you cold?” like you didn’t come over specifically to test how far you could push him before he breaks.

himbo!bsf yuji lifts you up by the waist during play fights and doesn’t even realize how close your faces are until you’re staring at his lips—he freezes, eyes flicking down, breath catching—then laughs nervously and blurts out “you always look at people like that?” (even though he’s the one gripping your hips like he owns them.)

himbo!bsf yuji doesn’t mean to moan when you lean against him after a long day, your chest flush to his side, your breath warm on his neck—but the sound slips out and now he’s sitting there tense and quiet, hoping you didn’t hear it. (You did.)

himbo!bsf yuji keeps dreaming about you riding him—not that he’d ever act on it—but he wakes up throbbing, panting your name, and staring at your contact photo like it’s your fault his sheets are ruined three nights in a row.

himbo!bsf yuji swears he doesn’t think about how your thighs would look shaking around his head. Swears he doesn’t fantasize about pinning you under him and fucking you slow just to hear how sweet you’d sound moaning his name. But then he catches a glimpse of your panties peeking out under his hoodie and has to physically leave the room.

himbo!bsf yuji doesn’t know how to handle it when you whisper “I bet you’d feel so good inside me.” He laughs, chokes, stammers out “y-you’re kidding, right?” but he’s rock hard, jaw clenched, and looking at you like he might finally snap.

himbo!bsf yuji finally breaks when you straddle his lap, cup his face, and ask, “still think I don’t mean it?” And when you grind down just right and whisper, “you wanna feel how wet I get for you, pretty boy?”—he groans your name like a prayer and drags you into the filthiest kiss of your life.

[katsukijo]

DUMB WAYS TO FALL ᝰ.ᐟ

cw: himbo best friend yuji, he's hunky, kind & as dense as a BRICK, reader is lowkey a freak/tease lmao, flirty!reader, stupid!yuji, suggestive, no smut (all the characters are 18+)

part 1 | part 2 >>

himbo!bsf yuji thinks you’re just naturally clingy when you drape yourself over his lap while watching movies, so he always pats your thigh and says “you comfy?” like he isn’t actively sweating underneath you.

himbo!bsf yuji lets you wear his muscle tees to bed during sleepovers, smiling like an idiot every time the fabric slips off your shoulder—then dies inside when you tug it back up all innocent-like.

himbo!bsf yuji always picks you up, throws you over his shoulder, and calls it “just messing around” even though his heart is racing and he has to adjust his sweats afterward behind your back.

himbo!bsf yuji doesn’t think twice when you straddle his thighs “as a joke,” thinking you’re just being playful, while he fights for his life not to moan at the feeling of your hips settling against his.

himbo!bsf yuji carries your bags, ties your laces, shares his food, and even lets you sit in his lap at parties without blinking—because to him, that’s just being a good friend. A good friend who’s totally not staring down at your cleavage and silently screaming.

himbo!bsf yuji walks around shirtless in front of you after a workout, scratching his abs and asking if you wanna join him next time—oblivious to the way your jaw goes slack and you suddenly forget how to breathe.

himbo!bsf yuji gets weirdly quiet when you compliment his biceps, rubbing the back of his neck and muttering “you really think so?” like you didn’t just grope his arm with two hands and call it your “emotional support dumbbell.”

himbo!bsf yuji thinks you’re out of his league—he once spent a full hour Googling “how to be smarter for your crush” and tried to read a whole book in one night before falling asleep face-first in the middle of chapter two.

himbo!bsf yuji doesn’t realize you’re in love with him until you sit on his lap in nothing but his hoodie and whisper “you gonna keep pretending I don’t want you, or are you gonna do something about it?”—and even then, it takes a second before his eyes go wide and his brain finally catches up.

himbo!bsf yuji absolutely loses his mind when he realizes you actually like him. Like—flushed ears, shaking hands, voice cracking when he says “you—you serious?” and then hugging you so tight you squeak against his chest.

[katsukijo]

꒰ ݁ ꫂ᭪ ꒱ 𓂃 LAPLACE'S DEMON

˚₊‧꒰ა nerd .ᐟ satoru gojo ﾉ mean girl .ᐟ reader ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you painted a stereotyped image of the uni's nerd in your head. but ever heard of laplace's demon? you quickly found out when you pissed him off during yet another tutoring session.

broadcast ᝰ.ᐟ✧ minors dni, uni au, no curses au, academic tropes, degradation, brat taming, dumbification, backshots, rough sex, penetrative sex, choking, pussy spanking, overstim, reader is a spoilt brat, really meantoru 𓂃 wc ⌇ 2.2k

sweetheart host ᝰ.ᐟ✧ i really needed to see some mean nerdjo content bc as a nerd i can safely say we're very mean. art cred ⌇ gojouify (twt)

There was only one thing that Satoru hated more than opening up a fresh new collectable deck with three quarters of the cards being doubles: snobby brats.

No not the rich kind, and no not the kind that forced their heads up and put on the persona of snot-nosed, mean-spirited and a glass ego waiting to be shattered.

The kind wrapped in pink and donned in gloss. The kind that ensured every strand was infuriatingly proper. Who raised a hand full of overly decorative nails and giggled behind professor's backs. They walked the hallways as if it bended to their every whim and high heel. They smiled with pearly teeth ready to feast on the newest, juiciest gossip.

Popular girls? Nah, he's good friends with a popular girl. Shoko couldn't compare.

But popular, mean, brattish girls? They frustrated him more than a pretentious professor with a point to prove.

And you? Well, you were the worst of them all.

Aggravatingly pretty with a daggered smile and keen eyes searching for the latest story. Quirky when needed, loud when unnecessary, the perfect party girl. If gossip and copious amounts of alcohol was all that made you he might have turned the blind eye. Alas, you were the last two categories.

Not mean, but fierce. Not bratty, but spoilt. Satoru could hardly stand you. Thank whatever divine he doesn't believe in up there — at least you only have one class with him.

How the hell did you even get into the quantam mechanics class? Did you bang the professor? Doesn't seem like the case when that same man paired you with him for 'extra help'.

Satoru rolled his eyes behind your back. Of course someone like you couldn't hold yourself afloat. Too busy applying lip gloss mid-lecture to catch the calculations for your exam prep.

He attempted to deny, but the professor held firm. If anyone was going to save your pretty ass from failure it was the star student. Maybe you did kneel after hours at that podium after all. Satoru wouldn't blame the old bugger. You were gorgeous. But what's beauty when wasted on ungodly amounts of brassiness?

So you found yourself at his dorm every Friday, much to your fervid complaints about this party and that get-together.

"Everything happens on a Friday, Gojo." You way you sneered around his name twitched his brow. And his dick. "Can't we do this tomorrow? Or a Sunday."

"You'll drink enough to vomit your guts out all weekend. Then repeat the next Friday. No." He huffed and readied the study material he'd reluctantly share with you. "Just sit your ass down and quit complaining. Don't wanna be here longer than needed."

See, you might have been a popular girl. But Satoru? Satoru was a nerd. The book and pen were his bread and butter. He ate calculations for breakfast and theorised phenomena for fun. His thesis was said to be shipped off to some international headquarters. Hell he could recount every class's textbook in his sleep.

That amount of intellect doesn't come with being humble. It certainly isn't in the hands of the faint hearted. Whatever image you'd pieced together of nerds, enhanced by media and painted by your own arrogance was surely wrong.

Nerds were mean. And Satoru? He was ruthless.

If you couldn't grasp what he tried to teach you, tough luck, now you've got homework over the weekend. Your attempts at rumours fell flat — your friends laughed, but other students side-eyed. You do know that's the campus' boy genius, right? Every comment earned another that shut you up for ten minutes, and when you'd attempt to win back your pride, blue eyes would stab at you over spectacle rims.

"Do you ever shut up?" He'd sneer.

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to!?" The chair skid together with your heels. You'd had enough of his attitude that rivalled yours, the endless hours bleeding your eyes into useless textbooks when you could be out with your friends. And his constant belittling?

You weren't dumb. You refused to let some nerd shame you. Who did he think he was?

"Unlike you I have a life. In fact right now I'm missing out on the bonfire of the year to be here with your sorry ass —" you pointed a sharp, manicured nail in response to his sharper glare. "Learning some stupid subject I don't even wanna —"

You heaved, tore your hands through your hair then kicked the book bag across his polished floors. Straight into the wall and rattled the shelves where more blasted books and figurines peered down at you in judgment.

"How the fuck do you live like this? I'm expected to study with some weird - boring - frankly rude—"

Heels spun and stumbled on the floor. Your back shook the shelf next. Beady blue no longer stared over specs, but down at you. Daggered. Glasses lost in his tousled white hair. Unobstructed, his eyes held the universe and every threat of the cosmos.

"Shut. Up."

Your shoulder's forced back into some figurine you were shaming a second ago. When did he get so tall? And frankly, you never knew he had such strength as he held you steady. Still, as he loomed in close.

"I'm tired of your constant bitching. You think I wanna be here helping some bimbo with more charms on her nails than braincells?"

Ow.

"You think I'm boring? Think I can't keep up with a girl like you? Because of some useless trope you keep blabbering on and on about —" His hand slammed alongside your side.

"You want some excitement? Wanna be treated like the brat you are? Fine."

Oh, that brat was nowhere to be seen once he got his hands on you. Once you let him. Never would you ever expected someone like Satoru could kiss. Not just kiss, but rob you of ever breath and render your legs shaking.

Never would you have imagined his touch to burn, bliss, demand. Excitement came in the form of fervent kisses and firm touches. A sort of confidence that made your entire personality look like a charade.

Shirt rolled, skirt hikes, panties yanked. The same desk you shoved became your only sight, your saviour. You clung tight to the wood that knocked into the wall rhythmically with every shove of your hips. Induced by the repetitive, ruthless, rude smacks pounding against your ass. By a rough arm clamped tight around your thighs, bringing you back on a cock thicker than you'd ever taken.

And it showed with the way you clenched and gushed. With your choked moans and whimpered whines. How you could barely stand and leaned over the desk with the same nails he insulted doing a poor job and clinging.

"Who knew a uni slut could be so tight?" His glower to your ear made you bite down on his bicep braced round your throat. Who knew the nerd could be so endowed?

Your response was a pitiful hiccups. Squelching walls that spilled with every slap against your throbbing folds. His plush tip hammered against a spot he found in less than seconds. Every bump, vein and ridge dragged against the entirety of your slick heat. Had you throbbing. Keening.

"Mngh — fuck, 'sssoo." He chuckled cruelly at your useless blabber. Just like your poor pussy that soaked your panties strained around your plush thighs. Useless, that's all you felt with every thrust, every mock.

The only difference was, you didn't mind.

Useless for him? Useless for that cock? To the pleasure you never knew you could feel? So be it.

"Soo what? Soo slutty? Such a whore?" The arm on your waist yanked and stuffed your puffy cunt more of him. Rapid thrusts turned to ruts. He fucked into a gummy spot that curled an arch in your spine. Drool spluttered out over his arm, over the desk littered in textbooks.

Opened and soaked, they mocked you too. Every calculation you couldn't take - not the way you're taking his dick. Not the way you're sucking him in like it's your final assignment.

"Look at you." The tightness eased from your waist. Came in a pinch and cruel swirl to your clit that had you whining. "Droolin' all over the textbooks instead 'f learning. Guess that's all you're good for huh?"

Shlap! You jolted with the smack to your clit. Three fingers flattened and rubbed messily. Not as messily as your cunt spilling and weeping from his crudeness but begging for more. Greedy, like the way you squeezed him.

"Right?" You're yanked back. Fucked into a steeper arch. His every breath fans your ear and fogs his glasses. He sprayed not only your drool, but slick everywhere. A lewd reminder for your session next week. If you managed to look him in the eye after he rearranged your guts. "Just good for takin' cock. Nothing else. Too dumb for dick, huh pretty?"

Even if it gave you butterflies, every insult wounded your pride. Bleeding pink and spilling thick slick all over. So you bit back, pitifully.

"N-Never — hngh. Never thought the - the nerd was s-. . . sh'oooo biiigg."

Was that your best jab? He had every right to laugh at you. So unlike the mean little giggle you'd shoot to those you saw as inferior. No, a spiteful, splintered laugh that would have had you teary. If your eyes hadn't bulged.

Your pussy strained. Walls stretched wider and clamping tighter. Squirting, squelching, squirming as he shoved deeper. Proving he was even bigger than you thought.

"Oh baby," Satoru crooned. His arm became a large hand clutched around your jaw. Another on your hip, fucking you into him. Taking him rougher, harder. "You thought that was all? Wanted to be nice, but since you've got so much to say."

Your eyes rolled back. Tits smacked against paper. Body smushed as his hips rammed forward. His cock drove, tip pounding your poor little cervix and fucking your whimpering cunt all the way. Making sure you felt every vein, every crevice, every inch until you were dumbly drooling and hiccuping over his desk.

"Fuck — oh god! Satoru!"

"Yeah? So you can say my name prettily."

His breaths huffed into your ear as strong arms looped around your waist fiercely. Every thrust brought you back onto him. He ground and humped on every other thrust, rutting shallowly to remind you just how big he was. How small you were. Weaker, beneath him.

He wretched himself off of your quivered form and watched your ass catch his pounds. Skirt shrivelled around your waist, pitiful like your face pressed into paper. The pool of saliva through his textbook made a bookmark to his new favourite page.

"Fuck, you're pathetic." Another huff of laughter followed by a barrage of wet shlaps! He aimed every pound to accentuate your pussy's lewd squelches. Whether for his ears of yours, you couldn't process. Not with him kissing every bundle of nerves that coiled your tummy tight.

Your lips parted with a whine. "Gonna cum again?" He beat you to it. From the angle you spotted his grin. Glasses dangled on the bridge of his nose and greedy eyes drinking you in like the image of sin.

"Gonna cum all over my cock again? Yeah?" A sting welted your ass and you sobbed as it followed on your cervix. Mouth opened in an endless, whorish moan as he fucked at a tempo that shook not only your body but the desk as well. Banging into the wall in a way that'll surely alert his dorm mate of whatever transpired in this room.

A pretty, popular brat being fucked open and creaming all over the supposed boring nerd. Laplace's demon himself.

"Still boring for you, sweetheart? Still boring when this bratty pussy's squeezing me like a needy slut?" Long fingers delved over your scalp and gripped tight. The leverage came with shattering, hard thrusts that squished you ass and sent your feet standing on the tips. You sobbed, shaking your head.

"N-No!"

"No who?"

"No Satoru - no toru—" You rasped as he throbbed heavily in you. There's your catch. "Noo toru, not boring. Fuck, cock feels sooo good - gonna cum, torruuu."

Whether in your favour or not. The name brought quick swirls back to your clit and turned his thrusts into hammering pounds that sent your eyes rolling back and maw hung in a drooling daze.

Face flushed, clothes strewn, cum squirting down your thighs and staining your heels. Fuck, a mess didn't even begin to cover it. A pretty mess laid out on his desk and dumbly moaning his name.

Satoru leaned over you. Thrusts shallowed again as he grunted and whimpered. Disolving into a bony weight of strong arms hooked around you tight and endless, mindless humps against your soft ass.

"If you weren't so busy being a bitch," he laughed, low and cruel. "Maybe you'd be able to keep those grades up." Another spank. You whimpered.

"But that's fine, sweetheart." Cold lips pressed open-mouthed kisses up your neck. Breaths quick and heaved as he proved just how exciting he could be. With heavy balls smacking your poor abused cunt and his dick splitting your bratty pussy wide open for him.

He reached for your jaw, forcing your head at an angle for his lips. Peppered all over your face and sucking on your poor, drooling tongue.

"Means I can fuck the brat outta ya like this? Fine. Be a dumb bitch. 's a better look on you anyway."

© 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 . no copying, translation or plagiarism authorised

[katsukijo]

in case of academic emergency, kiss me

pairing — nerd satoru x fem reader

synopsis : you’ve never liked muscles—too veiny, too try-hard, too gym-bro coded for your taste—which makes satoru gojo the perfect academic crush: lean, bookish, annoyingly brilliant, and safely tucked behind oversized sweaters and wire glasses. he’s the kind of boy who corrects professors mid-lecture and times his pen clicks like a ritual, which you absolutely haven’t been documenting in your notebook instead of actual math. you’re three rows behind him in advanced calculus and catastrophically gone, convinced he’s harmless—until a coffee shop collision, one t-shirt, and a deeply inconvenient bicep reveal send you into a full-blown crisis you may or may not kiss your way out of.

tags -> oneshot, fluff and humor, college au, study dates that are actually dates, mutual pining, character study disguised as a crush spiral, satoru is insufferable and hot about it, reader is so mentally ill about one man, study session or seduction who can tell, she thought he was safe (he wasn’t), calculus is the least of her problems, emotional damage but cute, he takes off his sweater and ruins her life, majestic art by @/rinoomii on twt ♡

wc — 10.7k | gen. m.list | read on ao3?

a/n: this was for that one anon who requested a drabble with sleeper build nerdjo, sorry it took so long, take this 10k beast instead mwah 😽

you’ve always believed that muscles are fundamentally disgusting.  

not in a mean way—more like how some people think feet are gross or how the texture of velvet makes them want to crawl out of their skin. it’s visceral, unexplainable, the way your stomach turns at the thought of all that bulging mass and veiny definition. which makes your current predicament absolutely, catastrophically ironic.  

because here you are, sitting three rows behind satoru in advanced calculus, completely and utterly gone for a boy who couldn’t look more like he’s never seen the inside of a gym if he tried.  

the morning light filters through the lecture hall windows, catching the mess of his hair—not quite platinum, not quite pearl, but something like the color of fresh snow under streetlights, if snow could defy gravity and stick up at impossible angles while somehow still looking effortlessly perfect. you’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time cataloging the way it moves when he turns his head, the way it catches light like spun silver thread, the way one particular strand always falls across his forehead no matter how many times he pushes it back with that same precise, annoyed gesture.  

(you’re pathetic. you know you’re pathetic. you’ve literally counted the number of times he does that little hair-push thing per lecture—it’s seventeen on average, and you’re horrified by the fact that you know this. even more horrified by the fact that you’ve started timing the intervals between each gesture. twelve minutes and thirty-seven seconds, give or take.)  

professor yaga’s voice drones on about derivatives, but you’re lost in the way satoru’s shoulders hunch slightly as he scribbles notes, the careful precision of his long fingers around his pen—fingers that are almost delicate, pale and elegant like they belong to a pianist rather than a college student. the way he occasionally pushes his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose with his knuckle—never his fingertip, always his knuckle, like he’s afraid of smudging the lenses or maybe like he’s performed this exact motion so many times it’s become muscle memory.  

there’s something almost ritualistic about it, this careful maintenance of his perfect image. you’ve noticed he does a quick check of his appearance every time he enters a room—subtle, barely perceptible, but you’ve been watching him long enough to catch the way his eyes briefly scan his reflection in any available surface, the way his fingers make minute adjustments to his hair or the position of his glasses.  

you wonder if he knows how pretty his hands are. you wonder if he knows you’ve been staring at them for the better part of two months, memorizing the way his thumb taps against his pen when he’s thinking, the way he flexes his fingers when he’s about to write something he’s particularly proud of. you wonder if he knows that you’ve started taking notes about his note-taking habits instead of actually taking notes, which is definitely going to bite you in the ass come exam time.  

(seriously, your notebook is less “advanced calculus” and more “comprehensive guide to satoru gojo’s micro-expressions and fidgeting patterns.” you’re a fucking disaster.)  

you’re so busy staring at the way his neck curves when he tilts his head—and god, what a neck, all pale skin and sharp angles, the kind of neck that makes you want to trace your fingers along the line of it—that you don’t notice the classroom has gone quiet until professor yaga’s voice cuts through your reverie like a blade.  

“miss,” yaga says, and you can hear the barely contained irritation in his voice, the way he draws out the word like it’s personally offensive to him, “perhaps you’d like to solve this equation for us?”  

your stomach drops to somewhere around your ankles. the whiteboard might as well be covered in ancient sumerian for all the sense it makes to you. you enrolled in this class for exactly one reason, and that reason is currently turning in his seat to look at you with those eyes—god, those eyes that aren’t just blue but something deeper, stranger, like the color of deep ocean water when afternoon light hits it just right, or maybe like the heart of a glacier, all crystalline and impossible.  

his head tilts slightly as he looks at you, and you catch the way his lips part just a fraction, the way his eyebrows draw together in what might be concern. there’s something almost protective in his expression, the way he leans forward slightly in his seat like he’s preparing to spring into action.  

there’s a collective shift in the room, students turning to look at you with expressions ranging from mild curiosity to outright schadenfreude. jennifer, two seats over, is definitely smirking, her perfectly glossed lips curved in a way that makes you want to throw your textbook at her head. you can feel your face burning, can practically hear your heartbeat in your ears, and you’re acutely aware that everyone—including satoru—is watching you flounder like a fish out of water.  

you catch the way your hands start to shake slightly, the way your breath catches in your throat, and you know your face is doing that thing where it goes blotchy and red in the worst possible way. your mouth opens and closes once, twice, no sound coming out, and you’re pretty sure you look like you’re having some kind of breakdown.  

(this is fine. this is totally fine. you’re just about to publicly humiliate yourself in front of the boy you’ve been mooning over for eight weeks. no big deal. just your entire academic reputation and any chance of ever talking to satoru again going up in flames. totally manageable.)  

you’re about to open your mouth and make a complete fool of yourself when satoru’s hand shoots up with the kind of lazy confidence that makes half the class want to throw things at him. but you catch the way his fingers tremble slightly, so briefly you almost miss it, the way he presses his lips together for just a moment before speaking.  

“actually, professor yaga,” he says, and his voice carries that particular blend of polite condescension and casual arrogance that makes your chest flutter even as you watch three people in the front row visibly bristle, “i think there’s an error in the problem setup.”  

the temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees. you can practically feel the collective eye-roll rippling through the lecture hall like a wave. behind you, someone mutters “here we go again” under their breath, and you have to resist the urge to turn around and defend him. but you’re too busy watching the way satoru’s jaw tightens slightly, the way his free hand curls into a loose fist on his desk before he forces it to relax.  

yaga’s eyes narrow dangerously, his entire posture shifting into something that suggests he’s about to commit murder. “excuse me?”  

“the coefficient in the third term,” satoru continues, completely unbothered by the teacher’s glare or the way half the class is now shooting him looks that could kill. his fingers drum once against his desk before he catches himself and forces them to still—a tiny crack in his perfect composure that somehow makes you want to protect him, want to build a wall between him and everyone else in this room. “it should be negative, not positive, based on the previous step. common mistake, really.”  

and there it is—that little smile, barely there but unmistakable, tugging at the corner of his mouth like he’s just performed a particularly clever magic trick. his chin lifts slightly, and you catch the way his eyes briefly flick toward you, checking to see if you’re watching, if you’re safe.  

(common mistake. god, he’s such a little shit, and you’re completely gone for him. absolutely, irrevocably, pathetically gone.)  

the silence that follows is deafening. you can see yaga’s jaw working, can practically feel the collective urge to murder emanating from your classmates like heat waves. satoru just sits there, chin tilted up slightly, that insufferable little smile playing at the corner of his mouth, but you notice the way his fingers tap an anxious rhythm against his thigh, the way his shoulders are held just a little too rigidly.  

there’s something almost performative about it, the way he wields his intelligence like a shield, deflecting attention from the fact that he’s just saved you from public humiliation. again. you’re starting to recognize the pattern—the way he times his interruptions, the way he makes his corrections sound like casual observations rather than calculated rescues.  

but more than that, you’re starting to recognize the cost of it. the way other students look at him like he’s some kind of academic boogeyman, the way professors tolerate him with barely concealed irritation, the way he sits alone in every class despite being the smartest person in the room.  

“you’re right,” yaga says finally, and the admission sounds like it physically pains him, like each word is being dragged from his throat with pliers. he turns back to the board with more force than necessary, chalk scraping against the surface with a sound that makes half the class wince. “thank you for the... correction.”  

as the professor erases and rewrites the equation, you catch the subtle way satoru’s shoulders relax, the way his fingers uncurl from where they’d been gripping his pen. his head drops slightly, and you see him take a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in a way that suggests he’s been holding his breath this entire time.  

he’s nervous, you realize. he’s just as affected by these moments as you are, just better at hiding it behind layers of calculated arrogance and that insufferable smile.  

that’s the fifteenth time this semester—you’ve been counting, because apparently your brain has decided to catalog every single instance of satoru saving you from academic humiliation. fifteen times in eight weeks, and each time you fall a little bit deeper into this ridiculous, hopeless crush. each time you’re more convinced that you’re the only person in this entire lecture hall who doesn’t find him completely insufferable.  

(you’re also probably the only person who’s noticed the way his ears go pink when he’s called out, or the way he clicks his pen three times before he raises his hand, or the way he always makes sure his “corrections” benefit you specifically. you’re definitely the only person who’s noticed the way he glances over at you after each rescue, checking to make sure you’re okay, that little furrow between his brows that suggests he’s genuinely worried about you.)  

because that’s the thing about satoru—he’s brilliant, and he knows it, and he’s absolutely shameless about wielding that intelligence like a weapon. he’s the type of person who corrects professors mid-lecture with a smile that suggests he’s doing them a favor, who finishes exams in half the allotted time and then sits there looking bored while everyone else scrambles, occasionally glancing around the room with barely concealed amusement.  

but you’ve started to notice the moments when the mask slips. the way he sometimes looks out the window with an expression that’s almost wistful, like he’s thinking about being anywhere else. the way he doodles in the margins of his notes—not equations or formulas, but little sketches, delicate and precise, usually of things he can see from his seat. a leaf, the corner of a building, once, memorably, a tiny sketch of the back of someone’s head that looked suspiciously like your silhouette.  

he’s condescending without meaning to be, arrogant without trying, and you’re pretty sure he’s never encountered a problem he couldn’t solve or a question he couldn’t answer. you’ve watched him turn in homework assignments written in what you can only describe as mathematical poetry, each solution more elegant than the last, and you’ve seen the way professor yaga’s mouth tightens every time satoru raises his hand.  

it should be annoying. it should make you want to throw things at him like everyone else does. jennifer actually did throw a pencil at him once—it bounced off his shoulder and he just turned around and smiled at her like she’d given him a compliment, but you caught the way his smile faltered for just a moment, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to rub the spot where it hit.  

instead, it makes you want to lean over and whisper ‘thank you’ directly into his ear, makes you want to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips, makes you want to mess up his perfectly styled hair just to see what he’d do. probably fix it with that same precise, methodical care he applies to everything else, but maybe—just maybe—he’d let you be the one to mess it up again.  

you’re so far gone it’s not even funny anymore. it’s concerning. it’s the kind of pathetic that would make your friends stage an intervention if they knew. the kind of pathetic that has you checking your reflection in every surface before class, wondering if today might be the day he actually notices you beyond your academic incompetence.  

the lecture continues, yaga’s voice taking on that particular sharp edge that suggests satoru has ruined his entire day, and you watch the way your classmates shoot covert glances at the boy three rows ahead. there’s resentment in those looks, the kind of frustrated irritation that comes from being consistently outshone by someone who doesn’t even seem to be trying.  

but you’re not watching them. you’re watching satoru, cataloging the way he takes notes with the same meticulous care he applies to everything else, his handwriting neat and precise even when he’s obviously bored. you’re watching the way he occasionally glances toward the window, his expression going soft and distant, like he’s thinking about something far more interesting than derivatives.  

you’re watching the way he doesn’t look back at you, but you catch the subtle way his ears are still pink, the way his fingers tap an anxious rhythm against his thigh before he forces his hand to still. you notice the way he shifts in his seat, adjusting his position so that he’s angled slightly toward you, like he’s subconsciously trying to keep you in his peripheral vision.  

you wonder if he knows what he’s doing, if he’s keeping track too, if he notices the way you always seem to be in trouble right when he’s ready with an answer. you wonder if he’s cataloging your expressions the way you’ve been cataloging his, if he’s noticed the way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous.  

(he is. he’s been counting too, actually, though his count is higher because he includes all the times he’s wanted to interrupt but didn’t, all the times he’s watched you panic in that particular way that makes your eyes go wide and your bottom lip disappear between your teeth. he’s been cataloging your expressions the same way you’ve been cataloging his, though he’s infinitely better at being subtle about it. he knows you bite your lip when you’re concentrating, knows you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous, knows you have this little crease between your eyebrows when you’re trying to work through a problem. he’s memorized the way you look when you’re happy, when you’re confused, when you’re frustrated. he’s got it all filed away in his brain like the most important data he’s ever collected.)  

you’re wondering what it would be like to know him outside of this careful academic performance when the lecture ends, students immediately scrambling for the exits with the kind of urgency that suggests they’re fleeing rather than simply leaving. you can hear fragments of conversation as people file out—“such a show-off,” “can’t believe yaga puts up with that,” “probably thinks he’s smarter than everyone”—and you want to defend him, want to point out that he is smarter than everyone, but you’re too busy shoving your barely-touched notebook into your bag, trying to look like you weren’t just spending ninety minutes staring at the back of someone’s head.  

your hands are shaking slightly as you pack up your things, a combination of leftover adrenaline from your near-humiliation and the growing realization that you’re about to be alone with him, maybe for the first time since this whole ridiculous crush started. you fumble with your bag’s zipper, curse under your breath when it catches, and generally look like the disaster you are.  

when he appears beside your desk, you’re struck by how different he looks up close. all sharp angles and pale skin, the kind of boy who looks like he’d snap in half if you hugged him too tight. which is perfect, actually, because you have no interest in the alternative.  

but more than that, you’re struck by how he seems to take up more space than his slight frame should allow. there’s something about his presence that’s magnetic, commanding, the way he stands with his weight shifted slightly forward, his hands loosely clasped behind his back. he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—something clean and understated that makes you want to lean closer, something that makes you think of morning frost and expensive soap.  

there’s something almost fragile about him when he’s not performing for the class, something that makes you want to handle him carefully. his glasses have slipped down his nose slightly, and when he pushes them up with that familiar gesture, you catch the way his eyelashes flutter against the lenses, impossibly long and pale.  

“rough lecture?” he asks, and there’s something almost apologetic in the way he says it, like he’s aware that his interventions might be drawing unwanted attention to you. his head tilts slightly, and you notice the way his hair falls across his forehead, the way he doesn’t bother to push it back this time. there’s a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes are serious, concerned.  

you catch the way your breath hitches slightly, the way your fingers tighten around your bag strap. “depends on your definition of rough,” you reply, slinging your bag over your shoulder, hyperaware of how close he is, how the simple act of standing puts you almost at eye level with him. “if by rough you mean completely incomprehensible, then yeah, absolutely brutal.”  

he laughs, and it’s nothing like the polite chuckle he gives in class. this is genuine, warm, the kind of laugh that makes his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. “it’s not that bad once you get the hang of it,” he says, falling into step beside you as you head toward the door. you notice the way he shortens his stride to match your pace, the way he holds the door open for you with casual politeness, his fingers briefly brushing yours as you pass through. “calculus is just like... a language. once you learn the grammar, everything else falls into place.”  

the brief contact sends a jolt up your arm, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you shiver slightly, the way your cheeks flush. you step through the door, and he follows, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. the hallway is busy with students rushing to their next classes, and you have to resist the urge to grab his arm to keep from losing him in the crowd.  

“easy for you to say, mr. perfect score on every exam,” you say, and you can’t help but smile at the way he preens slightly at the compliment, his chin lifting just a fraction in that familiar gesture of pride. his eyes light up in a way that makes your chest feel too small for your heart.  

“perfect score is an exaggeration,” he says, but he’s clearly pleased, a faint flush coloring his cheeks, spreading down his neck in a way that makes you want to trace the path of it with your fingertips. his fingers fidget with the strap of his bag, and you wonder if he’s as nervous as you are, if he feels the same electric tension that seems to crackle between you whenever you’re this close.  

“ninety-eight percent is still perfect in my book.”  

“that two percent haunts me,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest with such dramatic flair that you can’t help but laugh. his eyes are dancing with mischief, and you catch the way he leans slightly closer as he speaks, like he’s sharing a secret. “keeps me awake at night, wondering where i went wrong.”  

this is how it always goes with satoru—easy banter that makes you forget why you were ever nervous around him in the first place. he has this way of matching your energy, of making conversation feel like a game where you’re both trying to make the other laugh first. it’s addictive, the way he responds to your sarcasm with his own, the way he seems genuinely delighted when you give as good as you get.  

but underneath the easy conversation, you’re hyperaware of every detail—the way he gestures when he talks, his hands moving in precise, elegant motions like he’s conducting an invisible orchestra. the way his eyes light up when he’s about to make a joke, the way they seem to focus entirely on you like you’re the only person in this crowded hallway. the way he keeps glancing at you like he’s trying to memorize your expressions, the way his smile goes soft and genuine when he thinks you’re not looking.  

you notice the way other students move around you both, giving satoru a wide berth, but he doesn’t seem to notice. he’s too focused on you, on the conversation, on the way you laugh at his ridiculous dramatics.  

“hey,” he says suddenly, and his voice drops slightly, becomes more hesitant. his fingers find the strap of his bag, fidgeting with the buckle in a way that suggests he’s more nervous than he’s letting on. “i was wondering... would you maybe want to study together sometime? i mean, if you want. no pressure or anything, but i think i could help you with some of the concepts that are giving you trouble.”  

you stop walking so abruptly that the student behind you nearly crashes into your back, muttering something unflattering about people who don’t know how to walk in hallways. satoru takes two more steps before he realizes you’re not beside him anymore, then turns back with a slightly confused expression, his eyebrows raised in question. behind his glasses, his eyes are doing that thing again—that impossible color that makes your brain short-circuit and your thoughts scatter like startled birds.  

“you want to study with me?” you ask, and you hate how breathless you sound, hate the way your voice goes up at the end like you can’t quite believe it. students flow around you both like water around stones, and you’re vaguely aware of someone muttering “move it along” as they squeeze past, but you can’t bring yourself to care.  

“well, yeah,” he says, and now his ears are definitely pink, a flush creeping down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his sweater. he pushes his glasses up his nose in that familiar gesture, and you realize it’s become a tell—something he does when he’s nervous or uncertain. “i mean, you’re smart, obviously. you just need someone to explain things in a way that makes sense. and i...” he trails off, his gaze dropping to the floor for just a moment before meeting your eyes again. “i like talking to you. about math stuff. and non-math stuff too.”  

there’s something almost vulnerable in the way he says it, the way his fingers twist in the strap of his bag, the way he rocks slightly on his heels like he’s fighting the urge to flee. you catch the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the way he bites his lower lip briefly before releasing it.  

your heart is doing something acrobatic and probably medically concerning in your chest. you’re pretty sure you’re staring at him like he’s just offered you the moon, and maybe that’s not far from the truth. this beautiful, brilliant boy who corrects professors and makes calculus sound like poetry wants to spend time with you outside of class.  

“okay,” you say, and you know you’re smiling like an idiot, can feel the way your cheeks are starting to hurt from the sheer width of your grin. you probably look deranged, but you can’t bring yourself to care. “yeah, i’d like that. i’d like that a lot.”  

“really?” the relief in his voice is so obvious it’s almost endearing, and you catch the way his shoulders relax, the way his grip on his bag strap loosens. his smile transforms his entire face, making him look younger, softer, less like the intimidating academic weapon everyone thinks he is. “cool. great. how about friday? there’s this coffee shop off campus that’s pretty quiet, good for studying.”  

“it’s a date,” you say, and then immediately want to melt into the floor because who says that, who actually says ‘it’s a date’ in response to a study session invitation, what is wrong with you—  

but satoru’s smile goes soft and genuine, transforming his entire face, and he says, “yeah, it is,” and suddenly your mortification transforms into something warm and fluttery that makes your chest feel too small for your heart.  

there’s something different about the way he looks at you then, something that makes the busy hallway fade into background noise. his eyes seem to trace your features like he’s memorizing them, and you catch the way his lips part slightly, the way his breathing seems to quicken.  

you’re standing in the middle of the hallway, students flowing around you like water around stones, and for a moment it feels like you’re the only two people in the world. you can see the exact moment when he realizes how close you are, the way his eyes widen slightly, the way his gaze drops briefly to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes.  

then the moment breaks as someone jostles past you, muttering about people blocking the hallway, and you’re both laughing, a little breathless and a lot overwhelmed. the spell is broken, but something has shifted between you, something that makes the air feel charged with possibility.  

“i should probably get to my next class,” you say, even though you want to stay here forever, want to memorize every detail of this moment, want to bottle up the way he’s looking at you and save it for later.  

“yeah, me too,” he says, but he doesn’t move away, doesn’t break eye contact. his hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach for you, and you wonder what would happen if you just took that step closer, if you eliminated the careful distance he’s maintaining.  

you can see the internal struggle playing out on his face, the way his jaw tightens slightly, the way his fingers flex at his sides. there’s something he wants to say, something he wants to do, but he’s holding himself back.  

“friday,” you say, and it comes out softer than you intended, almost like a promise.  

“friday,” he agrees, and then he’s walking away, but not before you catch the way he glances back over his shoulder, the way his hand lifts in a small wave that’s almost shy.  

you watch him go, noting the way other students move out of his way, the way conversations seem to pause as he passes. he’s magnetic in a way that draws attention even when he’s not trying to, and you realize with a start that everyone else sees it too—they just respond to it differently than you do.  

where you see brilliance, they see arrogance. where you see careful precision, they see showing off. where you see someone who’s maybe just a little bit lonely behind all that intelligence, they see someone who thinks he’s better than everyone else.  

maybe he does think he’s better than everyone else. maybe that’s part of what makes him so fascinating.  

you’re still standing there, watching his retreating figure, when you realize you’re going to be late for your next class. but you can’t bring yourself to care, too busy replaying every moment of the conversation, already counting down the hours until friday.  

this is dangerous territory, you think as you finally start walking toward your next class, your feet practically floating above the ground. this is the kind of crush that could completely derail your academic career, the kind of infatuation that makes you do stupid things like enroll in advanced calculus just to stare at someone’s neck.  

but as you think about the way satoru looked at you, the way his voice went soft when he asked you to study with him, the way he said “yeah, it is” like he meant it, you decide that maybe dangerous territory isn’t such a bad place to be.  

especially when it comes with the promise of friday afternoon coffee and the chance to finally figure out what makes satoru gojo tick.  

even if he is still, fundamentally, a complete and utter show-off who somehow makes that quality devastatingly attractive.  

you’re so screwed.  

friday arrives like a slow-motion disaster, the kind where you can see the crash coming from miles away but you’re powerless to stop it. you’ve changed your outfit three times—first too casual, then too formal, then back to casual because this is just studying, right? just two people and some textbooks and definitely not a date despite what you said in that moment of temporary insanity.

(except he said “yeah, it is” with that soft smile and those impossible eyes, and you’ve been replaying that moment on loop for three days straight like some kind of masochistic highlight reel.)

the coffee shop is exactly the kind of place you’d expect satoru to choose—minimalist décor, overpriced drinks, the sort of aggressively hip establishment where the baristas have philosophy degrees and the wifi password is something pretentious like “nietzsche123.” you spot him immediately, sitting in a corner booth with textbooks spread across the table like he’s preparing for academic warfare.

he’s early. of course he’s early. probably calculated the exact time needed to arrange his hair in that perfectly imperfect way, probably positioned himself at the precise angle where the afternoon light would catch the silver threads woven through the pearl-white strands like he’s his own personal photographer.

when he sees you, his face transforms—eyebrows lifting slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching up in what starts as surprise before blooming into something genuine and warm. he stands up with fluid grace, all long limbs and careful coordination, and waves you over with a gesture that’s somehow both casual and theatrical, fingers splaying wide before curling into a beckoning motion.

“you made it,” he says when you reach the table, and there’s something almost breathless in his voice, like he’s been holding his breath without realizing it. his fingers drum once against the table edge before he catches himself, shoving his hands into his pockets with a self-conscious laugh.

“did you think i wouldn’t?” you ask, sliding into the seat across from him, your knee bumping against his under the table. he doesn’t move away—if anything, he seems to lean into the contact, and you can see the way his pupils dilate slightly behind his glasses.

“honestly? kind of.” he pushes his glasses up his nose with his knuckle, and you’re starting to recognize it as his tell for when he’s being more honest than his usual performance allows. his gaze drops to the table for just a moment before meeting yours again, and there’s something vulnerable in the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones. “i have this effect on people where they find me charming for about thirty seconds and then remember i’m insufferable.”

you’re watching the way his mouth moves when he talks, the way he emphasizes certain words with tiny gestures—a tilt of his head, a slight lean forward, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip when he’s thinking. it’s hypnotic, the careful choreography of his expressions, and you’re rapidly losing the ability to form coherent thoughts.

“thirty seconds? wow, that’s generous.” you’re unpacking your bag with deliberate slowness, trying to give your hands something to do so you don’t reach across the table and touch the strand of hair that’s falling across his forehead. “most people clock you as insufferable immediately.”

“ouch,” he says, but he’s grinning now, the kind of sharp-edged smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes them shine like winter light on water. his head tilts to the side, and you can see the way his hair shifts with the movement, revealing the elegant line of his neck. “and here i thought you were different.”

“i am different,” you say, finally looking up at him fully, and something in your tone makes his expression shift. his smile softens, becomes less performative, and he leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand in a way that makes his eyes seem impossibly large behind his glasses. “i think you’re insufferable and charming.”

the silence that follows is loaded with the kind of tension that makes your skin feel too tight. satoru’s fingers drum once against the table—index, middle, ring, pinkie in perfect succession—before he catches himself and forces his hand to still. you can see the way his throat works when he swallows, the subtle flex of muscle beneath pale skin.

“well,” he says finally, and his voice has dropped to something softer, more intimate, the words shaped carefully around a smile that’s trying to be casual but comes out fond instead. “i can work with that.”

he’s already ordered you a coffee—somehow knew exactly how you like it, which should be creepy but instead makes your chest feel warm and fluttery like you’ve swallowed a handful of butterflies. when you raise an eyebrow at him, he shrugs with practiced nonchalance, but you can see the way his ears go pink at the tips.

“you get the same thing every morning from the campus café,” he says, pulling out his calculus notebook with movements that are just a little too precise to be natural. his fingers trace the edge of the cover before flipping it open, and you notice the way his handwriting is perfectly neat even in the margins. “vanilla latte, extra shot, no foam. you also tap your card exactly three times before you put it away, and you always check your phone right after ordering.”

you stare at him, and he meets your gaze with something that’s trying to be confident but comes across as almost shy. his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and you can see the way his breathing has gone slightly shallow.

“that’s either very observant or very stalky.”

“i prefer observant,” he says, and there’s something almost vulnerable in the way he says it, like he’s admitting to more than just casual people-watching. his fingers fidget with his pen, clicking it once, twice, three times before he realizes what he’s doing and forces his hand to still. “i notice things. especially when they’re interesting.”

you’re hyperaware of every micro-expression—the way his eyebrows lift slightly when he’s waiting for your response, the way his lips part just a fraction when he’s thinking, the way his eyes track your movements like he’s cataloging every detail for later review.

“are you calling me interesting?” you ask, taking a sip of your coffee to hide the way your hands are trembling slightly. the movement draws his attention to your mouth, and you can see the way his gaze lingers there before snapping back to your eyes.

“i’m calling you distracting,” he says, and the way he looks at you makes your stomach flip. his voice drops to something almost husky, and you can see the way his fingers tighten around his pen. “do you know how hard it is to focus on derivatives when you’re sitting three rows behind someone who makes the most adorable face when they’re confused?”

you nearly choke on your coffee, and satoru’s immediate reaction is to half-stand, his hand reaching across the table like he’s going to pat your back before he catches himself and settles back down. but his eyes are wide with concern, and you can see the way his whole body has tensed with the impulse to help.

“adorable face?” you manage once you’ve stopped coughing.

“mmm,” he hums, and now his smile is pure mischief. he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and you can see the way his sweater pulls slightly across his shoulders. “you get these little lines right here—” he reaches across the table and almost touches the space between your eyebrows before catching himself, his hand hovering in the air for just a moment too long. you can see the way his fingers curl slightly, like he’s fighting the urge to make contact. “and you do this thing where you bite your bottom lip when you’re thinking really hard.”

your face is burning. absolutely burning. you can feel the heat creeping up your neck, and you know he can see it because his eyes are tracking the flush with obvious fascination.

“you’re making that up.”

“am i?” he tilts his head, and his hair falls across his forehead in a way that makes your brain short-circuit. his smile is absolutely wicked, and you can see the way his canine teeth are just slightly sharper than the rest. “you’re doing it right now.”

you immediately stop biting your lip, which only makes him grin wider. his whole face lights up with delight, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he does this little victorious bob of his head that’s so smug you want to throw something at him.

“see? adorable.”

“shut up,” you mutter, but there’s no real heat in it. you flip open your own textbook with more force than necessary, and you can feel him watching the movement with obvious amusement. “we’re here to study, remember?”

“right,” he says, but his tone suggests he’s not particularly invested in the idea. you can see him in your peripheral vision, the way he’s propping his chin on his hand, the way his eyes are still tracking your every movement instead of looking at his textbook. “studying. with calculus. very serious business.”

(this is hopeless. you’re supposed to be learning about derivatives and instead you’re cataloging the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheekbones. you’re supposed to be focusing on equations and instead you’re wondering what it would feel like to run your fingers through his hair. you’re so far gone it’s not even funny anymore.)

for the first hour, he actually does help you study. he’s a good teacher, you’ll give him that—patient in a way that surprises you, breaking down complex concepts into manageable pieces without making you feel stupid. but he’s also incredibly distracting in ways that feel almost intentional.

he keeps scooting closer under the pretense of getting a better look at your notebook, his movements casual but deliberate. first it’s just his knee pressing against yours under the table, then his shoulder brushing against yours when he leans over to point at something in your textbook. you can smell his cologne—something clean and understated with hints of cedar and something else that’s purely him.

“you’re overthinking it,” he says, leaning closer to look at your work. his breath ghosts across your cheek, and you can see the way his eyes dart to your lips before focusing back on the page. “see, right here? you’re making it more complicated than it needs to be.”

his hand covers yours on the pen, and you can feel the warmth of his skin, the way his fingers are slightly longer than yours, the careful way he guides your movements. his touch is gentle but sure, and you find yourself focusing more on the pattern of his breathing than on whatever mathematical concept he’s trying to teach you.

“are you paying attention?” he asks, and there’s something almost smug in his voice, like he knows exactly what effect he’s having on you. when you look up, he’s closer than you expected, close enough that you can see the flecks of silver in his storm-cloud eyes, can count the individual eyelashes behind his glasses.

“yes,” you lie, trying to focus on the equation in front of you instead of the way his thumb is tracing absent patterns on your knuckles.

“liar,” he says, and his voice is low enough that you feel it more than hear it. his smile is absolutely wicked, and you can see the way his pupils have dilated slightly. “you’re not thinking about calculus at all, are you?”

you pull your hand away, probably too quickly, and immediately miss the contact. satoru’s expression flickers—just for a moment—with something that looks like disappointment before he covers it with that trademark smirk.

“i’m thinking about how insufferable you are.”

“mmm,” he hums, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied expression. his head tilts slightly, and you can see the way his hair catches the light, the way his eyes are still tracking your movements. “and how charming?”

“jury’s still out on that one.”

“i’ll take it,” he says, and then he’s back to explaining derivatives like he wasn’t just completely derailing your ability to form coherent thoughts. but you can see the way his ears are still pink, the way his fingers tap an anxious rhythm against his thigh before he forces them to still.

(he’s nervous too. the realization hits you like a freight train—satoru gojo, who corrects professors and makes calculus sound like poetry, who wields his intelligence like a weapon and his smile like a shield, is nervous around you. it’s a heady thought, knowing that you affect him even a fraction of how much he affects you.)

this is how the afternoon goes—moments of genuine studying interrupted by satoru being absolutely shameless about testing your boundaries. he finds excuses to touch you, to lean close, to make comments that toe the line between helpful and flirtatious.

when you get frustrated with a particularly difficult problem, he reaches over and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek for just a moment too long. you can see the way his eyes soften, the way his touch is gentle despite the calluses on his fingertips.

“there,” he says softly, and his voice has gone impossibly fond. “now i can see your face when you’re thinking.”

when you finally solve a problem correctly, he grins like you’ve just discovered the cure for cancer, his whole face lighting up with genuine delight. he does this little pleased wiggle in his seat that’s so endearing you want to kiss him senseless.

“knew you had it in you, smarty pants.”

when you make a joke about his handwriting being too neat, he leans over and deliberately writes something messy in your notebook, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration. the movement draws your attention to his mouth, and you can see the way his lips curve around the task, the way his eyebrows furrow slightly when he’s focusing.

“there,” he says, sitting back with a pleased expression, his eyes bright with mischief. “now we match.”

(you’re in trouble. deep, catastrophic trouble. every small gesture, every casual touch, every moment of shared laughter is another nail in the coffin of your carefully constructed emotional defenses. you’re falling for him in real-time, and he seems to know it, seems to be cataloging every blush, every stutter, every moment you lose track of what you’re supposed to be doing because you’re too busy staring at him.)

it’s infuriating how easily he gets under your skin, how he seems to know exactly which buttons to push to make you flustered. but it’s also kind of thrilling, the way he focuses all that sharp intelligence on figuring out how to make you smile, how to make you laugh, how to make you forget that you’re supposed to be studying.

by the time the sun starts to set, painting the coffee shop in shades of amber and gold, you’ve made decent progress on your calculus homework. but you’ve also developed what feels like a permanent blush and a serious case of satoru-induced brain fog. the other patrons have thinned out—the philosophy-major barista is cleaning the espresso machine with the kind of methodical precision that suggests closing time is approaching.

“we should probably head back,” you say, glancing at your phone and trying to ignore the way satoru’s face falls slightly at the suggestion. “it’s getting late.”

“probably,” he agrees, but he doesn’t move to pack up his things. instead, he leans back in his seat and studies you with those storm-glass eyes, his head tilted slightly to the side. you can see the way his hair falls across his forehead, the way his glasses have slipped down his nose just a fraction. “can i ask you something?”

“shoot.”

“why’d you take advanced calculus?” he asks, and there’s something genuinely curious in his voice, like he’s been wondering about this for a while. his fingers drum against the table—that same precise rhythm you’ve started to recognize as his thinking pattern. “i mean, it’s not required for your major, right?”

you freeze, your hands stilling in the process of shoving your textbook into your bag. because how do you explain that you enrolled in a class you have no business taking just to stare at someone’s neck? how do you admit that you’ve been making academic decisions based on a crush that’s gotten completely out of hand?

“i...” you start, then trail off, scrambling for a plausible lie. your eyes dart around the coffee shop, landing on anything but satoru’s face. “i thought it would be... useful?”

“useful,” he repeats, and his tone suggests he’s not buying it for a second. when you finally meet his gaze, you can see the way his eyebrows have lifted slightly, the way his mouth is fighting a smile. “for what?”

“for... life?” you try, and even you can hear how unconvincing that sounds. your voice goes up at the end, turning the statement into a question, and you can see the exact moment satoru realizes you’re lying.

his grin spreads slowly across his face, like sunrise breaking over a horizon, and you can see the way his eyes light up with delighted understanding. it’s the expression of someone who’s just solved a particularly satisfying puzzle, and you’re the puzzle.

“you took advanced calculus because of me, didn’t you?”

“that’s ridiculous,” you say, but your voice comes out about an octave higher than normal, which somewhat undermines your credibility. you can feel heat creeping up your neck, and you know he can see it because his eyes are tracking the flush with obvious fascination.

“oh my god,” he says, and his delight is so obvious it’s almost offensive. he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and you can see the way his sweater pulls slightly across his shoulders. “you actually took a class you hate just to stare at me. that’s either really romantic or really creepy.”

“it’s not—i didn’t—” you’re sputtering now, face burning with embarrassment, your hands fluttering uselessly in the air like you’re trying to grab the words back. “you’re so full of yourself.”

“am i wrong though?” he leans forward even more, resting his chin on his hand, and his smile is absolutely wicked. you can see the way his canine teeth are just slightly sharper than the rest, the way his eyes are practically glowing with mischief. “come on, admit it. you think i’m pretty.”

“i think you’re insufferable.”

“and pretty.” his voice drops to something almost sing-song, teasing, and you can see the way his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip.

“and arrogant.”

“and devastatingly attractive.” he’s practically purring now, clearly enjoying your flustered state. his fingers drum against the table in that familiar pattern, and you can see the way his whole body is angled toward you, like you’re the center of his universe.

“and completely full of yourself.”

“but pretty though, right?” his voice has gone soft, almost vulnerable, and when you look at him you can see something genuine beneath the teasing. his smile is gentler now, less performative, and there’s something almost hopeful in the way he’s looking at you. “it’s okay, you can say it. i already know.”

you want to deny it, want to maintain some shred of dignity, but the way he’s looking at you makes your brain turn to mush. his eyes are soft and warm and impossibly blue-grey, like storm clouds with sunlight behind them, and you can see the way his breathing has gone slightly shallow.

“you’re... aesthetically pleasing,” you admit finally, the words coming out barely above a whisper.

“aesthetically pleasing,” he repeats, like he’s savoring the words, rolling them around in his mouth like expensive wine. his smile widens, and you can see the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. “wow, try not to swoon too hard.”

“shut up,” you mutter, but you’re smiling despite yourself, and you can see the way his whole face lights up when he sees it.

“make me,” he says, and there’s something challenging in his voice that makes your heart race. his eyes dart to your lips, just for a moment, before meeting your gaze again, and you can see the way his pupils have dilated slightly.

the tension between you is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is, how his eyes keep dropping to your mouth, how easy it would be to just lean forward and close the distance between you. the coffee shop has gone quiet around you—just the soft hum of the espresso machine and the distant murmur of the barista’s radio.

“we should really go,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, but you don’t move away. if anything, you lean slightly closer, drawn by some invisible force that seems to exist in the space between you.

“yeah,” he agrees, but he doesn’t move either. his eyes are searching your face, and you can see the way his breathing has gone uneven. “we should.”

finally, finally, he pulls back with visible effort, his hands shaking slightly as he starts gathering his things. you do the same, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated, hyperaware of every brush of his fingers against yours as you both reach for the same pen.

the walk back to campus is quiet, but it’s the kind of charged silence that makes your skin feel electric. satoru walks close enough that your shoulders brush with every step, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. every few steps, he glances at you sideways, and you can see the way his mouth keeps twitching like he’s fighting a smile.

“thanks for today,” you say when you reach the point where you usually part ways, your voice soft in the gathering dusk. “for helping me study, i mean.”

“anytime,” he says, and his voice is softer now, more sincere. his hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and you can see the way his shoulders are slightly hunched, like he’s trying to make himself smaller. “i had fun.”

“even though i’m a terrible student?”

“especially because you’re a terrible student,” he says, and his grin is bright enough to light up the growing darkness. “gives me an excuse to spend more time with you.”

your heart does that acrobatic thing again, and you’re pretty sure you’re staring at him like he hung the stars. the streetlights are starting to flicker on, casting everything in a warm golden glow, and you can see the way the light catches in his hair, turns his eyes into something almost ethereal.

“same time next week?”

“absolutely,” he says, and then he’s walking away, his pace slightly hurried like he’s trying to escape before he does something impulsive. you watch him go, noting the way his hair moves in the evening breeze, the way other students still move out of his way even though he’s not trying to command attention.

(you’re so gone. completely, utterly, catastrophically gone for this insufferable, brilliant boy who makes calculus sound like poetry and looks at you like you’re the most interesting equation he’s ever tried to solve.)

you’re halfway back to your dorm, still floating on a cloud of caffeine and satoru-induced euphoria, when you realize you forgot your phone at the coffee shop. cursing under your breath, you turn around and hurry back, hoping the café is still open.

the door is unlocked, and you can see your phone sitting on the table where you’d been studying, the screen dark against the wood. you grab it quickly, not wanting to keep the staff any longer than necessary, but as you turn to leave, you nearly collide with someone coming out of the bathroom.

“oh, sorry, i—” you start, then stop dead in your tracks.

because it’s satoru. of course it’s satoru. but this isn’t the satoru you’ve been staring at for two months, the one who sits hunched over his textbooks in oversized sweaters and cardigans that hide every line of his body. this is satoru with his sweater off, standing there in just a fitted white t-shirt that clings to his frame in ways that make your brain completely shut down.

the sweater is draped over his arm, and you can see a small coffee stain on the sleeve that must have happened when you weren’t looking. but that’s not what your brain is focusing on. your brain is entirely occupied with the fact that satoru gojo has been hiding an absolutely devastating physique under all those carefully chosen baggy clothes.

he’s not bulky. he’s not some muscle-bound gym rat with biceps the size of your head. but he’s solid. broad shoulders that you never would have guessed at under all those loose sweaters, arms that look like they could pick you up without breaking a sweat, a chest that’s definitely more defined than it has any right to be.

you can see the lean muscle in his forearms, the way his shirt stretches across his shoulders, the subtle definition of his abs through the thin fabric. he’s what people call a sleeper build—looking deceptively slight in clothes but surprisingly strong underneath. and it’s your worst nightmare and your most shameful fantasy rolled into one.

“you forgot your—” he starts to say, then stops when he sees your expression. his eyebrows furrow slightly, and you can see the way his head tilts in confusion. “are you okay?”

you’re not okay. you’re the opposite of okay. you’re spiraling, free-falling into a panic because your body is betraying you in the worst possible way. your carefully constructed preferences are crumbling like a house of cards, and you can feel your heart hammering against your ribs like it’s trying to escape.

“fine,” you squeak, but your voice comes out strangled and about three octaves higher than normal. you take a step back, then another, until you’re pressed against the wall with nowhere to go.

satoru follows, not aggressively, but with that same calculated precision he applies to everything else. you can see the concern in his eyes, the way his eyebrows draw together, the way his mouth turns down at the corners. he stops just close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, can smell his cologne mixed with something else—something that’s just him.

“you sure?” he asks, and his voice is soft, concerned, but there’s something else in his eyes. something that suggests he’s very aware of the effect he’s having on you. you can see the way his gaze darts down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, the way his breathing has gone slightly uneven.

“fine,” you repeat, but you’re not fine. you’re the opposite of fine. you’re having a complete existential crisis because your stupid body is responding to the sight of his shoulders, the way his shirt clings to his chest, the subtle line of muscle that disappears beneath his collar.

“you don’t look fine,” he says, and now his hand is reaching up to touch your forehead like he’s checking for a fever. the movement makes his shirt ride up slightly, revealing a strip of pale skin and the hint of muscle definition that makes your mouth go dry. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

his palm is warm against your forehead, and you can feel the slight roughness of calluses on his fingertips. you’re close enough to see the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, close enough to count the barely visible freckles scattered across his nose.

“i have to go,” you say, but you don’t move. you can’t move. you’re trapped between the wall and satoru’s unexpected solidity, and your brain is completely offline.

“hey,” he says softly, and his other hand comes up to frame your face. his touch is gentle, careful, like he’s afraid you might break if he applies too much pressure. “talk to me. what’s wrong?”

you want to tell him it’s nothing, want to laugh it off and pretend you’re not having a complete mental breakdown over the fact that he has shoulders. but you’re looking up at him—when did he get so tall?—and his eyes are so concerned and so impossibly beautiful, like storm clouds with lightning behind them.

“you’re—” you start, then stop, because how do you explain that you’re having an existential crisis over someone’s biceps?

“i’m what?” he asks, and his voice is gentle, patient, like he has all the time in the world to wait for you to figure out how to form sentences. his thumbs brush across your cheekbones, and you can feel the slight calluses on his skin.

“you’re stronger than you look,” you finally manage, and it comes out like an accusation.

satoru blinks, clearly not expecting that particular confession. his eyebrows lift slightly, and you can see the way his mouth parts in surprise. “i... yes? i work out sometimes. is that... bad?”

“yes,” you say immediately, then realize how that sounds and scramble to backtrack. “i mean, no. i mean—” you’re spiraling again, because he’s looking at you like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to solve, and his hands are still on your face, and you can see the way his muscles move under his shirt when he breathes.

“you don’t like that i work out?” he asks, and there’s something almost hurt in his voice, the way his eyebrows draw together, the way his mouth turns down at the corners.

“it’s not that,” you say quickly, because you can’t bear the thought of hurting his feelings, even in your current state of panic. “it’s just... i don’t usually... i mean, i’ve never been attracted to...”

you trail off, realizing what you’re about to admit, but satoru’s eyes light up with understanding. his mouth curves into a slow smile, and you can see the way his pupils dilate slightly.

“you’ve never been attracted to guys with muscle,” he says, and it’s not a question. his voice has gone soft, almost wondering, and you can see the way his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip.

you nod miserably, feeling your face burn with embarrassment.

“but you’re attracted to me,” he continues, and there’s something almost smug in his voice now, the way his smile widens, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“unfortunately,” you mutter, but you can’t look away from him, can’t stop cataloging every detail of his face.

“unfortunately,” he repeats, and his smile is absolutely wicked now. you can see the way his canine teeth are just slightly sharper than the rest, the way his eyes are practically glowing with mischief. “so what you’re saying is that i’m irresistible enough to overcome your very reasonable preferences.”

“i’m saying you’re a problem,” you say, but there’s no heat in it. your hands have somehow found their way to his chest, fisting in the fabric of his shirt, and you can feel the warmth of his skin through the thin material.

“a problem you want to solve?” he asks, and he’s leaning closer now, close enough that you can feel his breath against your lips. you can see the way his eyes dart down to your mouth, then back up to meet your gaze.

“a problem i want to avoid,” you lie, but your hands are pulling him closer even as you say it, and you can see the way his smile turns fond at the contradiction.

“liar,” he says, and then he’s kissing you, soft and sweet and completely devastating.

the kiss is everything you’ve been imagining for months and nothing like you expected all at once. his lips are soft, gentle, but there’s something sure and confident in the way he moves against you. you can taste coffee and something indefinably sweet, can feel the way his hands tighten slightly on your face like he’s afraid you might disappear.

when he finally pulls back, you’re both breathing hard, your heart hammering against your ribs like it’s trying to escape. you can see the way his eyes have gone dark, the way his hair is slightly mussed from where your fingers found their way into it.

“still think i’m a problem?” he asks, and his voice is rough, affected, like the kiss hit him just as hard as it hit you.

“the biggest problem,” you say, but you’re smiling now, because maybe some problems are worth having. especially when they come with shoulders like that and eyes like storm clouds and the kind of smile that makes you forget why you ever thought muscles were a bad thing.

“good,” he says, and he kisses you again, deeper this time, with more confidence. his hands slide from your face to your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the strength in his arms, the way his body is solid and warm against yours.

it should terrify you. it should make you want to run. instead, it makes you want to map every line of muscle with your fingertips, want to figure out exactly how strong he is, want to lose yourself in this impossible contradiction of a boy who looks like he’d break if you handled him too roughly but feels like he could hold you together if you fell apart.

“you’re trouble,” you murmur against his lips, and you can feel the way he smiles at the words.

“the best kind,” he agrees, and his voice is pure sin, rough and low and absolutely devastating.

you’re so screwed. but as satoru kisses you again, his arms solid and sure around you, you decide that maybe being screwed isn’t such a bad thing after all.

especially when it comes with the promise of more friday afternoon study sessions and the chance to figure out exactly what other surprises satoru gojo has been hiding under those oversized sweaters.

even if he is still, fundamentally, a complete and utter show-off who somehow makes that quality devastatingly attractive.

and if his hidden muscles are just another thing to add to your growing list of reasons why you’re completely gone for him, well, that’s a problem you’ll deal with later.

right now, you’re too busy kissing the most insufferable, brilliant, surprisingly strong boy you’ve ever met to care about anything else.

[katsukijo]

nerd!satoru noticed you the first day you started school, watching as you made friends and he too wanted to be on the list, only, he kept putting off, and as your popularity grew he decided you were never meant to be. He just didn’t have the courage.

nerd!satoru was shamelessly obsessed with you despite that. When he wasn’t fussing over Digimon, trying wacky new sweet treats or studying for the next set of exams, he was thinking of you. Sometimes he even lost focus during his hobbies because he pictured you by him, enjoying them too.

nerd!satoru loved your laugh, your voice, the little customisations you made to your uniform, all the different styles you wore your hair, and he has to show his adoration for you in some way.

So, he began leaving presents in your locker. He nearly shit himself out of fear every single time, but he couldn’t stand you not knowing someone absolutely adored you. He left expensive jewellery, flowers, hair accessories, chocolates and even money so you could treat yourself however you liked.

nerd!satoru got painfully hard when he saw you wearing the necklace he had bought you for the first time, the one with his initials engraved on the back. He wasn’t worried about being exposed because why on earth would you know who the nobody Satoru Gojo?

nerd!satoru nearly combusted on the spot before he gets his physics test results when he finds himself next to you in the school dinner queue, standing so pretty with your hair down and curled, none of your friends in sight.

He starts shaking, his glasses falling down his nose, but his hands are far worse and when he adjusts them, he drops them.

nerd!satoru feels the need to curl up in a ball and die when you glance over and notice his idiocy. You stand no chance now, Satoru.

nerd!satoru watches as you bend down and pick up his surprisingly intact glasses and smile all bright at him. Yeah, his Digimon and manga can take the backseat for you.

“You dropped these.” With his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth, he didn’t respond. Real lame, Satoru.

Not taking his silence as rudeness, you reached up and brushed his snowy hair off his forehead, slipping his glasses back on for him. Satoru’s knees were about to give out. He needed a chair, fast.

nerd!satoru has fantasised about the ghost of your touch for longer than he cares to admit, and the real thing surpasses every expectation he had, and all he can think is that he wants more.

nerd!satoru only just manages to find his voice when you ask a question he had used in many of his fake scenarios.

“What’s your name?”

“Satoru.”

The next parts are sat in my drafts.

[katsukijo]

THATS LIKE, SO FETCH!

<<< main masterlist

1.On Monday's wear colored shoes!

(DONT BE FOOLED BY THE PINK)

PopularBF! Satoru X Meangirl!Reader

2. On Tuesday's wear shirts with slogans on them!

(SPOILED ROTTEN, LOVED TO DEATH)

Delinquent!Sukuna X Meangirl!Reader

3. On Wednesday wear pink!

(THE BRAT PROTECTION PROGRAM)

Bodyguard!Toji X Meangirl!Reader

4. On Fridays wear jeans or track pants!

(PRETTY WHEN WE FIGHT)

Punk!Choso X Meangirl!Reader

5. Never wear hoop earrings, they are Regna's thing!

(CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT)

Nepobaby!Nanami X Meangirl!Reader

6. Always match your shoes to your skirt colour, unless they are boots!

(I WANNA BE IN THE SEQUEL)

transfer!Suguru X Meangirl!Reader

7. Never wear a tank top two days in a row!

(PRETTY GIRLS MAKE THE WORST STUDENTS)

Nerd!Ino X Meangirl!Reader

8. Only wear you hair in a ponytail once a week!

(Sorry, underworks!)

(Wanna be tagged in all the mean girls collection? Let me know!)

[katsukijo]

DON’T BE FOOLED BY THE PINK

PAIRING: PopularBF!Satoru X Meangirl!reader

SUMMARY!! Y/N is the undisputed queen of the school — captain of the cheerleading team, untouchable, and fiercely protective of her spot at the top. Then she shows up: the quiet new girl, sister to one of Satoru’s closest friends, and instantly wrapped in the basketball captain’s attention. But this isn’t your typical “new girl steals the spotlight” story.

(Mean girls collection masterlist here!)

East Kinsen University’s courtyard was loud with first-week energy — new students darting between buildings, upperclassmen lounging in clusters like they owned the place. And in a way, you did.

Your legs crossed as you sat on the concrete ledge outside the gym, black sunglasses shielding your eyes from the early fall sun. People walked by and either greeted you or looked away too quickly. Your reputation had that effect.

You were Y/N. Captain of the cheer squad. Satoru Gojo’s girlfriend. Pretty, well-dressed, impossible to ignore. People either wanted to be you or wanted to see you trip.

You didn’t care either way.

You took a slow sip from your iced coffee and glanced at your phone. He was late. Again.

When Satoru finally showed up, he was in his usual post-practice look — basketball shorts slung low on his hips, hoodie sleeves pushed to the elbows, hair damp and messy from the gym. He wore that same loose grin he always had when he saw you.

“You're not slick,” you muttered, eyebrows raised. “Fifteen minutes?”

He leaned down, kissed your cheek. “Technical meeting ran over. Coach wants to murder Kaito for slacking on defense.”

“Again?”

“Every day.”

You smiled despite yourself. Then your gaze flicked past him.

Trailing behind him, slightly hunched, was a girl you didn’t recognize.

Wavy dark hair, headphones in, a stack of books clutched to her chest like a shield. She wore a plain long-sleeve top and jeans, the kind of outfit that made her easy to miss.

But Satoru was walking with her.

He turned and gestured lazily. “Yo, Y/N — this is Yui. She’s Daichi’s little sister. First year. He asked me to show her around since he’s got classes all day.”

You took your sunglasses off slowly.

Daichi was one of Satoru’s closest friends. A solid guy. Chill, never talked much. You knew him mostly through late-night study groups and group hangouts at the courts.

Yui blinked like she hadn’t expected you to even look at her.

You didn’t smile. You nodded.

“Hi,” she said softly, voice nearly drowned out by the noise of a passing skateboard.

Satoru nudged her shoulder with casual ease. “She’s a little shy. But she’s cool.”

You gave her a once-over. The oversized backpack, the nervous posture, the way she avoided your eyes. Not a threat. Yet.

That afternoon, you ended up at the dining hall with Satoru’s usual crew — Daichi, Ren, Kaito, and Satoru. You weren’t always there, but today you felt like being visible.

Yui tagged along, of course. Satoru pulled out a chair next to him. You were about to sit down when she sat there instead.

You watched her blink in slow realization.

“Oh—sorry,” she murmured, half-standing.

“It’s fine,” you said before Satoru could speak, sitting on his other side instead. You glanced across the table at Kaito, who watched the whole thing happen with unreadable eyes. He quickly looked away when you caught him.

Halfway through lunch, someone asked how Yui liked her classes.

“They’re okay,” she said. “I’m still figuring everything out.”

“She’s in one of my psych lectures,” Satoru added, casually. “Professor’s a lunatic. Screamed about pigeons today.”

“She’s passionate,” Yui said with a small laugh.

You stared at her. You weren’t used to other girls laughing with your boyfriend.

By the end of the meal, it was clear: she wasn’t trying. She wasn’t flirting. She wasn’t competing.

And that’s what made it worse. She didn’t have to try. She was already in the room. At the table. In Satoru’s words. Laughing at his jokes. And no one noticed the shift. Except you.

It started with a laugh. That was all. Not yours — hers.

It was in the student union lounge, Thursday afternoon, when you heard it. You were across the room, near the coffee counter with Ren and Daichi, scrolling through your phone while they argued about fantasy league picks. Satoru had said he’d be “five minutes.”

He was ten.

And when you looked up, he was there — across the room, slouched over the vending machine with Yui beside him. She had her hair tied in a low, messy knot and was holding a can of green tea. Something he said made her laugh. A soft one. Quiet. But familiar.

It wasn’t flirtatious. Just… familiar.

You watched as he bumped her shoulder lightly, like he’d known her longer than two days. You saw how she looked up at him — not like she wanted him, but like she trusted him already.

That was worse.

Friday afternoon, you passed the quad on your way to class and spotted Satoru sprawled on the grass with Kaito, Daichi, and Yui.

No one invited you. You weren’t mad. You were just... watching.

Yui sat cross-legged, sketching something in a small spiral notebook. You recognized the style — fine pen lines, heavy shading. She was talented. You could admit that. Quietly.

You didn’t stop to say hi.

Saturday night was when the first crack showed.

You were at Satoru’s place. His roommate was out, the lights low, your jacket on the floor, and your legs draped over his lap. You weren’t fighting. But something was off.

He was scrolling through his messages absently, the glow of his screen lighting up his face.

You leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you back — quick, distracted.

“Who’s texting?” you asked casually.

He didn’t flinch. “Daichi.”

A beat of silence. Then you saw the edge of a photo — something black and white, drawn in ink. You blinked.

“Is that one of Yui’s sketches?”

He looked up at you, surprised. “Yeah. She showed me earlier and I told her to send it. It’s of the court. Cool, right?”

You stared at him.

“She drew the basketball court?”

“She said it helped her focus. It’s kind of sick.”

You smiled tightly. “Yeah. Sick.”

Monday, you sat at your usual table in the campus café — the long one by the window. Satoru had just come back from the gym, towel over his shoulders, hair damp. You were halfway through a protein bar when he slid into the seat across from you.

You expected him to kiss you hello. He didn’t. He was texting.

You leaned forward. “You good?”

“Huh?” He looked up. “Yeah. Just — Yui left her psych notebook in the gym. I told her I’d drop it off.”

Of course he did. You took a sip of your drink and looked away.

The worst part was how quiet it all was. No one was flirting. No one was lying. It wasn’t that kind of story. But you still felt it — this silent invasion of space. Your space. Your people. Your boyfriend.

And every time you said something about it, it sounded ridiculous. Satoru wasn’t doing anything wrong. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t happening.

That night, you got a DM on Instagram.

From Kaito.

She’s not doing it on purpose, you know.
But I still don’t like it either.

You stared at the message.

Then you closed the app.

You didn’t realize the group hang was happening until it was already halfway underway.

Daichi sent a lazy text in the guys’ chat about grabbing food after evening classes, and somehow that had turned into a full table reservation at Yuu’s Ramen Bar downtown. You weren't even in the chat — Satoru texted you separately, told you the plans like you were being added to something instead of hosting it.

The first subtle shift.

You met them outside the restaurant. The weather was cooling, breeze tugging at your cropped jacket. You looked good. You always looked good — perfect makeup, clean lines, skirt just high enough to remind everyone you were her. You used to walk in and own the room.

But tonight, the room had already shifted. They were standing around, waiting for the last of the group. Daichi, Kaito, Ren, Satoru… and Yui.

She was wearing a dark sweater and plaid skirt, sleeves too long, hair tied with a ribbon. She looked like she didn’t mean to be there. That’s what made her presence so hard to challenge.

“Hey,” she greeted, voice quiet.

“Hey,” you said flatly, brushing past her to Satoru’s side.

He leaned down, gave you a quick kiss to the temple. “Glad you made it.”

You tried not to glance at Yui, but you felt her eyes on you.

Inside, the table was long. You sat between Satoru and Ren, across from Daichi and Yui.

You didn’t know who made the seating call, but it irritated you.

Yui ended up next to Daichi, but she kept glancing at Satoru across the table. You saw it. You weren’t going to mention it. Not yet.

The boys were loud, laughing over miso bowls and fried gyoza. You tried to stay in it — laughed when Kaito told a story about freshman year, played with Satoru’s fingers under the table.

But at one point, Daichi asked, “Yui, did you tell them what club you’re thinking of joining?”

“Oh,” she said, straightening. “The art society.”

Kaito nodded. “That fits. You still sketching campus buildings and people and all that?”

Yui flushed a little. “Yeah. I just don’t know if I’m good enough to—”

“Don’t say that,” Satoru interrupted, casual but direct. “That drawing of the old gym? That was sick.”

You blinked.

She smiled. “You remembered that?”

You cut in before he could answer. “Satoru has the memory of a goldfish. Don’t give him that much credit.”

A few chuckles. But Yui looked down. Her smile faded just slightly.

Later, when the check came and everyone was getting up, Yui accidentally bumped into your shoulder while grabbing her coat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

You turned slowly. “It’s fine.”

She hesitated. “I hope I’m not… making anything weird.”

You gave her a long look.

“No,” you said. “You’re not that important.”

Her face dropped. She didn’t reply.

When you and Satoru left, he was quiet. Too quiet.

“Something wrong?” you asked, half-daring him to say it.

He ran a hand through his hair. “You didn’t have to say that to her.”

“Say what?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

You stopped walking. “Why are you defending her?”

He paused. “I’m not. I’m just saying… it wasn’t necessary.”

You smiled, cold. “Neither is her sitting with you every day.”

That silenced him.

Back in your dorm room, you took off your earrings with slow, careful movements.

Your phone buzzed. A text from Ren.

You good? Looked a little tense tonight.

You typed, deleted, then typed again.

Do I look crazy to you?

Three dots. Then:

No. Just different.

You stared at the screen until it dimmed.

Monday mornings had a rhythm.

You walked into the student lounge and the table by the windows was always yours. Satoru, Kaito, Ren, Daichi, and you. You brought coffee sometimes. Other days, snacks. You filled the silence, kept the conversation up when the boys were too tired from weekend games.

You were the glue. You always were.

But this Monday was off. You entered the lounge and saw them first. Kaito half-laughing. Satoru leaning back with his ankle crossed over his knee. And Yui — sitting in your chair, holding a takeout tray of coffee cups and paper bags.

“—I just figured everyone could use a pick-me-up,” she was saying, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “The bakery near the art building opens early.”

Daichi held up his croissant like a toast. “This slaps.”

You stopped. Your seat was taken. Not just physically — but replaced.

Satoru spotted you and smiled. “Hey, babe. She brought pastries.”

You forced a smile and sat next to Kaito instead. A space over.

He didn’t say anything, but when he slid you one of the coffees she brought, you noticed he’d passed over one that didn’t have lipstick on the lid.

Small mercy.

By Wednesday, people in your program were talking about Yui’s art.

There was a bulletin board near the design wing, and she’d put up a charcoal sketch of a girl sitting alone on the library steps. It was beautiful, you’d admit. It also looked eerily like you — same posture, same boots.

People stopped to compliment it. Someone even said, “You know, she’s so refreshing. Like… real. She’s not trying to impress anyone.”

As if that was something to praise. As if trying hard made you fake. As if you trying at all was the problem.

That afternoon, you sat on the bleachers watching basketball practice. You always did — the cheer squad usually finished an hour earlier, and you liked seeing Satoru move, command, lead.

You were halfway through tying your jacket around your waist when you spotted her.

Yui.

Sitting in the far corner of the bleachers. Alone. Sketchbook in her lap, legs tucked under her.

You didn’t walk over. But you kept glancing that way, waiting for her to leave.

She didn’t. She waited until he waved. At her.

You saw it clearly. The lift of his arm between drills. The way her posture straightened when she noticed.

Your stomach turned.

That night, you left the group chat. Quietly. No drama. No goodbye.

But they noticed. Daichi messaged you, then Ren. You ignored both. Only Kaito sent the right thing.

Wanna talk? No judgment.

You didn’t reply for hours.

But eventually, you did.

She’s replacing me.

His typing bubble appeared. Then paused. Then started again.

No. She’s just… being included.

You stared at that sentence.

Then:

But I see you. I haven’t forgotten.

You blinked at that.

It was nothing. And everything.

Thursday, Satoru walked with you to class. You held his hand loosely. You didn’t say much. He did.

“You’ve been off lately.”

“Have I?”

He exhaled. “Y/N…”

You looked up. “Do you like her?”

His brows pulled together. “What?”

“Yui. Do you like her?”

“No. She’s Daichi’s sister. She’s a kid.”

“She’s only two years younger than us.”

He looked frustrated now. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m observant.”

He pulled away just slightly. “Can’t you just let people in without turning it into a threat?”

You stopped walking.

“I used to be your person,” you said quietly. “Not a threat. Not a chore. Just… your person.”

He didn’t have an answer for that. And that hurt more than anything.

It started with a seat. Again.

Friday morning, your first free period, the guys had taken the usual corner table outside the cafeteria. It was barely 10 a.m., and already warm. You were running late — hair still damp from your shower, your slides too loud on the concrete path.

You rounded the corner, expecting the usual: the boys eating loud and fast, Satoru teasing Daichi about his midterms, Kaito flipping through his notes, and an empty spot beside your boyfriend.

But the seat wasn’t empty. Yui was already there. Right next to Satoru.

They weren’t doing anything, not exactly. But her elbow was close enough to his that your heart clenched. He leaned toward her mid-sentence, laughing softly at something she said. She wasn’t flustered this time — her voice was calm, steady.

She wasn’t trying anymore. She had already arrived. You walked slower.

When you reached the table, Kaito was the only one who stood slightly, sliding a chair toward you. You caught his eyes. He didn’t smile, but he gave you that quiet look — the one that said, Yeah. I saw it too.

You sat across from Satoru. He greeted you with a casual, “Hey, babe,” like nothing had changed. But everything had.

Later, while walking to class, Kaito caught up with you.

“She’s louder now,” he said casually.

You looked at him sideways. “What?”

“Yui. Used to whisper everything. Now she interrupts Daichi when he talks.”

You raised a brow. “Why are you telling me that?”

Kaito shrugged. “Just proving I’m paying attention.”

You didn’t say thank you. But you didn’t look away either.

That afternoon, you found out they had planned a night out — ramen and karaoke. A group thing.

You found out by accident.

Daichi had posted a dumb video on his story: Ren badly lip-syncing to some anime opening while the camera panned across the private karaoke room. There was Satoru. There was Daichi. Kaito. Ren.

And Yui. Laughing on the couch, your drink in her hand. The one you always ordered.

No one had texted you.

You were alone in your dorm, eating crackers with peanut butter, phone glowing in the dark.

You didn’t cry. You called Kaito. He picked up on the second ring.

“You saw?”

“Yes.”

He exhaled. “I wasn’t in the mood to go either. But I had to show up.”

“Why?”

“Because someone has to keep her from turning into you.”

The silence was loud.

You didn’t speak for a few seconds. Then quietly:
“What’s wrong with being me?”

“Nothing,” he said. “But they forget what it took for you to get here. She just walked in.”

The next day, Yui approached you.

You were at the vending machine near the back stairwell, alone between classes. She came around the corner with her sketchpad pressed to her chest.

She didn’t look nervous. She looked… ready.

“Hey,” she said.

You turned, slow. “Hi.”

She didn’t fidget. “I just wanted to clear the air. I know it’s weird that I’m around your friends all the time now.”

You smiled. Not kindly. “Oh, now you notice?”

Yui looked away for a second, then met your gaze again. “I didn’t mean to step on anything.”

“But you didn’t stop either.”

Her throat moved in a swallow. “I didn’t think I had to. I thought… maybe there was enough room for more than one girl at the table.”

You tilted your head. “That’s cute. But it’s not about room. It’s about roles. I had mine.”

“And now I’m threatening it?”

“You’re not threatening it,” you said, voice sharp. “You’ve already replaced it.”

For a moment, you thought she’d say sorry. But she didn’t.

Instead, she said, “Maybe you just stopped wanting it.”

That stopped you cold. She walked off without another word.

Satoru wasn’t oblivious. He just didn’t want to admit how bad it had gotten.

It was easier to think you were just being dramatic. That your tension with Yui would settle. That things would click back into place if he just gave it time.

But he wasn’t stupid.

He saw the way you started dressing up more for morning classes again — lashes perfect, lip gloss slick, hair curled even when it rained.

He noticed how you kept your phone face-down around him, and how Kaito always seemed to look at him like he knew something he didn’t.

The final nudge came on a Thursday.

Yui had been tagging along to lunch with the group. Again. She wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore — cracking jokes with Daichi, handing Ren her apple juice like they’d grown up together.

Satoru was halfway through his rice bowl when you walked up to the table, dropped your bag beside him, and smiled — big, bright, the kind of smile you used when cameras were around or when you were pissed.

“Hey, baby,” you said sweetly, sliding into his lap like it was nothing.

Everyone froze. Even Yui.

He blinked. “Hey.”

You wrapped your arm around his neck and leaned in like you’d missed him all morning. You hadn’t. You’d ignored three of his texts.

Yui looked down at her tray.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said, brushing your fingers through Satoru’s hair like it was routine. “Cheer practice ran over. You didn’t wait for me?”

He hesitated. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

You smiled with your teeth. “I’m always coming.”

After lunch, Satoru caught up with Kaito on the walk to class.

“She’s starting to play games,” he muttered.

Kaito gave him a dry look. “You mean she’s acting like your girlfriend again?”

Satoru frowned. “It’s not about that.”

“It is to her.”

He didn’t respond.

At practice that evening, Yui showed up again.

She claimed she was waiting for Daichi — said she just wanted to sketch from the sidelines until his shift ended.

Satoru didn’t believe her.

She sat quietly, legs crossed on the bleachers, sketchpad on her knees. The first ten minutes, she didn’t look at him at all.

The next ten, she did. And the next.

He wasn’t sure when it started, but he found himself thinking about it even when he was running drills.

Not her, exactly. But the way you’d looked at her during lunch. Like a challenge. Like you were done playing nice.

And for the first time in weeks, that version of you — sharp, high-maintenance, territorial — made him feel something warm under his skin.

It reminded him why he’d fallen for you in the first place.

You didn’t go quiet. You never faded out.
You fought for what was yours.

Later that night, he showed up at your dorm without warning.

You opened the door in a robe, eye masks under your eyes, music playing low behind you.

“Do you want something?” you asked, not stepping aside.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I just— We haven’t talked.”

“That’s new.”

He gave you a look. “You’ve been acting like I’m the enemy.”

“Because you’re not on my side.”

A beat of silence.

Then, softer: “I’m just stuck in the middle.”

“Then move.”

You crossed your arms. He looked at you — really looked. Messy bun. No makeup. Annoyed as hell.

Beautiful anyway.

“Don’t make this a war,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Then stop handing her ammo.”

The silence between you stretched. Not hostile — worse. Tense in a way only people who used to love each other could feel.

When you finally turned to look at him, he looked tired. No teasing smile. No cocky charm. Just Satoru. Raw, undecided.

“You don’t see what it’s like,” you said, voice lower now. “Sitting there every day like I’m some relic while she slides into my spot.”

He frowned. “You think that’s what’s happening?”

“No, Satoru. I know that’s what’s happening.”

“She’s not—”

“Don’t finish that sentence unless you want me to laugh in your face.”

His jaw clenched.

You leaned back in your chair, legs crossed under your robe. “She’s sweet. Quiet. Harmless, right? I know the game. I used to play it.”

“She’s not playing a game.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m losing?”

That silenced him. You watched him, eyes softening just enough to let the truth peek out.

“You don’t look at me the same anymore.”

He didn’t answer. And that was the answer.

You stood up slowly, walking to the mini fridge to grab a bottle of water. Twisting the cap off, you kept your back to him.

“I used to be the only girl you’d skip class for. Remember that? We’d lie in bed all morning, then I’d wear your sweatshirt to practice just to make it obvious.”

“I remember,” he said quietly.

You turned back around, arms folded loosely around your waist. “Now I feel like I’m fighting a war no one told me we were in.”

Satoru finally stepped forward, voice lower. “You think I don’t care about you anymore?”

“I think you’re tired of me. And you’re too cowardly to admit it.”

He flinched at that — not dramatically, but you saw the way his throat tensed.

Then, softly: “You’re wrong.”

“Prove it.”

That hung there, heavy and cold.

He looked at you — really looked. Wet lashes. Bare skin. Red mouth. Sad eyes that still somehow sparkled when they stared him down.

“I miss us,” he said.

You blinked.

He stepped closer, hesitantly brushing your wrist with his fingers. “But you’ve got this armor on now. Like I’m the enemy.”

“You started this war,” you whispered.

“I didn’t think I’d have to choose.”

You swallowed. “But you do.”

He nodded once. You held his gaze a second longer, then turned back to your bed and sat down, curling your knees up beneath you.

Satoru hesitated.

Then slowly, quietly, he joined you — sitting on the floor in front of your bed, leaning back against the frame.

No one spoke. The music still played quietly from your phone speaker, some old Japanese R&B playlist looping in the background.

You reached down, your fingers brushing his shoulder.

Then, slowly — impossibly soft — he leaned in and kissed you.

It was barely even a kiss at first. Just his lips brushing yours, a question wrapped in hesitation. And then your hand slid into his hair, and that was it.

He kissed you again — slower this time, deeper. His hand moved to your cheek, his thumb sweeping just beneath your eye. His lips pressed to yours again, and again, with a hunger that surprised even him — not desperate, but familiar. Like he knew you. Like he had always known this mouth, this rhythm, this exact taste.

You made a soft sound against him, and he moved closer.

Your legs tangled beneath the covers. Your robe loosened slightly at the shoulder, and his hand slid along your waist, warm and steady, not rushing. His fingers gripped the fabric, grounding himself there.

When he pulled back, just a breath away, he kept his forehead resting against yours. His voice was low and hoarse.

“I hate fighting with you.”

You swallowed. “Then stop giving me reasons to.”

“I didn’t know how to handle it,” he admitted. “Everything just got… loud. And she was easy.”

You blinked. “You mean quiet.”

He nodded.

You traced the curve of his ear with your fingertip. “I’m not easy, Satoru.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But I never wanted easy.”

He kissed you again — this time slower, like he had all night. You let yourself melt into it, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as his body pressed you gently into the mattress.

It was messy. A little angry. A little sad. But it felt real again. And in that moment — it was enough to stay.

It started with the hallway.

Friday morning. Eighth period break. You were always a little late walking to the cafeteria — part intentional, part habit. You liked people watching you enter.

But today, there was no act. You were calm.

You wore your school sweatshirt slouched off one shoulder and a miniskirt paired with knee-high socks. Hair half-up, gloss shining but simple. Not trying too hard. But you didn’t have to.

You knew he was waiting at the table. Satoru. And this time, he wasn’t looking at the entrance for someone else.

Ren was mid-story when you walked in. Kaito and Jin were arguing about fantasy league stats. Daichi had his head down texting.

Satoru was staring at his drink — until the second you stepped in.

His head lifted instinctively. His eyes followed you, slow, steady, like they didn’t want to blink and miss the moment. And you?

You walked right over to the table, slid into the seat next to him, and draped your arm along the back of his chair like it belonged there.

“Missed me?” you said casually.

He looked at you, smiled. A real one. “Always.”

Across the table, Yui watched quietly. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

Her lunch tray was still untouched. Her water bottle had a tight grip around it. Her drawing pad sat unopened in her lap. She kept glancing from you to Satoru like trying to make sense of the math.

But the numbers weren’t adding up. You were back in your seat. And Satoru didn’t even hesitate.

He nudged your leg under the table. You looked over, caught him staring — warm and distracted. You rolled your eyes but didn’t move your leg.

You laughed at one of Ren’s jokes. You stole a fry from Daichi’s plate. You whispered something in Satoru’s ear and made him chuckle mid-sip.

And all the while, Yui sat three spots down, pretending not to notice. But she noticed. Everyone did.

Especially when, just before the bell rang, Satoru reached over and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear like it was nothing.

In the hallway after, you could feel her catching up. The rubber soles of her sneakers too soft to be loud — but you were trained to feel eyes.

“Y/N?”

You stopped, turned.

Yui stood there with her sketchpad hugged tight to her chest.

Her voice was calm. Careful. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

You didn’t answer right away. Just crossed your arms, tilted your head.

Satoru glanced back from where he stood ahead — waiting, watching — but you waved him off.

He nodded slowly and kept walking.

When it was just the two of you, you finally spoke.

“What’s up?”

Yui hesitated, her grip tightening around her notebook.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

You smiled. “But you did.”

“I was just trying to make friends.”

“And you picked my boyfriend?”

Her expression shifted slightly — not angry, not even defensive. Just… confused. Hurt, maybe.

“I didn’t think it would matter. You barely looked at him lately.”

That landed sharper than she probably meant.

But you didn’t flinch. You stepped forward, slow, deliberate — just enough to have to look down into her eyes.

“Here’s the thing,” you said softly. “You don’t have to understand what we are. You just have to remember that we are.”

And with that, you turned and walked away.

Leaving her in the hall with her sketchbook and a stomach full of silence.

The sun was setting behind the gym building, casting long golden shadows across the basketball courts. Practice had ended late. Satoru was walking toward the locker rooms, gym bag slung over one shoulder, hair messy, shirt slightly damp with sweat. His jersey clung to his back, and his steps were slow — tired but calm.

Until he heard her voice.

“Satoru!”

He turned.

Yui stood a few feet away, hands nervously gripping the strap of her messenger bag. Her cheeks were flushed — whether from walking fast or nerves, he wasn’t sure.

“Hey,” he said, adjusting his bag. “Everything okay?”

She hesitated, then stepped closer. “Can we talk?”

He didn’t answer right away. The way she was looking at him made his stomach tighten — it was too open, too expectant.

“Just a minute?”

“…Yeah.”

They walked toward the side of the gym where it was quieter, near the old vending machines. It smelled faintly of rubber mats and Gatorade. A few straggling players shouted from inside, but out here, it was still.

Yui finally turned to him.

“I don’t want to make this harder than it needs to be,” she began, voice low. “But I think I deserve to know what’s going on.”

Satoru blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Her voice faltered. “You and Y/N. Yesterday. Today. Everything’s changed.”

He shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking down to the cracked pavement. “Yeah. We’re figuring things out.”

Yui’s brows pulled together. “But I thought—”

She stopped herself. Satoru looked up at her.

“You thought what?”

“I thought you liked me,” she said softly. “Or at least… I thought there was something.”

He stared at her a moment — not cruelly, not even cold. Just... quiet. Honest.

“Yui,” he said carefully. “I like you. You're sweet. You're easy to talk to.”

Her face lit up with hope.

“But,” he continued, “I was never not with Y/N.”

Yui’s expression froze.

“I thought maybe... we were over,” he admitted. “Things got distant. Complicated. But it wasn’t your job to fill that space.”

“You said you wanted me around,” she whispered.

“I did,” he nodded. “And I meant it. But not like that.”

Silence. A bird chirped somewhere nearby. A basketball thudded in the distance.

“You were just being nice,” she finally said, her voice cracking just a little.

He nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry if I led you on.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

“I wasn’t trying to steal you,” she said suddenly. “I just… felt safe with you.”

He gave her a sad smile.

“That’s the thing, Yui. I’ve never been safe. Not with her. Not with anyone.”

She looked away quickly, trying to blink back the sting in her eyes.

Satoru adjusted his bag, standing taller now.

“You deserve someone who doesn’t hesitate,” he said gently. “Someone who chooses you all the way.”

And then — he turned, walking off toward the locker rooms, leaving her alone in the golden light.

The evening air was cool and soft, wrapping around you like a quiet promise.

You found Satoru sitting on the low stone wall outside the school gym, alone except for the fading light and the distant hum of the city.

Without thinking, you slipped beside him, your shoulder brushing his.

He glanced at you, eyes catching the last warmth of the sunset.

For a moment, words failed you both.

Then, slowly, Satoru reached out, his hand warm as it slid to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath hitched.

He looked down at your lips, then back to your eyes — searching. You swallowed.

“Can I?”

His nod was the softest thing. Leaning in, your lips met his.

The kiss was gentle at first, a quiet question hanging between you.

Then it deepened — slow and steady, like two halves finally coming together after too much space.

Your hands found his wrists, fingers curling lightly.

He pulled you a little closer, careful, like you might disappear if he wasn’t.

When you finally parted, your foreheads rested against each other, breaths mingling.

“I missed this,” he whispered.

“Me too,” you said, voice just as soft.

You stayed like that a moment longer — two people tangled in something honest and new and old all at once. And for the first time in days, the noise around you faded completely.

[katsukijo]

NERDJO ASKING TO RECORD YOU - S.GOJO

smut mdni, nerdjo, lots of use of the word 'shit', recording, based on this req, ignore the errors - not edited

He pushes his glasses up his nose with the back of his wrist, lips parted, face flushed, hair a mess — and yet he still somehow manages to look like he just tripped out of a library instead of over your thighs.

You’re sprawled out beneath him, shirt hiked up, chest rising unevenly. He’s already made a mess of you tonight — tongue too curious, fingers too focused, brain too obsessed — but now he’s hovering above you with that look again.

The one that says he’s thinking something deranged and trying very hard to phrase it like a math problem.

“Okay, um,” he starts, swallowing. “Don’t be mad. Or weirded out.”

You blink at him.

“…You’re making this sound like a confession.”

He groans softly and scrubs a hand down his face. “Okay, yeah, maybe a little bit. I just — I was thinking. Not in a creepy way! Just — like, data collection.”

“Data,” you repeat, deadpan.

He nods too eagerly. “Y-Yeah, like… observational stuff. To better understand your responses and preferences and, uh…” His voice dies in his throat. “Like, for next time. I can be more efficient.”

You stare.

“Gojo. Are you asking to record us?”

He goes red. Almost comically so.

“I mean — yes?” He winces. “But, like, not in a weird guy way! Not like that! Just for — just to review— I mean, I wouldn’t share it or anything, obviously, it's strictly for— for scientific purposes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Scientific.”

“I’m a visual learner,” he blurts.

A beat of silence.

You laugh — loudly. “You’re such a freak.”

He groans, collapsing forward against your chest, hiding his face like you’ve just caught him cheating on a test. “I knew you’d say that.”

“But like,” you grin, combing your fingers through his messy hair, “a hot freak.”

He peers up at you, all glasses-askew and hopeful. “So… not a no?”

You hum, dragging your nails gently down his back. “Only if I get a copy too.”

He chokes on his own breath.

-

The camera’s recording.

You’re under him — flushed, dazed, stretched out against the sheets — and he’s hovering over you like he’s trying to catalog everything, the way your lips part when he lines up against you, the way your fingers clutch at the pillow, the sound you make when his tip just presses in.

“For science,” he mumbles, breath catching, trying to laugh it off as he pushes in inch by inch.

But his voice breaks halfway through.

You’re so warm. So tight. Gripping him like your body knows him.

“Oh— f-fuck, that’s…” He chokes on a groan, burying himself to the hilt. “Yeah. Okay. I— I need to remember this angle—shit—”

He braces one hand beside your head, the other gripping your waist as he starts to move. Slow at first. Like he’s holding back. Like he thinks he can pace this.

He can’t.

The moment your hips roll to meet his, the spell snaps.

His rhythm stutters, and suddenly he's thrusting harder, head dropping to your shoulder with a guttural moan.

“You feel so good, fuck, it’s insane—”

You moan his name, fingers dragging down his back, and that breaks him. Fully.

His glasses slip down his nose, and he doesn’t bother fixing them — he’s too focused on the way you tighten around him, the way your body reacts to everything he does. You grab the foggied glasses off his face and toss them aside. "you look hotter like this" you grin at the way his face turns tomato red.

He pulls back to look down at where you’re joined, eyes wide, watching the way his cock disappears into you over and over.

“God, I wish you could see what I see,” he pants. “It’s fucking— shit, you’re perfect—”

You clench around him, and he stutters, hips jerking.

"You're doing it on purpose," he groans, the sound desperate. "Fucking me dumb so I can’t analyze shit.”

You grin. “You already sound dumb, baby.”

He whimpers. Actually whimpers.

And then he’s grabbing your thigh, hooking it over his shoulder so he can fuck you deeper. The way you gasp, back arching, sends him reeling. He knows the camera’s picking it up. Every moan. Every slap of skin. Every filthy, broken whisper that falls from your lips like music.

He drops his head again, panting against your neck.

“Y-you’re gonna watch this later, right?” he babbles. “Wanna see yourself, wanna hear how wet you are—fuck—how loud you get when I—”

A particularly deep thrust cuts him off. You cry out, and his entire body shudders.

“Shit, shit, I’m close—baby, I can’t—”

You grab his jaw and make him look at you.

“Come in me,” you whisper.

His eyes roll back.

He moans like it physically hurts, hips stuttering, pace breaking down into frantic thrusts as he fucks you through it. Choking on your name. Losing every thought he ever had.

And when he finally spills into you, cock twitching, breath ragged, chest heaving — he collapses on top of you like he just got knocked out.

A beat of silence.

Then, muffled, still buried inside you..

“Okay, but… this is, like… invaluable data.”

You laugh breathlessly, brushing his damp hair off his forehead. “You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Your nerd.”

And the camera keeps blinking red — still recording every second of it.

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau @laslowchan @ethxrxxlity

A/N: got kinda long and got kinda carried away, excuse me :p

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

Masterlist

[katsukijo]

Morning routine⛅

[katsukijo]

ᴊᴇᴀɴ ᴋɪʀꜱᴛᴇɪɴ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ~

You heard the front door open with a quiet click, followed by a heavy sigh that echoed faintly down the hallway.

“Babe?” Jean’s voice was tired but familiar—like warmth in winter and the scent of home-cooked pasta.

“In the kitchen,” you called, standing over the stove in his hoodie and fuzzy socks, spoon in hand. “Also, take your shoes off before you walk in here! I just mopped.”

A dramatic groan came from the hall. “You mopped? Who even does that anymore?”

“I do,” you said proudly. “Because I don’t want you tracking mud from your gross training grounds into our apartment, you gremlin.”

He laughed, his voice getting closer as he obeyed and kicked his boots off by the door. “I’m an Survey Corps soldier, not a gremlin.”

“You were crawling up a tree when I called you earlier.”

“Okay, maybe part-time gremlin,” he conceded, appearing in the doorway with messy hair, a light sheen of sweat, and a slightly scuffed jaw. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You smiled at him, leaning on the counter.

Jean dropped his bag, walked over, and without saying a word, wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. You felt his breath against your neck, and your heart softened instantly.

“Missed you,” he mumbled.

“You smell like dust and dirt,” you replied, but your hands still found his. You laced your fingers together, anchoring him to you. “But... I missed you too.”

“You look cute in my hoodie.”

You turned your head to look at him. “That’s why I’m wearing it.”

He kissed your cheek lazily, like he didn’t have the energy to move but still needed you close. “What are you making? Smells good.”

“Pasta. Your favorite. Figured you’d be starving.”

Jean made a pleased little hum, like a man who just fell in love all over again. “I am starving. Starving for you, mostly.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, shoving him lightly with your hip. “You are so lame.”

“But you like it,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes and stirred the pot again. “You’re lucky I like anything about you.”

Jean leaned in and nuzzled into your hair. “No, I’m lucky you love everything about me.”

You tried not to smile, but failed. “Cocky.”

“Only with you.”

The kitchen was quiet except for the bubbling pasta and your quiet laughter as he tugged you away from the stove for a real kiss, one hand on your cheek and the other still looped lazily around your waist.

Eventually, he pulled back, his voice low and sleepy. “This right here? Coming home to you like this? It makes the rest of the day feel worth it.”

You kissed him again just to shut him up.

©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!

[katsukijo]

GEEK! SATORU GOJO / FEM! READER ᗢ𓄹 ׅ ࣪ ˖ ⊹

⚠️ WARNINGS: masturbation, dirty fantasies and thoughts, pervert behaviour, down bad Satoru, submissive Gojo, no actual smut (smut in part 3), very suggestive, NSFW, virgin Gojo who is severely downbad for reader. fluffff. sub gojo

A little bit of Geto x reader

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

geek!gojo who is entirely obsessed with anime, video games, and whatever weird shit he can find on the internet. He can play boring simple games but they are nothing compared to the ones with heavy lore. Is it weird he is also obsessed with the lore behind all of these games? How the games were founded, what they mean, the creators themself, why was it made and the depth of every character.

whenever he found something new and intresting it will take over his entire personality.

geek!gojo would know weird facts about the creators of his intrests too. Like who bothered to find out or who even cares to find out that one of the creators of animal crossings birthday is April 7th? If you ever had a birthday that was the same as one of them he is IMMEDIATELY informing you.

geek!gojo who rambles to Geto about fortnite lore and any other lore he needs to tell someone, no one else cares to listen to him. Hell even Geto don't give a fuck but listens anyways (his ass is NOT listening and Gojo knows that).

geek!gojo who is in college and is a known loser. Glasses, Dragon Ball Z wallpaper, and a fucking random dinosaur as his phone cover. Trust me, that dinosaur has a lot of lore too that you WILL be informed about if you are anywhere near him.

Hence why no one goes near the guy.

geek!gojo who sees you for the first time, a transfer student. You are so utterly beautiful in his eyes he is already thinking how to ask you out with cheesy pick up lines that refrences his favourite game at the moment.

geek!gojo who seethes with jealousy seeing how easily you fit in with normies, its not like he knew if you had intresting taste, he just gave you his own little headcanon on some things he assumes you will share intrest with him.

annoyed!geto who has to not only hear about Satorus geeky ass topics, but now a girl he has never spoken to being his potential future wife. Sure you were overly pretty, but would you really want a geek like Satoru?

geek!gojo who has been eyeing you for almost a month now, same classes as you but never had the chance to utter a word at you. Instead he sits at the back with Geto, staring daggers at you (his way of rizzing) for not paying attention to him. He is mad how you found yourself in a big popular friendgroup, and seated sooooo far away from him.

geek!gojo who knows YOUR lore. Geto says its creepy but Geto doesn't know anything. Gojo is aware of how many siblings you have, your favorite food, drink, color and everything he could possibly grab by purposely earsdropping on your conversations.

Yet no sign of you sharing geeky intrests with Gojo... oh well, if you really are just an extremely pretty and cute normie, he will just have to teach you about everything he likes one by one!

geek!gojo who gets teased and bullied by the other people in your friendgroup, it was never physical, just constant nagging comments.

"Whats the nerd doing here" they would say, or "Isn't that the guy that has a roblox girlfriend?" He didn't have a roblox girlfriend that was just a rumour! It was just his own Miku avatar they got confused with! He hopes to god you dont believe that rumour! He is single and looking, looking at only you!

YOU who never batted an eye at him when your friends would tease him. It bothered him, not exactly how you would think...

Yes, he would love if you defended him, he would cry tears of joy. He wants that more than anything.

But you wouldn't give him that, the least you could do is join in the teasing. He ached for you to give him any sort of attention. Why were you standing there minding your own business when the rest of your friends are gossiping about him! After all this time do you not care to know about him? Even if it is to laugh about how much of a loser he is?

nerd!gojo who starts trying to find ways for you to notice him. Did you not realise how lately he only wears your favorite color? Look! He is eating your favorite snack!! Don't you want to ask for some? Ask him how much he likes them? Where he bought them? If you want to get some with him? Date him?

tired!geto who constantly bugs Gojo to forget about you, as the two sat in class. The teacher was reading out who gets paired with who for some project. Wait!! This is it!!! The sensei is obviously going to pair you and Gojo, thats how the fanfictions go... right?

geek!gojo whos ears perk up at the sensei calling your name, then swears someone shot him 568 times when he hears the name to go along with it.

"Suguru Geto"

geek!gojo is fuming, this is not how it's supposed to go! What happens if you get too close with Suguru during this two week project?

"Satoru and Sukuna" of course, he has to be paired with your annoying friend. There were even rumours of you two dating! Does this mean he is paired with your maybe secret boyfriend?

geek!gojo who suffered the two weeks of dealing with Sukuna and his friend getting you in all your glory. He would beg for Suguru to ramble on about you. But of course Suguru never gave much information to feed Gojo's curiousity.

geek!gojo who has never had pussy in his life. Actually, he was never one to think about girls that much. His games were far more important, and catching up on the authors life from his favourite underground manga sounded better than dreaming about girls.

But damn his mind never forgets to think about how cute and sexy you look everyday.

You come in every day with a skirt, he thanks the heavens when it looks a little shorter then the last time he saw you. When you wear baggy shirts and hoodies is allows him to fully visualise how you would look in his, and that just aches his cock...

The days you wear knee high socks its like you decided to gift him with life, blessing him, giving him a reason to come into college, reason to live. Don't get him started on the days you wear slightly revealing tops, or extremely tight ones.

Hell when you wear a baggy shirt that shows your shoulder he is fucking losing it, mumbling under his breath about how much he wants to lick and bite your exposed skin. He can see your bra strap and its driving him critically insane, why does he act like such a loser virgin teen. Well, he is two of those things.

geek!gojo who has all the compliments in the world to give you when he sees you walk through the doors, sitting far away infront of the class with your lame friends. But he cant bring himself to utter a word to you, how dare he be the first to speak to you, a lowly thing like him.

geek!gojo who is ripping his hair out at the back of the class, as much as he loves your laugh and giggles, it poisons his heart knowing they are all towards... Nanami? What the fuck! You even started speaking to Nanami before him!! Did you really look down on him, to the point you would neither pay positive or negative attention to him?

Oh well... because geek!gojo has many fantasies of you in his head, curing him from the loss of your attention and touch. Sure, his thoughts of you spiral in his head whilst in your presence and he can't contain himself nor his constant boners in class from the sight of you. But once he is all alone in his dorm room he can finally releif himself from his dirty thoughts.

Hand on dick, biting down on his lips, pants discarded.

geek!gojo was never one to masturbate that much, the sensation from how he used to do it before you to now is totally new and much better and sensitive because he actually had someone in mind, someone who deserved to be the one to make Gojo feel like this. So whiny, so needy, so.. submissive...

"ah- pleaseee let me come"

"ahh! ngh i need it baby"

He begs as if your there, the one toying with him. His hand is fast and he is getting more desperate. He cums quick by visualising your soft lips, nice smelling hair and wide innocent eyes.

Fuck. He was in deep...

What would you be like in bed? Submissive? would you be shy when he enters you or would you shout at him for taking so long? Would you be more dominant? Order him around, straddle his face and crotch. Tell him to be good for you for a treat? Bark Beg for you? Oh and now he's hard again...

consultant!geto who tells Gojo to

"start giving up, seriously. I dont want to see you hurt Satoru"

Is Suguru right? Gojo asks himself...

Maybe... he should try to stop... thinking about you so much... you're out of his league anyways and you've made it clear you want nothing to do with him. Gojo can take a hint, right?

geek!gojo who is sprawled on his bed again the same night, hand moving in a fast pace, moaning and screaming for you in pleasure. He misses you despite never getting to be around you. He needed you so bad.

geek!gojo who is panicked in class. Not only is Suguru off sick, making him alone, but you weren't in today. What was the point of him coming in? What was the point of him practicing how to talk to you infront of his mirror like he does everyday before college?

His heart is tainted, looking at your friend group bunched around together but your seat staying empty.

The lights in the class dimmed, a short film the sensei is playing about some aspect of human biology. Whatever, he wasn't one to study much or pay attention, he thinks as he carelessly pulls out tetris. Around seven minutes go by and right beside him the door opens. Gojo's seat is right by the entrance of the door, so he got a good view of you walking in, out of breath, tight top, knee high socks and messy hair.

Apologies to your teacher were said, the sensei dismissing your poor sense of time as you were usually never late. Gojo is extremely curious on why you were late, wants to question you like an insecure clingy boyfriend.

"Its fine, just quickly find a seat and dont interrupt the film" The teacher says to you as your eyes scanned the room for an available seat. Walking to your usual seat would be a nuisance... you would have to embarrassingly walk in front of everyone and interupt the film again, and Sukuna was near your seat, you dread to sit next to that weirdo.

geek!gojo who is ultimately curious at the sound of Sugurus chair being pulled back, and someone else taking it.

"Is Geto in today?" you ask quietly. You were staring... right... at him... Gojo was silent, still staring. Your first words ever to him. Even if it is about Geto, you spoke to him. That's all he cared for in the moment. It took him 13 seconds to respond to your question by shaking his head 'no'. You looked at him awkwardly, obviously you were weirded out by him being so... dumb? silent? lost? out of it?

He can barely function in your presence, and your words and your lingering eyes and your attention.

He finally gets what he has been wanting for ages but hes being all shy and weird about it, you were probably regretting your decision of sitting by him.

But geek!gojo was jumping and frolicking in joy in his head. YOU were sitting right beside him. You looked in his eyes, talked to him (even if he didn't say anything back) and is sitting by him for the rest of the film. He hops to god this film would never end.

"You are fine with me sitting here, right?"

you whisper again, eyes glues to his face, worried if Gojo is annoyed by you and thought you were overstepping his boundaries. This time he nodded his head 'yes' a little too fast, scared if he was hesitant you would leave. You gave him a quick smile before turning all your attention to the film. You smiled at him?! His fingers are already fidgeting with the desk, his tetris long and forgotten about.

its been about 4 minutes and geek!gojo wont stop geeking. He smiles to himself, leg bouncing up and down. His poor heart can't handle this.

He can tell you were bored out of your mind, he watched you pull out a peice of paper from your bag and start to... doodle?

He feels like a fake fan for finding out so late that drawing is one of your hobbies.

He desperately needs to see and praise every art work you've ever made, his eyes continously peek at your paper.

geek!gojo who immediately recognises the characters you drew. Kirby? Six from the game my little nightmares? Hello kitty doodles and stars everywhere. His heart melts, he loves your little style and finding out you share a few intrests of his make his heart bounce everywhere in his body. He is afraid he cant control his racing heart and only you can catch it.

"kirby" he says. It's all he says to you.

You two share an awkward silence, but Gojo can't back down now.

"Sorry i uhm i uh- i uhh" he stutters, he cant make the decision to look straight into your eyes or his fidgeting hands "uh i also like kirby. Although, i wouldn't grant kirby to be my favourite character from the kirby games, he is infact a good main character and i hold no dislike for him but i do find meta knight to be a much better character. Not for the main character lead, just in general, meta knight has a very intresting, cool character design and i find him to balance out the game correctly and appropriately. I think meta knights introduction to the game definitely holds-" He was interrupted by a giggle by you, your smile wider than ever. Hell, he never knew you could smile like that, all it does is make his hear flutter and face flustered. He got to be the reason you're giggling and smiling at him like that?

"I agree meta knight is awesome, although, i personally like waddle dee the most. His character design may be simple but i still-" Hearing you ramble on not only surprised him, but made him happier than ever. This entire time you truely was his dream girl? His headcanons about you were canon.

geek!gojo who got to talk to you for the rest of the lesson, quietly of course. You two talked about things you shared intrest in, and he talked about stuff he likes that you've never heard of. He loved how you would question stuff about his intrest, showed intrest in what he was talking about and actually listen to him. You cared for what he had to say about his useless stuff.

geek!gojo who paid attention to everything you say. When you hit him with a fun fact about something he already knows and thinks its bare minimum knowledge for real fan, he is acting like it’s all new to him. You talked about topics he never really knew of too, every word spoken by you made him fall for you deeper and harder.

geek!gojo who is now rambling on about you to Geto after Geto asked why he was so smiley over facetime.

"Idiot Suguru! You said i never had a chance with her, look at us now"

jealous!geto who immediately knew you and Gojo would hit it off if you guys spoke to eachother once. Spending time with you during the two week project let Geto realise how great the two of you would be together, yet, Geto wanted to... gatekeep you? Who knew Geto would start feeling something for you too.

note: i have much more to yap about, there WILL be a part 2

part 2 is out :p

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

@kivrumi do not steal / copy / reword / translate my work