Ellie || Nineteen || She/Her - Info : Writes for JJk/BNHA/LADS/more TBA ||
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I will most likely continue creating masterlists for each fandom i write for so to make my works easier to find, I will be putting them in my Main Masterlist. I have some rules that will need to be followed. This is mainly for making requests and also interacting with my blog. I ask that you please read these before following/interacting :)
Warnings: AGED UP, p in v, step siblings, cunnilingus, oral (f & m), cream pie, some have no protection, afab reader, fingering, choking, hair pulling, spanking(barely), swearing (duh), slight age gap in one (just for the trope to make sense, NOT PEDO I SWEAR) Slightly creep like behaviour from Shoto.
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Katsuki Bakugou~ Collage Professor
You and your professor had an odd relationship.
It definitely wasn't a relationship relationship, but it wasn't not that.
Ever since meeting him you hadn't been with anyone else. Even though you thought he wouldn't even care since he called the night you spent together a "mistake" you still felt guilty even thinking about someone else.
So when he cornered you in his office after seeing you talking to a male classmate you were most confused. But you didn't complain. You never did.
~
“strip.”
He doesn’t repeat himself, even when you hesitate. He just looks at you like you've done something so wrong. You strip immediately after locking eyes. Your clothing falls to the floor. you’re bare in seconds, eyes wide and throat bobbing as his gaze moves over you, like a lion stalking it prey.
“good girl,” he murmurs rubbing his jaw.
His thick arms reach out to grab you. His hand are warm as they get a hold onto you and slide down your figure, down to grab your ass.
"Your all mine. Do you understand that?" He growls in your ear. "If I ever see you with another man, I will fuck you right there Infront of him so he knows he can never make you feel as good as I do.
Your head bobs up and down. nodding harshly.
you nod frantically, breath caught in your throat.
~
He has you leaning over his desk with one hand resting on his back. The cool wood showing a large contrast from your hot skin.
He unzips his now tight pants and before you know it, he's slapping his cock against your ass.
And without a warning- he pushes in.
"Fuck your tight. So -ha- tight." He groans as he sinks his length into you.
"Ngh- professor-" You cry, nails clawing into the cool wood beneath you.
He starts to move. His thrusts are slow and deep, scaping against every inch of your pussy.
You moan. High pitched and breathless, just how he remembered it.
"Say your mine. Now."
"Yours-Hah- All yours."
His large hand reaches around to rub your clit before he slaps it. Hard.
He does it to the point your sobbing, hips jerking back against his, pussy clenching on his length. "Cum for me. I can feel your close. Come on be a good girl."
And that was the final straw.
The next thing he knows, you're screaming. Knees buckling beneath you, he has to hold tight so you don't fall.
He's still going at a relentless pace.
Eijiou Kirishima~ Only one bed
Kirishima and you had been assigned on a mission together overseas, -but since arriving at the hotel provided- the both of you had noticed one single problem.
There was only one bed. It wasn't too big either, a queen-size sure but definitely not enough for two people with one being a giant like Kirishima was.
Originally, he had offered to sleep on the floor, but you would feel too bad if you had made him do that so you both squeezed into that bed that definitely was not accommodating to his size. Your back was pressed against the hard chest that he worked so hard to keep and the hardness from in his pants which you had purposely accidentally rubbed against.
And that's how you ended the way you were now.
~
Kirishima had one arm wrapped around your thigh, holding it up while he grinded his length into you, stretching you out dramatically. While is other arm was wrapped around your throat, holding your head back tight against him.
"Kiri" you panted.
It didn't take long for him to reply, quicker than expected really. His voice was laced with a slight haze of tiredness as he spoke.
"Yeah baby? what do you need?"
His voice lingered in your ear as his hot breath fanned the side of your neck.
"I need you-hah-inside of me"
He chuckled a bit at your fucked out manner, "I am inside you baby what else do you want inside?" he teased.
"mngh-Cum...I need you to...ngh... come inside me."
He was taken aback by your words for a moment, he felt like he'd gotten harder-if that's even possible. The only reply he had for you was a guttural groan as he made his stroke even deeper. If he was going to come inside he would make sure it was a s deep as possible.
By your lack of words and pulsing cunt, he knows you were getting close to your limit. He's had you like this for quite a while.
"Fe- Feels good baby? You're taking me -hah-so well."
He removed his hand from around your neck, bringing it down to rub your clit causing pleasure to course through your body.
"Ngh...Cumming!... Oh Kiri...Please!"
"Cum baby... Thats it good girl." His deep voice drove you through your orgasm while your tight squeezing brought him to his.
His strokes faltered as he held his cock deep inside of you filling you with his cum.
Denki Kaminari ~Step Bro
He swears it normal.
But if it was really normal why didn't every step sibling do this?
He took care of you when your parents weren't home, he drove you where ever you needed to go, he bought you anything you wanted and he made you...feel things.
Things that you weren't to sure were normal.
It wasn't normal. None of this was.
Yet here you are. Standing outside of his bathroom before hesitating to push the door open.
~
Steam enveloped you as you walked in, fogging up the mirror as water ran from the shower head.
Denki stood under the spray with his head tilted back and water trickled down his chest. His shoulders shone under the light as he rolled them back, stretching his muscles.
You couldn't help but state, you were in awe. His wet hair framed his face perfectly making his features more striking. He had caught you looking-obviously.
He would never miss a chance to tease you.
"Caught you Little sis." You hated when he called you that. "y'got a thing for me or something?'" he smirked.
Your cheeks flush but you wouldn't look away. "I just-" You hesitated. "Really like your hair when its wet." You mumbled.
He smirked wider as he stepped closer. The space between you was no longer there as he pulled you into the shower while his hands quickly found a grip on your hips. "You like when I'm wet?"
~
He made quick work of stripping you of your clothing leaving you bare in front of him.
He hummed, one of his hands was gripping your thigh as he made sure to keep you upright against the cold tiled wall, while his other hand reached between the two of you and ran a finger over your sensitive clit.
"Denki, Please.." You breathed out, trying to get your pussy closer to his throbbing cock. He chuckled while he watched your face scrunching with pleasure.
"Your so impatient baby. Ya want me that bad? You want your step brothers cock?"
A whine escaped your lips as he finally started to push into your tight pussy.
A moan reverberated in his chest as his fingers dig into the plush flesh of your thighs as he begins to thrust deeply inside of you.
"Ngh- You feel so good baby."
His hips slap against yours, your body was bouncing agaisnt his toned chest and the wall behind you. The only thing keeping you from falling being his strong arms.
Your attention was taken away from him as you heard the front door open and shut as the sound of footsteps move throughout the house.
Your parents were home.
His eyes met yours once again, "We'd better be quick and quiet then shouldn't we, hmm?"
Izuku Midoriya ~Private tutor
You had desperately needed a tutor... Like desperately.
You had just flunked your biology paper and couldn't afford to lose anymore marks, so you opted into the private tutor scene.
You had really tried to stay focused, but it was just so hard when your tutor, Izuku, had looked so cute. How could you honestly? He looked just so good with his messy green hair and his glasses resting on his nose. How could anyone expect you not to heat up the back corner of the library.
~
"W-We really shouldn't - ah-be doing this here-!"
His voice broke halfway through the sentence as your hips slid down once more. The lewd slap of skin-on-skin faintly echoed in that back corner. The flush on his face had run down his neck by now, his shirt completely unbuttoned, tie loosened and his hair sticking up more than it had been before.
His clean glasses were now fogged up with the mix of yours and his hot breath.
Your hips rock against him, grinding down against him. He just sat there letting you do your thing; his large hands grab onto your thighs like a lifeline.
"A-Aren't you worried-Ngh- that someone might see? Hah..." He chokes out as his legs spread wider underneath you. "What-hah-What if we get caught?"
"Do you want me to stop 'Zuku?" you purr into his ear as you lean in close making his head tip back as a groan slips from his lips.
"God no. I don't want you to stop." It was the most put together sentence he'd said this whole time.
He twitches inside of you as you roll your hips faster against his hard length, which drags out a whimper he had so desperately tried to choke back. His hands slide up from their position on your thighs to tightly grip your waist while he rocks into you while shaking his head.
"Don't stop-" He groans. "I-You feel so good- best pussy ever."
His glasses slip further down his nose then they already had been when his head drops forwards to rest on your chest. "Ngh-fuuuck-" He groans into your collar. He's bucking into you now, trying so hard to match your pace. "I'm gonna cum- your gonna make me cum."
Grabbing his cheeks so that he looks at you "Oh-'Zuku- hah- Me to." You whine.
And that's what pushed him to the edge.
His balls drain inside of you as he cries out, his eyes roll back into his head filling you to the brim. His hands never once let go of your waist and your hips never stop moving.
His head tilts back and looks at the ceiling. And that's when he sees the camera into corner of the room...pointing at the corner you were in.
Hanta Sero~ Delivery Man
When you opened the door to that delivery man, this was not the outcome you had expected.
~
You were sat on the couch, phone in hand waiting for your uber eats to arrive. Your app said it was about four minutes away so you got up to find your wallet so that you would be prepared to pay the man. The only problem was; you couldn't find it. Anywhere.
You were frantically searching your apartment for the damned thing but still not luck.
*Nock Nock Nock*
Suddenly you were dragged from your thoughts by the sound at the front door. You checked the time and sure enough, four minutes had pass, and your food was here.
Crap. you thought, hands flying to your hair as your rushed to the door shouting a quick, "Coming!"
You swung it open and there he was. He had to be the most good-looking man you had seen, way to good looking for this kind of job. You were at a loss for words as he stood in your doorway.
"Hi ma'am, sorry for the wait." he smiled holding out your order. "That'll be $20" He was still smiling once he had passed you your food and held his hand out for the money owed.
"I-Uh, I-" You swallowed. "I don't have any money on me right now" You bowed your head to look at your feet.
"Oh!" He was clearly taken aback. "That's alright I guess, It'll be on-"
You cut him off.
"But I can pay you in another way." You purred while grabbing his wrist, tugging him inside your home.
~
Tears blurred your vision as you looked up at him from your spot on your knees Infront of him.
"Eyes stay up here, Okay?" Sero encouraged, making you nod your head as your eyes locked on his after drifting for a moment.
He was big. If he wasn't holding you down by your hair your probably couldn't take it all down your throat. His hard length throbbed deep in your mouth, filling you completely, muffling all your noises.
You moved your head back and forth with your tongue dragging along his sensitive tip. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he looked down at you.
He threw his head back, a hiss escapes his lips, "Just like that." His large hand rested on his head.
You hummed around his length which was all he needed to coax him into coming down your throat. His hot load filled you up, his salty taste filled your senses.
Shoto Todoroki ~ Girl next door
You were his neighbor. His pretty little neighbor. His favourite part of the day was watching you get home from wherever you went. He couldn't help but watch you from his porch, his bedroom, outside your bathroom.
The first time you had actually speak is after he sees you on the other side of his peep hole. He hadn't even realised it was you when he first opened the door.
You lean on the doorframe clearing not minding intruding the opening of his home. Your skin was more on display now that he was looking at you right Infront of him rather than through a small peephole in his door. He had seen you with less on, but this was different...You were right Infront of him. Your top had a straight neckline and had stopped right below your chest. You looked so soft, it took so much willpower to not just tug you close so he could feel you.
"Hey" You wave "You busy right now?"
And that was really all that he could remember before having his fantasy coming true.
~
He had you turned away from him with your back pressed into his chest. He spins your hair into a fist and clears a space for his face to nose into your pulse from behind.
"Do you know," he nips your neck, "How crazy I go whenever I see you?'
That makes your back arch, and you feel the effect you have on him. "I have some idea."
He wraps a hand tightly around your throat, " I have condoms in my bedroom. Go." He releases you with a spank.
It didn't take long for him to end up inside you.
He has your front pressed against his kitchen counter with your moans being soaked into the marble. He fucks into you perfectly with slaps and squelches filling the large space of his home. He finds the spot inside you the causes you to shake and whine and focuses on that particular spot with pounding strokes.
"My Good little neighbor. Does that feel good baby?" He growls into your ear.
"Ha-Yes Yes Yes!" You chant "It's so good- ngh- I'm gonna cum!"
"Then cum sweetheart." He chuckles.
He's quick to grab onto your hips when he feels your pussy shudder against his length, he's still thrusting into you while you clench down around him, drawing him closer to finishing. He shoots into the condoms filling it so much he's worried it will spill out.
Bf!Sylus who is pretty protective of you, so would even say over protective. He hardly ever lets you out of his sight, but when he does he knows you’ll be safe because of the personal training he had done with you.
Bf!Sylus Who is very supportive of any decision you make. If you have a new hobby, great he’ll buy you everything you need. If said hobby doesn’t go to well, cool, more time to find other stuff to do and keep you happy.
Bf!Sylus Who always meets your requests with a “yes ma’am” or “happy to oblige my love.” His heart is your and he hopes you know that. He’s always eager to please.
Bf!Sylus Who only lets you talk back to him. One; because he values your opinion, 2; because he thinks you look adorable when you’re being bratty or hotheaded. If anyone else spoke to him like that, it’s uncertain if their families would ever see them again.
Bf!Sylus Who likes to know where you are all of the time. He wouldn’t call it stalking (anyone else would) he just likes knowing your safe and not doing anything your not supposed to be.
Bf!Sylus Who is naturally the dominant one in the relationship. I mean look at him, how could he not be. He’s 100% a brat tamer, another reason he’s ok with you talking back, because he can “punish you.”
Bf!Sylus Who loves when you make a mess of his sheets. In his mind, it’s not a job well done if they’re not soaked. You say your tired and it’s “to much” well the sheets aren’t soaked so your going again. He likes being able to look at you after covered in his and your own release, he likes how shiny and sticky you look. Sometimes he’ll rub his fingers in it and make you like it or he does himself.
Bf!Sylus Who, the moment he sees you with a kid and all happy, he’s immediately thinking of you with a swollen belly after he releases inside of you. He can’t help the primal need for it after you unleash that vision in his mind.
Bf!Sylus Who doesn’t relax after he has fully cleaned and soothed any ache you might have, after all he does like to go pretty rough.
Bf!Zayne who tries to hide his affection towards you but honestly fails constantly. You will always catch him staring with a slight blush tinting his cheeks.
Bf!Zayne Who Would want kids one day. But only if you wanted them. He would love to see mini versions of you guys running aroun pd the house.
Bf!Zayne Who is type of person to make you feel seen and heard in a conversation. will make it known that he is listening. If anyone ever dared to interrupt you he would tell them off.
Bf!Zayne Who is perfectly content when sitting in silence with you, just being in your presence is enough to give him butterflies.
Bf!Zayne who monitors you and your health closely. He would blame himself if you were ever unwell or hurt and would take it upon himself to make you feel better.
Bf!Zayne whos aftercare is absolutely perfect. Will run you a bath while you sit on the toilet making sure it it the perfect temperature. He makes sure your all clean before he joins you.
Bf!Zayne who likes to be in control in the bedroom but is constantly making sure what he’s doing is what you want.
Bf!Zayne Who takes pleasure in making you feel good.
Bf!Zayne Who likes concent to be outright given. He will never ever do anything without it even if you say he can.
Bf!Zayne who is super protective towards you. He knows you are an independent woman and can most likely handle it yourself, but, If there is ever a time that someone is rude and has taken something to far, he will be right beside you no questions asked.
Bf!Zayne Who likes to call you things like “my dear wife” (even if your not married) or “darling”. He likes the more sophisticated sounding nicknames for you.
Random bf!Caleb head cannons, because I said so (anything to get me out of this writers block atp)
Bf!Caleb who always makes sure that you have eaten, whether you’re sad, tired, drunk or even just hungry. He is always ready to make you something, name something and he will make it for you.
Bf!Caleb who loves to try new recipes for you to try, he always gets you to test his for (after he’s made sure it’s tastes good of course, he would dare damage his reputation in the kitchen)
Bf!Caleb who finds it extremely hot when you are the one cooking for a change. He loves how focused you are. Sometimes he will come up behind you and just drape his whole body on you, it’s like your back has a human shield.
Bf!Caleb who loves kitchen counter sex. You’re cooking in the kitchen? Cool he’s going to life you into the counter and go down on you like a starved man. You’re bending over to grab something down low? He’s right up behind you rubbing himself on your ass.
Bf!Caleb who loves having you sit on his lap, whether it’s completely innocent or not so much. He loves having you sitting on his lap after either of you had a rough day, hands on your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles and whispering reassuring things into your ear. In his opinion, it’s one of the best ways to end a bad day. On days where you has you on his lap is to ride him. He likes sitting up while you ride him, 1. Because of the closeness and 2. Because you gets to whisper in your ear the whole time, like seriously, he’s never not talking.
Bf!Caleb who is extremely possessive and not afraid to show it. You talk to another guy? Cool he’s going to be right next to you in an instant wrapping an arm securely around your waist glaring at the guy.
Bf!Caleb who has to be holding your hand or some part of you when you guys are out. He can’t be letting you run off now can he? What kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t constantly keep an eye on you?
Bf!Caleb who isn’t afraid to show anyone who looks at you, your his.
Bf!Caleb who is constantly calling you when either one of you are away. He always wants updates on your life, it doesn’t matter if it’s boring, he just wants to hear his girlfriends voice.
Bf!Caleb who constantly has mood swings. One moment he could he completely happy enjoying his time with a smile on his face, and the next he looks as if he has smelt the worse thing ever. He constantly just shuts down mid conversation loosing complete interest in what he was saying.
Bf!Caleb whos favourite place to kiss you is on the top of your head or forehead. This is because he can do it when you least expect it. He does this all of the time when he is cradling you in his arms.
Bf!Caleb who every time before you kiss be reaches to touch your lips almost as it to make sure your real.
Bf!Caleb who nuzzles into your hair when you guys are cuddling. It’s his way of saying “i’ve got you”
Bf!Caleb would be okay if it was just the two of you left in the world, that would mean he protected you to the very end and you were still his.
A/n guys this was lowkey so fun to write! Caleb is such a red flag but I don’t even care, I love this man.
(When I start writing more smaus, then I will do more special guest characters, but these will be the mains for my MHA ones for now, same goes for my JJk smaus.)
‧₊❄︎⊹ Tag Game !! Who do you want under your tree this Christmas?
no pressure tags - @coralbae @myselkie @cupidstrace @gojodickbig @buniesuki @heh123321 @reignpage @motel6killer @medicli @sixxels @sukunahs @uhnosav @inoluvrr @kamoswrld and anyone else who sees this :))
summary! you’re gojo’s ex-girlfriend who’s left heartbroken after he leaks your private photos and gets his ass beat by his ex-best friend, geto. geto comforts you, and over the next few weeks, the two of you grow inseparable, sharing late nights, drunken kisses. you think you’ve finally found something safe until a drunk gojo crashes a party and exposes geto’s biggest secret... everything shatters as you storm out, realising the boy who saved you was lying too. will he be able to fix what satoru broke once again? can he make you his for good?
two days pass since that shit show of a party and you can barely recognise the girl you were a few weeks before.
you used to be so full of life, so magnetic, then your heart had been viciously gorged out and munted on the floor by not only one, but two men you'd given your soul to. didn't help that they were best friends once apon a time, shit, maybe this was some elaborate fucked up joke they'd conjured up between them.
your phone’s been on silent at the bottom of your hand bag for the past day, the screen cracked from how hard you slammed it onto your desk when the last message from suguru came in, probably some drawn out male manipulator bs you couldn't be bothered with, so you didn’t even open that one.
the rest you did, every long paragraph and voice note and apology, until your brain flooded with that burning ache and your eyes stung with tears. then you blocked him. you didn’t trust yourself not to cave in and let him sweet talk you into the palm of his clearly dishonest hand.
now you drag yourself to classes like a ghost version of who you were, with the hem of your shirt pulled down past your waist and your hair in whatever tie you found first, no cute cropped camis, no pretty hair clips, no makeup, no nice jewellery.
yuki and choso tried texting you, then calling, then showing up outside your lecture hall, but you slipped out the back before they could corner you. nanami sent a check in text but you left it on delivered.
every time you spot someone with long black hair from across the way, you catch yourself groaning in dissatisfaction.
you don’t cry again, though. you’re past that. you’re tired, so drained. stretched way too thin to be letting out such big, loud emotions.
you sit on your bed that night with your notebook open but no ink on the paper. your eyes feel raw. you rub at your face, let out this quiet sigh you didn’t mean to make, and collapse back onto your pillow.
your chest’s tight enough that you press your palm there, trying to steady yourself. you hate that you gave two different guys the chance to knock the shine off you, one after the other. you hate that you let yourself trust suguru, that you folded into him after the breakup, that you let him hold your hands while you cried about satoru, all while he knew. you hate that he knew.
you shut your eyes and try not to think about the party, but your brain replays it anyway, the audacity he had to try and get you to understand him.
you pull your blanket over your head and try to disappear.
you really hated men.
~
across town, in the room you once spent entire afternoons lounging in, suguru’s lying on his back in the dark, one arm over his eyes. his room’s usually freakishly neat, but now there’s clothes strewn on the floor, sheets twisted, two untouched water bottles on the nightstand. his phone lays screen down beside him, it’s been vibrating on and off since morning, but he hasn’t picked it up. he already knows it’s not you.
he hasn’t left his room much. choso told him to shower earlier, and he did, but only because he didn’t want to hear the disappointment in the guy’s voice again.
the bruises on his knuckles are much darker today, but he trys not to look at them.
he keeps replaying the night in his head, wishing he could cut out every scene except the part before it blew up. he misses your legs draped over his lap, your hands on his chest, your lips smiling just for him. you leaning in, whispering something that made him laugh in this soft, quiet way he only kept with you.
then he remembered your face... your pretty face looking at him afterward, washed in dread, like he’d torn your throat out of you with his bare hands.
he brings his forearm down, covering more of his face like it’ll drown out the memory, it really doesn’t.
after you stormed out, he lasted maybe... fifteen seconds? before he had a full on crash out.
gojo was still running his mouth spewing shit and lousy get backs, suguru didn’t hear the end of it before he grabbed him by the collar and smashed him into the floor. so many people screamed, someone tried to pull him off, but he kept swinging. something envious and disgusting had been building in him for months, all rushing out at once.
gojo was too drunk to hit back properly, and yeah, he could admit that was pretty fucked up of him to do, but he just couldn't help it.
choso stepped in before suguru did damage he couldn’t take back, dragged him out the door while he was still shouting at satoru.
he wishes he didn’t remember that part. he wishes he didn’t remember any of it.
he rolls onto his side, staring at the wall. he didn’t eat today. he didn’t sleep last night. he’s worn himself raw going in circles, every thought landing back on the same point, he hurt you. he did it himself. he can’t blame gojo for that part.
he keeps trying to figure out a way to fix it. messages, apologies, explanations. maybe flowers? maybe giving you space. maybe showing up anyway, but nothing feels right. nothing feels like it'll be enough to mend what he pummelled.
he presses his thumb against his temple, eyes squeezed shut. he thought he’d been doing the right thing by staying out of your relationship drama. he thought he was protecting you from more pain. he thought waiting until you were ready to leave gojo on your own terms was better than blowing your life up for you. he thought a lot of things that don’t matter now, because all you know is that he lied.
he drags in a slow breath, lets it out through his nose.
he whispers into the dark, almost like he hopes the walls will scoop it up and carry it to you somehow.
“i’m so sorry.”
the words disappear into the room, swallowed whole.
and he lies there staring at nothing, just wishing you’d answer your damn phone, wishing he hadn’t hesitated, wishing he hadn’t completely fucked the most grounding connection he'd ever felt with another human being.
wishing he could rewind those two seconds where you asked him if it was true, and he froze. if he could take back that silence, he would tear it out of time with his teeth.
instead he’s here, stuck in his own head, trying to think of a way to make it right, even if he knows he really can’t.
he reaches for his phone, unlocks it, scrolls through your blocked messages. the last one he sent before he stopped trying sits at the bottom.
i’ll do anything. just talk to me.
he closes his eyes.
you won’t, not yet, and maybe not ever.
but he’s still trying to figure out how to fix it. how to earn another chance with you, the girl of his dizzying day dreams.
two days in and he already knows he’d wait a year if you asked him to.
he just wishes you’d give him something. anything.
even if all you ever say from this point is goodbye.
~
football locker room’s are pretty much always thick with steam and the scent of detergent.
the floors damp from the team filing out a few minutes earlier, and satoru’s still planted on the bench in front of his open locker, shirt tossed somewhere behind him, hair stuck in strands to his bruised forehead. his bottom lip’s split from where suguru clocked him, and he keeps poking at it like he’s trying to see if it’ll hurt less the fifth or sixth, or seventh time. (😛)
but it doesn’t.
he winces, groans a soft curse, that's when choso snorts.
he’s leaning against the row of lockers opposite with a towel tucked around his hips, nanami stands beside him. he’s buttoning his shirt despite being fresh out of the shower, he’s still got droplets on his jaw, but he looks composed anyway. you couldn’t out stress that man if you tried.
both of them watch satoru pull his thumb across the cut lip again, and when he winces harder this time, they share a look. a look grown men give each other when someone's being a raging cunt but they haven't said anything yet.
choso’s the first to kick off, pushing off the locker with his heel.
“you know,” he says in a lazy voice, “you keep pokin it like that, it’s gonna heal all crooked. then you’ll lose the only thing carrying your whole face.”
satoru glares. “my face is perfect.”
nanami sighs. “bro, lock in.”
satoru groans, leans back against the metal locker behind him. “you two are real supportive. love that for me.”
“we’re not here to support you,” choso says. “we’re here to tell you you were being a cock.”
satoru rolls his eyes, brows lifting like he expected this but was still holding out hope they’d ignore it. “about the party?”
“about everything,” nanami replies.
choso sits down on the bench across from satoru, staring him down not letting him avoid this conversation anymore.
satoru scoffs brushing his fingers through his hair. “i know i nagged him first. i know i shouldn’t have started shit in the middle of the party, but he just kept lookin at me like he-”
“bro,” choso cuts in. “that’s not the part we mean.”
satoru blinks.
nanami drawls closer. “she was finally rebuilding after what you did to her. she was leaning on geto because you’d left her in pieces. you might not like it, but that’s what happened.”
satoru looks away but nanami keeps going. “she trusted him. he was helping her. she was getting better. then you opened your mouth.”
“she deserved the truth,” satoru snaps.
“she deserved it months ago,” nanami says. “not just because you felt jealous and cornered.”
choso nods along. “you didn’t tell her to help. you told her because you couldn’t handle them gettin close.”
satoru rubs his forehead. his wrists ache from training, his ribs hurt from the scrimmage, and now his friends are peeling his skin back with no warning, can they fuck off?
“look,” he mutters, “i’m not sayin i handled it perfect. but i didn’t want him lookin like the good guy while i’m out here being the villain.”
“bro, you lowkey are the villain, he was just doing what you should’ve done.” choso pushes.
satoru’s silence is real loud.
nanami folds his sleeves, “you broke her trust first. suguru only helped her out of a hole that wasn’t betrayal. that was responsibility. then you resented him for stepping in.”
“and then,” choso adds, “you blew up whatever they had cooking up just to make sure he didn’t get the girl you had.”
satoru feels like hitting something.
choso watches him for a moment, then shakes his head. “you fucked it up three times. you cheated. you got jealous of the guy who took care of her. then you tried to turn her against him when you felt threatened.”
satoru trys to keep the same cocky expression he always wears when someone calls him out, but his eyes keep darting from side to side.
“threatened,” he repeats quietly. “you think i was threatened by him?”
nanami lifts a brow. “weren’t you?”
"tch."
choso leans back, hands dropping between his knees. “you act like you’re untouchable. like everyone’s supposed to roll with whatever you do just because you’re you. but you loved her, man. and you acted like she’d wait around for you forever.”
that one sinks in and satoru’s shoulders curl inward just a bit.
nanami softens his harsh tone. “you didn’t lose her because geto stepped in. you lost her because you pushed her away and assumed she’d keep crawling back.”
satoru swallows hard.
choso stands, grabbing his gym bag off the floor. “she wasn’t yours to keep hostage. and suguru didn’t steal her. she trusted him because he showed up.”
nanami nods. “consistently.”
satoru drags both hands over his face, exhaling slow. “i get it,” he says quietly. “you two think i’m the bad guy.”
“not the bad guy,” nanami says. “just a man who doesn’t understand why loyalty matters until it’s gone.”
satoru closes his eyes for a second. he looks tired, not from training but from hearing the thing he spent two days trying not to think about.
choso pulls his bag over his shoulder, heading toward the door. “figure your shit out, satoru. or don’t. but stop pretending you have it hard in this mess.”
nanami follows, pausing only long enough to add, “she cared for you. but caring isn’t enough to rebuild trust. you broke it. you have to live with that.”
the door swings shut behind them, leaving satoru alone on the bench.
he gives the floor that 1000 yard stare with a hand massaging his jaw.
his reflection stares back at him from the metal of the locker. messy hair. bruised mouth. really dark circles. a guy who’d spent so long pretending he was above everything that he didn’t notice how fast the ground was cracking under him.
deep down he knew it wasn’t just jealousy. it wasn’t just the fight, it was the gnawing fear sitting in him that suguru was everything he wasn’t. steady, patient, loyal. the kind of man someone could build their life around.
maybe he acted out because the thought of losing you, like, really losing you, scared him more than he was willing to admit.
he leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands hanging loose.
“shit,” he mutters.
the truth was simple, he really was the biggest asshole in this fucked up situation.
now that he's really obsessing over it, he scoffs at how none of this was worth it. how fucking those girls really wasn't all that great, sex with you was better. so why did he do it? he had everything. the reputation, the love, the girl everyone else wanted, so why did he so carelessly toss it away?
he knew why, somewhere rooted deep in his brain he knows why. he hates himself, this was all just his subconscious self sabotaging himself, he feels like he doesn't deserve this high life, so he destroys it. plain and simple.
he really needed to get his shit in line.
~
you drag yourself up the stairs with the kind of limp focus that comes from four straight hours of forcing your brain to work in classes you barely payed attention to.
the apartment’s dead silent when you slip inside, lights off except for the soft glow spilling from the kitchen night bulb. you scuff your shoes off, already aiming yourself toward your room. you don’t want food. you don’t want water. you want your bed and nothing else.
your phone dings in your back pocket.
you consider ignoring it, but you cave and check, praying it’s not someone you know.
xx xxx xxx xxx: hey, i think this is yours. you left a notebook in design earlier. the prof handed it to me. you want it back?
you frown.
first of all, you weren’t even in design earlier. second, you’d lost that notebook ages ago. before the breakup with satoru, before suguru. before any of this current disaster.
you text back anyway.
y/n: yeah thats mine, where r u?
xx xxx xxx xxx: by the student dorms, i can meet you by the bench near the bike racks?
you groan quietly. of course. you were already halfway dead and now you’ve gotta haul yourself back out.
y/n: that's fine, On my way!
you toss your bag down, grab your hoodie, and head out before you can think too hard about how inconvenient this is.
you reach the spot, but no one’s there.
you glance around, annoyed. you’re two seconds from texting again when someone clears their throat behind you.
you turn.
and entire body locks up.
satoru?
standing there in a faded beta hoodie and sweats, one hand in his pocket, the other holding your notebook. your notebook. the pale purple one with cat stickers on the cover, the one you lost somewhere between crying on his floor and storming out weeks ago.
your breath jams for a second, but you force your shoulders back.
“what the fuck?”
he doesn’t smile, not even a twitch, he just lifts the notebook slightly.
“you left it in my room,” he mumbles. “last time you were over.”
your mouth opens, ready to slice into him for having the actual audacity to lure you out here under some fake number, like you’d willingly meet him otherwise. you’re so ready to give him every bit of disgust you’ve been carrying around for two straight weeks. you even inhale to get the first insult out-
but he cuts himself off with something you seriously don’t expect.
“i’m sorry.”
it smashes the space between you like a dropped 50kg weight.
his shoulders are slumped over, damn, that's something you've ever seen. he's not tall and comfortable and confident with his posture, he looks depleted. like someone poked holes in him and whatever cockiness held him together leaked out.
“i know i’ve been a dick,” he says. “i know i don’t get brownie points for saying it out loud. that’s not why i’m here.”
you cross your arms and spit out some salty sarcasm. “then...?”
he drags a hand through his hair, winces when he accidentally grazes the bruise suguru left.
“you didn’t deserve any of it,” he says. “none of the shit i put you through. and that’s on me. not you. and not suguru.”
the name stings but you stay silent, he takes that as permission to keep going.
“i messed it all up,” he says. “for no real reason. i had everything. you. the relationship. someone who actually gave a shit about me. and i still blew it like an idiot. i don’t even know why i thought i could juggle being that guy and still act like i wasn’t lucky you stayed as long as you did.”
you look away, staring at the pavement so you don’t have to stare at him. the night air brushes past your skin and you swear you can still feel old versions of you and him lingering in this part of campus.
“i’m not telling you this to win you back,” he adds, voice sad. “i know that’s dead. i know i killed it.”
you breathe out slowly through your nose. “good. at least you get that part.”
he lets out a dry laugh, almost self mocking. “yeah. trust me, i get it.”
you gesture toward the notebook. “so you dragged me out here just to say you’re sorry?”
“no,” he says. “i dragged you out here because of suguru.”
your expression freezes. everything in you switches from weary to alert.
he holds up a hand, gentle, like he’s trying not to set you off. “i know you hate him right now. i know you think he betrayed you.”
you want to slap him for even uttering his name.
“but he didn’t,” satoru says. “he really didn’t. he never wanted to hurt you. not once.”
you scoff. “you don’t get to speak for him.”
“i’m not,” he says. “i’m speaking for me. for what i did. because he’s been carrying the weight of my choices for years, and i let you think that was on him, but that’s on me too.”
you stare at him, unsure whether to scream or walk away. since when has this man ever been this sincere?
“he was there for you,” satoru says, eyes dropping. “in ways i should’ve been. he stepped in when i was too wrapped up in my own bullshit. that wasn’t... betrayal, or whatever. that was him trying to patch up shit i caused.”
you swallow. it stings to hear. it stings because somewhere in the back of your mind you know he’s right.
“i hated it,” he admits. “him being close to you. him knowing you like that. but not because he did anything wrong. because i knew he could give you what i didn’t.”
that catches you off guard.
“i took that out on both of you,” he says. “i messed with your head. i threw bombs at him. i poked at whatever you two had because i couldn’t stand the idea of you choosing someone better.”
you counter, “he kept a secret that wasn’t his to keep.”
“because i basically asked him to,” satoru says immediately. “i borderline blackmailed him, used our friendship as some loyalty leverage. i didn’t want you to look at me differently. i didn’t want you to see how weak i was. he wasn’t protecting himself, he was protecting me. stupid loyalty that i didn’t deserve.”
what the fuck...
“i’m not saying you have to forgive him,” he continues. “or me. especially not me. i just… didn’t want you to walk around thinking he wanted to hurt you. he didn’t. everything that fell apart between you two came from my shit, not his.”
you exhale through tight lips. “you really have no business telling me what to do with my anger.”
“i know,” he says. “i know that. it’s your call. all of it.”
he holds the notebook out.
you take it from him, the step back immediately.
“thanks,” you say flatly. “but don’t ever text me again. not from your number, not from a fake one, not ever.”
he nods once, gaze dropping to the ground. “yeah. alright.”
you stuff the notebook into your tote.
you turn to leave, but you only get a few steps before he speaks again, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.
“i really am sorry.”
you don’t look back.
but as you walk across the dim courtyard, notebook bumping against your hip, your thoughts shift like wet pages turning. you’re not ready to forgive. you’re not ready to heal. but something about what he said, the parts about suguru, lodges itself in your ribs.
you hate that it makes sense.
you hate that it softens the sharp edge of the anger you’ve been clinging to.
you hate that you suddenly have questions instead of conclusions.
you tighten your grip on the strap of your tote.
the night around you feels cold, still, thin. you keep walking, head down, hoodie pulled over your hair.
you’re not ready to admit it aloud.
but your perspective on everything just tilted.
god men were are so fucking confusing.
~
classes dragged on past sunset today, two days after your run in with gojo.
you leave your design building with your fingers curled tight around your bag strap, mind chewing on gojos words even though you’ve tried to shake them off since the second they left his mouth. it’s been two days and they still sit in your skull like grit. every time you try to focus on something else, your brain drags you right back to the part where he said suguru never meant to hurt you. where he said he manipulated things. where he said suguru was trying to fix the damage he caused.
it made you think about unblocking suguru wayyy more times than you’re willing to admit.
the walkway is empty at this hour. the sky’s in that deep navy state that comes after a long day.
you’re exhausted, brain fried, soul dragged across the same thought over and over, if he didn’t mean to hurt you, then what the hell were you two even doing?
you check your phone again out of habit even though no one can reach you from the number you blocked. you drop it back into your pocket and step off the curb, turning toward the path that cuts between the old lecture hall and the art building.
and then you hit something.
solid.
hard.
like a walking brick wall.
your bag slips halfway off your shoulder, your phone jolts upward in your pocket, and you lurch back with a low grunt, hand immediately flying to your forehead.
“ow-"
the word’s barely out when a voice cuts in, steadying your reeling brain.
“hey… easy there…”
what?
your head shoots up.
and there he is.
suguru geto stands in front of you in the dark ambiance, wearing a black sweater, backpack strung over his shoulder, hair tied half up. he looks drained, shadows under his eyes, posture slouched like he hasn’t slept in days.
but he’s still him.
still stupidly attractive in the way that pisses you off because it makes everything so much harder.
“it’s you...”
he swallows, shudders like seeing you fired off a blurred straight through his brain.
“sorry,” he says quietly. “i.. i didn’t see you.”
you step back, putting a little space between your bodies even though part of you wants the complete opposite.
silence folds over both of you. he shifts his weight out of nervousness, you’ve never seen him like that. even four days ago at the party, even when everything fell apart, he was composed.
now he looks anything but.
“you uh... you heading home?” he asks softly, looking at you shyly.
“yeah,” you say.
he nods. the wind rustles the trees above, and your stomach sinks at the tension tightening around both of you.
he looks like he wants to say something but can’t find the start. his lips works for a second before he gives up trying to be smooth and just exhales through his nose defeated.
“y/n... look…” he strangles out, the pain in his voice almost makes you choke. “i know i’m the last person you want to run into.”
your fingers begin to tap against your thigh.
“yeah...,” you reply.
his eyes drop to the pavement, and his voice cracks the slightest bit when he answers.
“i’ve been hoping i would, though.”
he presses a hand to the back of his neck, fingers patting across tired skin. “shit, i've practiced what id say if i ever ran into you but... it's all fucked off out of my head..”
you almost want to laugh, caught off guard by the honesty.
he sighs deeply.
“i’m sorry,” the words fall out raw, “i was a real dick. i was jealous and insecure and i handled everything so wrong, y/n. i should’ve talked to you. i should’ve told you the second i found out he was cheating on you, i know that.”
your eyes feel hot. not now, please not now.
he continues, voice shaking even as he tries to keep it controlled.
“you didn’t deserve any of that. you didn’t deserve my silence and dishonesty. you didn't deserve to be left in the dark so i could avoid making you feel worse for my own selfish desires. that was me being a coward. i’m not proud of it.”
you don't respond but by now your head is turning fuzzy.
he laughs curtly. “you blocked me. and i get why. i don’t blame you at all. but not hearing from you… i didn’t expect it to fuck with me that bad.”
you look at him, and he stutters at the contact before talking again.
“i didn’t realise how much space you took up in my day until everything happened,” he says softly. “i kept checking my phone like an idiot, knowing nothing would come through. i kept rereading old texts like that would somehow fix the fact that i fucked everything up.”
your heart tore at the seems
he steps back, running a hand through his hair again, this time more stressed than the last.
“if you want me gone, i’ll go. if you want me out of your life, i’ll do it. i won’t show up again. i won’t bother you. i just... i needed to say sorry. i needed to say something. i needed… i don’t know. closure, i guess.”
your breath stutters for a second because closure is the last thing you hear in his voice. he looks like someone who’s been walking around with a hole in his chest.
“i don’t expect anything from you,” he goes on. “not forgiveness. not a second chance. i just… needed you to know i never wanted to hurt you. not once.”
you take a small step toward him without meaning to.
he notices. his expression falters, like he’s bracing himself for the final blow.
but you don’t give it.
instead, you reach out slowly, almost cautiously, and your hand touches his sleeve.
his breath stops.
before you can overthink it, your arms wrap around him gently. hell, not even you know what you were doing at this point.
he freezes like he truly didn’t believe you’d ever touch him again.
then, in the next second, he melts into you, hands gripping your back tightly. his face presses into your shoulder, he’s afraid of what might spill out if he lifts it.
his voice is muffled when he speaks into your hair.
“i missed you,” he whispers, something fragile woven through the words. “i missed you so much.”
your fingers clutch the fabric of his sweater, you stand there in the cold campus night, wrapped in each other, breathing the same air, holding weeks of tension between your arms. he holds you like he’s terrified you might run away.
and you hold him back like you finally understand just how deeply this has been sitting inside both of you.
after a long moment, his grip loosens just enough for him to pull back, eyes red at the corners, expression soft in a way you’ve never seen.
“can we talk this out?" he asks.
you smile and nod
“yeah,” you say quietly. “we can talk.”
.
long story short, not a lot of talking ended up happening.
as soon as you got in the door it's like something clicked in both of your pent up heads. you grabbed him by the collar of his sweater and pulled him into you, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.
he grabbed for your waist as he let out a soft sigh into the space in between your noses, tilting his head for more access to your mouth.
you barely make it to the couch before his hands slip to your hips, guiding you down. he drops onto the cushions, tugging you with him until you’re straddling his lap, knees braced on either side of him. the second you settle there, his fingers spread across your waist, holding you down onto his growing erection.
he devours your mouth, curling at your lips leaving them bruised, he was well rehearsed in the art of making girls feel special, all the others felt like a big lead up to making you feel good.
he exhales against your lips, then drags his mouth along the corner of your jaw, the tip of his nose skimming your cheek as he angles in closer.
“god, i missed you, y/n,” he almost whines, his voice growing warm against your hot skin. his arms wrap around you, palms pressing to your lower back to keep you pressed to him. “you have no idea what the last few days were like. i kept reaching for my phone. kept thinking maybe you’d unblock me. kept hoping i’d hear from you, even once.”
you shift slightly, settling more fully on him, hands threading into his hair. he lets out a sound in his throat, then tilts his face so he can kiss you again. its so messy but so perfect, the both of your felt like one fluid river kissing and sucking at each other.
“fuck, you drive me crazy,” he whispers against your ear making your neck tingle, “you’re the only girl who’s ever gotten in my head like this, you're seriously so fucking special” he grunts.
you press your forehead to his, breathing hard, and his thumb caresses the side of your waist as he kisses you again.
he leans back, pulling you with him, guiding you down until you’re both stretched out along the couch, still wrapped up in each other, still kissing like you’ve both been aching for this.
the first time you'd tried he told you to wait until your head was clear, now it was crystal, and the only thing on your mind was having him inside of you, making you feel whole.
"please suguru... i need you to fuck me."
he let out the most intense groan you'd ever heard a man make, he almost instantly ripped at your clothes, desperate to have you bare infront of him, a sight that had been plaguing each and every one of his fantasies since the day you let him hold you.
"i'll do you one better, baby."
and he did. he took you right there on your couch, slowly and gently like you'd never felt before. he whispered praise into your pretty little head with each inch, dumbing you down until you felt like a puddle of tears and mush by the time he'd fully pushed in.
"you're okay, sweetheart, shhh. it's okay." he'd whisper, you cried into his shoulder at his length, bigger and thicker than anything you'd ever taken.
"easy, baby. you can take it, i know you can. be a good girl for me, yeah? -fuuuck."
he moaned with each small thrust of his hips, you gripped his now bare bicep tightly leaving nail imprints, whining with each movement.
"sugu- suguru! i can't! it's too much!" you cried, only a few minutes in and he had you squirming all over his cock, begging for him to ease up. he only laughed in response, thrusting harder earning a pornographic moan ripping from your throat, the sound making his dick twitch.
"awe baby, just abit longer, you can handle it!" he moaned, taking you for himself harder with each pulse.
the consistent thrusting paired with the sweet words flooding out of his mouth was drawing you closer and closer until-
"fuck! i'm gonna- i'm gonna-"
you came undone all over his length, he whines at the small spasms and comes undone just as fast, moaning your name followed by, "i love you!"
you whisper it back, and he collapses against you.
.
the aftermath was nothing short of blessedly glorious. he stood immediately and grabbed a washcloth and water, pulling you into his arms and kissing you gently, wiping the residue away from your thighs.
"you did so good for me baby, so good." he whispered, cradling you in his arms and stroking your cheek.
"you were perfect, so perfect for me."
his words put you to sleep, you murmured his name before passing out, your breathing evening out against his chest.
all suguru could think was how fucking lucky he was to have you all to himself, in the most intimate way possible. you, and him.
.
you wake sometime past midnight tucked into the dip of your mattress, your eyes adjust, and you see him.
suguru is lying on his side, one arm banded around your waist, the other propped under his head as he watches you. his hair falls loose over his shoulder, a few strands brushing his cheek, and his eyes shine in the light slipping through your curtains. he’s been awake for a while, you can tell.
his lips tug into this tiny smile when he notices you looking back at him, not asleep anymore.
“hey,” he whispers.
your voice comes out soft and scratchy with sleep. “hey.”
you fold into his chest, tucking your face against the warm spot between his collarbone and his shoulder. his arm pulls around you, holding you there like he’s been waiting for you to wake up just so he could do exactly that.
“you passed out on the couch,” he smiles, brushing a thumb over the side of your hip. “thought you’d sleep better in here. so i carried you.”
your cheeks heat immediately and you press your face deeper into him to hide it. he laughs quietly and kisses your forehead.
“hmm…” he adds, and you can hear the smirk in his voice, “that was the most mind blowing sex i’ve ever had in my entire life.”
you snort in the softest way. “shut up…”
“i’m serious.” he nudges your cheek with his nose, smiling against your skin. “i don’t think i've ever felt that good.”
you yawn and groan a little, the sleepy nature of it drives suguru crazy, all he wants to do is take your face into his hands and kiss you to death, and he does. he squishes your cheeks and presses small kisses all over, your mouth, eyelids, nose, all the soft spots. you laugh and squirm in his arms.
he smiles back and pulls you into him letting your head fall into the crook of his neck. you lie there silently as he rubs your back.
you think bank and ponder what was said earlier in the heat of the moment.
“suguru..."
"yes, honey?"
"did you uhm... did you mean it…?”
he stills slightly. “mean what, baby?”
your fingers play with a loose strand of his hair. “what you said earlier.. that you loved me.”
his breath faults for just a second, but not in fear. in relief.
he cups your face, finger brushing beneath your eye. “of course i meant it. i’ve been in love with you since the beginning.”
your eyes are suddenly awake and darting across his beautiful face, all you can see is sincerity.
“y/n. i want you to be mine,” he says quietly. "be my girlfriend. i want you, baby. would you do me the pleasure?.”
your answer comes out before he even finishes the sentence.
“of course!”
his eyes soften so much you feel it in your heart. he leans in, kisses you slow and lovingly, his hand stays on your jaw as he pulls you closer, kissing you again, deeper this time, but still tender.
you fall asleep pushed against him, wrapped in his arms, his hand resting on your back, his breath warming the top of your head.
~
one week later, you’re back.
your hair’s done, your outfits are eating up again, your instagram is alive after going dead silent for days. you waltz through campus with a spark in your step that hasn’t been there since before the breakup.
and every time you stop for a second, every time you pause to talk or grab a drink or adjust your bag, the same thing stands out.
where satoru used to stand loudly and bright trying way too hard to take up space, suguru stands now.
he walks beside you, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the strap of your bag or resting against your hip. he’s calmer than satoru ever was, less showy, and way more grounded. but somehow he draws more eyes than your ex ever managed to. its his sheer attractiveness and no need for love or attention.
the way you grab onto his arm, fingers holding his bulky muscles, tells the whole school everything it needs to know.
people stare.
whisper.
do double takes.
someone drops their coffee when they see the two of you walk into the design building together. another girl gasps so loudly her friend elbows her. someone else literally stops in the hallway and stares like they’re a mummy.
you disregard it and so does suguru, you're too happy to care.
back at his frat, things are slightly different.
he walks in about a day after you two went public and it's generally okay. he pulls the key from the door, sukuna and toji sit sprawled across the couch, a game paused on the screen, controllers left in their laps. they look up at him the moment he enters. toji looks at sukuna and they grin real entertained.
“look who finally showed up,” toji calls out.
sukuna lifts a brow, eyes dragging slowly from suguru’s shoes to his face. “so, finally locked it down. didn’t think you actually had that in you.”
suguru snorts and steps over a stray hoodie on the floor. “lay off,” he says, dapping them up one at a time, toji pulls him in for a quick, rough pat on the back that nearly knocks the air out of him, and sukuna taps his knuckles against suguru’s shoulder.
“seriously,” toji adds, leaning back deeper into the couch, “good for you. she’s top tier.”
sukuna nods. “yeah. don’t fuck it.”
suguru rolls his eyes and nods. “i won’t.”
the banter rolls on a little longer, then he stands and heads for the stairs, he's glad things aren't blowing up in his face.
he's about to jolt up the stairs when he brushes past a familiar tall body.
satoru is standing there, looking at him not with malice, but with a small sense of pride.
he tries to pass by, but satoru steps forward slightly.
“hey,” satoru says.
suguru pauses.
their eyes meet but there's no challenge. satoru looks almost relieved to see him, and suguru finds himself waiting, silently.
“look bro... i’m happy for you,” satoru murmurs. “for real. you two make a lotta sense.”
suguru stays silent, but his jaw doesn’t tighten. his shoulders don’t lift. he just watches satoru, trying to read the sincerity in his voice.
satoru goes on. “i screwed things up. with you, and especially with her. i know that. i’m not gonna make excuses.” he shrugs, a small one. “i’m sorry. for everything. the fights. the stupid decisions. for putting you in that spot. i never wanted to hurt either of you, not deep down, anyway.”
suguru exhales through his nose, eyes dropping for a moment before lifting again. “i appreciate you saying it.”
satoru nods.
“what you did was fucked up,” suguru says quietly. “i’m not gonna pretend it didn’t really screw up my image of you, man.” he pauses long enough for the words to settle. “we won’t go back to how we were overnight, i'm not gonna be as tight with you.”
satoru nods again, his heart breaking slightly. “yeah. i get that.”
there’s a beat where neither of them know what comes next, until satoru sticks his hand out, palm open, offering a dap.
suguru looks at the hand for a second, then gives a small, warm smile that eases the tightness in his chest. he accepts the dap, their palms meeting in a short, steady grip.
“we’re good,” suguru says. “we're cool, okay.”
satoru’s lips fall into something close to a grateful smile. they let go, and the tension releases without any dramatic moment, just a simple step forward, something mended but not overwritten.
"cool is fine with me, bro."
suguru turns with a short laugh toward the stairs again, hands sliding into his pockets as he climbs.
he reaches his room, shuts the door behind him, and leans against it for a second.
satoru had said sorry, he'd finally got you to be his, life was really turning out for him.
his phone dings in his pocket. he takes it out, glancing at the screen.
your name lights it up.
he answers instantly, not even pretending to let it ring for a bit. your voice comes through in that playful tone you get when you’re already smiling.
“hey baby,” you say. “wanna come over?”
everything inside him melts. the noise of the frat, the tension of the last month, the conversation with satoru, all of it fades into something insignificant compared to the gravity of your lovely, sweet voice in his ear.
“yeah, tell me when you want me there, baby.”
you laugh under your breath, trying to mask how much you needed him. “right now.”
he smiles so hard, he was seriously turning into a no good sap when it came to you. embarrassing. he laughed before answering.
“i’m on my way, sweetheart."
he stands, grabs his keys from the nightstand, and gives one last look around his room.
as he makes his way back to your apartment, his head flicks through just how incredibly lucky he was to have you, finally, all to himself. not in a flashy way and not in a show off way. he just had you, and it made his heart full.
you want him. you chose him. and he’s never felt more content.
yay ily ily ily ily ily thank you for reading beautiful beauties 😛😛
summary! you’re gojo’s ex-girlfriend who’s left heartbroken after he leaks your private photos and gets his ass beat by his ex-best friend, geto. geto comforts you, and over the next few weeks, the two of you grow inseparable, sharing late nights, drunken kisses, and confessions. you think you’ve finally found something safe, real, until a raging drunk gojo crashes a party and exposes geto’s biggest secret... everything shatters as you storm out, realizing the boy who saved you might’ve been lying too.
suguru inhales softly as he hesitantly knocks on your apartment door.
three dull thuds against the wood that make your heart drop into your stomach. you freeze on the couch, your breath stuttering in your chest.
it’s him. you know it’s him.
the text he sent sits open on your phone: i’m coming over. no punctuation, no hesitation. just a fact.
you haven’t moved since. the tears dried sticky on your cheeks, your eyes raw and burning. another knock comes, firmer this time. “... y/n?,” suguru’s voice carries through the door, low and steady. “please let me in, sweetheart. it’s me.”
you press your hand tighter over your mouth, muffling the tiny sound that tries to escape your throat. your whole body trembles, you know he wouldn’t hurt you, he never has, but what if he’s here because he’s seen it? because he knows what everyone else does now? maybe he’s just come to tell you he can’t look at you the same way.
that you disgust him.
you curl up tighter, pulling the blanket around your shoulders like it might protect you.
“i know you’re in there,” he says, a sigh threading through his words. there’s no irritation, just quiet worry. “please open the door.”
you can’t. your body won’t let you.
the silence stretches thin. you imagine him on the other side, probably pacing, running a hand through his hair the way he always does when he’s anxious. he’s always been patient, but there’s a crack in his tone when he speaks again, something real and pleading.
“i need to see you, okay?” his voice softens. “i can’t just leave you alone right now.”
the weight of his words hits something inside you, deep and hurting. your breath stops, a hiccup breaking past your fingers.
he hears it, you know he does.
“hey,” he says, gentler now. “you don’t have to say anything. just… please open up. i swear i’m not here to judge you or—whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that. i just need to make sure you’re okay.”
you hesitate, staring at the doorknob through blurry eyes. your hand shakes as you reach for it, pausing right before you touch the metal. what if he looks at you differently? what if that softness he always has in his eyes is gone now?
but then you hear it again, his voice, softer than you’ve ever heard it. “you don’t deserve to be alone through this, love.”
and that’s what does it.
you twist the knob. the door creaks open an inch.
he’s standing there in the hallway, hair messy, knuckles red and split. he looks wrecked in a way that’s unfamiliar. breathing hard, jaw tight, eyes glinting with something between anger and heartbreak. his gaze lands on your face and softens instantly.
you look like you’ve been crying for hours, because you have. your cheeks are blotchy, your lashes clumped together, lips trembling. you can’t even look at him properly, your gaze darting to the floor.
he exhales, stepping closer. “oh, honey...”
his hand comes up slowly, like he’s afraid to startle you. “can i come in?”
you nod, barely.
he steps inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. and before you can process what’s happening, his arms are around you, strong and steady, pulling you against his chest.
you melt.
the second his warmth hits you, the dam breaks again. your body shakes with another round of sobs, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. he smells like clean soap and faint smoke, and under it all, something that’s just him.
“shh,” he murmurs, lowering his head to your ear. “it’s okay, baby. i've got you.”
his hand rubs slow circles on your back, his voice a low hum against your hair. “you’re okay. you’re fine, i promise you.”
you can barely breathe through the tears, but you nod anyway, pressing your face harder into his chest.
you expected him to be angry, to demand explanations, to pull away. instead, he just holds you tighter, one big hand cradling the back of your head like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
“you’re shaking,” he whispers. “hey, hey, it’s alright. you don’t have to say anything. i know.”
his shirt is damp from your tears. your hands are trembling against him, your breaths coming in ragged little bursts.
“suguru, i—” your voice breaks, small and wrecked. “aren't you grossed out, disappointed?”
he leans back just enough to look at you. his eyes search yours, and for a second, you swear you see his heart break a little.
“nothing you do could ever disappoint me, y/n,” he says simply. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”
you blink up at him softly.
he smooths a tear from your cheek with his thumb, voice barely above a whisper. “you hear me? nothing. he’s the one who crossed a line, not you.”
your throat closes up again, but the tears come slower this time.
he lifts you up before you can react, one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. you let out a small sound of surprise, gripping his shirt, but he just hushes you softly.
“c’mere,” he says, carrying you over to the couch. he sits down first, then shifts until you’re curled up against him, tucked into the curve of his body.
it’s automatic, the way you push your face into his chest again, your legs draped over his lap. he holds you like you’re made of glass, something he’s scared to break.
his thumb rubs gentle strokes along your arm. “breathe with me, yeah?” he murmurs. “slow. in through your nose.” he exaggerates a deep inhale, waiting for you to follow. “good. now out.”
it takes a few minutes, but eventually, your breathing evens, your fingers stop trembling.
you feel his heartbeat under your cheek, steady and warm.
“gojo never deserved you,” he says after a while, voice low. “what he did was fucking disgusting.”
you flinch, but he squeezes your shoulder gently. “you don’t have to talk about it. i just—i can’t believe it.” his jaw flexes as he exhales through his nose. “i was at home when i found out. toji told me, said yuki probably already told you. i just... i saw red.”
you glance up at him, eyes still glassy. “huh… what did you do?”
he hesitates for a second, looking away. “i confronted him.”
“confronted,” you echo softly. “or…”
he gives a little half-laugh, shaking his head. “yeah, okay. i might’ve done more than that.”
you blink at him, and for the first time all night, something like amusement bubbles up in your chest. “wait. you—” you wipe at your eyes, sniffling through a watery laugh. “you roughed him up?”
a faint blush colors his cheeks, and he shrugs like it’s no big deal. “he deserved it. smashed his phone, too.”
you actually laugh now, the sound small but real. “suguru, you can’t just hit people—”
“i can when it’s him,” he interrupts, voice gentle but firm. “he’s been treating you like shit for months. and then this?” he shakes his head, a sharp edge to his tone. “no. someone had to clock his shit.”
you giggle, then stare at him, your heart twisting. he’s sitting there with a split lip, a faint bruise already forming along his cheekbone, and somehow, he still looks beautiful. solid. like nothing could touch him except what’s happening to you.
“thank you,” you whisper. “for not, you know... judging me.”
his brows furrow. “judge you? sweetheart, why would i judge you?”
you shrug, staring down at your hands. “it's just... everyone’s gonna think i'm some nasty slut and i—”
“stop,” he says softly, tilting your chin up until your eyes meet his. “people can think whatever the hell they want. they don’t know you, y/n, i do. your friends do. they're who matter.”
there’s something about the way he says it that makes your chest flutter.
“you’re good, you know that?” he murmurs. “you’re kind. too forgiving sometimes, but that’s just who you are. and you didn’t deserve any of this shit.”
you blink fast, trying not to cry again. “you shouldn’t have to clean up his mess.”
“maybe not,” he says, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “but i really, really want to.”
you don’t even have words for that. the sincerity in his voice is so heavy it fills the whole room with a sense of love and connection like you'd never felt before.
you rest your head back on his chest, letting his heartbeat drown out the noise in your mind. his hand moves slowly through your hair, combing through the tangles with quiet patience.
the two of you fall silent for a while, the only sound is the steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint creak of the couch when he shifts to pull you even closer.
“you’re not alone in this, okay?” he whispers. “not while i’m here.”
your fingers curl against his shirt, holding on a little tighter.
“i know, suguru. you're seriously the best thing ever. i mean that.”
he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “good,” he murmurs. “i want to be that person for you.”
your face gets hotter at the sudden contact, but you chalk it up to him trying to be friendly and grip his chest tighter with a sigh. the room is silent, your breath mingling as he stroked your back better.
the reality of satoru spreading around your photos is still fresh, but having such a steady man like suguru on your side made the sting feel more like a subtle prick. he didn't know how deeply rooted he now was in your head, and little did you know he felt the exact same way.
~
it’s been a week since shit hit the fan. since gojo’s face met suguru’s fist, since the whole frat fizzed with gossip that died almost as fast as it started. the world didn’t burn down like you thought it would, instead, it just… settled. the air softened.
gojo’s been keeping his head down. he doesn’t talk about the fight, doesn’t mention you, doesn’t even try to make jokes about it like he usually would. people still whisper sometimes, what happened? who threw the first punch? did gojo really do that?, but suguru makes sure it doesn’t go further. he gives them that look, the kind that makes them shut up mid-sentence.
and you… you’ve been breathing, steadier this time.
the first few days after that night were rough. crying until your chest ached, waking up and feeling that lump in your throat that wouldn’t go away. but suguru never left. every time your phone buzzed, it was him. every time you needed to talk, or not talk at all, he was there.
walking you to class in the mornings with a coffee in hand, waiting outside the lecture hall just to walk you back. when you went to parties, he was always there too, leaning against the wall near you, making sure nobody said anything out of line.
it didn’t feel forced either. he just… fit. naturally. like he’d always been meant to be the one orbiting around you, keeping you safe, laughing with you, being there.
you’d catch yourself looking at him sometimes when he wasn’t paying attention—when he was rolling his sleeves up, or typing on his phone, or zoning out during a movie night—and your stomach would twist, because he wasn’t just your friend anymore, not really. he was becoming your person, the one who felt like home.
by friday, the connection between you two has started to fray with something new. comfortable, but electric.
you’re laid out on your bed, aimlessly scrolling through your phone, when it buzzes with a text from him.
[suguru] 4:58p.m: there’s a party at naoyas tonight, come with me.
you grin a little at how direct he is. no question mark, no explanation. just assuming you’ll go because… well, you probably will. you type back: sure, wanna come over and get ready w me?
[suguru] 5:00p.m: of course
you smile at your screen, cheeks warm, and toss your phone onto the blanket beside you.
an hour later, there’s a knock at your door—two soft taps, his usual. you call out for him to come in, and the door creaks open as he steps through, tall and easy, carrying a small bag and a six-pack of cruisers dangling from his fingers.
“thought i’d bring some pregame drinks,” he says, kicking the door shut behind him. “figured you’d wanna start early.”
he’s wearing a simple black tee and gray sweats, hair tied half-up, and it’s unfair how good he looks doing absolutely nothing.
you prop yourself up on your elbows, a grin spreading across your face. “you’re enabling me.”
“someone’s gotta,” he says, smirking as he hands you one of the bottles.
you take it, cracking it open, the faint fizz breaking the air. “you’re a really shitty influence.”
“maybe” he says, dropping onto the edge of your bed, “yet you still text me to come over every time you need to get ready.”
you laugh, sipping the drink. “yeah, well, maybe i just like your company.”
“hm,” he hums, taking a swig of his own. “yeah, i’m sure that’s it.”
you roll your eyes and grab your makeup bag, dragging it closer as you sit cross-legged beside him. the light from your vanity lamp paints both of you in a soft glow, the room humming quietly with your favorite playlist in the background.
“so,” you say, pulling out your concealer, “who’s showing up?”
he shrugs. “the usual. toji, nanami if yuki convinces him, maybe shoko. probably some new pledges trying too hard to impress everyone.”
“ew,” you say, grimacing. “freshman boys terrify me.”
he snorts. “yeah, facts. they all act like if speed and andrew tate fucked and had a kid.”
you burst out laughing mid-eyeliner stroke, nearly smudging it. “oh my god, stop. you’re gonna make me mess this up.”
“oh brother that wasn't even that funny,” he says, leaning back on his palms. his eyes flicker over you, watching you carefully blend and swipe and concentrate. there’s something sweet in his expression, affection so soft it looks like he's gazing at a cute cat.
“you’re staring,” you tease, catching him through the mirror.
he doesn’t even look away. “yeah, and?”
you freeze for half a second before shaking your head with a small laugh. “you're a weirdo creep freak.”
“you love it,” he says, smiling into his bottle.
you throw a makeup sponge at him, which he dodges easily, laughing.
“alright buddy, what about you? you gonna flirt your way through the night?”
“me? nah,” he says, glancing at you. “don’t really feel like it lately.”
you hum. “hm. someone caught your eye?”
“maybe,” he says quietly, looking down at his drink.
you don’t ask who. you don’t have to. the room feels suddenly heavy with something unspoken, and you focus on your mascara instead, pretending not to notice the way your heart starts thudding faster.
half an hour passes like that, just fun conversation and laughter between sips. you start gossiping about everyone you know.
“did you hear shiu’s up charging his shit by like, 70 percent?” you ask, laughing.
“yeah,” he groans. “he sold me 4 grams for $120, swear to god.”
“you’re kidding,” you gasp, laughing so hard you almost spill your drink.
“wish i was. who the fuck shows up to a party and makes people pay for weed, especially that much, holy shit.”
you laugh louder at that. “that’s, oh my god... that’s actually bad.”
“yeah, i don’t buy from him anymore. learned my lesson.”
the two of you keep talking, voices overlapping, trading stories, teasing, laughing until your cheeks ache. he’s sitting across from you now, both of you cross-legged, knees almost touching. his hair’s fallen loose around his face, and there’s a glint in his eyes that makes you forget what you were saying mid-sentence.
you glance at your phone and blink. “uh, suguru?”
“yeah?”
“the party started an hour ago.”
he looks up, then bursts out laughing. “you’re kidding.”
he looks at you, then at the untouched makeup bag still half-zipped beside you, then at the empty bottles littering the nightstand. “we literally spent two hours talking.”
you laugh once more, the smile on sugurus face egging you on “wow, that's kinda embarrassing for us lowkey.”
he falls back onto your bed, laughing into his hands. “nah it's fine, i had more fun talking than going to some shitty party.”
“so real,” you agree, lying back beside him.
you guys stay quiet for a bit. you’re just breathing, staring at the ceiling, still giggling every few seconds. his shoulder brushes yours, and it feels electric.
you turn your head to look at him. he’s smiling at the ceiling, hair splayed out on your blanket, one arm tucked behind his head.
“maybe,” you say softly, “we just skip the party?”
his eyes slide to yours. “oh yeah?”
you shrug, trying to sound casual. “i mean, we’re already comfy. and tipsy.”
“true,” he says, lips curving into a small grin.
“plus,” you add, “we’ve got drinks here. and snacks. and less pain in the ass people.”
“you’re really selling it,” he says, sitting up to grab another cruiser. “so what, we make a night of it?”
you smile, nodding. “hm. stay over, okay?”
he pauses for a second. it’s subtle, but you see it, the flash of surprise in his eyes, the quick glance toward the floor like he’s thinking about what this means. he’s never stayed the night. never. he always leaves around midnight, gives you that kind smile and a see you tomorrow, and you always pretend it doesn’t sting a little when he goes.
but now, he just smiles back. slow, genuine, a little shy.
“yeah,” he says softly. “i’ll stay.”
you grin, feeling something flutter deep in your chest. “sweet.”
he watches you for a second, the faint light catching the gold in his eyes. the room feels heavier, quieter, like every breath matters.
“y’know,” he murmurs, “i think i like it better here anyway.”
“what, my room?” you tease.
“nah,” he says, voice low. “just like, with you, i guess.”
your face burns, and you can’t look at him for a second. “you’re so full of shit,” you say weakly, but you’re smiling.
“am i?”
you bite your lip, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “yeah, whatever.”
you both fall quiet again, the kind of silence that feels stiff but not uncomfortable. his fingers tap lightly on his bottle, yours play with your blanket, and you can feel his eyes on you even when you don’t meet them.
the party is long forgotten. your makeup half-finished, your drink warm in your hand, but none of that matters. what matters is the way suguru’s looking at you right now, like you’re something fragile and beautiful and he’s terrified of breaking it.
and maybe you feel the same way.
because somewhere between the laughter, the shared secrets, and the easiness of his presence, something in both of you changed.
you’re not sure when it happened, maybe that night he held you on the couch, maybe the morning he brought you coffee and didn’t say anything about the bags under your eyes. maybe right now, with the room glowing faintly from your bedside lamp, the music still soft in the background, and suguru smiling like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.
the cruisers are long gone by now. the bottles sit empty on your nightstand, catching the soft light from your lamp, and the air feels thick with laughter and half-drunken warmth. you’re both lying across your bed, well, suguru’s half sitting against the headboard, and you’re sprawled somewhere between his lap and his chest, giggling into the space where his shoulder meets his neck.
you can’t even remember what the joke was, just that whatever he said set you off so badly you almost choked on your drink. suguru’s grin hasn’t faded since, his cheeks a little flushed, his voice raspier than usual from laughing too much.
“you’re such a lightweight,” he teases, reaching over to steal the cruiser from your hand.
“am not,” you protest, trying to grab it back but missing by a mile.
“you literally just said—” he snickers, mimicking your voice, “—‘do you think naoyas secretly gay and that's why he hates women so much?’”
“that’s a valid question!” you whine, hitting his chest lightly.
“is it, though?”
“yeah,” you say, grinning up at him. “because now you’re thinking about it.”
he laughs again, a real one this time, the kind that makes his head fall back a little. you watch him for a second, dizzy in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol. his smile reaches his eyes, and the sound fills your whole chest, warm and tight.
you end up shifting closer without even thinking about it, your head finding its place against his chest. his hand comes up automatically to rest on your back, tracing slow lines that make you shiver in a good way.
“you comfy?” he asks, voice low.
“mmhmm,” you hum, eyes fluttering closed.
“good.”
you stay like that for a while, talking about nothing and everything—professors, shitty dorm food, random gossip. it’s easy, comfortable, like you’ve known each other for years.
eventually you prop yourself up on your elbows so you’re leaning over him, the alcohol buzzing through you in lazy waves. he looks up at you, and the space between you feels way too small, like you can feel his breath against your skin.
“you’re so warm,” you mumble, a small smile tugging at your lips.
he huffs a laugh, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “that’s probably the alcohol talking.”
“nah,” you say softly. “it’s you.”
his fingers pause for a second before he lets out a slow exhale. “you’re a flirt when you drink, y’know that?”
you grin. “yeah? how so?”
“you say things that fuck with my head.”
you blink, half teasing, half serious. “good.”
the silence that follows is tense, but not uncomfortable. just heavy.
you trace small shapes on his chest with your finger, barely thinking about it. circles, lines, nonsense patterns. the room feels as if it's closing in.
“he used to hate when i drank,” you say suddenly, voice quieter now.
his hand stills on your back. “gojo?”
you nod, looking down at where your finger’s drawing on his shirt. “yeah. said i got too clingy. said it made me ‘embarrassing.’”
suguru’s jaw ticks, just slightly.
you laugh weakly, but it’s not really funny. “guess i was too stupid to notice how bad it was getting.”
“hey,” suguru cuts in, voice firm but gentle. “don’t do that.”
you look up at him, blinking. “do what?”
“call yourself stupid,” he says, gaze steady. “you weren’t. he treated you like shit. that’s on him.”
you swallow, staring at him. “you’d never do that, huh?” you say after a beat, a quiet little question tucked between the words.
his eyes soften, but there’s a flicker of something else there too. guilt, maybe. something heavy.
“no,” he says quietly. “i wouldn’t.”
you smile, tipsy and sad all at once. “you’d be such a good boyfriend.”
he exhales, long and stuttered, and for a minute you think he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. instead, he just looks at you. really looks at you.
it’s not just alcohol anymore, it’s everything that’s been building up between you for weeks—the looks, the touches, the late-night talks, the way his voice always goes soft when he says your name.
you’re still hovering over him, your hands pressed lightly to his chest, and his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips like he’s fighting himself.
“you shouldn’t say stuff like that,” he murmurs finally.
“why not?” you ask, voice low.
“because,” he says, the faintest smile ghosting over his mouth, “it makes me wanna do something i probably shouldn’t.”
your heart skips. “hmm? like what?”
he doesn’t answer, not with words anyway. instead, his hand slides up your back, fingers curling around the base of your neck, and before you can even process it, he’s pulling you down into a kiss.
it’s soft at first, testing, but when you don’t pull away—when you melt into it—the kiss deepens.
his lips move against yours with a kind of hunger that makes your head spin. slow at first, then heavier, deeper. he tastes like sugar and alcohol and something that’s just him, warm and hot.
your hand finds the side of his face, the other gripping the fabric of his shirt as you shift, straddling his hips without even thinking about it. his breath catches against your mouth, but he doesn’t stop you. his hands settle firm on your waist, like he’s still trying to remember where the lines are.
you pull back just enough to look at him, your lips parted, eyes hazy. “suguru,” you whisper.
he looks up at you, his chest rising and falling fast, eyes dark. “yeah?”
“this feels…”
“wrong?” he offers quietly.
you hesitate. “no. maybe. i don’t know. it feels… good. but—”
he cuts you off with another kiss, one that leaves you breathless.
you’re both lost in it after that. everything smooshes together—the soft sounds, the way your fingers tangle in his hair, the quiet little noises that escape you when he bites your lip gently.
his hands start to wander, skimming up your sides, tracing over your ribs, resting just beneath the hem of your shirt. the touch makes your stomach flutter, and you can feel the heat building between you, heavy and dizzying.
you grind down against him without meaning to, and his breath stutters, his hands tightening on your hips.
you both freeze for a second, staring at each other.
and then you move again, just slightly as you test the waters.
his eyes squeeze shut, a low moan escaping his throat, and for a while it feels like everything might just spiral.
your hand slips down his chest, slow and teasing, until your fingers brush over the waistband of his sweats. he groans softly when your palm presses against his length, but almost immediately his hand shoots out, catching your wrist.
“shit, baby, wait,” he says, voice rough.
you blink, confused, your breathing ragged. “hmm?”
he swallows hard, his grip still gentle but firm. “you’re drunk.”
“so are you,” you murmur, trying to move again, but he shakes his head.
“yeah, but i’m sober enough to know this isn’t the time.”
you frown, your voice small. “you... you don’t want me?”
his eyes widen. “what? no—god, that’s not it.”
“then what is it?”
he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “if i was gonna do anything like… that… with you, i’d want you sober. i want you to remember it. want you to actually want it. not just because of a few drinks.”
you blink at him, your chest tightening.
he hesitates before continuing, voice lower now. “and… there’s a part of me that feels like it wouldn’t be fair to you. you’ve been through so much, and i’ve been… there. too much, maybe. i don’t ever want you to feel like i took advantage of that, there is definitely a power imbalance here.”
you stare at him for a moment, the tension in your chest twisting into something softer. “suguru, i really want this,” you whisper. “i’m really into you.”
he smiles a little, brushing your hair out of your face. “i know, sweetheart. i want it too. more than i should.”
he leans up, pressing one last kiss to your lips—slow, deliberate. then he wraps his arms around you, pulling you down until your head’s tucked against his chest.
“but not tonight,” he murmurs against your hair. “the most i’m doing with you tonight is this.”
you stay still for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. then you nod against him, your voice muffled. “okay.”
he exhales, relaxing beneath you, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back.
you lie there together in the quiet, both of you buzzing with too much emotion and not enough sense. your head’s still spinning from the kiss, but there’s a safety in his hold that steadies you.
“you’re too good to me,” you whisper after a while.
he hums softly. “nah. just trying to be better than he was.”
you smile, half-asleep against him.
the room falls quiet except for the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear.
it’s messy, and complicated, and probably too soon—but in that moment, wrapped up in suguru’s arms, it feels like the first thing that’s been right in a long time.
you can feel his heartbeat under your ear, slow and steady, the kind of rhythm that makes you feel safe even when everything else in your life feels like chaos.
for a long moment, neither of you speak. it’s like both of you are afraid that if you say something, the whole fragile peace of the night will break. but then you tilt your head up, just slightly, your chin resting on his chest as you look at him.
“suguru?” you whisper.
his eyes flicker down to you, soft and a little tired, but still so full of warmth. “yeah?”
you bite your lip, debating if you should even say it. but the words come out anyway, clumsy and quiet. “i really like you.”
his hand stills against your back. his brows knit for a second, and you watch his lips part like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t right away. instead, he just stares at you for a few seconds, and you can see it—the way his entire chest loosens, the way his whole expression softens like something inside him finally exhales.
“i thought you might... but... are you 100 percent sure?” he asks, almost like he doesn’t believe it.
you nod, feeling your throat tighten. “yeah. i mean—i know it’s messy, and fast, and it’s probably stupid, but i do. i like you a whole lot.”
a small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. he looks almost shy for once, eyes darting away as he runs his hand through his hair.
“you’re sure this isn’t the alcohol talking?” he says softly, teasing just enough to ease the tension, but there’s a shake in his laugh that gives him away.
you grin faintly. “nuh uh. i liked you before the cruisers.”
that makes him laugh properly, his head falling back against the pillow. when he looks at you again, his gaze lingers longer, gentler.
“i like you too,” he admits quietly. “like… really like you.”
you blink, stunned for a second, and then your face breaks into the smallest smile. “yeah?”
“yeah.” he breathes out a small laugh, shaking his head. “you’re—god, you’re everything, y’know that? you’ve been through hell and you’re still here, still you. i don’t even think you realize how amazing that is.”
your chest tightens, warmth spreading through you so fast it almost hurts. “you’re gonna make me cry again,” you mumble, half laughing.
he laughs too, but it’s quiet and fond, his thumb brushing over the curve of your waist. “please don’t. i’ve had enough of seeing you cry this week.”
“can’t promise anything,” you tease, voice soft. “you say nice things too often.”
he hums, smiling a little, and for a while, you just look at each other. his eyes are dark but kind, and even though the air between you is thick with exhaustion and leftover tension, it feels okay. like there’s finally space to breathe again.
then the silence changes. the both of you stop smiling, your thoughts starting to loop back to everything you’d been ignoring. gojo. the timing. the guilt. the mess this could turn into if anyone found out.
you can see it happen in his face—the flicker of hesitation, the shift in his gaze. and you know he sees it in yours too, because you both look away at the same time, eyes darting toward the ceiling like it might hold the answer.
“this is complicated, huh,” you whisper after a long pause.
“yeah,” he says, voice quiet. “too complicated.”
you play with the fabric of his shirt, your fingers tracing small lines that don’t mean anything. “feels good though.”
he looks down at you again, lips twitching into a faint, sad smile. “yeah. it does.”
for a second, you both fall silent again. there’s too much to say—about gojo, about what this means, about the guilt you both feel creeping in around the edges—but neither of you want to ruin the tiny bubble of calm that’s formed between you.
you both laugh quietly, the kind that comes out tired and genuine, and you shift until you’re lying closer, your forehead pressed against his chest. his arm tightens around you instinctively, pulling you in like he can’t help it.
“for the record,” he murmurs after a minute, “i've been crushing on your for abit now. like… dangerously so.”
you smile against his chest, your voice muffled. “oh yeah? go figure, me too.”
“this is kinda fucked,” he teases softly.
“and you love it,” you mumble back.
he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest under your ear. “yeah. i really do.”
you both go quiet again after that, the weight of what just happened still lingering, but softer now. the tension has turned into something warm and sleepy.
you feel his hand start tracing lazy patterns on your back again, and your eyelids grow heavy.
“we’ll figure it out,” he says quietly, more to himself than to you.
“we will,” you mumble, already halfway asleep. “just… not tonight.”
“not tonight,” he echoes, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.
you sigh, content, sinking further into him until you can barely tell where you end and he begins. his heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, his warmth wrapping around you like a promise.
whatever comes tomorrow—whatever mess waits for both of you—you’ll face it then. but for now, in the quiet glow of your room, it’s just you and suguru, the both of you tangled together, hearts beating a little too fast for comfort, whispering into the dark the truth you’ve both been trying to ignore: you really, really like each other.
~
the morning light spills lazily through your blinds, your head’s pounding a little, an ache that throbs behind your eyes, but the first thing you notice isn’t the hangover. it’s the weight underneath you.
you blink blearily, your vision adjusting, and when it clears—oh god. you’re lying on top of suguru.
he’s still asleep, one arm slung around your waist, his fingers resting against the small of your back. his chest rises and falls under you, slow and calm, and you can feel every breath against your skin. his hair’s messy as hell, a few strands falling into his face, and his lips are parted slightly, soft and pink. you can’t help staring. he looks so peaceful like this, so unfairly good-looking it makes your stomach twist.
your mind flashes back to last night, the laughter, the kisses, the quiet confessions that slipped out between giggles. you’d both been drunk, but you remember it clear as day. the way he said he liked you. the way you said it back.
a small, stupid smile tugs at your lips. you melt a little against him, your cheek pressed to his chest. he’s warm, his skin soft under your fingertips as you trace faint lines over his shirt.
you tilt your head up, just enough to study his face again. even asleep, he looks too good. the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, the dark stubble on his chin. he’s always been handsome, but right now, he’s something else entirely.
you breathe out a quiet laugh and, without really thinking, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips. just once. then again, a little slower.
his lips move under yours before he’s even awake.
then, suddenly, you feel it.
something firm pressing against your thigh.
you freeze. your brain takes a second to catch up, but when it does—holy shit.
he’s hard. really hard.
you glance down and nearly choke on your own breath. there’s no mistaking what’s pushing against you. and the worst part? he’s massive.
you go still, heat flooding your face so fast it’s dizzying. your first instinct is to pull your leg away, to give him some space, but before you can fully move, his arm tightens around you, pulling you right back down into him.
you gasp, your palms braced on his chest.
his eyes flutter open, still hazy with sleep. when he realizes how close you are, how tangled together you both are, his expression flickers from confusion to embarrassment in seconds.
“shit,” he mutters, his voice low and rough from sleep. “sorry. i didn’t—”
“it’s fine,” you cut in quickly, your voice soft but rushed. “you’re fine.”
his brows lift slightly. “you sure?”
you nod, trying to look composed even though your heart’s doing backflips. “yeah. really. i’m just… happy you’re here. next to me.”
his expression softens at that, all the tension leaving his shoulders. he smiles sleepily, the kind that makes your chest feel light.
“yeah?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing slow circles over your hip. “so... you don’t regret last night?”
you shake your head, the corners of your mouth turning up. “not even a little.”
he exhales, almost like he’s relieved, and his hand slides up your back in a gentle stroke.
“i’m sorry if i upset you last night,” he says quietly after a moment, his voice low. “for stopping things. i just didn’t want to do anything you’d regret."
you bite your lip, your heart tugging at the sincerity in his tone.
“you didn’t upset me,” you tell him softly. “i’m actually really grateful you stopped. i do dumb stuff when i’m drunk. i would’ve felt awful if things went too far.”
his eyes search yours, dark and steady. “yeah?”
“yeah.” you smile a little. “you’re… kinda the only person who’s ever stopped me from doing stupid drunk shit.”
he chuckles quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “guess i’ll take that as a compliment.”
“you should.”
you both laugh softly, the sound quiet and comfortable. his hand lingers on your face for a moment too long, thumb grazing your cheek. the air feels warm between you again, the kind of quiet that buzzes with something unspoken.
after a pause, his voice drops lower. “can i ask you something?”
you nod. “yeah.”
“did you really mean what you said last night?” his eyes flick down, then back up at you. “about having feelings for me, i mean.”
your breath catches a little at how serious he sounds.
you nod almost instantly. “of course i meant it.”
he blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that quick of an answer. “you’re sure?”
you smile softly. “suguru, i like you. i liked you before last night. i just… didn’t realize how much until you were right there.”
he stares at you, his expression unreadable. then, slowly, his hand comes up to cradle the side of your face.
“come here,” he murmurs.
you lean down as he meets you halfway, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, gentle kiss that feels different from the ones last night, softer, realer. you sigh against him, your hands resting against his chest as he deepens it just slightly.
when you pull back, you’re both smiling, your noses brushing.
“that’s all i needed to hear,” he whispers.
you rest your forehead against his. “good.”
he lets out a quiet laugh, pulling you back down until your cheek rests over his heart again. his hand stays tangled in your hair, the other resting low on your back.
you let yourself melt further into his chest as he strokes you back. every few minutes, you shift slightly, adjusting against him, and each time his arms tighten like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.
you don’t mind. not one bit.
after a few minutes, he speaks again, voice low and sleepy. “this feels really nice.”
“yeah,” you mumble, smiling into his shirt. “it does.”
“kinda wish we didn’t have to move all day.”
“then don’t.”
he chuckles quietly. “that's real tempting.”
you tilt your head up to look at him again. “you’re comfy, y’know.”
he smirks a little, eyes still half-lidded. “that’s a first. most people call me heavy.”
you grin. “noo! you’re perfect, just very muscular.”
that makes his ears go a little pink, and you swear your heart stutters just watching him.
he looks at you for a long second, then presses another kiss to your forehead, murmuring against your skin, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”
you laugh quietly, tracing your fingers over his chest again, his heartbeat steady beneath your touch.
and for the first time in what feels like forever, the morning doesn’t feel heavy or sad. it’s warm. light. easy.
the morning drags on like it’s trying to make up for how slow last night felt.
you tilt your head up and catch him staring at you, his dark hair falling into his eyes, the faintest smirk curving on his lips.
“you’re staring, again,” you mumble.
“yeah,” he says, like it’s the easiest truth in the world. “you’re cute when you’re sleepy.”
you roll your eyes but your face heats up anyway. “you’re such a sap.”
“and you like it.”
“…yeah.”
he laughs quietly, the sound rumbling against your chest, and it’s so soft that your heart twists in your ribs. there’s a tiny pause where he’s just watching you again, and then, in that gentle voice that always sounds like honey in the morning, he says, “you should come get coffee with me today.”
you blink. “coffee?”
“yeah,” he says, brushing his thumb across your jaw. “and pastries. there’s this french place a few blocks down. i’ve been wanting to take you.”
you pause, eyes wide. “you... wanna take me out?”
he smiles, lazy and sure. “yeah, like a real date.”
for a second, you don’t even know what to say. you’re so used to being the one who asks, the one who plans things, who overthinks. hearing him say it so casually, like it’s obvious he’d want to spend his day with you, makes your heart do this weird flip.
“a real date,” you repeat softly, trying to play it cool even though your grin’s impossible to hide. “wow. that’s… adorable.”
he laughs again, and it’s low and genuine. “you sound surprised.”
“i’m just—no one’s really asked me before. not like that.”
his hand slides up your side until it rests under your chin, tilting your face toward him. “then i guess it’s about time someone did.”
you feel your face go hot, and he kisses your forehead, just a light press that somehow feels like more.
the two of you stay there for what feels like forever, wrapped in that half-sleepy warmth. it’s easy, natural, like breathing. every time you shift, his hand finds a new spot to rest—your shoulder, your waist, your thigh—and each touch feels grounding.
eventually he sighs, eyes still closed. “alright,” he murmurs. “you should go get ready before i change my mind and keep you here all day.”
you laugh quietly and pull back a little, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “you’d never.”
“yeah, okay,” he admits with a grin. “but i do wanna see you all dressed up. so, go.”
you stretch, yawning as you get up. he sits up too, rubbing a hand through his hair. “i’m gonna clean up real quick. you take your time.”
“sure thing,” you hum, already smiling like an idiot as you dig through your closet.
half an hour later, when he walks back into your room, your heart skips. he’s changed into a black shirt that fits too well and hangs just right over his frame, hair still damp from washing.
“damn,” you say before you can stop yourself.
he grins. “you look pretty too, sweetheart.”
you roll your eyes again, but the way he says it—low and certain—makes your knees feel weirdly weak.
he grabs the keys from your desk and waves a hand. “c’mon. before the morning rush hits.”
the walk to the cafe is quiet but not awkward. the sun’s warm, the air smells faintly like summer and vanilla, and every few steps, suguru’s hand brushes yours. you glance up at him once, and he’s already looking at you, smirking like he caught you thinking about him.
“you really like to stare, huh?”
“only when it’s you,” you shoot back.
his grin widens. “flirting already?”
“maybe i’m just returning the energy.”
“fair enough.”
the cafe is tucked into a side street, one of those places that looks like it came straight out of a movie. the windows are open, music plays softly, and everything smells like sugar and espresso. you take one look at the glass counter filled with pastries and let out an actual gasp.
“oh my god.”
he laughs, pulling the door open for you. “i knew you’d like it.”
you step inside and immediately press your hands to the glass, scanning everything. “there’s too many options,” you groan. “how do i pick?”
“you don’t,” he says easily. “we’ll get a bunch and share.”
“that’s the cutest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
he snorts. “you’re easy to please.”
“and you’re a showoff,” you tease, bumping his shoulder.
you both end up with a tray full of croissants, fruit tarts, and little pastries you can’t even pronounce. suguru orders two coffees and pays before you can argue.
“you didn’t have to—”
“i wanted to,” he says, and there’s that same soft look again, the one that always makes your chest flutter.
you find a small table near the window, and he pulls your chair out before sitting across from you. you notice how his knees brush yours under the table, how he keeps leaning forward like he can’t stand being too far away.
he talks easily, like he always does, asking about your classes, your plans for the weekend, laughing at every dumb thing you say. the more you talk, the more you realize how good this feels—normal, intimate, like you’ve known him your whole life.
but every now and then, while you’re telling a story or taking a sip of coffee, you catch him drifting. his eyes soften, but his mind’s somewhere else.
he’s thinking about it again. about gojo. about the thing he still hasn’t told you.
it eats at him quietly while you laugh about something small, the guilt scratching under his ribs. you’re sitting there with powdered sugar on your fingers, smiling at him like he’s your whole world, and it makes him feel like the worst kind of liar.
he opens his mouth once, ready to just say it—to tell you that he knew about the cheating, that he didn’t say anything because he thought it wasn’t his place—but when he meets your eyes, something in him falters.
you look too happy. too cute.
he swallows, forcing a smile. “hey,” he says suddenly, changing the subject. “wanna take some photos? you look way too good not to.”
your head perks up immediately, excitement flashing across your face. “for real?”
“yeah,” he says, already reaching for his phone. “instagram-worthy, right?”
“you know me too well.”
“i do my best.”
you pose playfully while he takes the photos, and he swears he’s never seen anyone look better. you’re laughing between shots, pretending to pout, leaning over the table to grab a bite of pastry, and he just keeps snapping, wanting to capture every second.
“lemme see,” you say, reaching for the phone when he lowers it.
he scrolls through the pictures, showing you a few, and you squeal. “oh my god, i love these. you’re, like, really good at this.”
“i have a good subject.”
“smooth.”
he grins, leaning back in his chair, watching as you save a few of the pictures for later. he doesn’t even realize he’s smiling until you glance up at him, cheeks pink, and smile back.
the date stretches long after that, more coffee, more laughing until your cheeks hurt, a few more soft moments where neither of you say anything because it’s enough just to sit there.
by the time the sun starts dipping, you’re walking home again, fingers brushing until suguru finally takes your hand properly. you don’t say anything. you just walk like that, your hands fitting together too perfectly.
when you reach your apartment door, he turns to face you.
“had fun?” he asks, his voice quiet.
you grin. “more than fun. best date i’ve ever been on, actually.”
he laughs softly. “that’s a low bar, huh?”
“shut up,” you giggle, swatting his arm.
he’s still smiling when he leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips. it’s gentle at first, then deeper, warmer. you feel yourself melt into it instantly.
you move closer, hands on his chest, and he sighs against your mouth, pulling you in by the waist. for a second, you both forget about everything else.
when you start to kiss him harder, his hand finds your cheek, stopping you. “hey,” he murmurs against your lips, smiling softly. “not tonight.”
you pout, cheeks flushed. “you sure?”
he nods. “i wanna take this slow. i wanna take care of you, properly.”
the way he says it makes your stomach squeeze. no one has ever wanted to 'take thighs slow' with you. “okay,” you whisper. “i like that.”
he smiles, presses one last kiss to your forehead, and steps back. “goodnight, pretty girl.”
“goodnight, suguru.”
when you finally get inside, you collapse on your bed with a grin so wide it almost hurts. you scroll through your phone, looking at the pictures from earlier, and your heart swells. you pick one, the one of your hand across the table, fingers interlocked with his, and post it.
caption: best day.
you tag him, but hide it in the bottom corner, just subtle enough for it to be your soft launch. within minutes, the post blows up.
comments flood in:
yuki: um hello?? who’s that hand 👀
utahime: YOU’RE GLOWING???
nanami: real subtle.
you can’t stop smiling, biting your lip as you read them all.
~
you’re walking through campus the next morning, the air crisp and the sun way too bright for how little you slept. you’ve got a coffee clutched in one hand and your tote bag slung over your shoulder, earbuds in but not playing anything. it’s one of those days where you’re just coasting, brain still fuzzy from last night and all the thoughts about suguru that refuse to chill out.
you spot choso leaning against the wall near the social studies building, his usual all-black outfit making him stand out against the crowd of students in beige and denim. he gives you a little nod when you walk up, quiet as always.
“you look like you didn’t sleep,” he says, side-eyeing your coffee.
you snort. “yeah, thanks for the observation.”
“rough night?”
“no,” you say quickly, then pause, biting your lip. “well… not rough. just… busy.”
he gives you this look like he knows exactly what that means.
“ah,” he hums, smirking faintly. “busy with suguru, huh?”
you nearly choke on your drink. “how— what— who told you that?”
choso shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “no one. i saw your instagram post. pretty sure everyone else did too.”
you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “oh my god, it was just a hand.”
“a hand wearing very recognizable rings,” he says dryly. “everyone knows suguru’s style. dude’s been wearing the same silver set since freshman year.”
you lower your hands and sigh. “so you’re saying people know.”
“i’m saying anyone with eyes knows.”
you grimace. “great. that’s exactly what i needed.”
he chuckles under his breath. “don’t stress it. people were already guessing after the party last week. you two weren’t exactly being subtle.”
you can’t help but smile a little. “yeah, well, i guess we’re not hiding it anymore.”
he glances at you, his tone turning casual again. “anyway, a couple of us are hitting a party tonight. you should come.”
you raise an eyebrow. “a party? you, willingly socializing?”
“yuki’s dragging me,” he says, shrugging. “figured i’d offer before she texts you herself. bring suguru if you want. the more, the merrier or whatever.”
you nod slowly, pretending to think about it, even though you already know you’ll say yes. “yeah, okay. sounds fun.”
“cool,” he says simply, pushing off the wall. “text me later. i’ll send you the address.”
“got it.”
he starts walking toward the building, then looks over his shoulder. “oh, and for real, the post was cute.”
you groan again, but you’re laughing this time.
.
that night, you’re standing in front of your mirror, fixing your makeup while suguru lounges on your bed, scrolling through his phone. he’s wearing a black button-up, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back loosely, and the sight of him like that makes it a miracle you’re still focused enough to do your eyeliner.
“you sure you wanna go?” he asks, glancing up at you. “we could just stay in. order takeout, watch a movie.”
you smile at his reflection in the mirror. “tempting. but choso invited us. and yuki will probably text me fifteen times if i don’t show.”
“true,” he says, setting his phone down. “alright then. let’s go make an appearance.”
the drive to the party is smooth, the growl of the car and the quiet music filling the space between your conversations. the windows are down, wind brushing through your hair, and suguru’s hand rests on your thigh the entire time, thumb tracing little circles absentmindedly.
you’re halfway there when he says, almost too calmly, “haven’t talked to satoru since that night.”
you glance over at him, watching the way his jaw flexes.
“probably for the best,” you say softly. “he doesn’t deserve your energy. or mine.”
he nods, but you can tell there’s still something behind his eyes. “yeah. he’s been quiet. some of the boys asked about it—about us, too. i just told them to mind their business for now.”
you smile faintly. “that’s a good answer.”
“wasn’t exactly subtle, though,” he admits, smirking. “they’ll figure it out soon enough.”
“let them,” you say, leaning back in your seat. “i’m not hiding anything.”
he glances over at you then, smiling that small, proud smile of his. “good.”
.
the partys loud, the colored lights flash across the living room, and people are spilling out into the yard.
you can feel the shift in energy as you step inside with suguru—heads turning, eyes following, it’s not subtle at all. you and suguru together are the kind of thing that makes people talk.
he’s got his arm draped around your waist, hand resting comfortably on your hip, and for once it doesn’t feel like a claim. it feels easy, protective in the softest way.
someone you recognize from your communications class walks past and does a double take. “holy shit, y/n? and geto?”
“hey,” you say, grinning.
they laugh. “wow, he’s lucky.”
suguru doesn’t miss a beat. “i know,” he says smoothly, smirking down at you.
you elbow him in the side, but you’re laughing.
as the night goes on, you lose count of how many people greet you, how many double takes happen. suguru takes it in stride, cool as ever, never letting go of you.
eventually, you spot choso on the couch with yuki, who’s holding a red cup and grinning like she owns the place. you tug suguru’s hand and pull him over.
“hey,” yuki greets, eyes lighting up when she sees you two together. “finally! the campus power couple arrives.”
you laugh. “we’re not a couple.”
she rolls her eyes. “sure, and i’m the pope.”
choso smirks into his drink. “told you people were talking.”
you shoot him a look. “yeah, yeah.”
suguru sits down next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, his arm draped lazily over the back of the couch.
yuki leans forward, grinning. “for real though, you guys are cute. like, disgustingly cute. it’s yuck.”
you can’t help but blush a little. “thanks, i think?”
“you think?” she laughs. “girl, please. the way he looks at you, half the room’s jealous.”
you glance at suguru, who’s smirking into his drink like he heard every word. “you’re loving this, aren’t you?” you murmur.
“a little,” he admits, leaning closer. “you make me look really good.”
you nudge him but you’re smiling, cheeks hurting from how much you’ve laughed tonight.
it’s easy for a while—just the four of you talking, teasing, panic! at the disco flowing faintly in the background. suguru’s fingers trace slow patterns on your thigh while he listens, chiming in occasionally, perfectly relaxed...
then, the rooms while vibe switches up.
gojo walks in.
he’s wearing his usual too-casual smirk and a shirt that probably costs more than your rent. there’s a blonde girl clinging to his arm, someone you’ve never seen before. she’s giggling too loud, the kind of laugh that sounds put on.
he’s trying too hard to look nonchalant.
he greets a few people, that same fake grin plastered on his face, but the second his eyes land on you and suguru, the mask cracks.
you’re curled up against his ex-best friend on the couch, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin. the two of you are laughing at something yuki said, oblivious to the rest of the room for a second too long.
still, you feel it—the weight of gojo’s gaze.
suguru notices it too, yet he doesn’t look away. instead, he leans in closer to you, murmuring something in your ear that makes you giggle, and his hand tightens on your thigh, firm and claiming.
it’s not for show, it’s for reassurance. but it works as both.
gojo’s jaw ticks, his smirk falling. he scoffs, saying something to the blonde, who glances at you before tugging him toward the kitchen.
suguru watches him go, a faint chuckle slipping out. “guess someone’s not taking it well.”
you shrug, sipping your drink. “he can choke.”
“agreed,” suguru says easily.
the music picks up again, the tension easing. choso and yuki exchange knowing looks, but they don’t say anything. instead, yuki raises her cup. “to moving on,” she says.
you clink your cup against hers. “to moving on.”
from there, everything smooshes into one—the laughing, the music, the alcohol. suguru’s got you half in his lap now, your legs draped over his as he holds you close, one arm around your waist, the other resting low on your ass.
you’re talking about nothing and everything, tracing little shapes on his chest tattoos while he gives you fruitful responses.
people are watching, whispering, eating it up. the it-girl and the quiet, hot guy with tattoos and soft eyes, it’s the kind of visual that spreads fast on campus.
at one point, suguru leans in and kisses you, slow and unhurried. you taste like whatever fruity drink yuki mixed earlier, and his lips are warm against yours.
you pull back just enough to catch your breath, laughing softly. “people are staring.”
“let them,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across your cheek.
you kiss him again, deeper this time, fingers curling in his shirt. his hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer until you’re pressed against him, completely lost in the moment.
the noise fades. it’s just the two of you, heat, breath, touch.
but somewhere, through the haze of music and laughter, you can feel the change again. the kind of tension that means something’s about to happen.
half the crowd’s too drunk to notice the growing tension, but the other half’s clocked it—the way suguru’s shoulders have gone stiff beside you, his gaze locked on something across the room.
you follow his line of sight, your stomach immediately dropping when you see gojo there, stumbling through the crowd like he owns it, a drink sloshing dangerously in his hand. his white hair’s a mess, his shirt’s half unbuttoned, and his smile—god, it’s not really a smile at all. it’s the sloppy, bitter kind that never means anything good.
“yuck,” you whisper, setting your cup down.
“yeah,” suguru mutters, voice low, eyes still on him. “he’s off his face.”
understatement of the year.
gojo’s weaving through people like a man on a mission, ignoring the calls of his friends who are clearly trying to rein him in. his steps are heavy, uncoordinated, but he still carries that same arrogance, like he’s untouchable even when he’s falling apart.
“suguru,” you say softly, shifting closer. “maybe we should just dip.”
“he’s gonna follow us if we do.”
and right on cue, gojo spots the two of you on the couch, tangled up like you belong there. his grin widens, something cruel behind it.
“well, well, well,” he slurs, stopping a few feet away. “look at this. the happy couple.”
the noise around you dips. not entirely silent, but enough for heads to turn. people start pulling out their phones, pretending not to record. the air changes—tightens.
suguru doesn’t look up, but you can see the shift in his jaw, the way he’s grinding his teeth. “satoru,” he says evenly, “you should go sober up.”
“sober up?” gojo scoffs, nearly spilling his drink as he gestures wildly. “don’t talk to me like i’m the problem, man. you’re the fucking problem.”
you roll your eyes, trying to deescalate. “gojo, seriously. you’re wasted. just go sleep it off.”
“oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he sneers, his voice rising. “i’m not talking to you. not yet.”
you freeze at the venom in his tone.
he turns his attention back to suguru, staggering a bit as he points a finger at him. “you’re such a fake, bro. you act like you’re this calm, wise, better-than-everyone guy, but you’re a snake. you hear me? a fucking snake.”
“watch it,” suguru warns, voice low but steady.
“or what?” gojo snaps, taking another step forward. “you gonna hit me again? go ahead. in front of everyone this time. show them what a ‘good guy’ you are.”
the crowd murmurs. someone snickers. suguru’s still sitting, but you can feel the way tension’s coiling under his skin, ready to snap.
“satoru,” he says again, quieter this time. “walk away.”
“you don’t get to tell me what to do,” gojo says, his grin twisting. “you don’t get to tell me anything, because last time i checked, you’re the one who stabbed me in the back.”
you scoff, unable to help it. “stabbed you in the back? please. you’re the one who cheated, gojo. you deserve everything that’s happened to you.”
the words hit, sharp and clean. a few people around you murmur in agreement. gojo’s expression falters for half a second before the anger floods back in.
“oh, right,” he laughs bitterly. “here we go. the victim act. poor y/n, got cheated on by the evil gojo satoru.” he leans closer, eyes glassy but burning. “tell me, baby, did you cry about it to him? did you let him hold you, kiss you, fuck you—what’s the timeline again?”
“watch your fucking mouth,” suguru snaps, standing up so fast the couch creaks.
gojo laughs again, loud and mean. “aw, i hit a nerve? what, don’t like me calling her what she is?”
“gojo,” you hiss, voice shaking now. “stop.”
but he doesn’t.
“you really think anyone’s buying this ‘good guy’ act, huh?” he taunts, turning to suguru. “you’re not some knight in shining armor, bro. you’re just another guy trying to get his dick wet. and you—” he gestures at you, eyes narrowing. “you’re just easy enough to let it happen.”
the crowd collectively winces. you feel your throat tighten, heat creeping up your neck. suguru’s hands curl into fists.
“enough,” he says. it’s not loud, but it’s enough to silence the chatter.
“what, you gonna defend her?” gojo spits. “how cute. you always did like cleaning up my messes.”
and that’s when you finally snap.
“oh for fucks sake,” you shoot back, standing now, voice trembling but sharp. “yeah, he does clean up your messes. because he’s actually a decent guy, better than you ever were.”
the room goes still.
you don’t even realize what you’ve said until it’s already hanging there in the air between you all.
gojo’s smirk fades. the drunken haze doesn’t fully hide the flash of hurt, or anger, that passes through his expression. then it hardens into something nastier.
“better than me?” he echoes, voice cracking just slightly. “you sure about that?”
you glare at him. “positive.”
he takes a step closer, tone dropping low. “if he’s such a great guy, then tell me, did he ever mention that he knew? that he knew i was cheating on you?”
everything inside you stills.
“...what?” you whisper.
“hmm,” he says, voice laced with venom. “he knew. the whole time. sat there, smiled in your face, let you cry to him, and said nothing. then the second we broke up, he swooped in and played the hero.”
you turn to suguru, your stomach dropping to the floor. he looks stricken, frozen in place like he’s just been gut-punched.
“that’s not—” he starts, but the words die in his throat.
you step back. “is it true?”
he hesitates. that split second of silence tells you everything you need to know.
“you knew,” you whisper, voice breaking. “you knew, and you didn’t tell me?”
“y/n—”
“don’t,” you snap, eyes burning. “don’t you dare.”
gojo laughs, bitter and broken. “see? told you. the guy’s a dick.”
suguru turns on him, fury written all over his face. “you, shut the fuck up.”
“what, can’t handle the truth? you’ve been playing white knight while lying through your teeth.”
suguru steps forward, and for a second you’re sure he’s going to swing. you grab his wrist without even thinking, your voice trembling. “stop. just—stop.”
his eyes meet yours, and for the first time, you see panic there. regret. fear.
but it’s too late.
you pull your hand back like his touch burns. “you lied to me.”
“i was trying to protect you,” he says quietly. “it wasn’t my place to tell you.”
you laugh, bitter. “protect me? from what? from the truth? you stood there and watched me beg you to tell me the truth, and you lied to my face. you’re just like him.”
the words hit harder than you mean them to, but you can’t stop.
“y/n, please—”
you shake your head, tears blurring your vision. “i can’t even look at you right now.”
you turn and start pushing through the crowd, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the way your name bounces around the room.
behind you, you hear suguru’s voice—low, rough, desperate. “y/n, wait!”
but you don’t.
you storm out into the night, the cold air slapping against your face, tears spilling down your cheeks before you can stop them.
your chest feels tight, your stomach twisting. you don’t even know where you’re going, you just know you need to get away.
away from the noise.
away from the lies.
away from him.
inside, suguru’s left standing in the wreckage, the room thick with silence. gojo’s still there, smirking faintly, but there’s something hollow in it now.
suguru finally looks at him, eyes dark and full of restrained rage.
“you're such a fucking cunt,” he says, voice steady but dangerous.
gojo lifts his drink. “awe, you'll get over it.”
and for a second, suguru looks like he might actually kill him.
but then he exhales, slow and shaking, and walks away.
the crowd parts for him, whispering. no one says a word.
and outside, down the street, your phone buzzes in your hand with his name lighting up the screen. you look at it, trembling, and swipe it away without answering.
tonight, everything fell apart. and for the first time in weeks, you feel completely, utterly alone again.
Guys I swear I have some works on the way they've just taken me wayyy longer to write and create then anticipated.
By the end of this week I should hopefully have completed my first long(ish) fic and have a new smau or two to be released.
I'm extremely apologetic for my inactivity I've honestly just had some quite bad writers block.
remember my inbox is always open to you lovely people for any requests you may have or any questions you may have, it may take me a hot minute to get to them xo
Jello! This is a guide to the different format fics can come in.
I wrote this because it seems some beginner writers or people new to fanfiction aren't aware of the distinctions. I think by being aware of the different forms fanfiction can take, and consequently breaking the possible belief that fiction can only be a long, full story, new writers could be encouraged to write.
Fics can be as long or as short as you want them to be!
As a disclaimer, I am not an expert. Some people have been writing fanfiction far longer than I have and these terms might have meant something differently than now. This guide is simply my own opinion and observations.
Some of the examples listed here are 18+ content so please tread carefully.
Headcanons
༯ These can be written in bullet points.
༯ They’re a very focused post about your interpretation of the characters beyond canon.
Example:
I think Satoru sleeps hugging a Snorlax plushie…or something
༯ They can be very short, maybe one line, or a paragraph exploring that one headcanon, or it can be a collection of headcanons.
Example:
Satoru drools
Suguru has silk pillows and brushes his hair 100 times like Barbie
Choso drinks Monster religiously, downing it like water
Toji scratches his balls and sniffs
Kento does the paper crossword and Sudoku every morning
Sukuna uses your thong as floss after he’s consumed his daily dose of human flesh
Drabbles
༯ They’re longer than headcanons.
༯ Traditionally, they’re supposed to be fics of exactly 100 words – some people are sticklers for this rule, while others are not. I fall into the latter category. I’m not a fanfiction purist and I’ve never actually had anyone fight me about it, so I like to think most people on Tumblr don’t care.
༯ Colloquially, drabbles are any short fics.
༯ They explore a scenario or are a snapshot of something that could potentially be longer.
Example (taken from my own work but edited for the purpose of this guide):
Satoru eyed you from head to toe the moment you stepped into class. Suspicion lingered in his cold gaze, always doubtful, always cautious. When he let his guard down, it’s hard to tell — it could have been when your eyes met his and he saw nervousness, that overwhelming awareness of every movement you made, paired with a desire not to make any waves. Or perhaps it was when he heard your voice call out your name during that awkward introduction everyone endured and, instead of weakness, he heard nothing but a friend he had yet to make, not an enemy.
Oneshot
༯ These are fics longer than drabbles.
༯ They are called oneshots because they are standalone, meaning there won’t be a part two.
༯ They are proper stories in the sense that they have a beginning, a middle, and an end whereas a drabble, like I’ve said, is more of a snapshot or a slice of a full fic.
༯ People who read oneshots can expect these to be read in one sitting.
༯ Their lengths vary – there’s no rule to how long oneshots have to be. They could be 1,000 words or 10,000 or more. World’s your oyster.
Examples (from my own works):
Refusing to kiss boyfriend!Toji 18+
Guardian angel!Nanami 18+
What Am I Now?
Multi-chaptered
༯ As you can imagine, these are stories told through multiple chapters. They’re like books but online.
༯ Think Wattpad.
Example:
My EdenU stories. Find the masterlist in my navigation.
Crossover
༯ These are fics that combine different fandoms.
Example:
You could headcanon that in the MCU, Sukuna would be, I don’t know, Ironman — it doesn’t have to make sense, you can have fun with it.
Multimedia
༯ These are stories told via or including different forms of media such as with audio or images.
༯ These are fics that could incorporate text messages or emails.
SMAU
༯ It stands for Social Media Alternative Universe
༯ Basically stories told through texting, emails, fake instagram posts or profiles, fake tweets etc etc.
Example:
My SMAU masterlist or Kind Regards (told via emails)
Chatfics
༯ A term specifically referring to a type of SMAU where the conversation is held via messages — whether on iMessage, Insta DMs or Whatsapp etc.
༯ Probably more accurate term for what I call SMAUs but either term is fine.
Alternate Universe
༯ This is a term that refers to when you envision the characters in a different world.
༯ It is often shortened to its abbreviation = au
Examples:
You could envision Gojo as a student at Harvard - college au
Choso if he were actually Banksy - modern au
Nanami as a doctor, dating Meredith - Grey’s Anatomy au
Fix-it-fic
༯ This refers to works of fanfiction that set out to rewrite part of the canon story.
Examples:
Rewriting the scene where Nanami dies so that he never did
Rewriting the story so that Suguru never defected
༯ In a way, most works are fix-it-fics because most of us like to pretend our fave characters never died. This isn’t really a term I see often on Tumblr, maybe it’s an older term or something that fits AO3 better.
If you have any questions, things you'd like covered in a next part, please share them. Thank you to everyone who contributed to this by asking questions and being candid about their struggles.
I hope this helped and I wish everyone the very best in their writing journey
