So iw!jk imagine you're driving a train and oc is tied to the left track and there's 100 people on the right, which way are you going? 🤣
“the right, of course,” jungkook says.
“no, babe, then you’d run over a hundred people there. i’m the left one.”
“yes, exactly. you’re at the left so i’d go right to save you,” he explains with his hands.
“jeon jungkook,” you laugh in disbelief. “you cannot sacrifice a hundred people for me.”
“think about it this way. it would haunt me forever, right? but it’s fine because you’d be there to keep me sane. with the other way around, i’d fall straight into madness.”
“and if it was a million people?”
his bambi eyes grow even wider, then he looks away and crosses his legs, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his knuckles. it’s silent for a moment. “can you explain the logistics of that to me?”
his arms are bigger now, full from all of the food he’s been “test” eating for the restaurant. carrying sacks of rice all day keeps them toned, but now you can pinch his skin when you want his attention and bury your head in the crook of his arm comfortably when you're cuddling. his hugs are all the more warmer, too. the extra fat makes him your personal heater when it’s too cold at night and neither of you want to get up to turn the ac off. his stomach is more pudgy, enough that he’s softer to lay on, but you can still run your hand over the now slightly less defined ripples of his abs.
and he’s also gotten softer for you, or at least atsumu strongly thinks so whenever osamu visits home. “you've gotten soft, 'samu. you’re always gushing over your girlfriend!” he'd say, ruffling his twin's hair as he's got him in a headlock. osamu can't bring himself to deny it. if it means loving you better, what does a little extra skin do to him?
Operation: First Time. || Portgas D. Ace x Reader.
Summary: You and Ace finally stop dancing around your feelings and start dating, but there's one problem: neither of you has any idea what you're doing. While you're both suffering from mutual frustration, Ace accidentally outs himself as a virgin and gets ambushed by the commanders with the world's most embarrassing relationship advice session. At the same time, the nurses decide you need a confidence boost and give you your own crash course.
Or: Ace asks the commanders for advice once, and they spend the next day wishing they had minded their own business after hearing exactly how enthusiastically he put their lessons into practice.
Tags: smut (mdni!!), first time sex, you're both virgins, oral sex (both receiving), vaginal sex, lots of fluff in it too cuz they love each other a lot and are awkward beans
Wordcount: 9.9k
A/N: first ace story ladies and gents (but definitely not my last hehe)!! this was so so much fun to write so i hope y'all enjoy this too😭🫶 also guys i started writing my book and like,,, fanfics are so much easier, send help lmao also i had to use an ai tool to get the formatting right, really sorry just wanna say that early on but my google docs fucked up the formating the entire time, i spent HOURS on it and i didnt do anything different so im very confused, but yeah figured id just say it, no writing or editing was actually done with it!! really just the formatting!! as always, pls like, reblog and comment! divider credits go to @cursed-carmine <33
The Moby Dick was more than a ship: for you, it was the only home you had ever truly known. As one of the few women on the crew and the youngest member by a significant margin, except Ace that is, you had been adopted into the fold with a ferocity that was both heartwarming and slightly suffocating.
From the moment you stepped on deck, you became the collective little sister of the Whitebeard Pirates.
Pops doted on you with a booming laugh and a gentle hand on your head. Marco looked after you with a sleepy, protective eye. Thatch constantly tried to feed you delicacies from the galley, and Izou spent hours ensuring your wardrobe was as sharp and stylish as his own. You were the heart of the ship, the precious gem they all swore to protect.
But there was one person who looked at you differently.
Portgas D. Ace.
For months, the two of you had been locked in a dance of agonizing tension. It was a clumsy, electric lingo of lingering glances, accidental brushes of shoulders, and conversations that trailed off into heavy silences. Everyone saw it. The entire crew saw it. Whitebeard would often chuckle into his massive sake cup, watching the two of you stumble through a simple conversation, while Marco would sigh, wondering when the idiot Second Commander would finally grow a pair and make a move.
Then, finally, it happened. A moonlit night on the upper deck, a shared bottle of something strong, and a confession that had been bubbling over for half a year.
You were finally, officially together.
However, “together” was currently a very relative term. While the emotional bond was searingly hot, the physical side of things was… Well, at a complete standstill.
You were both shy in your own ways, and Ace, despite his reputation as a bold, fire-wielding powerhouse, was surprisingly hesitant. He treated you like you were made of the finest porcelain, terrified that if he pushed too hard or too fast, he might break the spell.
Of course, this hesitation didn’t stop his imagination.
Ace was twenty years old, brimming with testosterone and hopelessly in love. Every single night, while you slept soundly in your quarters, Ace was in his own bunk, tossing and turning. He spent hours just staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the way your laugh sounded or the way your skin felt when you held his hand. He spent a great deal of time with his hand wrapped firmly around his dick, groaning your name into his pillow, struggling through the solitary release because the reality of you was so much more intoxicating than any fantasy. He was a virgin, a fact he guarded with a fierce, embarrassed pride, but his libido was currently at a breaking point. He wanted you - deeply, desperately - but he had absolutely no idea what he was actually doing.
The afternoon sun was beating down on the Moby Dick, leaving the crew drenched in sweat and grime. As per tradition, the men headed to the massive communal baths to scrub off the dirt from the day and relax. The bathhouse was filled with the boisterous shouting of dozens of pirates splashing around in the hot springs.
Ace sat submerged up to his chest in the steaming water, his eyes closed, leaning his head back against the smooth stone. Even here, in the company of his brothers, his mind was drifting. He was thinking about the way your dress had hugged your curves this morning, and the way you had winked at him before heading to help the nurses. He felt a familiar, insistent throb in his groin, and he cursed silently, sinking deeper into the water to hide the evidence of his distraction.
Nearby, Thatch, Marco, Vista, Jozu and Haruta were lounging in a larger pool, the conversation flowing as freely as the sake they had bought along. As was common in the baths, the talk had eventually shifted toward the… romantic exploits of the crew.
“I’m telling you,” Thatch bragged, gesturing wildly with a soapy hand, “the girl in the last port had a passion for the culinary arts that matched my own. The way she looked at me while I was describing the perfect reduction sauce… it was practically foreplay. By the time we got to the room, we didn’t even make it to the bed.”
Vista chuckled, twirling a lock of his mustache. “Ah, Thatch, you always lead with the stomach. For me, it is all about the grace of it. The anticipation is where the true pleasure lies.”
Marco let out a lazy hum, his eyes half-closed. “You’re both too loud, yoi. The best way is just to be attentive. Listen to what she wants, follow the lead, and you’ll do just fine. No need to make it complicated.”
Ace listened to them, his brow furrowed. He felt a surge of inadequacy. He loved you more than life itself, and he wanted to make you feel everything they were talking about, but as he listened to their elaborate terminology he realized there was a massive gap in his knowledge. He knew the basics, of course, but the actual mechanics of pleasing a woman were a mystery to him.
He looked at his brothers - men who were older and seemed so confident, so experienced. He trusted them. And more importantly, he was currently suffering from a level of horniness that made his brain malfunction. And so he did something he would 100% come to regret later on.
“Hey,” Ace blurted out, his voice cutting through the laughter.
The group fell silent, looking over at him. Ace rubbed the back of his neck, his face already beginning to tint pink. “I… uh… how do you actually please a woman?”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Thatch froze mid-gesture. Marco actually opened one eye. Even Vista’s mustache stopped twitching. They all stared at Ace, the realization hitting them like a cannonball to the chest.
“... Wait,” Thatch whispered, his eyes widening. “Ace… are you telling me you’ve never…?”
“Never what?!” Ace snapped, his temper flaring as he felt the heat rise to his cheeks.
“You’re a virgin!” Haruta shrieked, splashing water everywhere in his excitement. “Our 2nd commander is a total novice! A blank slate! A babe in the woods!”
“Shut up!” Ace yelled, his skin starting to smoke as his Devil Fruit reacted to his embarrassment. “I just… I want to do it right! Y/N is… she’s special! I don’t want to mess it up!”
The tone of the room shifted instantly. The mockery vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense sense of brotherhood. These were his brothers, and the mission had now become clear: Ace needed a crash course in the art of intimacy. Mainly so that he wouldn’t hurt you, their only little sister.
“My god,” Marco sighed, though there was a smirk on his face. “We’ve been letting you wander around like a lost puppy. Sit down, Ace. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but we’re having a meeting.”
The commanders closed in around him, forming a tight, steaming circle. Ace looked like he wanted to melt into the floor, but he stayed, his curiosity and desperation ultimately outweighing his shame.
“Alright, listen up, kid,” Thatch began, his voice taking on the tone of a master chief explaining a complex recipe. “First rule: the main event is not the goal. The goal is the journey. If you just dive straight in, you’re like a guy who serves the dessert before the appetizer. It’s a crime! Scandalous even! You have to start with the build-up. Kissing, obviously, but don’t just stay on the lips. The neck is a goldmine, Ace. The collarbone. The soft spot behind the ear. You tease and you make her ache for it.”
Ace swallowed hard, his imagination immediately firing off images of you arching your back as he kissed your neck. He let out a small, strangled noise.
“Exactly,” Vista added, nodding approvingly. “The psychological element is key. Tell her how beautiful she is. Tell her exactly what you want to do to her before you actually do it. The anticipation builds the tension, and when the tension finally snaps, the pleasure is ten times more intense. You can trust us old folks on that.”
“Now, let’s talk about the… logistics,” Marco said, his voice practical. “The clitoris, Ace. Pay attention. For most women, that’s the center of the universe. If you just focus on the penetration, you’re missing the party. Use your fingers, use your tongue - be gentle at first, then increase the pressure based on how she reacts. If she starts breathing heavily and gripping the sheets, you’re on the right track, yoi.”
Ace was staring at them with wide, dinner-plate eyes, his face a deep shade of crimson. “The… the tongue?”
“Yes, the tongue!” Thatch exclaimed. “It’s called oral, you idiot! You spend time down there. You treat it like a delicacy. You taste her, you explore, you make her come before you even think about putting your dick in. That’s how you become a legend in the bedroom.”
Jozu, who had been mostly silent, grunted in agreement. “And don’t rush the entry. Slow and steady. Make sure she’s wet - and if she’s not, use your hands and mouth until she is. Forcing it is a one-way ticket to a slap in the face.”
“What about… positions?” Ace asked in a small, hesitant voice.
The brothers shared a look and grinned. This was the part they had been truly waiting for.
“Right! Positions!” Thatch stood up, using his arms to demonstrate. “You’ve got your classic Missionary - good for intimacy, looking into her eyes and kissing her, you get the gist. But if you want something with more… impact… you go for Doggy Style. You get behind her, grip those hips, and really lean into it. It allows for deeper penetration, and let me tell you, the view from back there is a masterpiece.”
“Don’t forget the Cowgirl;” Izou chimed in, having joined the conversation. Ace didn’t even see nor hear him coming, that’s how immersed he was. “Let her be on top. It gives her control over the depth and the speed, and you get to watch everything. There is nothing more erotic than seeing a woman take exactly what she wants from you.”
“And if you’re feeling adventurous,” Vista added with a wink, “try the legs-on-shoulders approach. It changes the angle, hits different spots, and lets you see every single expression on her face.”
Ace felt like his brain was melting. He was visualizing all of this - you on top of him, you arched over the bed, the feeling of your skin against his - and he was becoming painfully, visibly erect. The water around him was practically simmering.
“And for the love of Pops, Ace,” Marco warned, “don’t just go full speed from start to finish. Change the pace. Slow it down, speed it up. Tease her. Pull back just when she thinks you’re about to finish. Drive her crazy.
“I… I think I get it,” Ace gasped, feeling completely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information. He felt a mixture of terror and an almost uncontrollable urge to sprint out of the bathhouse and find you immediately.
“One more thing,” Thatch said, his expression becoming suddenly serious. “Communication. If she tells you something feels good, do more of that. If she just so much as winces, stop. The best lovers are the ones who listen the best.”
Ace nodded fervently, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt like he had just survived a battle with a Yonko, but instead of a scar, he had a mental blueprint for the most intense night of his life. He couldn’t take it anymore; the tension in his body was too much, and the mental images were too vivid.
“I’m out! I’m leaving!” Ace yelled, suddenly standing up and splashing water everywhere. He didn’t even bother with a towel, grabbing his clothes in a blur of motion and sprinting toward the exit, his face glowing red like a flare.
As he scrambled through the doorway, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape the suffocating atmosphere of “brotherly advice”, a loud, booming voice echoed through the bathhouse.
“And Ace!” Thatch screamed after him, cupping his hands around his mouth. “You and Y/N don’t forget to use protection, okay?!”
The sound of Ace’s humiliated shriek echoed all the way down the hall as he vanished, leaving the commanders laughing hysterically in the steam.
Remember when you had told Ace you had to go and help the nurses? Yeah, you hadn’t actually been asked to help them. In fact, you’d practically forced your way in, offering your services as an “assistant” with a desperation that had raised a few eyebrows. But you weren’t there to fold bandages or organize tinctures. You were there because you were in a state of an absolute, agonizing crisis.
You were eighteen, hopelessly in love, and currently vibrating with a level of sexual frustration that felt like it might actually cause you to spontaneously combust.
The problem was your boyfriend.
Ace was, by every objective standard, a masterpiece of a man. He was twenty, brimming with a magnetic energy that seemed to pull everyone toward him. And then there were his… well, physical assets. The golden-tan skin, the dusting of freckles across his nose, and the fact that he spent approximately 99% of his waking life shirtless. You had spent months memorizing the ripple of his abdominal, the breadth of his shoulders, and the way his chest heaved when he laughed.
You wanted him. You wanted him with an intensity that terrified you. But you were shy - painfully so - and Ace, despite his reputation, was treating you like you were made of sugar. He kissed you sweetly; he held your hand with a tenderness that made your heart ache; he looked at you with such pure and unadulterated devotion that you felt like the center of his universe.
But he didn’t move.
As frustrated as you were, you had even gone so far as to sneak into a boutique at the last port, spending a small fortune on a set of lingerie. It was a deep, sultry crimson that you were certain would make his brain short-circuit, but it currently sat untouched in your chest, because every time you thought about putting it on, your face heated up and you imagined him looking at you with those wide, innocent eyes and you simply lost your nerve.
“Alright, sweetheart, enough with the daydreaming. If you’re going to “help” us, you might as well be honest about why you’re really here,” a voice called out.
You jumped, nearly knocking over a tray of saline solution or whatever they had called it. Nurse Hana, a woman in her thirties with a sharp gaze and a knowing smirk, was leaning against a cabinet, arms crossed. Beside her, Nurse Mimi, who was younger and significantly more mischievous, was giggling behind her hand.
You felt the heat crawl up your neck. “I… I just thought…”
“You’re thinking about our dear second commander,” Mimi chirped, stepping closer. “We got you figured out, sweetie. We’ve seen the way you look at him. And we’ve seen the way he looks at you. “It’s like watching two magnets that are too scared to actually click together. It’s exhausting for the rest of us, really.”
You slumped against the table, defeated. “Is it that obvious?”
“Honey, the entire crew is betting on when you two will finally stop just flirting and actually get laid,” Hana said bluntly.
You gasped, your face turning a shade of red that rivaled the lingerie you were currently wearing.
“I- we- it’s not like that!”
“Oh, please,” Mimi laughed, pulling you towards a cluster of chairs in the back of the ward where they were taking their break. “Sit. Tell us everything. What’s the hold-up? Is he not interested? Is he… lacking in the equipment department?”
“No!” You whispered urgently. “He’s perfect! He’s more than perfect! He’s just… he’s so gentle. I don’t know how to make him realize that I want him to stop being gentle. I don’t know how to start it without it being weird!”
The two nurses exchanged a look. A predatory one.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Hana sighed, though her eyes were twinkling. “You’re trying to wait for the man to lead, but Ace is a dork. A hot, muscular, oblivious dork. Men like that often need a very clear map to their destination. They’re terrified of overstepping, especially when they’re as smitten as he is.”
“So… what do I do?” you asked, your voice small.
Mimi leaned in, her expression becoming intensely focused. She clearly enjoyed this. “First of all, we need to talk about the visual. Do you have anything… provocative? Something that says ‘I am not a doll, I am a woman who wants you to take her’?”
You hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I have… some lace. Red.”
“Are you wearing it right now?”
“... Maybe.”
Mimi let out a triumphant shriek. “Perfect! Absolute gold! Listen to me: you tease him with it. You let him see a strap. You let him catch a glimpse of a thigh. Until he finally crumbles.”
For the next hour, the infirmary became a classroom of a very different sort than the one Ace was currently attending in the baths. While the commanders were giving Ace a technical manual on the mechanics of pleasure, the nurses were giving you a masterclass in the art of seduction.
And they were explicit.
“Don’t just wait for him to kiss you,” Hana instructed, gesturing with her hands. “Take the lead. Grab him by the back of the neck - he loves that, trust me, men with those shoulders have a weakness for being pulled in. Bite his lower lip. Just a little bit. It signals that you’re demanding his affection, not just accepting it.”
You felt dizzy just listening to her. “B-bite him?”
“Yes, bite him!” Mimi added enthusiastically. “And once you get him in the bedroom, don’t just lie there. Use your body. Rub yourself against him. Let him feel how much you want him through your clothes first. The friction is what drives him crazy, trust me. And for the love of God, use your hands. Explore him. He’s shirtless all day, right? Use that. Trace the lines of his muscles, linger on his chest, move down… slowly… until he’s practically begging you.”
“But what if I don’t know what to do… down there?” you whispered, your heart hammering.
Hana leaned back, her expression softening but remaining frank. “Listen, the first time is always a bit of a mess. He’s probably just as nervous as you are. The secret isn’t perfection, so don’t overthink what you should do for now; it’s enthusiasm. If you’re making noise, if you’re arching your back, if you’re telling him exactly how good he feels, he’ll feed off that. Guide him. If he goes somewhere you don’t like, move his hand. If he hits a spot that makes your toes curl, moan. Loudly. Men are simple creatures, they just want to know they’re winning.”
Mimi winked at you. “And remember: the more you treat it like a delicious secret you’re sharing, the more he’ll lose his mind. Seduction isn’t about the build-up. Make him ache for it. Make him feel like he’s starving and you’re the only feast in the world able to satisfy him.”
By the time you left the infirmary, your head was spinning. You felt like you had been given a secret weapon, but the weight of actually using it felt monumental. You walked back toward your quarters, your legs feeling a bit like jelly, the nurses’ voices echoing in your mind: Bite his lip. Use your hands. Make him ache.
As you reached your door, you saw a flash of orange and black.
Ace was standing there, leaning against the railing, looking like he had just stepped out of a storm. His hair was still damp, clinging to his forehead, and he was wearing his usual trousers, his chest bare and glistening slightly in the fading light.
He looked… different. He looked wired.
There was a strange, frantic energy in his eyes, a mixture of sheer terror and an almost violent level of horniness, that you had never seen in him before.
“Hey,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, his face flushing a deep crimson. “Hey, Y/N.”
You stopped, your breath catching. You looked at his broad shoulders, the way the muscles of his chest flexed as he breathed, and suddenly, all you could think was: He’s a feast.
“Hi, Ace,” you replied, your voice sounding breathier than you intended.
He shifted his weight, looking everywhere but at you. “I… uh… the baths were… really educational. I mean! Not that I learned anything! I just… the guys were talking. About… stuff.”
You blinked. Educational? A sudden, suspicious thought crossed your mind. Had Ace been talking to the other commanders? Had he received his own version of the “crash course”?
The realization of that possibility sent a jolt of electricity through you. If he was just as desperate and “educated” as you were, then the tension between you was now stretched to the breaking point.
“Is that so?” you asked, taking a daring step closer.
Ace jumped slightly, his eyes finally snapping to yours. The look in them was searing. He looked like he wanted to devour you and apologize for it at the same time. “Yeah. I mean, I just… I really love you, Y/N. And I want… I want to be good for you. I want to make sure everything is… perfect.”
The “perfect” comment hit you right in the heart, but it also gave you the opening you needed. You remembered Hana’s words: Don’t wait for the man to lead.
You reached out, your hands trembling slightly, and pressed your palm flat against his chest. His skin was scorching - literally. He let out a sharp, strangled gasp, his entire body stiffening at the contact.
“Ace,” you whispered, sliding your hand upward, tracing the line of his pectoral muscle up toward his collarbone. “I don’t want perfect.”
Ace’s pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black. He looked like he had forgotten how to breathe. “You… you don’t?”
“No,” you murmured, stepping into his space until your chest was brushing against his. You could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. “I just want you.”
Ace made a sound - a low, needy whimper that sent heat straight to your core. He instinctively reached out to wrap his arms around you, but he hesitated, his hands hovering an inch from your waist, still terrified of breaking you.
You didn’t let him hesitate. You reached up, grabbed the back of his neck - just like Hana said - and pulled him down.
What followed wasn’t a sweet kiss. It wasn’t the tentative, tasting-the-water kind of kiss you were used to. You slammed your lips against his with a hunger that surprised even you, and as you did, you caught his lower lip between your teeth and gave it a sharp, experimental nip.
Ace practically exploded.
A muffled sound escaped his throat, and his arms now fully slammed around you, hosting you off your feet and pinning you against the wooden wall of the corridor with a thud that probably woke up half the ship. He kissed you back with a desperation that was almost violent, his tongue seeking yours with a clumsy, frantic energy.
He was shaking. God, he was actually shaking in your arms.
“Y/N,” he gasped, breaking the kiss for a split second to press his forehead against yours. His breath was hot, his voice a ragged wreck. “I don’t… I’ve never… I don’t know if I’m doing this right!”
You laughed, a small, breathless sound, and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Neither do I, Ace. Just… just keep going.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He carried you into your room, kicking the door shut behind him with a loud bang.
The moment you hit the bed, Ace was a whirlwind of passion and total incompetence. He tried to be the suave, confident lover the commanders had described, but his nerves were shot. He went to pull your shirt over your head, but he got caught on your arm, nearly pulling you off the bed in the process.
“Sorry! I’m sorry!” he yelped, his face turning bright red. “I just- I wanted to be smooth! Thatch said the build-up is everything, and I’m like really trying to build it, but I’m just-”
You giggled, pulling him back down by his collar. “Ace, stop listening to Thatch. Just look at me.”
He stopped, his gaze falling on you. The heat in his eyes returned, that raw, hungry intensity that made your stomach flip. He leaned down, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, his movements becoming more confident as he stopped listening to his spiraling thoughts and started following the instincts of a man who had been starving for months.
Then, he felt it. The lace.
As he shifted his weight, his hand brushed against the edge of the crimson lingerie you were wearing beneath your clothes. He froze, his hands pausing on your hip. “What… is this?” he whispered, his voice sounding like it had been dragged through gravel.
“A surprise,” you whispered back, reaching down to slowly slide the fabric of your shirt where he had previously failed upward, revealing the intricate, daring red lace that hugged your curves.
Ace stared. Actually, he didn’t just stare; he looked like he had seen a vision of the gods. His jaw actually dropped, and for a moment, he looked completely paralyzed.
“You… you’re wearing… that’s… you look…” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “I think my brain just melted. Y/N, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life.”
The sincerity in his voice was so overwhelming that it almost broke the mood, but then he groaned, a deep, guttural sound of pure longing, and buried his face in the crook of your neck.
“I can’t… I can’t take it anymore,” he whimpered. “I want you so bad it hurts.”
You felt a surge of confidence, remembering the nurses’ advice. You reached down, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his trousers, and you felt him jump, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth.
“Is this okay?” you whispered.
“Yes,” he gasped, his eyes wide and blown out. “Yes, please, anything, just… don’t stop.”
The next few minutes were a chaotic mix of tension and absolute clumsiness. Ace tried to implement the “slow and steady” approach Marco had suggested, but every time your skin touched his, he seemed to forget how to function. He tried to kiss your neck while simultaneously trying to remove his trousers, resulting in him accidentally rolling off the side of the bed with a loud thump.
You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach.
Ace popped his head up from the floor, his hair a disaster, his face flushed, looking like a giant, albeit horny golden retriever.
“I’m okay! I’m fine! I just… the angle was off!”
You reached down, grabbing his hand and pulling him back up. “You’re a dork, Ace.”
“Your dork,” he countered, lunging back onto the bed and pinning you beneath him. Now, the laughter faded, replaced by a heavy, seething heat. The air in the room felt thick, charged with the scent of the sea outside, fire, and an unbearable amount of anticipation.
Ace hovered over you, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding himself back. He looked at you - really looked at you - and the clumsiness vanished, replaced by a tenderness that was almost spiritual. He traced the line of your lip with his thumb, his expression one of pure awe.
“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m so nervous, Y/N. I really want this to be perfect for you.”
“It already is,” you replied, pulling his head down for another kiss.
As he began to explore your body, his hands shaking but his touch becoming more sure, you felt the world outside the room disappear. There was no Moby Dick, no Pops, none of your brothers - just the heat of his skin against yours and the rhythmic thud of two hearts beating in sync.
He moved down, his kisses trailing over your stomach, his breath hot against your skin. He remembered what Marco had mentioned, and you could tell he was thinking hard about it. He paused, his head tilting as he tried to remember exactly where the “center of the universe” was.
You let out a soft, encouraging moan, arching your back and guiding him with your hips. You had gotten rid of your shorts and underwear a long time ago.
“Right. There. Yes,” he whispered to himself, sounding like a student taking a final exam.
When he finally made contact with his tongue, you let out a sharp, loud cry, your fingers digging into his shoulders. The sensation was electric, a sudden explosion of pleasure that made your vision blur.
Ace froze, his eyes snapping up to yours, wide with panic. “Did I hurt you?! Did I do it wrong?! Oh god, I’m sorry, I-”
“No!” you gasped, pulling him back down. “No, Ace… it’s perfect. Don’t stop. Please, please, please.”
He let out a long, shuddering breath, a look of intense relief washing over him. He sank back into you with his tongue, his movements becoming more fluid and instinctive. The “education” from his brothers was still there in the back of his mind, but as the heat rose, only the raw, honest desire of two people who loved each other far more than they knew how to handle was left.
The tension eventually reached a fever pitch. Ace was hovering over you, his chest heaving, his eyes locked onto yours with a searing intensity that made you feel like you were melting into the sheets. He was a mess of freckles, sweat, and unbridled passion.
“I’m going to…” he started, his voice breaking. “I can’t… Y/N, I can’t hold it…”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down so there was no space left between you, your heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
“Then don’t hold it,” you whispered. “Just give it to me.”
The tension had reached a point where it was no longer sustainable. With a ragged groan, Ace shifted, his movement hurried yet cautious, as he finally managed to rid himself of the last of his clothing.
For a moment, you simply froze.
You had spent months imagining him, memorizing every single visible inch of his shirtless torso, but you were entirely unprepared for the sight of him fully exposed. As he settled down between your thighs, the moonlight filtering through the porthole illuminated him, and your breath hitched in your threat.
He was magnificent.
You had never seen a man like this before - not really. You had heard the nurses talk, and you had caught glimpses of the crew in the baths, but this was different. This was Ace. He was thick and heavy, his length impressive and pulsing with a life of its own. He was already leaking, a small, glistening bead of pre-cum crowning the head of his cock, shimmering in the dim light. He looked desperate, his vein-mapped length twitching with every erratic beat of his heart.
You felt a wave of intense, dizzying curiosity wash over you. Your eyes widened, tracing the curve and the sheer size of him. He looked so powerful, yet as he looked down at you, his expression was one of complete, vulnerable surrender. He was trembling, his chest heaving, looking as though he might actually combust if you didn’t touch him soon.
“Y/N,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, sounding completely wrecked. “I…I’m sorry if it’s… too much. I don’t know if I’m… normal.”
The slight insecurity in his voice, despite the imposing sight of him, made your heart swell. You reached out, your fingers hovering just an inch from his skin.
You could feel the heat off him, a literal warmth that made your fingertips tingle.
“Can I…?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Can I touch you, Ace?”
He let out a half-sob, half-groan, his eyes closing tight. “Yes,” he choked out, “God, yes. Please.”
As your fingers finally made contact, Ace let out a sharp, strangled gasp. His skin was scorching, smoother than you expected, and incredibly sensitive. You started slowly, your hand wrapping around the base of him. You were surprised by how your hand couldn’t even fully close around the girth of him; he filled your palm and then some.
You felt him jump under your touch, a violent shiver racking his entire frame. You began to move your hand, a tentative, sliding motion upward to the crown. The feeling of the slick moisture between your skin and his made a small, needy sound escape your lips.
“Oh god,” Ace whimpered, his head falling back against the pillows. “Y/N… you’re… you’re actually doing it. You’re touching me. This… holy shit.”
You gained confidence, remembering the nurses’ advice about enthusiasm. You tightened your grip slightly and increased the pace, sliding your hand up and down the length of him. The friction was intoxicating. You watched him, captivated by the way his abdominal muscles rippled and clenched with every stroke.
Ace began to make sounds you had never heard of him - high-pitched moans and frequent whines that vibrated through the mattress. He gripped the sheets beside your head, his knuckles white, his hips beginning to stutter-step upward, instinctively seeking more pressure.
“Right there… just like that,” he gasped, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t stop… don’t ever stop.”
You shifted your body, rubbing your thigh against his hip, wanting to feel as much of him as possible. You started to move faster, your palm slick with his arousal, the sound of the wet filling the quiet room. Ace was practically sobbing now, his breath coming in short, jagged bursts. He looked absolutely desperate, his eyes blown wide and glazed with a level of pleasure that seemed to be bordering on pain.
Driven by a sudden, daring impulse, you decided to try something more. You slid down the bed, your hair spilling over his thighs, and looked up at him.
Ace looked down at you, his face a mask of pure shock. “What are you… Y/N?”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned forward and opened your mouth, tentatively taking the head of his cock inside.
The sensation was overwhelming for both of you. The taste of him was salty and warm, and the feeling of him filling your mouth was an intimacy that felt almost sacred. You swirled your tongue around the tip, mimicking the movements you’d imagined doing countless times already.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Ace let out a scream - a loud, shocked sound that was cut off as his entire body went rigid. He didn’t even have time to move his hips; the mere sensation of your mouth, the warmth and the wetness, was the final straw for his overstimulated nerves.
He bucked upward, his hands flying to your shoulders to steady himself, and then he exploded.
You felt the hot pulses of his release hitting the back of your throat, a sudden flood of heat that left you breathless. He came with a violence that surprised you, his body shaking with powerful, uncontrollable spasms as he emptied himself into you.
He groaned your name over and over, until he finally collapsed back into the bed, completely spent.
Silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of your synchronized, heavy breathing.
You slowly pulled away, licking your lips, and looked up at him. Ace was staring at the ceiling, his chest still heaving, his face a shade of red that rivaled his necklace. He looked utterly devastated.
“I… I did it,” he whispered, his voice sounding hollow. “I actually… I lasted about three seconds.”
He covered his face with his hands, a muffled groan of pure embarrassment escaping him. “I’m such an idiot. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to be a legend in the bedroom like Thatch said, and I just… I just blew it immediately.”
You felt a wave of tenderness wash over you. You crawled back up his body, pressing your chest against his, and kissed his cheek softly.
“Ace, look at me,” you murmured.
He peeked through his fingers, his eyes wide and sheepish.
“It was perfect,” you whispered, smiling. “You were so… intense. And I’ve never had anyone make me feel the way you do. Who cares about being a legend? I just want you. You’re allowed to not immediately get everything right during your first time.”
Ace let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension leaving his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest, burying his face in your neck. “You’re too good to me, Y/N.” I don’t deserve you.”
“Hush,” you giggled, rubbing his back.
As you lay there, you felt a familiar, aching throb between your own legs. Ace had found his release, but you were still vibrating, your body humming with a need that hadn’t been satisfied from his earlier try.
You shifted slightly, rubbing your center against his thigh, and let out a small, involuntary moan.
Ace stiffened, his senses returning. He pulled back slightly, looking at your flushed face and the way your eyes were clouded with desire. He looked down at your lower half, then back at you, a look of realization dawning on his face.
“You’re… you’re still…”
“I am,” you whispered, your voice sounding small and needy. “Ace… I’ve never… I’ve never had an orgasm. I don’t know how it feels.”
The embarrassment vanished from Ace’s face, replaced by a fierce intensity. He might have been a novice, but the love he felt for you was a powerful motivator.
“I’m going to give it to you,” he vowed, his voice returning to that low tone that made your toes curl. “I don’t care if I’m a dork. I’m going to make you feel everything and do it right this time.”
He moved with a new kind of purpose. He shifted his body, gently pushing you back onto the pillows and sliding down between your legs. You gasped as he parted your thighs again, his eyes admiring you with a reverence that made you feel like a goddess.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath hot against your inner thigh.
He started with his mouth once again, kissing the soft skin of your legs, moving higher and higher. You trembled, your fingers digging into the sheets as he approached the center of your heat. When his tongue finally made contact with your clitoris, you let out a sharp, loud cry, your hips arching off the bed.
“Is this… is this still right? Like before?” he asked, glancing up at you, his lips glistening.
“Yes!” you gasped. “Oh god, yes, right there!”
Ace didn’t need further instruction. He dove back in, his tongue working with a rhythmic intensity that made you see stars. He was applying the lessons from the baths perfectly after a little but of fooling around. You were a mess already, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
Then, he added his fingers.
He slid two fingers inside you, the friction of his movement complementing the stimulation of his tongue. You felt full, stretched, and utterly consumed by him.
You began to moan loudly, the sound echoing in the small room, your head tossing from side to side.
“That’s it, Y/N… just let go,” Ace murmured against your skin, his voice encouraging. “Tell me what you need.”
“More… please, Ace, more!” you cried out, your voice breaking.
He increased the pressure, his fingers curling upward, hitting a spot that sent a jolt of pure electricity through your entire spine. You felt a tension building deep within you, a coil tightening tighter and tighter until it felt like you were about to snap.
The world blurred. The sounds of the ship faded. There was only the heat of Ace’s mouth and the rhythmic drive of his hand.
Suddenly, the coil snapped.
A wave of intense, crashing pleasure slammed into you, starting at your core and radiating outward to the tips of your fingers. You screamed his name, your body shaking in a violent, prolonged orgasm that felt like a thousand suns exploding behind your eyelids. You gripped his hair, pulling him closer as you rode the wave of pleasure, your breath hitching in a series of sobbing gasps.
As the intensity slowly faded, you collapsed back into the mattress, completely limp and glowing.
Ace pulled back, looking up at you with a triumphant, beaming smile. He looked proud and his eyes were shining with affection.
“Did I… did I do it?” he asked breathlessly.
You couldn’t even speak for a moment.
You just reached down and pulled him up, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him with everything you had.
“You did it, Ace,” you whispered against his lips that tasted like your juices. “You did it perfectly.”
He let out a contended sigh, rolling over to pull you into the crook of his arm.
You lay entwined in Ace’s arms, your breath finally beginning to level out, your skin humming with a glow that had nothing to do with the dim moonlight filtering through the porthole. For a few minutes, the world was nothing but the steady, thumping rhythm of Ace’s heart against your ear and the soft, contented sighs he let out into your hair.
But as the initial haze of the orgasm receded, a new kind of tension began to coil in the pit of your stomach. You were satisfied, yes, but there was still a lingering, hollow ache. The “main event” was still looming, a mountain neither of you had ever climbed, and the anticipation was starting to feel like a physical weight.
Ace seemed to be feeling it too. You could tell by the way his grip on you tightened slightly, his fingers tracing mindlessly, shaky patterns across your lower back. He was quiet, but his body was radiating a heat that was bordering on feverish.
“Y/N?” he whispered, his voice still a ragged, low wreck.
“Yeah?” you murmured, tilting your head back to look at him.
He looked completely undone. His freckles seemed to stand out more against his flushed skin, and his eyes were wide, searching your face with a mixture of raw adoration and a mounting, desperate nervousness. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, terrified of the fall but dying to jump.
“I… I want to,” he started, his voice cracking. “I mean, if you’re still up for it. I don’t want to rush you, or… or make you feel like I’m just trying to get to the end. I just… I really want to be inside you.”
The honesty in his voice sent a shiver of heat straight to your core. You didn’t answer with words; instead, you shifted your body, sliding your leg over his hip and pulling him closer, your chest brushing against his. You could feel him stirring against you, the hard, pulsing length of him returning with a vengeance, pressing firmly against your thigh.
“I want you too, Ace,” you breathed.
A low, guttural sound escaped his throat, and for a second, it looked like he might just dive in, driven by pure instinct. But then, a flicker of memory crosses his face.
He froze, his eyes widening as he remembered the final piece of advice from Thatch.
“Right! Protection!” he gasped, suddenly scrambling backward.
The sudden movement was so abrupt that he nearly rolled off the bed again. You let out a startled giggle as he frantically began searching through his trousers, which were discarded in a heap on the floor. He dove into the fabric, his movements chaotic and hurried, until he finally produced a small, square foil packet.
He held it up like it was a piece of ancient treasure, staring at it with a look of profound confusion.
“How… how does this actually work again?” he muttered to himself, his brow furrowed in intense concentration.
You watched, half-amused and half-endeared, as the formidable second commander of the Whitebeard Pirates engaged in a life-or-death struggle with a piece of latex. He tried to open the packet with his teeth, but in his haste, he nearly ripped the condom itself. He let out a small, panicked yelp, his face turning a shade of crimson that rivaled the ripe tomatoes in Thatch’s kitchen.
“Dammit! Thatch made it sound so easy!” he hissed, his fingers fumbling with the edges of the foil. “He just said ‘use protection’, he didn’t give me a manual!”
“Do you want help?” you offered, your voice trembling with suppressed laughter.
“No! No, I got this! I’m a pirate! I can handle a small piece of rubber!” he declared with a burst of misplaced confidence.
He finally managed to get the condom out, but then came the actual application.
Because he was so wired - his heart racing and his hands shaking from the sheer intensity of his arousal - the process was anything but smooth. He struggled to get the positioning right, his fingers slipping, his movements clumsy. At one point, he accidentally pinched himself, letting out a sharp “Ow!” that made you burst into full-blown laughter.
“Stop laughing!” he groaned, though he was grinning despite his obvious frustration. “This is a high-stress operation!”
After several minutes of trial and error, and a fair amount of breathless cursing, he finally managed it. He let out a triumphant huff, looking at himself with a sense of accomplishment as if he had just navigated the Grand Line without a Log Pose.
He crawled back over to you, his eyes darkening as he settled between your thighs. The atmosphere shifted instantly from comedic to searing. The laughter died away, replaced by a heavy, expectant silence. Ace hovered over you, his arms shaking as he braced himself on either side of your head.
“Are you… are you okay? Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice dripping with so much love it made a genuine smile break out on your lips. He was perfect.
“I’m sure, Ace. Just… be gentle,” you whispered back.
He nodded, his expression one of absolute focus. He guided himself to your entrance, the tip of him brushing against you. You felt a sharp intake of breath from both of you. The heat radiating off him was immense, and as he began to push forward, the sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced.
“It wasn’t the effortless slide the commanders had implied to him. Instead, it was a slow, pressured stretch. You felt your muscles tighten instinctively, a small gasp of discomfort escaping your lips as you felt the sheer girth of him filling you.
Ace stopped instantly. He froze, his muscles locking up, his eyes wide with terror.
“No,” you gasped, reaching up to cup his face, your fingers digging into his cheeks. “No, don’t stop. It’s just… it’s a lot. It’s just the first time. Just… stay still for a second. Let me get used to it.”
Ace stayed perfectly still, though he looked like he was vibrating. He was holding his breath, his chest heaving, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that felt like it could burn through the sheet. You could feel him pulsing inside you, a heavy, insistent throb that echoed the beat of your own heart.
Slowly, the initial discomfort began to face, replaced by a feeling of incredible fullness.
It was an overwhelming sensation, a physical connection so deep it felt emotional. You shifted your hips slightly, testing the feeling, and let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.
“Okay,” you whispered, your voice breathy and warm. “I’m okay. You… you can move now, Ace.”
You expected him to dive in right in. Instead, the moment you gave him permission, Ace let put a sound that could only be described as a whimper.
He didn’t move. In fact, he seemed to sink even deeper into the mattress, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder, his body shuddering violently.
“Ace?” you asked, confused. “Why aren’t you moving?”
He let out a choked, needy groan, his voice muffled against your skin. “I… I can’t,” he rasped, his breath hot and erratic.
“What do you mean you can’t?”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, and you saw that his eyes were completely glazed, his pupils blown wide. He looked absolutely wrecked to say the least.
“Y/N… you feel… holy shit, you feel so good,” he whimpered, a stray tear of sheer overstimulation pricking the corner of his eye. “If I move… if I even move an inch right now… I think I’m literally going to cum again. I can’t… I can’t handle it.”
You blinked, a small, surprised laugh escaping you. “Are you serious? You’re the second commander! You have legendary stamina!”
“Not when I’m inside you!” he wailed softly, his voice cracking. “It’s too much! It’s like… like I’m being hugged from the inside! I’m losing my mind, Y/N! I’m actually losing it!”
The sight of him - this powerful, stubborn pirate, completely defeated by the simple sensation of being inside you - was the most erotic thing you had ever seen. You felt a surge of playful confidence, remembering the nurses’ words about taking the lead.
You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back, and gave a sharp, deliberate tug, pulling him deeper.
Ace let out a loud, undignified shriek, his back arching off the bed. “OH GOD! STOP! NO, DON’T STOP! BUT STOP!”
“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, your voice dripping with affection. You began to move your hips in a slow, grinding circle, testing the friction.
Ace made a sound that was once again half-sob, half-moan. He gripped the headboard behind you so hard that the wood groaned under the pressure. “I’m going to die,” he gasped, his eyes rolling back. “I am actually going to die right here on this bed. This is it. Tell Pops I love him.”
“You’re not dying, Ace. You’re just sensitive and dramatic,” you teased, increasing the pace slightly.
As the rhythm established itself, Ace finally found his footing, his movements transitioning from erratic shudders to deep, purposeful thrusts. He wasn’t “smooth” in the way a seasoned lover might be - he was too eager, often pushing too fast or missing the angle - but every single movement was fueled by a level of devotion that was intoxicating.
“Is this… is this okay?” he panted, his voice returning to that low, commanding tone, though it was still punctuated by the occasional whimper. “Am I… am I doing it right?”
“Yes,” you moaned, your head tossing from side to side. “Right there… oh god, Ace, yes!”
Hearing your pleasure seemed to give him a second wind. He stopped worrying about the “manual” and started listening to your body. He remembered Marco’s words about changing the pace, slowing down just as you were reaching a peak, only to drive back in with a sudden intensity that made you scream his name.
The room felt like it was catching fire. The heat radiating from Ace’s skin was literal now, the air shimmering around him as his emotions flared. Every time he hit that specific spot you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your spine, and Ace would let out a ragged, needy sound, as if he were the one receiving the pleasure.
“I love you,” he gasped, his voice breaking as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your toes curl. “I love you so much, Y/N. I can’t… I can’t believe this is real.”
The emotional weight of his words, combined with the physical intensity of the act, pushed you over the edge. You felt the coil tighten, the tension building into a crescendo that felt like a tidal wave crashing over you. You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his tan skin, and let out a loud, prolonged cry as your orgasm slammed into you.
Ace didn’t wait long to follow after you. The moment he felt your internal muscles clench around him in the throes of release, he lost the last shred of his control.
“Y/N!” he moaned, his voice echoing through the entire room.
He delivered one final, deep thrust, pinning you against the mattress with the full weight of his body. Then he stiffened, his muscles locking up in a violent spasm as he emptied himself into the condom. He groaned your name over and over, a long, shuddering release that left him completely spent, his breath coming in jagged, sobbing gasps.
For a long time, neither of you moved. You lay there in a tangle of sweaty limbs and tangled sheets, the only sound the creaking of the Moby Dick as it swayed in the ocean waves.
Eventually, Ace shifted, rolling to the side but keeping you tucked firmly against his chest. He let out a long, contented sigh, his eyes half-closed and dreamy.
“So,” you whispered, your voice sounding small and satisfied. “How was the ‘main event’?”
Ace let out a soft, sheepish chuckle, kissing the top of your head. “I think… I think I might have failed the technical part. I definitely… messed up on the way.”
You giggled, snuggling closer to him. “I don’t know. I think you did just fine for a novice.”
“A novice, huh?” He grinned, a flash of his usual confidence returning. He tightened his grip on you, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. “Well, the thing about novices is that they’re very eager to practice. I think I might need a few more… educational sessions. Just to make sure I’ve mastered the technique.”
You laughed, your heart full. “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice dropping back into that low, dangerous register as he began to nuzzle your ear. “I think we should probably start with a review of a few different positions. You know… for science.”
You laughed. “Hm. For science. Of course.”
The sun hadn’t even begun to peek over the horizon, and the Moby Dick was shrouded in a heavy, pre-dawn mist. At roughly 5:00 AM, the ship was usually silent, save for the rhythmic splashing of the waves and the occasional snoring of a crew member.
Except for the commander’s deck.
Edward Newgate, the strongest man in the world, stepped out onto the main deck for his early morning sake, his massive frame cutting through the fog. He stopped mid-strike, his eyes blinking in confusion. There, huddled around a small table on the docks of the upper deck, were his top commanders.
It was a sight that would have terrified any enemy fleet. Marco, Thatch, Vista, Jozu and Izou were all present, but they didn’t look like the formidable leaders of the Whitebeard Pirates. They looked like survivors of a shipwreck.
Marco was slumped over the table, his face pressed against the wood, one eye open and twitching. Thatch was staring blankly into a bottle of sake, drinking straight from the neck with a thousand-yard stare. Vista’s legendary mustache was drooping, and Izou was rubbing his temples with a look of profound spiritual exhaustion. Jozu was simply sitting in silence, staring at a wall as if trying to erase a memory from his soul.
They were surrounded by empty bottles and half-eaten plates of snacks, looking like they hadn’t slept in three days.
“Gurarara!” Whitebeard’s booming laugh echoed across the deck. “What in the world is this? A secret meeting?”
The commanders didn’t even jump. They didn’t have the energy to be startled.
Marco let out a slow, rattling sigh. “Pops… please. Just… stop talking. The vibrations of your voice are too much for my brain right now, yoi.”
Whitebeard paused, leaning down to peer at his sons. “You all look like you’ve been fighting a Yonko for forty-eight hours. What happened?”
Thatch slowly lifted his head. A single tear of regret rolled down his cheek. “Worse, Pops. Much worse.”
“Explain,” Whitebeard commanded, though he sounded amused.
“We gave him a crash course,” Izou whispered, his voice a mixture of horror and betrayal. “We thought we were being helpful. We thought we were guiding him. We thought we were protecting our little sister by ensuring Ace knew what he was doing.”
Whitebeard blinked. “Ace and Y/N? I figured they’d finally gotten around to it.”
At the mention of the couple, the entire group of commanders flinched simultaneously, as if they had been struck by a physical blow.
“You don’t understand, Pops,” Vista groaned, covering his eyes with one hand. “The walls on the commander’s floor are thick. They are very thick. But Ace… He really doesn’t do anything halfway. The sheer… volume… the enthusiasm… the screaming…”
“He’s a monster,” Jozu grunted, his voice hollow. “A loud, passionate monster.”
The commander shared a look of collective trauma. They had spent the last several hours trapped in a psychological war, listening to the evidence of Ace implementing every single piece of advice they had given him - and then some.
Because they saw you as their precious baby sister, every moan, every gasp, every loud thud against the wall had felt like a personal attack on their sanity.
Thatch suddenly slammed his bottle onto the table, his expression one of pure agony.
“I regret it!” he wailed, his voice cracking. “I regret teaching him! Why did I tell him about the neck?! Why did I mention the clitoris?! I’ve created a beast and now I have to live with the mental images!”
“I told him to change the pace, yoi,” Marco muttered into the table, sounding defeated. “I didn’t realize he’d take “driving her crazy” as a literal mission objective. I can still hear it. I can still hear her screaming his name. I think I have permanent hearing loss in my left ear.”
Whitebeard stared at them for a long moment, then he let out a laugh so massive it nearly knocked Thatch off his chair.
“Gurarara! It seems the boy is really thorough!”
“It’s not thorough, Pops! It’s an auditory assault!” Izou snapped, though he looked too tired to actually be angry.
Just as a heavy, blessed silence fell over the group, a sound drifted across the deck from the direction of the commander’s quarters.
“ACE! OH MY GOD, ACE-!!!”
The scream was followed by a loud, unmistakable THUMP that vibrated through the floorboards of the ship. The commanders froze. As one, they all slowly turned their heads toward the sound.
Thatch let out a broken whimper and leaned forward, burying his face in the sake bottle. Marco simply closed his eyes and began to pray to a god he didn’t even believe in.
“I’m retiring,” Marco whispered. “I’m leaving the crew. I’m moving to a deserted island where the only sound is the wind, yoi.”
summary: once in a lifetime you'll switch bodies with your soulmate and see the world through their eyes.
sukuna is initially frustrated when he's plunged into darkness in the body of a weak and blind woman, only to discover that there's more to her than he was expecting, leaving him on a mission to locate the shogi-playing courtesan whose soul called out to his.
word count: 11k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, soulmate au, heian era, initially rude sukuna, soft!sukuna, true form sukuna, courtesan reader, sickness, blindness, depiction of violence and death, happy ending, hurt/comfort, honestly its mainly fluff, devoted sukuna, piv, cunnilingus
a/n: after doing my satoru soulmate au i desperately wanted to do one for sukuna so here it is! inspired somewhat by komugi and meruem in hxh and ALSO by lakan and fengxian in apothecary diaries (as someone requested that from me!)
At one point in every person’s life, they will awaken in the body of another.
They will spend their day seeing through strange eyes, living out hours as a person they may have never met, trapped within their new form until sleep takes them and they are released back into their own body.
Those meagre hours are the only chance a person will have to find their other other half, to learn all they can about the body they’ve awoken in. There’s no second chance, no opportunity to swap for a second time.
If one cannot locate their soulmate after the day they’ve spent as them, they can find no further help. All they can hope for, is that they might stumble across their destined lover by mere chance one day.
Or, that their beloved did a better job than they did at piecing together the puzzle.
Sukuna found himself in another’s body in his mid-twenties, awakening one morning in complete darkness, even though he’d been certain his eyes were open. It was a strange feeling at first, a resignation to a suspicion he’d held all his life that there was no destined person for him, giving in to the belief that he’d spend a day floating in nothingness with no other half for his soul to cling to.
His assumption was broken swiftly, at the realisation that he still held some manner of awareness even if his sight was impaired. There was a breeze blowing against his body, chatter sounding off in the distance, and soft sheets were pressing up against skin which surely wasn’t his.
This person, whoever they were, had a body that was exhausted. He ached in places he’d never ached before, his shoulders and upper back straining, like their owner had been carrying a weight beyond their capability. He felt desperately weak in that form, suddenly aware that he only had a human number of limbs to control, and lacked the strength and size he was used to commanding.
In the darkness clouding his vision, he was surprised to find that the blackness wasn’t as deep as he’d originally thought, able to make out fuzzy shapes in the dark which he could only assume made up his surroundings. His hand reached for his eyes, setting his lips into a grim line at the confirmation they were open.
His destined lover was blind.
Disappointment settled into his chest. He had never taken much stock in soulmates in the first place, didn’t really believe in love, but this just furthered his confirmation that the whole matter was a farce. He found respect for the strong - strength was the only thing that truly mattered to him, and yet here he was, in the body of a blind woman.
A feeble little thing hardly able to fend for herself.
What good was she to a man like Sukuna?
A knock on the door startled him. “Are you awake? The madam wants me to help you get ready.”
Sukuna said nothing, trying to figure out why it felt like your body wanted to draw in on itself, your pulse quicking in a seemingly innate reaction to the voice at the door.
“Please, I know you’ve been ill but he’s been calling every day for the past week, the madam doesn’t want to keep him waiting any longer. He’s been bringing forth all manner of threat, and if you’re not careful he’ll buy you out. I know that isn’t what you want. Just let me tend to you and allow him a visit. Keep his temper at bay.”
Sukuna frowned, attempting to piece together what was happening. It was hard without the visual clues of his surroundings, but based on the snippet of conversation he concluded that you were likely a courtesan of some form. Once again, his view of you, and the soulmate system in general, dropped through the floor.
Blind and a whore.
Perfect.
“One moment.” He called out, taken aback by the lovely feminine voice that fell from his lips. It was a soft, delicate sound, one which wouldn’t sound out of place accompanied with a harp. He found himself shocked at how much he enjoyed it, considering saying something else just to hear it again.
Finding the door proved to be a more difficult task than he’d been expecting. He’d already stumbled standing up from your bed, thrown off by his lack of vision and by feet that were ridiculously small compared to what he was used to. His centre of gravity felt all wrong, and his body felt generally unbalanced without his lower set of arms.
Moving at a snail's pace, he made it across the room, impressed that he didn’t run into anything on his journey over. He was grateful for the shadowy outlines present in your visionless gaze, certain that the situation would be made harder without even that as a guide.
Fumbling for the handle, he slid open the door. “Morning. Oh honey, you look like a ghost.” A hand pressed against his skin, and he was ushered over to another part of the room, grateful for the guidance. There was the sound of a chair being moved. “Take a seat.”
Sukuna hesitated, not quite sure where the chair was. He reached out nonchalantly with his hand, trying to feel for it while the other woman’s focus was elsewhere, seemingly rifling through a bag of something. Able to just about make out a black splodge in the centre of his vision, Sukuna took a seat, only to thud down onto the floor.
It hurt. It hurt significantly more than pain Sukuna was used to enduring. He’d experienced all manner of injury - he’d had his blood and guts pouring out onto the floor in the midst of a fight, but somehow this was worse. How fragile was this body of yours? He was glad that he wasn’t born as some weak human, grateful that the abominable aspects of his body increased his strength rather than weakened it.
How could you live like this?
“My lady?” The woman seemed immediately panicked, reaching down and easily hoisting you up by the arm, aiding Sukuna onto the chair. “I’m sorry, you usually tell me you don’t need assistance, I wasn’t expecting-” she cut herself off for a moment, leaving Sukuna in silence and struggling to read the room with no visual cues. “You don’t seem like yourself at all this morning. You’re being very quiet.”
Sukuna said nothing, certain that he could hear the hint of a smile in the woman’s tone.
It was said that when soulmates swapped bodies, you could not under any circumstance tell someone that you were a different inhabitant to usual, else the spell would be broken and you’d both be immediately sent home.
It was an option Sukuna had contemplated the moment the woman walked in, eager to return to his own healthy form. However, he was also a man of great curiosity and it wasn’t like he had much going on at his estate that day anyway. So he opted for silence, figuring he’d at least see, or hear, how the day played out.
There was no harm in that.
Regardless, the woman had seemingly sensed it immediately based on her sudden change of demeanor, but being likely as aware of the rules as Sukuna was, she kept her suspicions silent.
“It's Officer Sugawara who’s set to see you today,” she explained, soft hands running through your hair with a comb, giving Sukuna a shiver of pleasure. “You usually play shogi with the guy for a while and let him get drunk. He’s a proud man who’s desperate for a legitimate win, so you always give him your best and he refuses to give up until he’s too pissed to think anymore. So be on your best game, or he might want to pass his time in another way.”
The warning was clear and Sukuna found himself disgusted. If that man tried to lay a single hand on you while he was inhabiting your body, he’d make sure Sugawara wouldn’t walk out of the establishment alive.
Fortunately, Sukuna was an avid shogi player. He held a great love for the game and was self-assured where his skill was concerned. No one in his estate could beat him, so he was certain he could beat some Officer of the Shogun.
Although, he’d never played it blind - a fact that mildly concerned him.
He hoped the pieces were skillfully made with deep indents, else he’d be completely lost.
“Even though you’re usually talkative with me, you’re not all that chatty with regulars, so it’ll be fine if you stay quiet. On account of you not feeling yourself and all,” she said with a knowing giggle.
It took an ungodly amount of time for that woman to get you ready, and Sukuna wondered how you could bear experiencing such a thing day after day. It seemed such a waste to have so much effort devoted to doing your hair and make-up, and dressing you up, when you couldn’t even see the end result.
For all you knew you could look like a clown.
But Sukuna quickly became certain that wasn’t the case when he was led into another room, your helper grasping his arm in a steadying manner and making sure he was settled down on a pillow before introducing him to a man sitting opposite him. Sugawara wasted no time with greetings, letting out a gasp of awe at your radiant appearance and reaching out to kiss your hand.
Sukuna wanted to reel away at the feeling but remained still all the same. He hoped he didn’t have too much of a scowl on his face.
Even if he didn’t have any interest in you, he didn’t really want to ruin the life of some random blind girl. He loved cruelty, but even for him that felt like an unnecessary slight to a person who was supposed to hold the other half of his heart.
“You look gorgeous. Not sickly at all, might I add. I hope the madam hasn’t been telling lies.”
You were sick - outside of the blindness - Sukuna could feel it. At first he’d brushed off your frailty as something normal for puny little humans, but since rising from your bed he’d become aware that your quivering legs, aching bones and hummingbird heart were far from normal.
“I haven’t been well,” he said simply.
“Oh you poor thing, it's always the most beautiful ones who suffer the most.”
Sukuna found himself wondering what you looked like. He had a vague knowledge of Official Sugawara - he wasn’t an ugly man, certainly not one lacking in prospects by any means. He was powerful in his position in the government, and wasn’t the type who would visit some woman out of pity.
You must’ve been genuinely gorgeous to earn such affection from him.
It was a shame Sukuna would never know.
He wouldn’t look for you once he was back in his own body. He’d move on with his life and that would be that, leaving this day as nothing more than some distant dream.
The games of shogi went by quickly, and Sukuna found that it was easy to slip into your body without arousing suspicion. Once he’d gotten over the original barrier of having to feel each piece for their indents as he picked them up, he fell easily into the flow of it all.
This man across from him seeked little conversation once the games had started, and Sukuna was pleased at how well he was playing that afternoon. He didn’t let the man win once and, as your attendant had mentioned, Suguwara filled himself up with more and more drink. It felt nice to play someone outside of his estate, most of his servants were too afraid to face Sukuna in any sort of test.
It was equally nice to completely destroy a government official with his skill. He was certain this man was having the worst game of his entire life, unaccustomed to this treatment from the lovely courtesan he’d frequent.
But it was at the end of the seventh game, when Sukuna was feeling at his highest, that a disastrous hit would come to his ego.
“You’re really off your game today. I see you really aren’t feeling well,” Sugawara said. There was the sound of shuffling fabric, as if the man had leant forward.
“What?” Sukuna asked, the low disbelief coming out strange in your small voice.
“Your plays are much sloppier than usual. It feels like you’re going easy on me, given you usually destroy me before I can even think about what to do next. Today you’ve been giving me proper games. I don’t like it. You know I hate being pitied.”
Sukuna had to stop his mouth from falling agape.
He wasn’t playing bad games by any means, on the contrary, he was certain that he was playing better than he had in a while, happy to have a new opponent for once. Was this man really saying that you, the normal you, was more skilled at shogi than he was? He really found that hard to believe.
What would some blind courtesan know of tactics?
“Perhaps you’ve simply improved,” Sukuna mumbled bitterly, unwilling to accept that your mastery was greater than his.
Sugawara laughed. “How polite of you, my dear. I can assure you that isn’t the case, and we both know it.” There was some shuffling, and Sukuna sensed that the man was climbing to his feet. It was frustrating to have such limited vision, and he was glad to know that he’d wake up the following day able to see the world once more - he couldn’t imagine living like that all the time. “I’ll leave you to rest. When I return in a few days you best have returned to form, or perhaps the nature of our meetings will need to change.”
A heavy hand rested on your shoulder, wet and clammy against the silk you were draped in. Sukuna wasn’t sure if the disgust was born from his own thoughts on the matter, or from an impulsive response from your body. From your attendant’s words it was clear that you would never sleep with the man, likely keeping your shogi skills sharp to ensure he never won.
Once he was gone, Sukuna sat there in silence, thinking on the man’s parting words.
Were you really so talented?
Part of him wanted to convince himself that he’d been playing worse than usual on account of not being able to see the board, making it difficult for him to think out moves in advance, taking more time than normal while he grazed the pieces with his fingers.
But deep in his soul he knew that wasn’t the case.
He’d played expertly, and still that man knew his opponent wasn’t the real you. All on account of how amateur Sukuna’s ability had seemed compared to yours.
And as his day drew to a close in your body, he realised that he had to know. He had to play you, had to see firsthand just how dramatically your skill exceeded his. He wouldn’t believe it until he’d seen it.
The soulmate thing didn’t matter.
But he needed to meet with you all the same.
Just to sate his interest. That was all.
—
Months had passed since the day you’d swapped with your soulmate. Since the morning you’d awoken to a world of light of colour you’d never seen before, and would never see again.
It was a day you’d never be able to forget - the image of the grand estate you’d awoken in seared permanently into your mind, just like the face of your soulmate who had stared back at you in a bronze mirror. You’d gazed upon his body for longer than you should admit to, wondering for a brief moment if you’d misunderstood how humans looked.
That thought didn’t remain for long. It took no expert to understand that the man you’d been paired with was something unique - the very four armed monster who had half of Japan living in fear.
And as such, you wished you could forget your experience in his body, wished you could see anything but his oddly charming face, because your promised beloved was a monster of the highest calibre. But with only one singular day of vision under your belt, what you’d seen wasn’t so easily displaced, and you found yourself thinking of him often with a longing that you knew to be wrong.
You had told no one of the experience, not even your handmaid, who had outright asked what your body swap experience had been like, what your soulmate had been like, claiming that whoever they were had presented themselves as rather reserved when possessing your body. You’d brushed her off with a shrug, claiming him to be some soldier and nothing more.
No one could know the truth. If they knew you to have any link to such a terrible man they might view you as an associate, and someone deserving of death for something you hadn’t asked for.
The workings of fate seemed strange to you. Was it not enough punishment to be born blind? Why would you also be paired with a monster who seemed to view the human race with general disdain? You were certain he cared little for love, his servant had made that clear when you were in his body, so any hopes of having a soulmate had been stolen from you as a result of this pairing.
Part of you wondered if a man so vile as him might even take things a step further and track you down to put an end to your life, insulted by fate to suggest that it could control him in any capacity. Perhaps he would be further insulted to be paired with someone so damaged rather than some untarnished beauty.
You’d always heard he held great hatred for weakness.
Even so, despite your fear and desire to conceal yourself from him, you couldn’t forget him, couldn’t stop the flicker of longing in your chest you were certain all people held for their destined lovers. Because while he was unquestionably a monster, with a throne of skulls you had witnessed through his very eyes, he also seemed to be more than that.
He was a man of great loneliness, living in grand halls with only a handful of servants for company - and all but one of them would scuttle out of the way when he approached. He seemed to hold a great love for art, with his estate packed with paintings and tapestries and great vases, all kept in pristine condition. For a cannibal, he seemed to take great pride in the cleanliness of his surroundings, in the neat nature of his gardens and springs.
Even in his own appearance, he seemed to take great care, for there was no denying him to be a handsome man even with his unique features. He had a voice to match that beauty, one that you could hardly peel from your mind any more than you could forget his image.
His body was hard to maneuver, too big and confusing to control his many hanging limbs. In a way, it felt akin to your blindness, something different to the way humans were built to be, leaving him to struggle with an issue that no one else could relate to. You wondered how it had been for him in childhood - if he’d felt as isolated and scared as you had to know that everyone else was normal in a way you’d never been.
You pitied him, even through all his sins. You felt you could understand at least a piece of him from a day buried within the confines of his skin.
But still, you would never reach for him - wouldn’t poke the bear even if you could understand why it might bite. You were certain that someone like him would be unwilling to hear you out, unwilling to love or reflect on how he became the way he was - he would swipe your head from your shoulders just like everyone else, and that would be that.
So you would stay away, keep your dreams of him locked deep within your chest, and accept that distance was for the best.
There was more to life than soulmates.
Unfortunately, that choice wasn’t yours alone to make.
The madame had knocked on your door early that morning, with the golden light of the sun only just starting to peek in through your window. Lately you’d been having longer lie-ins and taking less clients as the cold of winter gripped the region. Along with the blindness, you’d been born with a particularly feeble body as a result of complications with your mother during her pregnancy, ailments which were always worse for you in the colder months.
Your bones strained as you pushed yourself up to a sitting position, calling for the woman to enter. As much as you longed to slip back into your dream of red eyes peering back at you with fiery desire, you were still beholden to the will of your employer, even in your months of weakness.
“How are you feeling, my dear?” She asked, as she slipped in through the door. You felt her weight dip the bed as she took a seat beside you, a gentle hand coming to rest on your shoulder.
“Mornings are always the worst but I can manage once I’m up and about. Has Sugawara come calling again?” Most regulars were understanding enough of your condition, and those that weren’t would generally be chased off by the madame or unloaded onto another of the courtesans. Sugawara was one of the few that generally wouldn’t accept such treatment, with only eyes for you.
It didn’t matter too much since the man only ever wanted to play shogi, and that was manageable enough even on your worst days. It seemed that he had no intention of laying with you until he’d beat you in a game fair and square, claiming that if that ever happened he’d buy you out and take you home for he would’ve earned your heart.
That talk always made you uncomfortable, for you had little interest in the man, but you were more than certain he had no chance at ever defeating you at shogi, and could therefore never lay claim to you - assuming he kept his word.
“Not Sugawara…” There was hesitation in her voice. “We’ve received a request for our finest shogi player to be sent to the mayor’s home this evening. Apparently the other courtesan houses have received the same request.”
“I didn’t think the mayor cared much for shogi.”
Again, there was a moment of silence. “No, he doesn’t. A rather unwanted guest has taken up residence in his home, and this is the demand that has come of it.” Immediately your blood ran cold, thoughts drifting away from the madame’s continuing chatter to the red eyes that sat so prominently in the darkness of your mind.
There was no question in your mind as to who this guest was.
And to call for shogi players had you certain he was looking for you. Would he execute you when you walked into a room so clearly lacking in vision? Put an immediate end to the one person who could potentially stir his cold heart if fate were to be believed?
It seemed like the only reasonable explanation
The request to send another in your place died on the tip of your tongue as you once again tuned in to what the madame was saying. “...make sure you’re in top form, I’ve heard any who lose to him are immediately disposed of, but I’m sure that man will be no match for you.”
You wouldn’t send another to face their death. You were the only courtesan in the house who was any good at shogi, anyone else would certainly perish. This was a meeting dictated by fate and you had no opportunity to run from it. You would face him head on and deal with your death graciously, greet your end alone in the dark just like everything else you’d ever faced.
“I’ll do my best,” you said to the madame, and that was the final moment you had for yourself, your sacrifice sealed by your words.
The rest of the morning was spent in a frenzied rush, dressing you up and perfecting your makeup, turning you into a sparkling beauty ahead of your presentation to a monster. Based on the quiet nature of your handmaid, the experience felt more like she was dressing your corpse for burial.
Neither of you spoke such a thing aloud, but tears dripped from sightless eyes all the same when she led you out to the carriage, the madam trailing behind her, sending you off with a soft farewell filled with a sense of finality.
—
Sukuna had undergone an annoying few months.
Steadily, he had made his way, region by region, up to the north of Japan in search of a blind shogi player whose skill allegedly eclipsed his own. In each area, he would call upon all shogi-playing courtesans to meet with him and join him in a game, in the hopes that one day it would be you sitting across from him.
So far, he’d been unsuccessful, and had left a growing pile of bodies and burnt villages in his wake, utterly irritated that the thing he was seeking still evaded his grasp. No one had beaten him. A few had come close but none of them had been blind, so he could be certain that they weren’t you.
He was beginning to wonder if you’d gone into hiding somewhere, forsaking your courtesan life entirely in a bid to avoid him. It wouldn’t surprise him - you’d been in his body, you’d seen he was a monster, a fragile little thing like you was probably terrified at the idea of ever crossing his path.
Either way, he’d still persevere. He’d kill every shogi player if that was what it took to get to you.
He’d recently found his way into the mountainous region of Miyagi, where winter was in full spring. Taking up residence in the mayor’s home in one of the more populous towns in the prefecture, he once again started his usual process of gathering the shogi players. Word spread fast and droves of them appeared swiftly, waiting to be called before him.
It went much as usual, with boring girls presenting themselves before him and providing him with equally boring games of shogi. These people were painfully predictable with no appreciation for the art of the game - really it was a gift for him to steal their lives from them, because he couldn’t imagine living while being so pitifully unskilled.
The pool of Miyagi courtesans was gradually running dry and Sukuna was preparing himself for another disappointing journey further north when his luck finally shifted.
He knew he’d found you the moment you walked in through the door.
You’d stumbled in meekly, eyes averted down to the floor as you bowed low and shuffled towards the centre of the room. You were taking care not to raise your head for him to look upon, and he quickly realised you were making your best effort to conceal your blindness from him, like you could keep your identity secret that way.
It was a futile attempt, for the very atmosphere around you felt charged, his heart picking up inexplicably at the very sight of you.
To say you were beautiful was an understatement. Everything about you was gorgeous, from your soft hair to the striking intensity of your unseeing eyes. You wore the finest silks and they hung off you well, complimenting your figure. He found himself eager to touch you, to rid you off your lovely gown and have his fingers against your smooth skin.
But that wasn’t the reason he had come, and he would play you before entertaining any other matter.
“Sit,” he ordered, taking great amusement in the shiver that seemed to run through you at the sound of his voice.
You dropped to your knees on the cushion before the board, hands pressing against the edge of the table. It was the first chance he got to take a proper look at your eyes, expecting them to be clouded over, but taken aback by the lovely colour your irises still held beneath that mist.
“You’re blind.” He observed aloud, taking note of the way your teeth caught your lower lip anxiously.
“I see more than enough,” your response was guarded.
He hummed, a sly grin settling on his face. Idly, he wondered if you could sense it, because you seemed to tense up a little, fidgeting across from him in a way his traitorous brain seemed to register as endearing. “Is that so? Do you see enough to know my strategy before we commence? Or will you disappoint me like the others?”
“You tell me.”
Your words had his heart stirring against his will, impressed by your serenity before him, still sitting up straight and calm despite the fear he could sense within you. You were a woman who held confidence despite it all, harboured strength even in the face of your obvious weaknesses. He wondered what you were thinking, if you believed he was there to execute you for the mere transgression of being his soulmate.
It wasn’t a foolish assumption.
He would kill you without a second thought if you were uninteresting to him.
But he’d reserve that judgement until after you had played. He had been promised someone exceptional and that was what he wished to see, anything less and your blood would stain the floor just like every other woman who had sat before him. Would you still be so calm if you could see the bodies littering the room? He assumed not.
He wondered if you hated him, if you cursed fate itself to be paired with a man like him. Nothing about you gave anything away, all your focus fixed on the board in front of you, your hands moving steadily against the wood of the board, as if centring yourself.
“Shall we begin?” He asked.
“Yes.”
Sukuna couldn’t quite comprehend what had transpired in that first game he played against you.
He had approached things in much the same manner that he always would when playing shogi - opening strong and attempting to completely overwhelm his opponent, and yet somehow he found opportunities snatched from him at every turn.
Nothing seemed to catch you off guard. Any attempted play was greeted with an easy answer from you, as though you were battling a child. You were always three steps ahead of him, never hesitating in the shifting of a piece, moving with a certainty that had him transfixed.
He found that he couldn’t draw his eyes away from you, his struggle on the board forgotten at the realisation he’d been well and truly defeated. There was no point in struggling further - you had swatted him aside in the way that he usually defeated others, and you had done it with no glee or brag, nothing more than passive indifference once the games finally came to an end.
Your shoulders were raised, as if awaiting something you wouldn’t be able to see coming. A strike from him, perhaps? Or the neat removal of your head from your shoulders? The same fate of all others he’d played across the last few months.
But he wasn’t in the position to do anything at that moment, lashes fluttering as he stared at you, his heart hammering against his ribcage.
There had been no lie told about your skill - on the contrary, you had exceeded his expectations spectacularly. He wanted to play you again and again, wanted to witness the beauty of the way you played, wished to spend hours lost deep in thought considering how he could even begin to pick you apart in a match.
He could spend years sitting across you, gazing upon your lovely form while you worked away in silence with such unquestionable mastery.
No wonder Sugawara had been disappointed in Sukuna’s ability. He couldn’t hold a candle to what you were.
“How?” He asked, unable to think of another word to offer.
Your head was still lowered, eyes fixed elsewhere. He wished you’d look at him, allow him a clearer view of your face, but it occurred to him that such a request may not be easily granted with your lack of vision. You would never be able to lock eyes with each other - it would be something entirely meaningless for you.
“You aren’t all that good,” you spoke softly, a smile playing on your lips.
Sukuna disagreed with your sentiment, considering he’d never been beaten before, but perhaps you’d consider all his previous opponents to be genuinely pitiful at the game.
“So, will you take my life now? Or is that reserved for the losers?” You asked.
“To take the life of someone I could not best would be cowardly and pointless,” he said with a snort. “How would I ever grow to be better than you if I extinguished you from the world? Don’t be foolish. We will play again.”
And again you played.
Game after game until the sun began to rise in the sky, and Sukuna could sense exhaustion drifting through your fragile form. You were shivering from the cold, and he had Uraume bring in a robe to wrap around you, keenly aware of how sickly you seemed to look beneath all the beauty. You were setting up the board for your tenth match when Sukuna finally put an end to things.
“Enough. I would take no joy in defeating an exhausted opponent.” He rose to his feet, stretching as he moved. He wasn’t keen on remaining still for long periods of time, but you seemed accustomed to it, staying deathly still upon your cushion, uncertainty evident in your posture.
“Then, you will send me to my home?” You asked.
“No.” The word escaped him before he could stop it.
He did not wish for you to go anywhere, lest you slip from his grasp never to be found again. It was because he wanted to play you more, that’s what he told himself, but there was more to it than that, and in his soul he knew it.
He never wanted the image of you on your knees before him to slip away, never wanted to lose the pleasurable feeling of warmth that swelled in his chest with you there within his gaze.
“You’ll accompany me to my home, and we’ll play until I’m satisfied.”
—
Weeks had passed since you’d arrived at Sukuna’s estate in the Hida Mountains.
You’d been given no time to bid goodbye to the women at the only home you’d ever known, swept off in a carriage down south where you had to relearn your surroundings in a totally new environment.
Of course, it wasn’t the first time you’d been in the estate, but that experience made little impact on the ease of traversing around with no vision. You had to move slowly, fingers brushing on blurry objects shadowed in the darkness, hoping you didn’t trip over something or walk into a screen door.
For the most part, you were left to your own devices. Sukuna had spoken little to you on the journey home, opting to ride on his horse rather than in the carriage with you, and he’d been equally elusive in his own estate, leaving you in isolation for days at a time.
You couldn’t complain, for your days were spent in peace and serenity.
You would take long walks in the breeze of his garden, have his servants read aloud to you, and practice playing the erhu. On days where it was particularly cold and the chill seeped into your bones, you would remain in the grand bed he had provided and find greater comfort than you ever had in the old bed you’d laid upon in the courtesan house.
The only obligation you ever had to fulfill were shogi games. And during the times that he wasn’t absent from the estate, those would take place every evening, in Sukuna’s own private quarters.
It was an odd decision, considering that the servants played shogi out in the garden, where a proper table was set up for that purpose. But it seemed that Sukuna took care in ensuring your meetings were private - a decision you didn’t dare read into too deeply.
You didn’t dare read into any of his behaviour too deeply, lest you rip your own heart from your chest.
That first meeting with him had been like nothing you’d ever experienced - genuine desire overcoming you at the deep tone of his voice. Even knowing that he could cause your death with little effort, you couldn’t bury the lust within you, a fire that only burned stronger with each encounter with him.
It was hard to hold it together, to pretend that you wouldn’t fling yourself into his arms given the chance, but you tried all the same, keeping yourself distant and cold, like you didn’t dream of him between your legs each night, imagining the sound of his voice whispering sweet nothings against your ear.
Whether he felt the effect to the same extent you did, you weren’t sure. You were certain you’d never know. His interest in you was surrounding shogi, and shogi alone.
One evening, you were sitting across from him having played a handful of games, finding victory had fallen into your hands even more easily than normal. Sukuna seemed distracted by something, the sound of fidgeting settling in your ears. He hadn’t moved to start a new game, and based on the shadowy shapes in your vision, you could only assume he was leaning forward upon the table, bringing him close enough for his breath to fan your face.
“I killed today,” he said. Those were the first words he’d spoken to you that evening - you always followed his example with conversation, if he was feeling chatty you would indulge him, if he wished for silence you would give him that too.
You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with that statement, nor were you certain what type of response he was seeking, so you offered him a hum of acknowledgement and little more. You didn’t wish to think of the death that stained his hands, but nor did it build your animosity towards him.
To some extent you could understand lashing out at the world when you were someone so desperately lonely as he was. Part of you believed that if you hadn’t been so frail perhaps you’d lash out at the world for your own condition. His primary servant had told you he’d been despised throughout his life, and when you find only cruelty in humans it's difficult to cling to kindness.
Sukuna wasn’t so simple as a mere monster. You’d understood that in the day you’d spent in his body, and had only further confirmed it by the intelligence he displayed when you’d speak over games of shogi. He had a great admiration for art and skill, and had seemed rather taken when you’d recited poetry, responding with verses of his own.
He was a multi-faceted man, and much of what you saw only seemed to further your attraction to him, even knowing it was wrong, even knowing you’d be hated for it. For once, you felt you’d found someone who understood what it was like to be you, to be cut off from the easy lives lived by most others.
A soul that entwined so perfectly with yours, even if he’d never be aware of such a thing.
“Do you wish to know who I killed?” He asked.
“I know few people, my lord. I doubt a name would mean anything to me.”
“This one might. I’ve heard you’re familiar with Officer Sugawara? He’s one of the Shogun’s men?”
Thoughts of your regular flickered through your mind. If you were being honest with yourself, you were glad to not have to see him anymore - him or any of the other clients you’d been forced to take. Courtesan life had been difficult for you, forced into it thanks to the conditions of your birth and kept there by a disability that made it hard to escape the life for something better.
Life in Sukuna’s estate had been easier, especially as the weeks passed and you grew more comfortable in the belief that Sukuna wasn't going to steal your life from you. You’d lived in fear of Sugawara buying you out, of being forced to live like some doll in the house of a terribly boring man whose voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to your ears.
“I know him.”
“Knew him, would be more apt. His body lies at the foot of the mountain.” Sukuna spoke matter-of-factly. “He came to claim you from me. I refused and we couldn’t reach an amicable agreement, so I dealt with it another way.”
You weren’t sure how to react, struggling to process the words. That Sugawara would follow you down to Hida already came as a surprise, you hadn’t known how deep his devotion ran. But somehow, you found yourself rather taken by Sukuna’s decision, by the certainty in his choice to keep you.
To kill a man whose death could cause him issues with the Shogun might as well have been an outright confession of love.
Sugawara’s death meant little to you. Men like that died all the time, and they saw women as little more than pretty objects to own. Sugawara had seen you as an impressive party trick, a clever cat rather than a human with depth and desires of her own. You hadn’t wanted to be his, wouldn’t have liked for Sukuna to surrender you to him.
“Are you irritated with me? When I controlled your body you seemed repulsed at his presence. Perhaps you have a heart too soft for blood and death.”
“No- I-” You hesitated. “Did you do this to protect me?”
There was silence for a moment, and you longed to see his facial expression, but were forced to settle for the hint of confusion in his tone. “Of course. I’ve protected you since bringing you here. You can hardly protect yourself.”
You couldn’t find it in you to be offended - he’d been in your body, he knew of your frailty better than anyone.
“Why? Just because you enjoy shogi so much?”
“Somewhat. Though I must confess, lately I have been losing interest in the game. I feel I’ve come up against an insurmountable wall.” Panic filled you immediately, mind running at a million miles a minute as you analysed his statement. If he was growing bored of playing would he cast you aside? What use did he have for you if not shogi?
But then again, why would he kill Sugawara if he was moments from disposing of you?
“Perhaps it is the fault of my own discipline, for I’ve found it hard to focus on the game for quite some time now.” He hesitated, and you found yourself flinching at the feeling of a soft hand caressing your cheek, leaning into it once you overcame the initial shock of touch. “It is difficult when you have a beautiful woman sitting across from you. It’s even harder when my soul calls for you whenever you're near, drowning out any thoughts I might gather of strategy.”
“Oh.” You weren’t sure what to say, wondering if you should pinch yourself, for many of your dreams centred themselves around such a confession. But the touch had never felt so real before, large fingers brushing against the soft skin of your face.
“I wonder if I’d be more focussed if I admitted fate might make some sense after all. I have never denied myself anything before now, and I’m tired of denying myself you. You have captivated me thoroughly, and I believe the hole in my chest was carved out to allow you to one day settle there.”
The words were by far the most romantic statement anyone had ever uttered to you. In your time as a courtesan you’d heard plenty of cheesy and affectionate lines, ones you’d brush off and forget by the time the client was done with you. Sukuna’s words would burrow into your heart and remain there for as long as you drew breath.
Could anyone fault you for loving a monster who would speak such beauty to you? Could you be hated for finding one who had been cursed by the world just like you had?
“I have no care for the Shogun’s men,” Sukuna continued, “in my eyes they are little more than flies most of the time, an annoying thing to be ignored unless they brush too close. Would it amuse you to know I killed Sugawara out of jealousy? To hear that my chest tightened at the idea of you being taken from my side?”
“Because you enjoy having such a capable rival in intelligence?” You asked, a wry smile creeping onto your face.
“Because I enjoy you.”
It was clear he was waiting for you to say something. The words that had poured from his mouth were unlike any he’d spoken before, and although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the sense of restlessness that gripped his body.
You would not leave him in uncertainty.
“I have only ever seen the world through your eyes,” you confessed shyly, “the only face I see in the endless darkness is yours, and I dream of it every night.” Sukuna’s fingers twitched against your face. “If you’ll have me, I am yours.”
“Even though I’m a monster?” He asked. There was no remorse in his tone, nothing to suggest that he was pained over who he was, it was just an honest question for you to answer as you wished. “You were scared of me when we met. I know you hid yourself from me after discovering our connection, eager to ensure our paths would never cross.”
“Because I believed you would kill me. I thought you to be a man who would stamp out any notion of love and eliminate me along with it.”
He hummed in acknowledgement, failing to deny your statement. You knew it to be true - if you had lost your shogi game on that first meeting, he would’ve done exactly that. It was in his nature to love only that which piqued his interest.
“Especially to be paired with someone so weak, I thought you would consider it an insult.”
He scoffed. “You are far from weak, I’ve found it impossible to best you.”
“I meant physically,” your voice went small. “I did not imagine the King of Curses would favour a sightless woman, nor one so easily broken.”
He was silent for a moment, seemingly processing your words. “I was small and frail once. Perhaps frailer than you. I wish someone had valued me then for my other virtues. I’m big enough and sharp enough to make up for your failings and you are clever enough to cover mine.”
Your mind was reeling at the idea of him admitting to having failings. Your heart stirring at his affection, and his easy desire despite your condition.
“I had not imagined a soulmate to be so well suited to me, for my tangles with fate have always been cruel,” he said. “But you’re something different, something I need at my side, and I will be your eyes, your protector, whatever it is you want in order to keep you there.”
“Oh.” You were positively blushing, whole body trembling beneath the weight of lovely words spoken in that deep voice of his.
Your soulmate wanted you.
A man hated by the world and filled with hatred in return had a space carved out for you, a space for love you hadn’t known him capable of.
You’d loved him from the first time you’d met him, drawn to him by an inexplicable force which seemed to grip him just as hard.
Soulmates really were wonderful.
Silence had settled between the two of you, only broken as the table screeched across the floor, the barrier between you removed. Sukuna shifted forward and an arm came to rest around your smaller body, pulling you towards him. His lips pressed against yours in a kiss you could only describe as sweet.
He didn’t dominate you in the manner you believed a man like him would, instead he took his time, mapping out your lips and drawing you closer to him, letting you bathe in the warmth of his body against yours. It was almost like he was trying not to scare you, aware that you couldn’t see anything he was doing and trying to move slowly as a result.
You wouldn’t have minded either way, your fingers clinging to the biceps of his upper arms, desperate for more of a touch you’d only ever dreamed of.
People always said that to finally touch your soulmate was a euphoria like nothing else, and you truly believed them to be right. Your head felt like it was swimming, chest swelling as if Sukuna’s own soul had wriggled beneath your skin to intertwine with your own.
It was a little overwhelming.
“How I long for you,” he murmured against your ear, breaking the kiss. “I was foolish to have not had you the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve ached for your touch longer than I care to admit.”
His fingers moved down to your robes, and your breath hitched at the touch. You were no stranger to sex, your job had required it, but the feeling as he undressed you wasn’t like any previous encounter you’d had. What regulars thought of your body was insignificant to you, sex was nothing special with them, just something you had to do if you wished to make a living wage.
This was the first time you’d ever been touched for free by someone you desired, and you felt suddenly nervous at your frail body being judged beneath his crimson gaze - especially when you couldn’t look upon him in the same moment. There was no distraction in the darkness to keep you from worrying about how his gaze might burn through you, imagining discontent on his handsome face.
A cold chill caught you once your robes fell, leaving you kneeling and exposed in front of him. A soft breath fell from his lips, fingers moving delicately from your shoulders down to your breasts, as if checking you were truly real and there before him. More heat flooded you as his finger brushed over your peaked nipple.
“Beautiful. If I didn’t despise the idea of sharing you with another I would paint you like this. Your body is worthy of that reverence.”
“I think my mind is probably more splendid.” You confessed. You had no eyes for awareness of your appearance, and had subsequently never really relied on it. People had said you were lovely, but you could never quite believe it, assuming that they were taking pity on you for your blindness.
“Your mind is exceptional. If I cannot beat you at shogi soon I have half a mind to ask you to assist me with real life strategy,” he said with a chuckle, fingers still trailing a slow path down your body. “But it doesn’t make your body any less lovely, and you cannot deny such things since you’ve never seen yourself. Let me be your eyes and tell you that you are breathtaking.”
A shyness overcame you at those words, head angled downwards as if it would hide your blushing state from him. He raised your chin with a finger, his nose bumping yours before capturing your mouth in a kiss once more, bringing you close against his bare chest. You were so lost in the comfort of the kiss, that you found yourself completely caught off guard when something wet swiped against your stomach and breasts.
Flinching in surprise, you drew yourself back in an attempt to understand what was happening. Sukuna laughed, a hand moving into your hair comfortingly. “It's my tongue,” he spoke easily.
Frowning, you found that his answer didn’t make sense, because still the wet appendage explored your breasts, sending your heartrate flying as it flicked against your nipple with impressive accuracy. How could he be speaking but also doing that?
“There’s a mouth on my stomach. Perhaps you didn’t notice when you controlled my body.”
You were ashamed to admit you hadn’t noticed such a thing. Sukuna had been naked when you’d awoken in his body, and you’d been quick to dress him up in robes, feeling rude to intrude upon the body of another without consent. You’d very intentionally not paid too much attention to the workings of his body, not when the first thing you’d seen was the oddity he sported between his legs.
The memory that he had two of what most men only had one, suddenly had you feeling a little nervous in your position. You had no time to voice such nervousness before he was picking you up, allowing his second tongue to continue its onslaught while he carried you over to the bed, depositing you down upon the silk.
His weight moved on top of you, and he swallowed a gasp with his lips as his monstrous tongue shifted its attention from your breasts down to between your legs, dexterously finding a path between your things and lathering your pussy with attention while Sukuna consumed your mouth. Tears pricked in your eyes at the sensation, unaccustomed to a feeling like that.
In all your years as a courtesan, you’d never been eaten out. Men didn’t come to brothels to serve women, they came to have their own needs attended to, and you’d done that in whichever manner they desired. You were grateful to have never experienced that feeling before, because it was a blessing to have Sukuna be your first.
Pressure built in your stomach over a series of minutes, overwhelmed by the way he seemed to be everywhere. A tongue between your lips, another between your thighs, hands squeezing your breasts, tweaking your nipples, more hands gripping your hips, pulling you up onto his secondary tongue to allow it a better angle to overwhelm you.
For the first time, you started to understand how Sukuna must feel whenever he played you at shogi - stumbling blindly in the dark whilst overcome from all angles with no means of knowing what was going to come next. It was pleasure in its highest form, and you were quick to cum with a yelp of his name, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.
Sukuna broke the kiss, breathing heavily against your ear. It was a sound you enjoyed, one you could listen to all day if he’d allow you. “I have imagined you beneath me like this every night this week,” he mused, “my imagination is hardly as pleasant as having the real thing. You taste much sweeter than my mind could conjure.”
Again, you were flushing red. “Y-you can taste me through…that?”
“Of course.” You were certain he was grinning, “And I’m glad that I can.” His secondary tongue was still moving slowly through your folds, lapping up the remnants of your first orgasm, teasingly flicking against your clit and making your shudder.
The two of you stayed like that for a while, breathing quietly together. You weren’t sure what Sukuna wanted to do next, but for a moment you were happy to savor the warmth of his heavy body, twitching while he lazily continued his attention to your body. How you longed to see him, eager to witness the expression he was wearing while he attended to you.
All you had to go off was the erratic beating of his heart where his chest was pressed against you.
“Let me have you,” he murmured against your ear. “Let me make you mine.”
“I’m already yours.”
“Is that so? Then let me make it official.”
He shifted atop you, withdrawing his secondary tongue. In the absence of that heat between your thighs, you grew suddenly aware of a heavy pressure against your leg. Your mind jumped to the image of his cocks that you’d filed away in the back of your mind, gut twisting at the thought of either one of them pressing into you.
Sukuna chuckled from above you, a hand coming to stroke your hair. “You’ve seen them, haven’t you?”
You nodded.
“I can tell, you’ve got that scared little look on your face. It’s fascinating, when you play shogi you’re unreadable, but outside of that? You’re practically an open book with your emotions always written across your face.”
Pouting, you let humiliation wash over you. Nobody had ever told you that before. It was hard to guard one's emotions when you had no measure of how the faces of others looked. That was something you’d have to work on. At least you had the good sense to give nothing away when you played shogi.
Another laugh echoed from his lips. “Even now I can see your panic. It’s very endearing.”
Any protest or response you had for him faded away into the recesses of your brain as he shuffled on top of you. He maneuvered you carefully into a new position, raising your legs and placing them up atop his broad shoulders. You were grateful for your flexibility in that moment, because the size difference between the two of you made that no easy task.
Sukuna was watching you from above while he positioned one of his cocks between your legs, running it steadily through your wet folds in a way that had you shivering with desire, still not fully recovered from the actions of his tongue. You were quick to discover that his focus was on his lower cock, as the upper one bumped pleasurably against your clit.
“You know,” he mused, stilling his movements. “I’m surprised you struck no deal with me. It is what I had imagined you would do.”
“What?”
“I’d assumed I would ask for more and you would refuse me. I’d thought your respect was tied to shogi, that you would refuse anything from me unless I was capable of beating you.” Your mind moved to Sugawara as you connected the dots. Sukuna believed you’d made that deal before, as if that tiresome Official hadn’t dictated those rules of his own choosing.
Shogi was a game you adored, mainly because it was an activity you could excel at even without sight, unlike many other courtesan pastimes such as painting, which would forever be an impossibility for you. But it was by no means something you made all your decisions on, nor were you particularly interested in the skill of others.
If someone could defeat you, you would congratulate them for their win and move on, it would ultimately mean little.
To you, it was little more than a game. To various men, it seemed to be something held in much higher regard - a true mark of intelligence rather than a game for which one could learn and remember strategies to allow them a win.
It mattered little to you whether Sukuna could defeat you or not. Your affection for him wasn’t tied to it in any manner.
“To make such a demand would be wasting my own time. Why would I turn down a man I desire over something so trivial? Besides, my bet with Sugawara was made to ensure I never had to lay with him, that is not the fate I want for us.”
“So you believe I am incapable of winning?” He asked, with greater disappointment than you’d been expecting.
“I do,” you said with a giggle, “just as I am incapable of emerging victorious in a battle. We all have our strengths.”
A yelp fell from you as he pushed the tip of his cock into you, catching you unawares. “Yeah?” He asked, pressing deeper into you, his fingers tangling tightly into your hair. “Rather sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
You couldn’t help but laugh again - even in the midst of the dull pain of him driving into you, there was something so endearingly pathetic about his words.
“I am. But you’re free to challenge me whenever you like.”
He was silent as he bottomed out inside of you, his face falling to your neck and leaving a trail of kisses and bites along your skin while he allowed you some time to adjust. You were grateful for his consideration of your wellbeing, fingers digging into his skin, your gut aching as he leaned forwards over you, pushing your legs higher on his shoulders.
There was no question that he was the largest man you’d ever had inside you, practically tearing you apart with his intrusion, but after a few minutes of stillness you found yourself able to relax, the panic exhibited by your body slowly dissipating as you accommodated his size.
“I will challenge you whenever I like,” he whispered against your ear. “After this, the cloud of lust you’ve placed in my mind will be thinner, and I will beat you with ease.”
“Oh, I’m sure-”
Your snarky response was promptly cut off as he withdrew himself from you, only to swiftly fill you up once more, pulling a desperate cry of his name from your lips. There was no second adjustment period given, instead you found yourself clinging on for dear life as he filled you over and over again with swift and deep thrusts that had your eyes rolling back.
One of his hands moved to your stomach, pressing down against the bulge where his cock would press up inside you. It was clear he was fascinated by it, finding great enjoyment in you being claimed by him. You were certain he was no virgin, but it seemed that you were the first woman who meant something to him, the first one who was worth something beyond carnal pleasure.
Legs quivering beneath the weight of his thrusts, you appreciated the way two of his hands came to rest on your thighs, keeping you steady with each brutal snap of his hips. You were crying and whining, your hands blindly reaching for him but finding him just out of range in this position. Seemingly to appease you, he leant further forward, really testing the flexibility of your legs as he practically folded you in half.
Lips pressed against your forehead affectionately, and you enjoyed every single second of his attention, mind floating off on a cloud as your gut tightened with each careful stroke, your walls flexing around his cock. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, a feeling only heightened by the erratic contact of his higher cock rubbing up against your clit.
“You feel so good, fuck. I can’t last like this,” he grumbled, never losing pace. It stroked your ego to know of his desire, to understand just how much he’d been holding back since your first meeting. It was everything you imagined the joining of two soulmates would be - desperately euphoric and overflowing with pleasure.
Sex had never felt so good, it had never really felt good at all, and yet you could spend eternity with Sukuna buried inside of you, your bodies and souls joined just as they were always meant to be.
He was yours and you were his. It was just as fate had decreed.
There was nothing stopping the scream that ripped through you as you finally teetered over the edge, your body convulsing in pleasure and clamping down on Sukuna’s thick cock, eager to milk him for all he was worth. You were sobbing his name and writhing against the silk sheets, your hands gripping them desperately in an attempt to anchor yourself to something in the throes of pleasure.
Sukuna couldn’t hold on long after that either, spilling into you with a warmth that only heightened your pleasure. His other cock found its release at the same time, cum dripping down onto your stomach in a manner that you’d usually find disgusting, if it weren’t your soulmate who was doing it to you. He groaned your name quietly, and let your legs fall from his shoulders.
Without the barrier of your thighs, he settled himself down on top of you, pressing kisses all over your face, his cock still twitching inside your exhausted pussy. You let him lather you with affection, still trying to come to terms with this side of Sukuna. It had been what you’d wanted, what you believed he was capable of, but you hadn’t dreamed it would truly happen.
The most you believed you’d get from him was a lifetime of shogi matches, in which the two of you would remain close but never cross the line you’d been so desperate to leap across.
“Has the fog of lust lifted?” You teased. “Do you believe now you can defeat me?”
Sukuna let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Perhaps we will have to do that a few more times for it to fully ease.”
“Oh is that so?” You giggled, reaching out for his hair. He gripped your wrist and moved it into position, allowing you to play with the soft locks you’d been so eager to touch since the first time you’d seen them upon his head.
You wished you could gaze upon that lovely shade of pink once more, but it was enough to know he was there before you, yours to touch as you pleased.
“Mmm, I think it would help,” he purred.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
You’d give him whatever he wanted. You were his and he was yours for as long as he’d have you.
a/n: I had so much fun writing this one! thinking about doing one soulmate au for each of the jjk men because I find them so enjoyable to play with <3
anyway, for any crazy in love fans, the next chapter will be out towards the end of this week!
゛★ nsfwtwt ! satoru gojo has a secret porn account.
oneshot .ᐟ ⋆ #nsfwtwt nerdjo ⋆ blackmailing him ⋆ satoru is secretly a freak ⋆ possibility of a p2 ⋆ goes to uni with reader ⋆ no smut ⋆ nsfw/heavily suggestive
Calculus.
The word itself was a curse. It wasn't just a subject; it was designed by some ancient, sadistic mathematician to make pretty girls like you suffer. What was his name? Archimedes… something like that. Yeah, screw that guy.
You were a popular girl. It wasn't a title you'd given yourself, that would be lame, it was simply a fact. You knew the right people, said the right things, and always looked effortlessly put-together. Someone like you didn’t have the time for complexities of differential equations. But that was okay, because that’s where your live-in (ish), human calculator came in.
You glanced across the table at him.
Satoru Gojo. The campus's quintessential nerd. Tall, lanky, perpetually hunched over a textbook, hiding behind a pair of black glasses that made his bright blue eyes look a lot bigger than they actually were. He wore oversized sweaters and button-ups that were always a size too big, the sleeves hanging over his hands. He was the guy you'd copy answers from in lectures, the one you'd text at 2 in the morning with one, demanding message: "hw answers.”
He was a tool. Useful, quiet, and unassuming. He wasn’t even saved by his name—just “nerd from calc” because what other use would he be of to you?
"So, did you get the derivative for problem seven? The one with the... ugh, whatever it was," you groaned, leaning forward and tapping your manicured nail on his open notebook.
He didn't even look startled. "It's an implicit differentiation problem. I put the work for it on the second page," he said, his voice low and monotone. He didn't look at you.
He never did. It was part of his schtick, you guessed. Too shy to make eye contact with you or some nerdy shit like that.
You grabbed his notebook, snapping a quick picture of the page. “Thanks, nerd. You’re a lifesaver.” You said it with the kind of smile that would make any heterosexual man trip over their own feet. He just nodded, eyes flushed to his laptop screen. What a loser.
You rolled your eyes and were about to turn away, phone in hand, when your gaze snagged on something. His hair. It was white. Not blonde, not gray, but a stark, almost shockingly pure white. It was messy, sticking up in all directions like he'd just rolled out of bed. You blinked. A sudden, strange feeling washed over you.
Where had you seen that hair before?
The memory hit you like a freight train.
Last night. 1 AM. You'd been bored, scrolling through Twitter, looking for something... interesting. You weren't ashamed of it. You were a teenage college student with needs. You'd been searching through the depths of the more porn-y side of Twitter, looking for some good stuff, when you stumbled upon a page.
The username was "@glassesoff."
The pictures were... god. Well, they were mouth-watering. Not the usual, low-effort thirst traps. These were high-quality. S-tier jerk off material. Tasteful, even, if you could call a close-up of a massive, perfect and pretty cock "tasteful." The shots were low-angle, emphasizing the sheer fucking size of the guy. Pictures of a shredded, lean torso, biceps that looked like they could choke you out in seconds, and a set of abs that had a six-pack so defined it was practically a twelve-pack. And the dick. You involuntarily licked your lips just thinking about it. A solid seven inches, maybe more, thick and beautifully shaped you got hot just thinking about it. There was no face. Just a body, and a hint of a messy head of hair.
White hair.
Who the fuck had white hair?
You’d followed the page almost immediately after binge watching his stuff with your fingers stuffed inside your pussy. You had a great time. Fantastic, even. Fell asleep right after, exhausted and thoroughly satisfied.
Now, looking at the quiet, nerdy boy in front of you, you felt a shiver run down your spine.
No way. No. Fucking. Way.
The username was "glasses off." Satoru wore glasses. He had white hair. And underneath those baggy clothes...
You stared at him. Hard. Freakishly hard it would be impossible for him not to notice. You were trying to see through the fabric, trying to imagine the body you'd seen on your phone screen hidden under all that shapeless cotton and wool.
He must have felt your gaze—there’s no way he wouldn’t. He finally looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours. "You're staring," he said, a faint frown on his face.
You snapped out of it, a flush creeping up your neck. "What? No, I wasn't. I was just... thinking. Don’t flatter yourself, four-eyes,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as your arms folded over your chest and your foot tapped a continuous pattern on the floor.
He raised an eyebrow, a skeptical look on his face. "Uh-huh. Sure. Look, if you're done, I have to get to my next class." He started gathering his things, shoving his laptop into his bag.
You watched him go, your mind a hurricane of possibilities. It was impossible. Wasn't it? There was no way the skinny, shy nerd who you had relegated to "tool" status was packing that kind of heat. No way he had a body that could make a porn star jealous.
And yet, the thought gnawed at you all day.
You couldn't focus in your lectures. You couldn't even concentrate on your Instagram feed which was not normal. All you could see was that low-angle shot of a perfect, beautiful cock that you wanted so badly. And then you'd imagine Satoru's shy, blushing face behind it. You shook your head—literally. Trying to shove the shameless thoughts away. AP lit class isn’t the time for horny thoughts. Especially not ones possibly related to your calc classmate.
That night, you were back in your dorm room. It was quiet, your roommate already asleep— totally and blissfully unaware of what you were doing. You opened Twitter, your finger hovering over the button on the search bar of "@glassesoff"’s page. You clicked on the profile, scrolling through the pictures again. It was admittedly your favorite page. You'd already jerked off to it twice. You’d probably do it again. But… the fact that it could be your nerdy classmate made it a bit weird.
You paused on a particular video. The camera angle was from the guy's perspective, looking down at his own body. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants, pushed down just enough to reveal the base of his… fuck, it’s so pretty. He gave a slow, deliberate stroke, and you heard a soft, breathy gasp.
Then a whisper.
"Yeah, you like that? Fuck, feels so good touching myself to you."
Your blood ran cold. You replayed the video. Then again. And again. The whisper was barely audible, but you recognized it. Satoru’s voice was a very distinct one. You could’ve chalked it up to similarity but it was just too obvious to ignore. It was muffled, almost lost in the background noise of his hand on his dick, but it was clear as day to you.
"I can't do this again,” you muttered to yourself. “Fuck no. Fuck. No.”
It was him. It was definitely Satoru.
You sat there, your jaw on the floor. Your nerdy little homework dispenser was a secret fucking sex god. Your "nerd" was a certified freak. And you orgasmed your brains out to his videos. Multiple times.
You wanted to block him, forget about this forever and never talk or think about it ever again. But a better thought crept up on you like a devil on your shoulder. You bit your lip and smiled like you had the greatest plan of all time. This was too good. This was better than any A you could get on a calculus test.
The next day, you didn't text him. You didn't ask for homework answers. You cornered him.
You found him in the student lounge, a quiet corner away from everyone else. He was alone, hunched over a textbook, a cup of coffee untouched beside him. You walked up, your heels clicking confidently on the linoleum floor, and sat down directly across from him.
He looked up, startled. "Oh. Hey. What's up?" He began to reach for his bag, assuming you were just there for the next assignment.
"No," you said, your voice low and sharp. "You're not going anywhere."
He froze, his hand hovering in mid-air.
"Okay...?" He looked confused, and a little wary.
"I know," you said simply, leaning back and crossing your arms.
He blinked. "Know what?"
"Don't play dumb with me," you said, a triumphant smirk playing on your lips. "I know about your little side hustle. at glassesoff?”
You watched the color drain from his face, his Adam’s Apple visibly bobbed as he swallowed.
It was instantaneous. His eyes widened behind his glasses, going from startled to panicked in a fraction of a second.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, his voice cracking.
"Oh, really?" You pulled out your phone, holding it up so he could see the screen. It was his profile page. His shirtless body.
"So this isn't you? The guy with the white hair and the... well, you know."
He stared at the screen for a moment, then looked around and shoved your phone down quickly. Looks like he didn’t want anyone seeing his little secret. Perfect.
"Where did you get that?" he whispered frantically, hand on your phone as he made sure it stayed shoved face down on the table.
"The internet, genius. It’s a public account,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Honestly, for a guy who’s so smart, you’re not very good at covering your tracks.”
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing again. "Look... please. You can't tell anyone. Please."
"Tell anyone?" you scoffed. "Now why would I ever do that? That would be boring." You leaned forward, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "No, I have a much, much better idea."
He looked at you, his blue eyes full of fear and confusion. He knew whatever you had planned could not be good for him. "What idea?"
You smiled. "From now on, you do all my homework. All my assignments. All my projects. For the rest of the year. You do them, and you do them well. You get me an A in every class. And in exchange, I don't tell anyone that the nerdy math whiz is actually a secret internet porn star."
He stared at you, his mouth slightly agape.
"You're blackmailing me?"
"Bingo! Give this geek a prize," you said, clapping your hands together. "So, what do you say? Do we have a deal?"
He didn't have a choice. You both knew it.
He just slumped in his chair, defeated. "Fine," he sighed, “I’ll do it.”
"Perfect. Knew you’d make the smart choice," You smiled, shoving your phone into your purse. "I’m going to pass with flying colors this year thanks to your little secret."
You booped his nose before standing up, ready to leave, but you paused. You looked at him one last time.
His head was bowed, his shoulders slumped. He looked defeated. Good.
But as you walked away, you couldn't get the image of his videos out of your head.
The thick, veiny cock, the ripped abs, the way he touched himself. You came to that. You were likely going to continue to coming to that.
The new arrangement was in effect. You got back to your dorm, feeling so pleased with yourself as you slipped into your pjs and hopped into bed. Your roommate was gone for the day—thankfully, so. You had his personal number, but the rules of the blackmail were more fun if you used the account to text him. You pulled out your phone, your thumb hovering over the Twitter app. You navigated to the page you’d bookmarked: @glassesoff.
You shot him a DM. No preamble.
You: yo nerd.
For a moment, nothing. Then, the three-dot bubble appeared, then vanished, then appeared again.
@glassesoff: hey
It was simple, just like him.
You: ok so the calc assignment. the one with the integral that looks like a demonic pentagram. i need answers. whole thing and not just the final answer. the steps too so it looks like i learned something. due thursday. thx.
You watched the screen, waiting for his typically flustered, long-winded reply you’d get on his regular texting app. Something like, "Oh, sure! No problem! I'll write it out as clearly as possible. Did you try using integration by parts? It's really a beautiful problem once you see the pattern!" or some other annoying thing.
It didn’t come.
@glassesoff: cool. u got it. the trick is just a simple u-substitution at the start, the rest is just mechanical. i’ll have it for u after my 4pm lecture.
You blinked at the screen. "Cool. u got it." No emojis. No frantic reassurance. Just… cool. It felt wrong, like hearing a cat bark. It was too confident, too streamlined.
You: …not gonna ask if i want u to colour code it so its "easier to follow?" lol
@glassesoff: that what you think? i’ll just send you the latex so it’s clean. less messy.
You snorted. Less messy. The guy who once gave you a handwritten guide to the periodic table with color-coded elements by atomic weight. You decided to test the waters, to poke at the persona.
You: latex lmao. sounds kinky. u into that kind of shit, nerd?
You expected him to immediately backpedal, to sputter out a denial. To revert to the Satoru who couldn't hold eye contact for more than two seconds.
@glassesoff: you’re the one who’s been scrolling through my page for a while. you tell me.
Your jaw actually dropped. You read it twice. Now where the hell did this come from? This was not the same person. You felt a familiar flush of heat, the same one from last night, creep up your neck. This was the guy from his videos, the one who knew exactly what he was doing and exactly how it made people feel. It was like a switch had been flipped. The meek, socially anxious guy from the lecture hall was completely, utterly gone.
You: wow. bold from the guy who almost cried when i said i knew his secret
@glassesoff: bold from the girl who's used me for homework for 3 years and only now knows my name. let’s just say its easier to be myself behind a screen.
This was… surprising. You were a predator, toying with your prey, but the prey suddenly had teeth. And horns. And maybe a tail you kind of wanted to pull.
You: oh yeah? and who would “yourself” be? the one who posts his abs to thousands of strangers?
@glassesoff: among other things. you know. you saw them.
You bit your lip, hard. He was right. You’d seen them. You’d watched a video of him specifically, one where he was kneeling, a professional, almost cruel angle making his body look like a carved Greek statue. The video was titled "need an assistant for this lab," a low groan accompanying the mess he made.
You: yeah i did. i gotta say, your nerd routine is good. i almost believed it. 7 inches of "i can do your homework" was a hell of a plot twist.
@glassesoff: 7.4, actually. and i can do more than just homework, clearly.
You caught yourself in a giggle. You couldn't help it. The sheer audacity of the guy who hid in the back of the classroom, the one who seemed afraid of his own shadow, was throwing your innuendos back in your face like he was born for it.
You: calm down with the ego, nerd. u still owe me an assignment.
@glassesoff: and i’ll deliver. but since we’re being so honest now, how was your night?
Your heart did a little skip. He knew. He had to know. You’d followed his page, you’d watched his videos. The sly fucker was asking you to admit it.
You: it was fine. slept like a baby.
@glassesoff: liar. you followed my page at 11:47 pm. you didn’t sleep for at least another hour. i can see the likes on my post, princess. you liked and bookmarked the "lab assistant" one.
A sound escaped your throat. It was a mix of a laugh and a gasp. Princess? He’s calling you princess? This was a complete role reversal. You were supposed to be the one in control, the one holding all the cards. But he was dissecting your online activity with the same precision he probably used to solve his quantum physics equations.
You: stalker vibes. not cute.
@glassesoff: don’t have to be cute to make you cum.
The bluntness of it slammed into you. You had to put your phone down for a second, your face flushed now. This was a side of him that was completely not what you expected. Not… necessarily bad, but the kind that made your stomach flip and your thighs press together. This was stupid. This was the guy from the videos, the one who didn't stammer, the one who knew his worth. This was Satoru, not just the nerd, but the guy who could probably ruin you in the best way possible. You hated that it turned you on. You had blackmailed him, but it felt suspiciously like you’d just fucked yourself over.
You: i’m gonna pretend i didn’t read that. just get me my assignment, gojo.
@glassesoff: i’ll have it for you. but don't pretend. it’s boring. you're not boring.
You: and how would you know, nerd?
@glassesoff: because you're the only person who’s ever tried to blackmail me into a study date. a whole year of study dates. you're creative, i’ll give you that. be seeing you.
You stared at the last message. Study dates. He called them study dates. The absolute gall of this man. This was not how this was supposed to go. You were supposed to have him wrapped around your finger, not the other way around. But this version of Satoru, the one who typed with a lazy confidence and knew exactly how his videos affected you, was a completely different person.
You checked the time. You should probably go to bed. Early classes tomorrow… the same routine.
Your phone buzzed again. You almost didn’t want to look.
@glassesoff: also, for the record. you're right. i am a bit of a freak.
@glassesoff: good for you, though. you get to see it all for free now. my content isn't cheap.
A scoff escaped you, but it was laced something else. Anticipation, maybe. Arousal? That’s stupid. Really stupid.
You: is this your way of trying to get me to subscribe to your OF, gojo? pathetic.
@glassesoff: no. it’s my way of saying you don’t have to keep being a bad bitch for me to find you interesting.
@glassesoff: you're already interesting.
He was right. You didn't know it. You didn't know anything anymore. The sweet little nerd you'd been using for years was a literal online sex god. And now, thanks to your brilliant blackmail scheme, he was contractually obligated to spend an entire year helping you. Which meant you had a front-row seat to his secret life. The irony was almost too much.
You typed a final response, feeling the shift in the air between you. You weren't quite sure who was blackmailing who anymore.
You: fine, freak. i’ll see you at the library tomorrow. don't forget my homework.
@glassesoff: i won't. and don't forget to bring your headphones.
You: …why?
@glassesoff: so you can watch the new video i post tonight. it’s a special one. just for you.
You stared, wide-eyed. A video. Just for you. You were supposed to be the one calling the shots. But as your thumb hovered over the keyboard, you realized you didn't want to be the one in control.
You wanted to see what he had for you, despite your better judgement.
You: i’m that special?
@glassesoff: guess you are. see you soon.
And just like that, he was gone. The three-dot bubble disappeared and didn't come back.
You were left in the quiet of your room with no idea what you’ve just gotten yourself into and whether or not it would come back to bite you in the ass.
During a season three table-read break, you and Harry officially reveal your three-month-old secret relationship to the cast by holding hands in the private green room.
MATERIALIST
The heavy soundproof door to the cast’s private green room clicked shut, sealing out the dull roar of the studio floor with a solid, heavy thunk. It was a rare, blessed Tuesday afternoon during the early weeks of filming season three, long before any future awards show hot-mics or viral internet real-estate investigations had even crossed your minds. The atmosphere inside the room was thick with the familiar comfort of a group that spent fourteen hours a day together under blinding studio lights: half-empty catering trays of tepid pastries, discarded scripts bleeding fluorescent yellow highlighter, and the low, rhythmic hum of a television monitor in the corner playing silent B-roll footage.
Tom was stretched out across the main sofa, his boots propped up on the armrest, while Beth carefully painted Phia’s nails a vibrant shade of crimson on a nearby coffee table. Ewan sat in the corner, idly strumming an unamplified electric guitar, the faint metallic buzz of the strings providing a steady backdrop to the lazy afternoon. It was completely domestic, completely safe. Which made what you and Harry were about to do feel entirely terrifying.
You had been official for exactly three months. Ninety days of coordinated arrivals, separate cars, meticulously timed exits from each other’s apartments, and a strictly enforced rule about never, ever sitting too close during promotional panels. But the weight of the secret had begun to feel less like a protective shield and more like a wedge between you and the people who knew you best. Harry took a deep, steadying breath beside you, his knuckles turning slightly white around the paper coffee cup he was holding. He caught your eye, giving you a tiny, questioning nod. Now or never.
"Hey, guys," Harry said, his voice ringing out just a bit too loud, a little too tight, completely shattering the lazy afternoon quiet. "Can we... can we actually talk to you for a second? Put the phones down?"
Ewan’s fingers froze on the guitar strings. Tom slowly lowered his legs from the sofa armrest, his eyes darting sharp and immediate between the two of you. Beth stopped mid-stroke, her nail polish brush hovering precariously in the air. The cast possessed the predatory intuition of a pack of wolves; they could smell a shift in the room's gravity from a mile away.
"Oh god," Tom said, a massive, dangerous grin already threatening to break across his face as he sat up straight. "Look at Harry’s face. He looks like he’s about to be court-martialed. What did you do?"
"We didn't do anything," you said, taking a step forward, your heart doing a violent, erratic thud against your ribs. You reached down, and for the first time on studio property, you slid your fingers into Harry’s hand, locking them tightly together in plain, undeniable view. "We just... we wanted to tell you guys something before it accidentally slips out on set."
The room went entirely, agonizingly silent for three long seconds.
Then, the explosion happened. Beth shrieked so loudly she dropped the nail polish bottle onto a paper script, jumping to her feet with her hands clamped over her mouth. Tom threw his head back, letting out a wild, triumphant shout that echoed off the soundproof walls. Even Phia, usually the most stoic and unshakeable of the group, let out a breathless laugh, her eyes wide as she stared at your joined hands.
"I KNEW IT!" Tom roared, leaping off the couch and pointing a finger wildly at a thoroughly stunned Ewan. "Pay up! Ewan, pay up right now! I told you! I told you the way they were looking at each other during the season two wrap party wasn't 'artistic camaraderie'!"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Beth scrambled around the coffee table, practically vibrating with excitement as she cornered the two of you. "How long? Exactly how long has this been happening? I need dates, I need a timeline, I need everything!"
Harry’s ears turned a spectacular, unmistakable shade of deep crimson under the sudden, intense interrogation. He pulled you a little closer to his side, his media-trained armor completely useless against his friends. "About... three months," he mumbled into his coffee cup.
"Three months?!" Tom echoed, pulling up a rolling chair, reversing it, and straddling the backrest so he could look up at you two like a detective in a dim interview room. "Alright. Question number one: When? If it's been three months, that means you two went official during the summer hiatus. Who cracked first?"
"Harry did," you said instantly, unable to hide the massive, relieved smile breaking across your face.
"I did not!" Harry protested, his voice cracking slightly as he turned his torso toward you. "It was entirely mutual! You can't just frame me as the desperate one in front of the jury!"
"You literally texted me at two in the morning saying you couldn't sleep because you kept thinking about our scene in episode five," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
"It was a very emotionally complex scene!" Harry yelled defensively, though the flush on his face had now traveled all the way down his neck, prompting a chorus of ruthless jeers from Tom and Ewan.
"Question number two: Where?" Beth pressed, her eyes gleaming with pure, unfiltered gossip-mongering. "Where was the actual turning point? Because you two spent the entire second season acting like you were terrified of being in the same room for more than ten minutes."
"That's because we were terrified," Harry confessed softly, his tone dropping into that quiet, sincere register that always managed to calm the room down. He squeezed your hand a little tighter, staring down at your intertwined fingers. "The internet was already so loud about us. We knew that if we let ourselves cross that line while we were actively filming, the noise would just... swallow it whole. We wanted to make sure it belonged to us first."
Beth let out a tiny, breathless sigh, but she wasn't about to let up on the details. She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. "Okay, fine, very sweet, very noble. But we need the actual logistics. Question number three: How did he actually ask you out? Because Harry can barely order a coffee without getting flustered, so I need to know how he managed to confess his undying love."
Harry groaned, burying his face in his free hand. "Oh, come on, don't make us recount the whole thing."
"Oh, absolutely recount the whole thing," Tom insisted, leaning over the back of his chair, utterly enthralled. "Don't leave out a single embarrassing detail, please."
You laughed, nudging Harry’s shoulder with your own. "Well, it was about two weeks into the summer hiatus. We hadn't seen each other since the wrap party, but like I said, we'd been texting constantly. Harry called me around midnight on a Friday and asked if I was awake. He sounded completely out of breath, so I thought something was wrong."
"I was running," Harry muttered defensively from behind his hand. "I had walked out of my flat because I was restless, and then I just... started pacing."
"He didn't just pace, he paced all the way to my neighborhood," you smiled, looking up at him as he finally dropped his hand, his cheeks still fiercely pink. "He showed up outside my building at twelve-thirty in the morning, holding a paper bag from that twenty-four-hour bakery near his old place. When I went down to open the door, he was just standing there in a wrinkled hoodie, looking like he'd just survived a storm."
"What did he say?" Phia asked, a rare, genuinely amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"He handed me a box of sour watermelon gummies and a single, slightly crushed iced matcha latte," you said, casting a pointed glance at Harry. "And then he stood on the pavement and rambled for a solid four minutes without taking a breath. He talked about the shooting schedules, he talked about the fans, he talked about how he tried to convince himself for an entire year that he just really valued our 'creative chemistry'—and then he finally just blurted out that he was entirely miserable spending the hiatus away from me."
"I was very eloquent, actually," Harry interjected, trying to salvage his dignity, though his voice lacked any real conviction. "I had a whole speech prepared on the walk over. It just... mutated on the delivery."
"He looked me dead in the eye," you continued, ignoring his interruption with a grin, "and said, 'I don't care if the internet makes a hundred more analysis videos. I don't care if the publicists lock me in a room. I just really want to take you out to breakfast on a Tuesday morning like a normal person.' And then he asked if he could come up."
The green room erupted again, this time into a chorus of dramatic, high-pitched "awws" and theatrical swooning from Beth. Tom fake-wept into his sleeve, while Ewan shook his head, a grin splitting his face.
"A midnight pastry delivery and a tactical breakfast proposal," Tom clapped Harry hard on the shoulder, nearly causing him to spill his coffee. "Collett, you absolute romantic. I didn't think you had it in you."
"Well, it worked," Harry murmured, his defenses finally dropping as he looked down at you, his expression softening into that entirely unguarded, private look that usually caused the internet to melt down.
"And the publicists? Have you told management?" Tom asked, leaning back, completely satisfied with the interrogation.
"Are you insane?" Harry muttered, shuddering slightly. "If we tell the publicists, they’re going to turn our entire lives into a strategic marketing campaign for season three. They’ll start measuring our seating distances with a ruler during press junkets. We’re keeping them completely in the dark for as long as humanly possible."
"Well, your secret is entirely safe with us," Beth promised, stepping forward to wrap both of you in a massive, aggressive hug that smelled faintly of nail polish and expensive perfume. "But for the record? I am going to have a profoundly difficult time keeping a straight face the next time an interviewer asks if there's any 'off-screen romance' on this set."
"You just have to lie, Beth," Ewan said dryly, walking over to join the circle. "Like a professional."
"Oh, please," Tom scoffed, his insufferable grin returning with full force as the assistant director finally knocked on the green room door to call them to the floor. "Look at them. You can't put these two in front of a camera anymore. Harry looks like a golden retriever that just traded its soul for a piece of ham. The internet is going to find out within a month, I am calling it now. One of them is going to slip up, a microphone is going to catch it, and the entire PR department is going to burn to the ground."
You and Harry exchanged a fast, amused glance, entirely laughing off Tom's prediction—completely unaware of just how terrifyingly right he would eventually be.
Heyooo!! I hope you are doing good! :> I hope it is also alright to send a second one if not just ignore it ^^
Okay so can i request a lil angsty fluff scenario in a what if the ASL Brothers meet their lover, who they sadly needed to leave behind to protect her, at Dadan's place with a child, that is old as their last meeting (1-2 years or more without any contact) situation.
Since they got left behind from the boys, she seeked out a place who would maybe accept her and it was Dadan, who took her in, who is also probably angry at them for leaving their s/o without any explanation.
I hope the request makes sense 🙂↕️
The Love He Left
portgas d. ace x fem!reader
tags: angst with fluff, post-marineford, ace lives, reunion after years, secret child, slow burn, hurt/comfort
a/n: sorry for the wait! I tried to make them all different, hope you'll like them all. tumblr doesn't let us use more than 1k blocks per post so I have to post them separately T.T I'm going to post them one per day starting today!
The first thing Ace notices when he comes back to Mt. Colubo is how little has changed.
The trees are still too big, the road is still annoying and the forest still feels like home.
He walks up the familiar path with a grin on his face, hands behind his head “Wonder what old hag Dadan is doing now.”
When he reaches the hideout, loud shouting immediately answers his question.
Nothing changed at all.
Ace laughs “Yep. Definitely home.”
He pushes the door open “I'm back!”
The room goes silent… Dadan freezes, Dogra almost drops his cup and Magra stares.
For one second nobody moves, then Dadan punches him so hard he flies into a wall.
“YOU STUPID BRAT!”
“GAH!” Ace crashes into a table “WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!”
Dadan's eyes are red “FOR MAKING US THINK YOU WERE ABOUT TO DIE!”
“Sorry…”
“DON'T APOLOGIZE!”
“Then what do you want me to say?!”
“Shut up!”
“Okay!”
“NOT THAT EITHER!”
Ace laughs despite himself.
For the first time in months, everything feels normal.
Marineford still follows him. The fear in Luffy's face. Whitebeard. Everything he lost. Everything he almost lost.
But right now? Right now he's home.
A few hours later, the shouting has turned into drinking.
Ace sits at the table with a plate full of food.
Dadan watches him, still angry, still relieved and still pretending not to care.
“Eat slower.” she grumbles.
“I’m eating slowly.”
“You swallowed half the plate.”
“That’s slow.”
“Idiot.”
Ace grins, then he glances around and his smile slowly fades “Hey.”
Dadan immediately looks away. That’s suspicious.
“Where is she?”
“Who?”
“You know who.”
“Don't.”
“Dadan.”
She takes a drink “None of your business.”
Ace blinks “None of my—”
“Eat your food.”
“Dadan.”
“Eat.”
“Where is she? I know her well enough to know she came here.”
“You know nothing about her. Just eat.”
Dogra suddenly becomes very interested in the wall, while Magra coughs.
Nobody answers.
Ace slowly puts his fork down “...Why is everyone acting weird?”
“Not weird.”
“You are.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Dadan stands “Anyway! It's getting late!”
“It's the middle of the afternoon.”
“Very late!”
Ace narrows his eyes “Dadan.”
“Maybe you should leave tomorrow.”
“Leave?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“No reason. You're a pirate, you're probably busy.”
Now Ace knows something is wrong, because Dadan never wants him to leave, not after two years and not after believing he was dead or about to die.
He stands “Where is she?”
“None of your business.”
“Dadan.”
“Forget it.”
“No.”
“Kid.”
“You obviously know, tell me.”
Dadan's jaw tightens and for a second she almost looks guilty “Some things are better left alone.”
Ace freezes, his chest suddenly feels strange and heavy.
Two years ago. A face appears in his mind immediately. Your smile. Your laugh. The way you looked at him.
The way he had left before sunrise because he knew if he saw your face again, he would never go.
The way he told himself it was for your safety.
The way it hurt every day afterward.
“...she's here, isn't she?”
Nobody answers and that answers enough.
Ace turns toward the door.
Dadan immediately steps in front of him “Don't.”
His eyes widen “Why?”
“Just don't.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“That's not an answer.”
Dadan looks frustrated “Damn it.”
“Dadan.”
“Don't go looking.”
“Why?”
“Because you'll only make things worse.”
The words hit him harder than any punch.
“...What does that mean?”
Nobody answers.
Ace slowly walks around her “I'm going.”
“ACE!”
But he's already outside.
The village is quiet and the afternoon sun shines through the trees.
Ace walks familiar roads.
Some villagers recognize him immediately. Others stare like they have seen a ghost.
After all, the whole world watched him almost die.
Including you.
His stomach twists.
He wonders if you cried. He wonders if you hated him. He wonders if you moved on.
The thought hurts more than he wants to admit.
“...Guess I deserve that.”
Two years. A lot can happen in two years.
People change. Feelings change. Lives move on.
His feet slow.
What if you don't want to see him?
Then he spots someone and all his thoughts just disappear.
You.
Walking down the path. Alive, healthy and beautiful.
His heart stops.
As soon as you see him, you freeze too.
For a moment neither of you moves.
Ace can only stare.
You look exactly how he remembers, and yet completely different. Older and sadder but stronger.
Your eyes widen.
His lips part “...Y/N.”
Your face changes in shock, relief, disbelief and pain, all at once.
He takes a step forward “It's really you.”
Your eyes shine, and for one impossible second, Ace thinks you might run into his arms.
Instead your expression hardens, like a door slamming shut.
The warmth disappears.
Ace's chest drops “Y/N?”
You don't answer, your hands tighten, and only then does Ace notice the small child standing beside you.
A tiny hand holding yours.
The child hides partly behind your leg.
Ace glances at them briefly.
A cute kid, maybe three years old or something close to that.
He doesn't think much about it, his attention is completely on you.
“Y/N, I—”
You walk right past him.
Ace stands there, stunned.
The child looks up at him while passing, with his curious big dark eyes.
Ace turns immediately “Wait!”
You keep walking.
“Y/N!”
Nothing.
“Come on!”
Still nothing.
Ace groans “Okay, yeah, I deserve that.”
You continue forward “...But could you at least yell at me?”
Nothing.
“Throw something?”
Silence.
“Punch me?”
You finally stop.
Ace almost sighs in relief.
You slowly turn around, your eyes are shining again, but this time with obvious anger.
“Punch you?”
Ace scratches his cheek “Maybe not?”
“After two years?”
“...Fair.”
“After disappearing?”
“Yeah.”
“After not having contact for two whole years?”
“Okay, that one sounds bad.”
“Because it was bad!”
“There were reasons!”
“Really?”
Your voice cracks, and suddenly the anger doesn't sound angry anymore.
It sounds hurt.
Ace immediately feels worse “Y/N...”
“Do you know how… seeing that felt?”
His chest tightens “...Marineford.”
“Marineford.” you laugh sarcastically “I watched it.”
Ace freezes.
“I saw everything from here.”
His throat goes dry “Y/N…”
“I watched you die… they made it look like the heroes who killed the bad villain.”
The words hit harder than anything.
“I saw it happen…” your voice shakes “and I couldn't do anything.”
Ace can't move, can't speak and can't breathe.
“I just sat here and watched.” your eyes fill with tears “Everyone said you were dead. Then suddenly months later… MONTHS LATER the news says you're alive.”
A tear slips down your cheek “I was happy.”
Another follows “So happy. But do you know how angry I was?”
Ace swallows “...Yeah.”
“No, you don't.”
And somehow that hurts because it's true.
You wipe your eyes angrily “I hated you.”
Ace flinches, then you look away “...For about five minutes.”
His heart nearly breaks “Y/N...”
The child beside you tugs gently on your sleeve “Mom?”
The world stops.
Ace blinks.
Mom?
You immediately kneel and your expression softens “Don't worry, I'm okay.”
The child points toward Ace “Who is he?”
You freeze.
The child waits patiently, looking between both of you.
And somehow, for the first time, Ace notices something familiar about him.
The eyes, the hair, the smile… the freckles. But before he can think about it more, you stand “Let's go home.”
The child nods “Okay.”
You start walking again and Ace follows automatically, but you don't tell him to stop.
—-----------
The walk back is painfully quiet.
Ace follows a few steps behind you.
Your son occasionally looks back at him, curious and interested.
Not scared at all.
Every time, Ace awkwardly waves. The child waves back and then keeps walking.
The whole thing would almost be funny if your heart wasn't beating so hard.
Soon the familiar house comes into view.
The moment Dadan spots you, she practically bursts through the door “Y/N!”
You blink “Dadan?”
She rushes over, looking panicked “Listen, kid, we gotta—”
Then her eyes move past you and land on Ace.
Dadan freezes.
Ace awkwardly raises a hand “Uh... hi again?”
The woman looks like she wants to throw herself off a cliff “Oh for the love of—”
You immediately understand “Dadan.”
“I wasn’t gonna say anything!”
“You absolutely were.”
“I WASN’T!”
“You were.”
“I WASN’T!”
Ace points between both of you “Should I be worried?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
You and Dadan answer at the same time.
Ace blinks “That didn’t help.”
Dadan groans “So stupid.”
“Hey!”
“Inside.”
Nobody argues.
A few minutes later, everyone is sitting around the old table.
Your son escaped immediately as Dogra and Magra took him outside to play.
Which leaves only you, Dadan and Ace.
The silence is horrible.
Ace shifts in his chair.
You stare at the table.
Dadan pretends she isn’t here.
A fly buzzes somewhere.
Nobody speaks… the fly is honestly carrying the conversation.
Finally Ace clears his throat “So…”
Silence.
“Nice weather?”
You look at him.
Dadan looks at him.
Ace immediately regrets everything “...That was stupid.”
“Very.”
“Yeah.”
Silence again.
A few seconds pass then he says “You look good.”
You blink.
Ace scratches the back of his neck “I mean… not that you didn’t before.”
Dadan snorts.
“Okay, somehow I’m making this worse.”
“You’re talented.”
“Thanks.”
“You weren't supposed to take that as a compliment.”
“Too late.”
A tiny smile almost appears on your face and Ace notices.
His chest hurts, because for a second it feels like old times, but then the silence returns.
Until Ace finally sighs “Can I ask something?”
You shrug “You’re going to anyway.”
“Fair.” he pauses “The kid…”
Immediately your shoulders tense.
Dadan's eyes narrow.
Ace notices neither “How old is he?”
You blink.
That wasn't what you expected but you answer anyway “...Almost three.”
Ace nods “Oh.”
Silence.
Then… “He's cute.”
“...Thanks…?”
“Looks a lot like you.”
Dadan suddenly coughs so hard she nearly dies.
Ace looks over “You okay?”
“No.”
“Need water?”
“No.”
“You sound like you’re dying.”
“Working on it.”
Ace shrugs and then he looks back at you “So…”
You already hate where this is going.
“Did you adopt him?”
The room goes completely silent.
You stare.
Dadan stares.
Ace waits.
You ask, confused “...What?”
“You adopted him?”
“...Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know…”
“You just guessed?”
“Yeah. By Dadan’s reaction to me saying he looks like you.”
Dadan drags a hand down her face “He’s hopeless.”
“Hey!”
“No, she’s right.”
“Y/N!”
You almost laugh.
Ace points accusingly “You’re both being mean.”
“You’re making it easy.”
“Wow.”
He pouts, like a child… like the same idiot you knew years ago.
Then his expression softens “So... not adopted?”
“No.”
“Oh.” a pause “Then his father is here?”
You choke.
Dadan slams her forehead against the table so hard that Ace jumps “WHAT NOW?”
“Nothing.”
“You just headbutted a table!”
“Deserved.”
“For what?!”
“For knowing you.”
Ace looks deeply offended, then his attention goes back on you.
You stare.
Nobody answers.
“...So?”
You blink slowly “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Yeah?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes?”
Dadan makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like suffering.
Ace glances at her “Why are you both acting so weird?”
Neither of you answer.
Ace frowns and then he starts thinking. You can practically see the gears turning.
“Okay.” he points toward the door “The kid is almost three.”
“...Yes.”
“I’ve been gone…” his voice trails off and his brow furrows “...three years.”
Your stomach drops.
Dadan closes her eyes.
Here it comes.
Finally.
Ace keeps talking, mostly to himself now.
“Almost exactly three years.”
Silence.
“And he isn't adopted.”
Silence.
“And everybody keeps acting weird.”
Silence.
“And Dadan wanted me gone before I saw you and him.”
Silence.
His eyes slowly move toward you, then toward the door and then back toward you.
The smile is gone, the joking is gone, the idiot is gone.
For the first time since he arrived… Ace is completely serious.
“...Y/N.”
Your heart pounds.
“How old is he exactly?”
You swallow “...two years and seven months.”
The answer comes out barely above a whisper.
Ace freezes.
The math is easy.
Gone for three years.
His face loses all color “No…” the word leaves his mouth before he can stop it.
Your eyes immediately drop to the table. Shame twists painfully in your chest.
You hate it, because you shouldn’t feel ashamed and you know that… but suddenly you do.
Maybe because of how shocked he looks, maybe because you never planned for this conversation, maybe because part of you is terrified he won’t want this. Terrified he’ll regret it. Terrified he’ll look at your son and see a mistake.
You grip your hands under the table “...I didn’t know.”
Ace doesn’t move.
“I found out after you left.”
Silence.
“I couldn’t tell you.”
Silence.
“Then…” your voice cracks and you look away “I didn’t even know where you were until you made it to the news and then… then everyone thought you were dead.”
The room becomes even quieter.
Dadan watches both of you carefully, ready to step in if needed… or out.
Ace is staring at the table, at nothing and at everything. Trying to fit this reality inside his head.
A child.
Your child.
His child.
The little boy outside, the one who waved at him earlier, the one with dark eyes, the one who smiled, the one who… suddenly Ace stands.
His chair crashes backward, making you flinch.
Dadan immediately rises “Ace.”
But he doesn’t seem to hear her.
“...That's my son.”
Nobody answers… nobody needs to.
Because the answer has been sitting in front of him this whole time.
And for the first time since you met him again… you realize he isn't looking at you anymore.
He's looking toward the little boy laughing outside.
As if the entire world has just changed, and maybe it has.
Because for two years, Ace believed he had left behind one person he loved.
Now he’s discovering he left behind two.
The door slams open and then he’s outside.
You stare after him and your heart immediately drops.
For one horrible second, fear grips your chest. Fear that he’s running away, that he’s leaving.
Again.
You push the thought away and rush after him “Ace!”
You reach the doorway just as Dadan catches your wrist.
You turn.
She’s watching the yard, watching Ace, and for once, she doesn’t look angry, she looks sad.
“He ain't running.”
Your brows furrow “How do you know?”
Dadan sighs “Because I know that idiot.”
Then she lets you go and says “Go.”
Dogra and Magra are playing with your son.
The little boy sits proudly on Dogra's shoulders while Magra runs around roaring like a monster “THE GREAT BEAST IS COMING!”
“NOOOO!”
Your son laughs so hard he almost falls off Dogra's shoulders.
“FASTER!”
“I'M TRYING!” Dogra complains.
Then your son notices Ace and the laughter slowly fades.
The boy tilts his head, watching him.
Ace stands completely still, staring.
Looking at him for the first time.
His son.
The words still don't feel real.
Your son waves with a tiny happy wave, the same one he gave Ace earlier.
Ace's face immediately crumples.
Your heart squeezes painfully, because now you understand this isn't rejection or anger… this is grief.
The little boy slides down from Dogra's shoulders and walks over, stopping right in front of Ace, looking up.
Ace looks down.
The resemblance is impossible to miss now.
Your son points at the red beads around Ace's neck “Pretty.”
A broken laugh escapes Ace, almost immediately followed by a sob “You think so?”
“Yeah.” the little boy nods confidently “Very pretty.”
Ace presses a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shake.
And suddenly every single thing crashes into him all at once.
Not just the fact that he has a son, not just the fact that he missed three years.
Everything.
He looks at the little boy, at the child standing in front of him, and his mind starts filling the empty spaces.
The spaces where he should have been.
He sees you standing alone.
Without him.
He sees you crying.
Without him.
Laughing.
Without him.
Getting sick in the mornings.
Without him.
Craving strange food.
Without him.
Growing bigger every month.
Without him.
His chest hurts.
He never saw your belly.
Never saw his son growing inside you.
Never placed a hand there.
Never felt the kicks.
Never talked to him through your skin.
Never watched you smile when the baby moved.
Never watched you complain when the baby kicked your ribs.
Never helped you tie your shoes.
Never carried things for you.
Never stayed awake when you couldn't sleep.
Never comforted you when you were scared.
Never promised you that everything would be okay.
Because he wasn't there.
Your son smiles at him with his tiny innocent smile.
Ace feels something break.
He missed the birth.
His son's first breath.
His first cry.
His first smile.
His first laugh.
His first word.
His first steps.
His first birthday.
Everything.
His knees almost give out.
“Ace?” your voice sounds distant, he can barely hear it.
Because suddenly another image appears in his head.
Marineford.
The crowd.
The execution platform.
The world watching.
The world cheering for his death.
The newspapers.
The broadcasts.
The fear.
And then… you watching, alone.
You believing he was gone forever.
Ace's breathing becomes shaky.
His mother suddenly comes to mind. The woman who carried him alone. The woman who suffered alone. The woman who watched the whole world hunt her child before he was even born. The woman who endured everything by herself.
And suddenly he understands that he left you carrying a burden alone.
He finally understands that while he had convinced himself he was protecting you, you had been surviving without him.
Just like his mother did.
The realization hits him so hard that he physically stumbles.
“Ace!”
You rush forward, but before you can reach him, he drops to his knees.
The yard goes silent. Everyone freezes, while your son blinks in confusion.
You stop moving “Ace...?”
His head lowers and his hands shake.
You have never seen him like this.
Tears hit the dirt beneath him.
“I’m sorry.” the words come out broken, barely audible.
“Ace...”
“I’m sorry.” his voice cracks “I’m so sorry.”
Your eyes widen.
Ace lifts his head and the view nearly destroys you.
“I missed everything.”
You immediately shake your head “Ace…”
“I missed everything.” his voice rises with desperation “His birth.”
Another tear falls “His first words.”
Another “His first steps.”
Another “His birthdays.”
A horrible broken laugh “I wasn't there.”
Your throat tightens.
“You were alone.”
“Ace…”
“I left you alone.” his voice breaks again “I wasn't there.”
Your eyes burn.
“You were pregnant and I wasn't there.”
You can't answer.
“You were scared and I wasn't there.”
Ace wipes his face, only for more tears to replace them “I should've been there.”
The guilt is eating him alive.
You can see and feel it.
“I should've been helping you.” his shoulders shake “I should've been holding you.”
Your vision blurs.
“I should've been holding him.”
The little boy quietly walks closer, confused, but sensing something is wrong.
Ace notices him, and that only makes him cry harder “I wasn't there.”
Then Ace lowers his head and the next words nearly stop your heart “Can you forgive me?”
You freeze.
Ace's voice becomes smaller and more fragile “Please.”
The yard is completely silent.
“I know I don't deserve it… I know I hurt you.” his hands clench “I know I left.”
You feel tears running down your own face now.
“But please...”
Ace looks at you, like someone terrified of the answer… “Please forgive me.”
His voice cracks completely “Please.”
And suddenly all you can see is the boy you fell in love with.
Your Ace.
Broken, crying and begging, because he thinks he lost everything… and he still doesn't realize that despite all the hurt… despite all the anger… despite the years apart...
You've never stopped loving him.
Not for a single day.
You want to say something, anything, but before you even can, a tiny hand grabs yours.
You look down and see your son is standing beside you.
Looking from you to Ace.
“Mom?”
Your expression softens immediately and you squeeze his little hand “Yes?”
He points toward Ace, toward the crying man kneeling in front of you “Can't you forgive him?”
Your heart almost breaks, because there is no judgment in his voice, only innocent confusion.
As if forgiveness is the easiest thing in the world.
As if love is simple.
You smile at him, then you lift your eyes.
Ace is looking at you and here your smile slowly disappears, a sad expression replaces it.
You look into his eyes and say “No…”
Ace freezes, his shoulders tense.
Regret fills his expression so quickly that your heart hurts, so you hurry to continue “There's no need.”
Ace blinks “What?”
You smile sadly “As I said this afternoon...”
Your fingers tighten slightly around your son's hand “I hated you for like five minutes.”
A tiny laugh escapes Ace, wet and shaky.
You let go of your son's hand, then slowly kneel in front of Ace, bringing yourself to his level.
His eyes widen slightly.
You gently take his face in your hands and your thumbs brush against his cheeks, ceaning away his tears.
Another one falls immediately and you wipe that one away too, very softly.
Ace leans into your touch without even realizing it.
“I understand your situation, Ace.”
His eyes immediately lower.
You gently guide his face back toward you “Look at me.”
Slowly, he does.
Your thumbs brush against his skin again “I loved you a lot.”
Ace's breathing stops.
“And I will never stop loving you.”
His eyes widen “Y-Y/N...”
“I'm so happy you're here now.” your own voice starts shaking “Sorry if I got mad or if I acted cold.”
Ace immediately shakes his head, hard “Don't apologize.”
You blink “Ace…”
“No.” his voice is firm despite the tears “You don't get to apologize for that.”
You stare at him.
“I left.” his hand gently covers one of yours “You had every right to be angry.”
Another tear slips down his cheek “You had every right to hate me.”
You smile softly “Good thing I didn't then.”
Ace laughs weakly.
You continue softly “I was scared too.”
His expression immediately changes… it softens.
“I thought our story ended there.”
Without thinking, he reaches for you, his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly “I'm here.”
His voice shakes “I'm here.”
You hold him just as tightly “I know.”
For a while neither of you moves or speaks.
Finally you pull back slightly and see your son is still standing there, watching everything carefully and curiously.
You smile, then gently place a hand on his shoulder “Kael...” (random name from google lmao sorry)
The little boy looks up immediately “Yeah?”
You smile softly, full of love , full of pride and warmth.
“This is Ace.” you glance toward him, then back to your son “Your dad.”
Kael blinks, then he looks at Ace.
Ace looks terrified, absolutely terrified… you almost laugh.
Then you turn toward Ace and your smile becomes softer, filled with so much love it almost hurts “Ace...”
His eyes meet yours.
“This is Kael.” your fingers gently brush your son's hair “Your son.”
Ace completely breaks again, with fresh tears appearing instantly.
“Hi...” Kael tilts his head “You're my dad?”
Ace nods immediately, quickly “Y-Yeah.”
Kael thinks about this then he says “Cool.”
Ace blinks “Cool?”
“Yeah.” Kael points at his tattoo “You have funny freckles.”
Dogra explodes laughing, while Magra nearly falls over.
Ace stares in horror “They aren’t… freckles…”
“They are… are you stupid?” Kael nods wisely.
Ace turns to you “I HAVE BEEN A FATHER FOR TEN SECONDS AND I'M ALREADY BEING BULLIED.”
“He's definitely yours.” Dadan says from the doorway.
“HEY!”
Kael giggles, then he says “Mom talked to me about you, you’re the very cool fire boy.”
Then, without warning, he steps forward and hugs Ace… small arms around his neck.
Ace completely freezes and his eyes widen.
His arms slowly wrap around him carefully, like he is holding treasure.
“Hi, dad.”
Ace makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob “Hi, kid.”
Ace reaches out for you with one hand and gently pushes you to kneel beside them.
You do so and then you wrap your arms around both of them.
Ace immediately pulls you closer and the three of you stay there, holding each other.
A family… maybe messy and maybe a bit late, but a family anyway.
Ace looks at you, you look at him, and this time, when he leans closer, you meet him halfway.
The kiss is soft, gentle and warm.
When you pull away, Ace rests his forehead against yours, finally smiling.
Then Kael tugs on his sleeve “Dad?”
“...Yeah?”
“Can I sit on your shoulders?”
Ace grins immediately.
The old familiar grin, the dangerous one that means bad decisions are coming “Kid, I can do way cooler than shoulders.”
Your eyes widen “Ace!”
Fire suddenly bursts around him as he shoots into the air with Kael in his arms.
Kael screams in delight “I'M FLYING!”
Ace laughs “THAT'S MY BOY!”
“ACE!”
“HE'S FINE!”
“PUT MY CHILD DOWN!”
“OUR CHILD!”
“PUT OUR CHILD DOWN!”
Dadan lights a cigarette “Yep.”
Everyone laughs.
And Ace… he laughs the loudest out of everyone.
He’s alive, he’s home… exactly where he belongs.
He looks down at you with the softest expression you ever saw on him, making you smile softly back at him.
SYNOPSIS: Sukuna sends letters to his wife after he angers her.
Trueform!Sukuna x Wife!reader
Word count: 5k
AN: Inspired by tiktoks I saw of letters he’d write you. I love love love simpkuna. This also took wayyy longer than I thought it would. - J
TAGS: Heian Era Sukuna x Reader, Fluff?, Big simpy Sukuna
• • •
The frames of the heavy, sliding fusuma doors rattled as they slammed open with force. Despite the CRACK! of the wood, the low but brazen giggles that echoed slightly across Sukuna’s central hall continued uninterrupted. Only the soft biwa music faltering as servants snapped their heads towards the entrance. The two that trailed behind you quickly sliding it shut before scrambling to follow you with lowered heads. The attendants that lined the sides of the large lantern-lit room quickly plastered foreheads lower from their already bowed position as you entered, sensing the waves of anger rolling off your form.
The air was thick with a mix of heavy, floral perfumes, spilled sake, and incense. The combination of strong scents only irritating you further as you marched across the hall. Your bare feet slapped across the polished wooden planks towards the dais, the bottom of your kimono whipping against your ankles from strong strides.
Surrounded by screens decorated with depictions of himself was your husband, still oblivious to, or blatantly dismissive of your presence. He sat lounged on tatami mats and soft cushions. Three women draped over him in revealing silks with breasts spilling out almost in competition—young tributes from nearby provinces, offered in an attempt to gain the King of Curses’ favor.
One of the women worked his muscular form from the back, rubbing oils onto his tattooed skin, arms around him like the front of a cape. Another kneeled by him to press a saucer full of sake to his lips. When some dripped down his chin, she would wipe it away with a small cloth, giggling into his ear as she moved unnecessarily close.
The last woman pressed her whole body against him, strewn on his lap with one of his four arms lazily around her waist. She held a half eaten persimmon in her hands, juice sticky as it dripped down her arms and onto Sukuna’s chest, closer to the mouth of his belly. Her head lay on his shoulder, smiling up at him with eyes full of adoration.
“Sukuna.” You called out firmly when you reached him. He finally turned his head to you before the women gently pouted and sulked, his arrogant smile widening as they fought for his attention before turning back towards them.
You tightened your fists at the lack of acknowledgment in an attempt to control your already flaring temper.
“I believe,” you started, your voice calm but dripping with annoyance, “I explicitly told you I do not enjoy finding my home turned into a playground for every ambitious court stray looking to elevate her status. My patience runs thin.”
The women snapped their heads at you, offended by the insult aimed towards them. You ignored their glares, waiting for your husband’s reply. Sukuna barely shifted, only one pair of his ruby eyes drifting towards you, smirk still pulled at his lips.
“They were offered. And it is a ruler’s right to collect his due. Why let a feast go to waste because my wife has a delicate temperament?” The women giggled and nestled themselves closer to him. He continued, voice dismissive, “Do not try to dictate what enters my halls.”
You stepped closer to him, servants backing themselves towards the walls like mice. “I am your wife. If you wanted to enjoy a harem of pathetic whores, akin to the dreams of a common young boy, you should have killed me with the rest of my clan instead of dragging me here.”
Sukuna’s smirk vanished. The music stopped abruptly as the temperature in the room dropped, cursed energy now flooding the space and heavy enough to choke on. Sukuna slowly sat up, all eyes on you now and narrowed in a glare. The women frowned as his movements displaced them from around him.
“Careful.” Sukuna’s voice dropped, losing it’s earlier arrogant tone. “It seems you forget who you are speaking to. You are my wife because I allow it. If I desire to fill this estate with a hundred women, I will do so, and you will sit quietly and watch.”
The women around him didn't flinch. In fact, one of them leaned closer to his ear, whispering something that made a dark, arrogant chuckle rumble in his chest, smirk reappearing as he moved to lean back down, four arms opening to welcome the women around him to resume draping his chest. They felt untouchable under his shadow. You were the only living creature who looked at the King of Curses and saw only an infuriating, stubborn man.
“Next time you dare to insult me, I’ll have your tongue ripped from your mouth.” He threatens with a chuckle, turning his head to take a bite of the fruit held up to his face.
“Do it, then.” You challenged coldly. He froze. In shock? In fury? But you continued, “But since I am clearly entirely unneeded here among your collection, I will be residing in the secluded Northern Estate from now on."
Without waiting for his response, you turned on your heel. Your robes swept across the floor as you walked away, your spine perfectly straight, chin high, refusing to look back. A beat of utter, suffocating silence fell over the hall when the doors shut behind you. Even the cicadas that chirped outside in the morning warmth seemed to quiet. The servants stopped breathing entirely waiting for the pin to drop.
“INSOLENT WENCH!”
He surged upright in one fluid motion, the girl on his lap tumbling to the cushions with a yelp. All four arms flexed. The tattoos across his chest and shoulders seemed to writhe in the low light. The mouth on his belly bared its teeth in a snarl that matched the one on his face.
“Of all the wretched women in this miserable era!” The entire estate shook from the boom of Sukuna’s voice, “I shackle myself to a disrespectful viper, a sharp-tongued plague I call my wife!”
His chest heaved. Painted screens and tapestries now lay flat next to trembling servants as they pressed hard against wood to avoid Sukuna’s wild slashes. Teeth chattering as Sukuna paced like a caged tiger.
One of his offerings, the one who had assumed herself to be his favorite, crawled toward him and placed her hand on one of his lower forearms. “My Lord…” she purred. Her voice delicate and purposefully sensual. “Do not let your wife’s temper sour our time. You have us now to—“
“Get off me!”
Sukuna shoved her away with the arm above the one she held. The force sent the woman tumbling off the elevated platform and onto the wooden floor. “Let her freeze in that rotting estate. See if I care! She'll come crawling back on her knees!", Sukuna let out a final grumble before he stormed away, his women scrambling to follow after.
You demanded to leave immediately, servants rushing to prepare your journey, a day’s worth at least. Before noon, your palanquin waited in the courtyard. Strong bearers stood ready beside polished deep crimson and sheer black curtains. Along with them stood a small group of guards and servants.
Behind them, wooden chests and lacquered boxes were loaded into carts: your belongings. Silks, jewelry, scrolls, perfumes and oils, and the heavier chests containing more… personal items you refused to leave behind for mere indulgences to use.
He hadn’t come to the courtyard to see you off, the engawa standing empty—not that you had noticed. Your nose pointed high towards your entourage as you waited to leave.
With a nod from the head attendant, you stepped into the palanquin. The interior was plush; thick tatami layered over cushions, a small low table for tea or writing during the journey, and soft pillows arranged exactly as you preferred. The faint scent of your preferred incense lingered inside.
You settled in gracefully, arranging your robes around you as the curtains were drawn closed. The world outside muffled slightly. You heard the bearers lift the poles, the creak of wood, the shuffle of the procession forming up.
“Move,” you commanded quietly. The palanquin swayed as they began the long journey away and the main estate faded behind you.
—
For the first three days, Sukuna made a show of not caring. In fact, he acted as though your departure was a great victory for him. He declared the main estate liberated from your incessant nagging before he fully indulged in the hedonistic excess he claimed to deserve.
He spent days crueler towards the village heads and provincial governors, demanding more offerings—food, treasure, or virgins—to keep him from razing their lands. The halls echoed with the sound of breaking pottery, raucous laughter, and the sighs of his new women. He drank his fill, took them to his bed with violent enthusiasm, and allowed them to drape themselves over him around every area in the estate, exactly as you had hated.
He was the King of Curses. He needed no one, least of all a stubborn, overly proud wife who dared to turn her back on him. He had enjoyed the years he ruled before you, he will enjoy more years again in your absence.
But by the fifth day, the cracks in his indulgent paradise began to show.
The novelty of the new flesh wore thin, replaced by a hollow boredom. The concubines were eager to please, agreeing with every word he said and offering no challenge, no fire, no bite. They were utterly exhausting in their subservience. Pliant and easy.
Then, the tangible effects of your absence began to appear.
It started with small, grating inconveniences that chipped away at his already short temper
Sukuna took a sip of his morning brew and immediately spat it across the tatami mats, roaring at the trembling servant. "What is this swill!?" The servant bowed so low their forehead scraped the floor. "M-My Lord, that is the standard brew.” Sukuna threw the cup to the floor, the pieces shattering around his feet. The servant trembled. “The spiced blend you prefer... her Ladyship personally foraged and blended those herbs. She took her supply with her."
When he sought his quarters to escape the incessant giggling of his new toys, he found the furs scratchy and the pillows completely wrong. When he demanded his favorite woven silk blanket, Uraume had to quietly inform him, "That blanket was woven by her Ladyship's grandmother, Lord Sukuna. She packed it into her carriage when she departed."
Every tiny inconvenience only reminded him of the spaces you left empty. Even the incense burning in the halls was cloying and cheap, lacking scent of sandalwood and plum blossom you always ensured was lit.
Every time he barked an order or complained about a missing comfort, the answer was always the same: She took it with her. That was her duty. That was her recipe.
It became agonizingly clear that the luxury and comfort he had taken for granted were not the result of his fearsome reputation, but the meticulous, unseen labor of his stubborn wife. However, all these petty annoyances were nothing more than to highlight how much he simply missed your presence.
By the end of the week, Sukuna was a walking thundercloud.
The estate staff moved in absolute terror, tiptoeing around his explosive temper. His harem, sensing his shifting mood, tried to soothe him with physical affection, but he violently banished them from his quarters. Their cheap perfumes made him nauseous; their simpering voices made his head pound. He wanted the plum incense. He wanted his spiced tea.
He wanted his wife.
Sitting alone in his dimly lit chambers, listening to the agonizingly quiet estate, his four eyes glowed with a mixture of immense irritation and defeated pride. He snatched a piece of fine parchment, aggressively grinding an ink stick against the stone before grabbing a brush.
He refused to apologize. He was a king. But he would absolutely not endure another day of this miserable, unbearable inconvenience.
He pressed the brush to the paper, his handwriting sharp, jagged, and aggressive.
To the Resident of the Northern Estate,
The servants here have grown lazy and incompetent in your absence. The food is inedible, the estate is in disarray, and I am entirely out of patience.
Your pathetic temper tantrum has gone on long enough. You have made your point, and I am bored of this game.
Pack your belongings. You are to return to the main estate immediately. I expect your arrival by tomorrow evening. Do not make me come retrieve you myself.
— Sukuna
He shoved the freshly sealed scroll into the chest of a terrified messenger curse, his voice a lethal, vibrating threat. "Deliver this to the Northern Estate. Return with her. And if she refuses to come back, tell her I will burn that rotting manor to the ground with her inside it." The curse whimpered once and bolted out into the sky, blurring into the distance with desperate speed.
—
The Northern Estate was a sanctuary you had made your own. You spent days enjoying little things. You’d read scrolls of poetry, maybe even writing your own about infuriating kings. You practiced the biwa or koto to fill your halls with music. Your favorite was bathing in the hot springs, warmth unraveling your tense muscles while the cold air bit at your cheeks. It was peaceful and quiet—at least until Sukuna’s messenger curse arrived, trembling violently as it presented the sealed scroll.
Your face dropped as you saw the intruder. Rolling your eyes before grabbing the slip. You unrolled the parchment, your eyes scanning the jagged, aggressive strokes of ink. A cold, furious laugh escaped your lips as you read his words. Pathetic temper tantrum? Incompetent servants? The absolute, unmitigated gall of the man to demand your return without a single shred of remorse.
You crumpled the fine parchment in your fist and tossed it directly into the crackling hearth.
"Tell your master," you said, your voice dripping with absolute venom, "that until he learns how to swallow his massive, bloated pride and apologize, I do not care if he’s inconvenienced."
The messenger curse paled, dropping to their knees in sheer panic.
"M-My Lady, please!" It begged, pressing its forehead to the floorboards. Its voice high pitched, distorted, and rough, only making it irritating to listen to. "I cannot tell him that! He will slaughter me before the words fully leave my mouth!"
"Then say nothing!" you snapped, eyes glaring at the creature before turning your back on them, your patience entirely exhausted. "Return to him empty-handed. Tell him nothing. Now get out of my sight!"
—
By dawn back at the main estate, Sukuna was pacing the length of his chambers. He had already mentally prepared himself for your arrival later that day, smugly anticipating the moment you walked through the doors. He had even—though he would slit the throat of anyone who mentioned it—ordered the kitchens to prepare your favorite meal for dinner.
But the doors slid open, interrupting his thoughts, the messenger curse was alone, and far too early.
Sukuna stopped pacing. The oppressive weight of his cursed energy instantly slammed down onto the room.
"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice a lethal, vibrating growl. "Why are you here?"
"S-She... she..." The messenger curse shook so violently it could barely speak. "She sent no reply, my Lord! Nothing! Not a single word!"
Silence stretched for one horrifying, drawn-out second.
And then, the King of Curses snapped.
“NOTHING!?"
With a roar that shook the foundations of the estate once again, Sukuna unleashed another wave of raw, violent cursed energy. The sliding shoji doors splintered into matchsticks. The low wooden table in the center of the room was cleaved cleanly in two, sending tea cups shattering against the walls. The renovations to the just recently ruined central hall nearby crumbling back down to piles of wood and paper.
"The absolute insolence!" he bellowed, his four eyes wide with manic fury. "She dares to ignore a direct order from her King?! I will drag her back here by her hair!"
Hearing the commotion, two new women hurried into the room, their faces pale with fright. One of them, thinking she could play the soothing savior, stepped forward and reached out.
"My Lord, please, do not stress yourself over one disobedient woman," she cooed, her voice trembling. "We are still here. You can have many wives. We would never ignore—"
Sukuna’s head snapped toward her, his gaze so utterly devoid of mercy that the woman froze in her tracks, the blood draining from her face.
"Get out."
"M-My Lord?"
"GET OUT!" he roared, his voice echoing like thunder. "All of you! Pack your pathetic belongings and leave this place immediately! If I see a single one of your faces within these walls by nightfall, I will paint the courtyard with your blood! Leave!"
The women shrieked, gathering their skirts and fleeing down the corridors in absolute terror, sobbing as they ran.
Sukuna stood alone in the wreckage of his chambers, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack his own teeth. The estate was finally entirely empty, but it brought him no peace. It only highlighted the glaring, miserable fact that the only woman he actually wanted was the only one refusing to be there.
Gritting his teeth, he stormed over to the remains of a writing desk. He snatched a fresh scroll and brush. He was Sukuna. He did not apologize. He did not beg.
But he was going to get his wife back.
His brush tore across the paper, the second letter a masterpiece of aggressive bargaining disguised as royal magnanimity, grumbling as he wrote:
To the Pestilent Woman in the Northern Estate
Your silence is an insult I would punish with death in anyone else. Count yourself fortunate that I am in a merciful mood.
I have grown completely bored of the vermin infesting the main estate. They were loud, useless, and reeked of cheap perfume. I have expelled all of them. The estate is empty.
I am willing to overlook your previous disrespect, as I recognize the main estate requires a firmer hand than the current staff can provide. Your presence is required to restore order.
You have won this trivial battle of wills. Do not push your luck further. I expect you by tomorrow morning.
— Sukuna
He sealed it with a vicious slam of his fist, glaring at the trembling servant who had peeked out from behind a surviving pillar. Calling it over to all but spear the letter through its chest.
"Take this to her," he snarled. "And if you come back empty-handed again, I will wear your skin as a cloak."
—
The messenger servant arrived at the Northern Estate looking as though it were walking to the gallows. It knelt before you, hands shaking so violently that the second seal nearly cracked before you even took the scroll.
You read the jagged characters, your eyes narrowing at the words. The curse already slumped after seeing how your eyes burrowed.
"Unbelievable," you muttered, throwing the scroll onto the floor. It was a thinly veiled peace offering, certainly, but it was buried beneath layers of his insufferable ego. He had kicked the women out—good—but he still couldn't bring himself to actually say the words I was wrong.
"M-My Lady..." the servant whimpered, tears spilling down its deformed cheeks. "Please. I beg of you. If I return to him empty-handed again, he will surely flay me alive. Please come back!"
You felt what could have been a pang of pity for the terrified thing, but your resolve was absolute steel. If you caved now, Sukuna would never learn.
"I am not a dog to be called to heel just because his other toys have bored him," you said, your voice ringing with finality. "Tell him that expelling his concubines is a start, but if he thinks that this pitiful excuse for a letter is enough to summon me back, he is losing his already simple mind, if he has not already lost it. Leave."
The servant wailed, but the icy glare you shot silenced it quickly and sent it scurrying back outside, thoroughly convinced he was about to die.
—
When the servant returned to the main estate alone, it immediately threw itself onto the floor before the platform Sukuna waited at despite the late hour. It squeezed its eyes shut and awaiting the inevitable, agonizing sensation of being sliced into pieces.
"Speak," Sukuna demanded. His voice was dangerously quiet.
"S-She... Her Ladyship refuses, my Lord," the servant sobbed out. "S-She said expelling the women was a start, but the letter was not enough. Spare me, please!"
The servant braced. It waited for the roar of rage that became a regular where the subject of his wife was involved, or the crushing pressure of cursed energy that would slice through him, the swift strike of death.
But it never came.
Instead, a heavy, exhausted sigh echoed through the massive chamber.
"Leave," Sukuna muttered.
The servant blinked, eyes opening wide but fixated on the floor just inches from its face, convinced his ears were playing tricks on him.
"M-My Lord?"
"I said leave, before I change my mind," Sukuna growled, though the fire in his eyes was entirely gone, replaced by a dark, brooding shadow.
The servant scrambled out of the room, completely bewildered. The entire estate staff whispered about it by morning—the King of Curses had been defied twice, and not a single drop of blood had been spilled. It was entirely unprecedented.
But behind closed doors, Sukuna was undergoing a torturous unraveling of his own pride.
Over the next week, the messenger curse made frequent trips to the Northern Estate. And with every scroll delivered, the jagged, aggressive ink strokes of the King of Curses grew softer, the demands slowly transforming into requests, and the threats and insults vanishing entirely.
To my Wife,
I have procured the cedar incense you prefer. I had to threaten a merchant in the southern provinces to part with his entire stock, but it now burns in the halls.
The kitchens have been restructured. I removed the head chef for burning the fish, and Uraume has taken over your dietary preferences.
The estate is exactly as you left it. There are no other women. There never will be again. I find them entirely repulsive.
Return and claim your rightful place by my side.
— Sukuna
• • •
[Name],
The estate is maddeningly quiet.
I have not slept properly in days. The silks are cold, and the furs do not smell like you. I find myself reaching for you in the night, only to grasp empty air. It is a pathetic weakness that I would allow no one else to inflict upon me.
Your grandmother's woven blanket is missing from my bed. Bring it back.
Uraume's spiced tea tastes like ash. They try, but they do not know the exact ratio of the herbs you use.
I miss the sound of your voice. Even when you are insulting me.
Come home.
— Sukuna
Letters remained ignored. However, though you would not admit it, the letters had softened some of your anger.
The final letter arrived unsealed, the parchment folded gently rather than rolled tight, and left by your chambers. Still, you were ready to throw yet another piece of parchment into the fire. Shoulders square and nose pointed as you opened it. But the words faulted your stern posture a crack.
The handwriting was smooth, lacking the harsh, pressed strokes of his usual temper. It was the handwriting of a man who had finally exhausted his own ego.
My Love,
You were right.
I am a gluttonous, arrogant fool. I thought my title meant I could take whatever I pleased without consequence, but I failed to realize that the treasure I truly cared to keep was the one I was driving away.
The expanse of this estate feels like a cage if I must reside in it alone. My pride is entirely worthless compared to your absence.
I am sorry. For the women, for my words, and for disrespecting you.
If you require more time, I will give it to you. But if you can find it in your heart to forgive your senseless husband... please. Tell me I am permitted to come get you.
Yours,
Sukuna
You stared at the letter, the strokes of ink blurring slightly as your vision swam.
My Love.
He hadn't called you that in months. Not since before the women had started arriving as offerings, not since his ego had swelled to overshadow his devotion. Reading the raw, unfiltered surrender in his words, the last remnants of your anger quietly shattered, replaced by a profound, aching twist in your chest.
He was infuriating. He was arrogant, deeply flawed, and possessed a temper that could level mountains. But he was also your husband, and beneath the terrifying mantle of the King of Curses, he was a man entirely undone by your absence.
You carefully folded the parchment, pressing it flat, and tucked it into the sleeve of your kimono. Moving with sudden, decisive urgency, you called upon servants to pack your belongings. You watched as they pulled your travel chest from the corner of the room.
It was time to go home.
You wrapped a thick, fur-lined shawl around your shoulders, preparing to face the biting winter chill. The Northern Estate was situated high in the mountains, and a heavy snowfall had blanketed the grounds since early morning. You walked down the quiet, shadowed corridors, intending to instruct the estate staff to ready what was needed for the long journey down the mountain.
You slid the heavy front doors open, the freezing wind instantly biting at your cheeks.
"Prepare the—"
The words died in your throat.
The attendants were gone. There were no terrified servants, no messenger curses, and no guards.
There was only him.
Ryomen Sukuna stood in the center of the snow-covered courtyard, a massive, solitary figure amidst the gently falling white flakes. He wore a simple, dark yukata, entirely inappropriate for the freezing weather, exposing the familiar, dark markings that mapped his broad chest. A dusting of pristine white snow rested in his spiky pink hair and clung to his broad shoulders, indicating he had been standing out there in the freezing cold for quite some time.
He didn't look like a fearsome King, nor an arrogant god. As his four crimson eyes locked onto yours, he just looked like a man who had finally found water after wandering through a desert.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the low howling of the mountain wind.
"Your letter," you finally said, your voice soft, cutting through the frosty air. Part of you still too stubborn to forgive him, "It explicitly stated you would not send for another messenger. And that you would wait for my permission."
"I didn't send a messenger," Sukuna rumbled, his deep bass carrying effortlessly over the wind. He took a slow step forward, the snow crunching heavily beneath his boots. "And I tried to wait. I wrote that letter at midnight. By dawn, the walls of the estate were driving me insane."
He crossed the courtyard, his massive strides eating up the distance between you until he was standing at the base of the wooden steps. You kept your lip tight, but up close, you could see the dark circles under his eyes—proof of his sleepless nights—and the tension bracketed around his mouth.
"I am not a patient creature," he murmured, looking up at you. "You know this."
"I know."
Sukuna slowly ascended the steps, his imposing frame blocking out the biting wind. He stopped just inches from you, hesitating in a way you had never seen him do before. He raised one massive, scarred hand, his fingers hovering just a breath away from your cheek, as if waiting for you to flinch or pull away.
When you didn't, he exhaled a shaky, steaming breath, gently cupping your face. His skin was impossibly warm against the winter chill.
"I am sorry," he said, the words heavy and absolute. There was no hesitation, no pride to mask it. "I was a fool. The estate is a tomb without you."
You looked up into his crimson eyes, seeing the raw, unmasked devotion burning there. The anger that had kept you warm in the mountains finally melted away completely.
You stepped forward, closing the final inch between you, and wrapped your arms around his waist. You pressed your face against his chest, right over his beating heart, inhaling the familiar, intoxicating scent of ash, cursed energy, and the faint, lingering trace of incense.
A shudder ran through Sukuna’s massive frame. With a desperate, crushing grip, his arms wrapped around you. He pressed face onto the top of your head, inhaling deeply into your hair, his four arms holding you so tightly it was as if he feared the wind might steal you away again.
"I have you," he breathed again, his voice thick with relief. "I have you."
"You do," you murmured, your hands resting flat against his back. "But if you ever try to replace my tea with that cheap swill again, or bring another woman within a mile of our home, I will move to the Southern Estate next time. And it’s much further away."
A low, vibrating chuckle rumbled deep in his chest—the first genuine sound of amusement he had made in weeks. He pulled back just enough to press a deep, lingering kiss to your forehead.
"Never again," he swore, his eyes burning with absolute certainty. "Let's go inside."
Without waiting for another word, he bent down, effortlessly sweeping you up into his massive arms. Giggles fell from you as he threw you over his shoulder, your hands pressing against his back to steady yourself, “I thought you were bringing me home.”
Sukuna’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smirk. The exhausted, humbled shadow in his four crimson eyes was suddenly replaced by a very familiar, dangerously mischievous heat.
"The journey down the mountain is long," he purred, his voice dropping into a dark, vibrating register that sent a shiver straight down your spine. "And as I mentioned, I have been freezing in an empty bed for weeks. The main estate can wait. And it is being repaired."
He began walking down the hallway toward your bedchambers, his grip on you tightening possessively. Setting you down as you reach your doors, but keeping one strong arm around you.
"I think it is only fair we stay here a little longer," he murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. "So you can thoroughly... thaw me out before we travel."
A sudden, breathless giggle escaped your lips despite yourself. The sheer audacity of the man was returning in full force, but this time, all of that intense, overwhelming focus was directed entirely at you.
"You're impossible," you laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. He walked you backwards, one arm sliding the doors closed.
"I am starved," he corrected. "And I fully intend to spend the next few days showing you how much I’ve missed my wife."
the heart pirates makes law answer to a love test to see if he's in love with you and how much
a/n: at first I did it with a fem!reader bc I mistook the request, so if you read she/her somewhere it’s bc of this and I skipped it by mistake, so I’ll be glad if you can leave a comment and make me correct it asap! oh and for the test I used one online lmao so the questions are from there eheh
law m.list || anime m.list || ao3 || ko-fi || requests list
The Polar Tang is quiet for about five seconds.
Then Penguin slams a newspaper onto the table “CAPTAIN!”
Law does not look up from the medical reports in front of him “No.”
“I didn’t even ask anything.”
“You yelled. Whatever follows is a problem.”
Shachi appears from nowhere and drops into the seat beside Penguin.
“It’s not a problem, it’s actually a solution!”
“It’s absolutely a problem.” Law says.
Bepo walks in carrying tea “What happened?”
Penguin points dramatically at the newspaper “We found science.”
Law already hates where this is going “Leave.”
“No.”
“That’s not a request.”
Penguin ignores him completely “Look at this.”
He shoves the paper into Law’s face.
Law glances at it, then glances again… then slowly lowers the newspaper… then he says “...Is this a love quiz?”
“It’s in the lifestyle section.” Shachi says seriously “As all important science is.”
Law pinches the bridge of his nose and sarcastically says “I became a pirate for this.”
Bepo leans over to read and his eyes widen “Oh.”
“Oh?” Law repeats.
“Oh.”
“Stop saying oh.”
Penguin suddenly stands on a chair “Today’s experiment is simple.”
“No.”
“We determine whether Captain is in love.”
“No.”
“With a certain person.”
“No.”
“Who definitely is our dear crewmate y/n.”
Law glares.
Shachi gasps dramatically “He didn’t deny that part!”
“I literally denied everything.”
“Not strongly enough.”
Law stands “I’m leaving.”
Penguin points at him “RUNNING FROM THE TRUTH.”
“I’m running from you idiots.”
Before Law can escape, Bepo gently grabs his sleeve “Captain…”
Law looks down.
Bepo gives him the saddest eyes imaginable “...Please?”
Law stares.
Bepo stares back.
Penguin and Shachi are holding their breath.
Finally Law sighs… a long, defeated sigh “One question.”
The room explodes.
“YES!”
“HE AGREED!”
“SCIENCE WINS!”
Five minutes later Law finds himself trapped at the table.
Penguin has a pen.
Shachi has the newspaper.
Bepo has become the official emotional support bear.
The rest of the crew around are pretending not to listen. Pretending very badly.
Shachi clears his throat “Question one.”
Law already regrets everything.
Shachi reads dramatically “First of all, do you have a specific person in mind before starting this test?”
Penguin immediately checks a box “Yes.”
Law blinks “You didn’t even let me answer.”
Penguin looks offended “Captain.”
“What?”
“We’re doing this for a reason.”
Shachi nods “It would be weird if you didn’t have y/n in mind.”
“You don’t know if I do.”
The entire room stares at him.
Penguin marks the answer harder “Definitely yes.”
Law considers murder… just a little.
“Question two.”
Shachi sits up straighter “Could you spend six months on an isolated island with no one else but them?”
Law immediately frowns “What kind of question is that?”
“A powerful one.”
“There are options.”
Penguin points at the paper “Option one: Yes, and I would enjoy it. Option two: It would be difficult, but I could do it. Option three: I don’t think I could survive that with anyone.”
Law doesn’t answer immediately, which is already suspicious.
Shachi notices first “Oh?”
Law ignores him.
He taps his fingers against the table.
An isolated island.
Six months.
No crew.
No pirates.
No newspaper.
Just…
His thoughts stop before THEM reach your name, but unfortunately his silence lasts too long.
Penguin checks the first option “Yes, and I would enjoy it.”
Law immediately points at the paper “I didn’t say I’d enjoy it.”
“Oh?”
“I just said yes.”
Shachi leans forward “You’d spend six months alone with them.”
“Yes.”
“In a tiny hut on an isolated island.”
“Yes.”
“No books.”
“Yes.”
“No one else.”
“Yes.”
Shachi raises an eyebrow “You’d hate it.”
Law opens his mouth, then pauses for a second too long “...No.”
The word is almost a whisper.
The room freezes.
Bepo’s jaw drops.
Penguin drops the pen.
Someone at the other side of the room chokes on water.
Law realizes what he said.
Shachi slowly places both hands on the table “Captain.”
“No.”
“You would enjoy it.”
“No.”
“You literally just—”
“No.”
Penguin checks the answer anyway, very aggressively.
“This quiz is stupid.”
“Question three!”
Law groans.
Shachi reads “Imagine your partner became wildly successful and always had a lot of attention on them, comparatively making you constantly in their shadow.”
Law already hates the wording.
“How would you feel?”
Penguin reads the options “Option A: Incredibly proud. Option B: Proud, for sure, but maybe a little inadequate with myself, too. Option C: I think, in all honesty, I wouldn’t like that sense of inequality.”
Law stands “I’m leaving.”
“Nope.”
“I’m serious.”
“So are we.”
“This is ridiculous.”
Bepo looks up from the paper “Captain?”
“What?”
“If, for example, y/n would defeat some big pirate…”
Law freezes for a moment, but everyone sees it.
Bepo smiles “Captain would be proud.”
The room becomes silent.
Law looks at the door, then at the table, then at Bepo… then away.
But he doesn’t leave.
Penguin slowly reaches for the answer sheet “Silence means yes.”
Law doesn’t argue, because somehow arguing right now feels worse.
Shachi points dramatically “Option one!”
The box gets checked.
Law immediately grabs the newspaper “How many questions are left?”
Penguin grins “A lot.”
Law’s eye twitches “A lot?”
“A terrifying amount.”
“I hate this test.”
Shachi leans back in his chair “Oh, Captain.”
“What?”
“We’re only getting started.”
From somewtheme behind them, a familiar voice speaks “Getting started with what?”
The entire crew freezes.
Law nearly drops the newspaper.
Because standing in the doorway is you, looking confused and holding a stack of supplies.
Penguin slowly covers the answer sheet with both hands.
Shachi smiles far too brightly “Nothing.”
You narrow your eyes “Why does it feel like you’re lying?”
Law immediately stands “Good question.”
You look at him, he stops and you smile at him “I’m going back into my shopping, do you need something? Any clothes? Books?”
Shachi speaks first “Why are you only asking him?? We might need something too.”
You look at him with disgust “You can go get them yourself if you need something.”
He gasps “Captain could go himself as well, you’re being unfair!”
You fight back “Or maybe he has Captain things to do? You are useless so what do you even have to do—”
You two fight for a while then Law tells you “I don’t need anything, don’t worry.”
You nod and leave after punching Shachi, too soft to hurt but Shachi is dramatic, so that was enough.
The door closes behind you.
Silence.
Then someone says… or better yells “CAPTAIN IS SO IN LOVE.”
Law closes his eyes “I hate all of you.”
Penguin looks down at the newspaper “No time for hate.”
“There is always time to hate you.”
“Question four!”
Shachi clears his throat dramatically “Do you think this person is special?”
He reads the answers.
“Option A: Yes, I feel lucky to know them. Option B: Yeah, to me. Option C: Maybe not ‘special’, but they’re definitely a good person.”
Now, he fastly add “To be honest I don’t understand, they’re annoying and stupid. They’re not special at all…”
Law looks at Shachi with disgust “You’re the annoying and stupid one.”
Shachi gasps and adds “Defensive, aren’t we??”
Law looks at the wall, the wall is suddenly fascinating.
“Captain?” Penguin asks.
Law sighs… a long sigh.
Finally he speaks “they're…”
The room waits.
“...Y/N.”
Silence.
The crew stare.
Law frowns “What?”
Nobody answers.
Penguin slowly turns toward Shachi, who slowly turns toward Penguin. Then both look back at Law.
Penguin nods “Yeah.”
Shachi nods too “Definitely.”
Law narrows his eyes “Definitely what?”
Penguin checks a box “‘Yeah, to me.’”
“What?”
“That’s what that means.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It absolutely is.”
“You asked if they're special.”
“Exactly.”
“And?”
“And you answered by saying that they're Y/N… which means they're special to you.”
Shachi says “Yeah, or you would have said they're annoying, like you do with us.”
Law's eye twitches.
Shachi points at him “Special.”
Law decides silence is safer.
Unfortunately, silence is apparently an answer today.
“Next question!”
Law regrets staying.
Penguin reads “How does the idea of… sleeping with them, and only them, for the rest of your life make you feel?”
The room becomes very quiet.
Very, very quiet.
Even Shachi stops smiling.
Bepo coughs.
Clione, whose silence in the room, nearly falls off a chair.
Law immediately says “I ain’t answering this.”
His answer comes so fast everyone starts laughing.
“Captain’s ears are red.”
“They are not.”
“They are.”
“They absolutely are.”
Law pulls his hat lower, but unfortunately it does nothing for his ears.
Shachi looks at the options and reads them “A: I should be so lucky!! B: I’d rather only sleep with them than not sleep with them at all. B: I’d rather only sleep with one person than potentially not sleep with anyone at all. C: I don’t think I could do that, to be honest.”
Nobody knows what to do or say, so the room falls into deep thoughts.
“But,” Shachi repeats, “he’s obviously completely gone for Y/N.”
“I’m not.”
Nobody listens.
“So…”
The whole crew think. Penguin thinks. Bepo thinks. Jean Bart somehow thinks.
Then “Oh.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“That makes sense.”
Everybody nods together.
Penguin checks the first answer “I should be so lucky!!”
Law stares at the paper, then at them.
He sighs… a very tired sigh.
But he doesn’t leave.
“Next question!”
“Please stop.”
“Can you name their favourite food, book, and music?”
The room immediately turns toward Law.
Law blinks “What?”
Shachi lowers the newspaper “Captain.”
“What?”
“You know all of them, don’t you?”
Law answers without thinking “their favourite food changes every few months and depends on their mood, but currently it’s—”
The room erupts “HE STARTED ANSWERING.”
“He actually knows!”
“Current favourite food?!”
Law immediately stops talking and looks at the wall, but it’s way too late.
Penguin is already checking the box “I don’t need to hear more.”
Law buries his face in one hand.
The quiz continues.
Shachi reads the next one “Do you think that this relationship is special and unreplicable? Yes, definitely. Or… I think it's a good relationship, but ultimately there are many people with whom I could have a good relationship.”
Shachi doesn't even finish reading that he checks the first box “There.”
Law looks up “You didn’t even ask.”
“I didn’t need to.”
“You absolutely did.”
Shachi points at him “Same logic as before.”
“That isn’t logic.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is.”
Penguin joins him “You only care about Y/N.”
Law looks offended “You’re all here and alive, aren’t you.”
The room immediately becomes emotional.
“Aww.”
“Captain.”
“He cares.”
Law immediately regrets speaking.
“But.” Sahchi raises a finger “Not like he cares about Y/N.”
The emotional moment dies instantly.
Law wishes for a sea king attack “Last question on this page.”
“Thank God.”
Penguin reads “they got a new job offer that meant they’d have to be in a totally different part of the world for eighteen months.”
Law already hates this.
“What would you do?”
He reads the answers.
"A: We’d do long distance, or maybe I'd even move with them. We’d make it work. B: I would give long distance a go, maybe reassess in due course. C: I would ask them not to do it. D: I wouldn’t stop them from going, but we’d probably break up."
Law immediately frowns.
"We’re pirates in the same crew, they works with me."
The room freezes.
Penguin's grin slowly grows dangerously.
“We’re pirates in the same crew…” he repeats.
Law is confused, because isn’t that obvious?
So he answers “Yes.”
“Same crew.”
“Yes.”
“Working together.”
“Yes.”
“Every day.”
“Yes.”
“WITH you.”
Law closes his eyes and the room explodes.
“HE SAID WITH ME.”
“NOT FOR ME.”
“WITH ME.”
“THAT’S SO CUTE.”
Law seriously considers jumping into the ocean.
Bepo smiles “I think the second answer is better in our case.”
Everyone pauses and then nods.
“Yeah.”
“That's reasonable.”
“Very healthy.”
Penguin checks the box.
Law doesn't even bother arguing anymore. He has lost control of this situation completely.
Shachi looks down at the end of the page, then he slowly smiles “Oh.”
Law immediately doesn't like that smile “What?”
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“There are more questions.”
Law stands “I’m leaving.”
“Captain—”
“I'm leaving.”
“Captain, wait.”
“No.”
“Just two! And then there’s a result section.”
Law stops.
“Don't you want to know your score?”
Law stares “...Maybe.”
The crew immediately scream.
After a few minutes… Law should have left. That is the only thought running through his head. He should have left after the first question.
Or the second.
Or when Shachi and Penguin started answering for him.
Instead he’s still here, sitting at the table. Watching his dignity sink deeper and deeper into the ocean.
Penguin clears his throat “Second-to-last question.”
“Thank God.”
“Do you find yourself daydreaming about them and smiling?”
Penguin reads the answers “Literally all the time! Or… Definitely when we first met; less now but it still happens on occasion, especially when they're away. C: No, I’m too busy. D: That's lame as hell.”
Law immediately answers “No. I’m too busy.”
The answer comes so fast that nobody even finishes reading the options.
The room falls silent, then—“Bullshit.”
Law points at Penguin “Oi.”
“Bullshit.”
“Shachi.”
“Bullshit.”
“Bepo?”
Bepo looks guilty “...Maybe a little? …Sorry.”
Law stares.
Bepo immediately looks away.
Shachi suddenly points “Question. When Y/N goes on supply runs alone, what do you do?”
Law frowns “What?”
“What do you do?”
“Work.”
“Liar.”
“I work.”
“You stand near the window.”
Law opens his mouth and closes it.
“Aha!”
“I stand near the window because it's a window.”
The room explodes with laughter.
Penguin wipes tears from his eyes “Captain.”
“What?”
“Last month Y/N was gone for three hours.”
“So?”
“You checked the time seventeen times.”
Law freezes “...Who counted?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I was curious. Plus, when they were back you totally stopped. And I tried to see if you do the same when it’s someone else going alone. You checked three times for Bepo and ZERO for the rest.”
“That’s disturbing of you.”
“Not as disturbing as staring out the window for three hours.”
Bepo scratches his cheek “And you smile when they bring you books.”
Law immediately looks at him “I do not.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You really do.”
“I don’t.”
“You get a little smile.”
‘I don’t.”
“A tiny one.”
“I don’t.”
“A really tiny one.”
Law looks around and sees that nobody is agreeing with him, not even a single person.
Shachi checks the first answer “Literally all the time.”
Law drops his forehead onto the table.
“Last question!”
“Please let it end.”
Penguin reads “Is they your best friend?”
Law immediately regrets staying again.
“A: yes, absolutely. B: they're one of my best friends. C: no, someone else is my best friend.”
Before Law can speak, Shachi shouts “Obviously not!”
Penguin gasps “What do you mean obviously not?”
“I’m his best friend.”
Bepo calmly says “I’m his best friend.”
“No, me.”
“No, me.”
“No, me.”
The room descends into chaos and everyone starts arguing.
At some point Jean Bart claims he’s Law’s best friend. At another point someone says Law doesn’t have friends and Law says that’s the most accurate thing he’s heard all day.
Nobody listens.
“Captain likes me more.”
“No, me.”
“He trusted me with medical supplies once.”
“He asked me to close the door.”
“He told me good job.”
“He also told you to stop talking.”
“That’s basically affection from him.”
The argument somehow lasts five whole minutes.
Law sits there, dead inside.
Finally Bepo raises both paws “Okay!”
The room quiets.
Bepo looks at the newspaper, then at Law.
Then back at the paper “I think we should just put the second answer.”
Everyone pauses, then nods.
“Fair.”
“Yeah.”
“Reasonable.”
“I can live with that.”
Law isn't even asked.
The box gets checked.
And finally.
Finally.
The questions are over.
The crew stare at the paper.
Shachi rubs his hands together “Oh boy.”
Penguin grabs a pencil “We have to calculate the score.”
Law immediately stands “I’ll stop here.”
Bepo gently pushes him back into his chair “Captain, we’ve come this far.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have.”
“I really haven’t.”
“You have.”
For several minutes the crew add points.
Then argue about points.
Then add more points.
Then argue again.
Law has absolutely no idea what they’re doing, he isn't sure they know either.
Finally.
Penguin slams both hands onto the table “WE HAVE THE RESULTS.”
The entire submarine goes quiet.
Even people who weren't involved are now listening.
Shachi clears his throat.
Bepo looks excited.
Law looks like he's preparing for execution.
Penguin stands, unfolds the newspaper dramatically and then he reads “YES, YOU’RE MADLY IN LOVE!”
The room explodes.
“YOU ARE DEEP IN THE THROES OF LOVE.”
“WHAT YOU HAVE IS VERY SPECIAL AND NEEDS NURTURING.”
“WHICH YOU HAPPILY GIVE IT.”
Silence.
Then—“CAPTAIN’S IN LOVE!”
“CAPTAIN’S IN LOVE!”
“CAPTAIN’S IN LOVE!”
Law’s face goes completely blank.
“Congratulations, Captain.”
“Shut up.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“Shut up.”
“Can I be the best man?”
“Shut up.”
“I called it months ago.”
“Shut up.”
Bepo is smiling so hard his cheeks hurt “You really love Y/N, Captain.”
The room quiets a little, because unlike everyone else, Bepo says it sincerely, without any teasing.
Law opens his mouth, ready to deny it, but this time the words don't come, because suddenly he remembers you asking if he needed anything, you bringing him books without him asking, the way you always save a seat for him, the way you smile when he actually takes a break, the way the submarine feels different whenever you're not there.
“...Captain?” Bepo asks softly.
Law looks away and pulls his hat down a little lower and mutters “...It’s a stupid quiz.”
The crew scream.
Because that is not a denial.
“I KNEW IT.”
“THAT COUNTS.”
“CAPTAIN’S IN LOVE.”
Law gets up and the crew immediately start running, and as chaos fills the Polar Tang, the newspaper remains forgotten on the table.
The result still visible, with a big circle around the final answer.
YES, YOU’RE MADLY IN LOVE.
Law says nothing for about ten seconds, then he snatches the newspaper from Penguin's hands.
The room goes silent.
Penguin blinks “Captain?”
Law flips back to the first page “I’m doing it again.”
Silence.
Then the entire crew bursts out laughing “YOU CAN'T RETAKE LOVE.”
“I CAN RETAKE A STUPID QUIZ.”
Shachi falls to the floor dramatically “He's in denial!”
“I'm not.”
“You literally got the highest score possible!”
“The questions and your answers were biased.”
“They weren't!”
“They absolutely were.”
Law slams the paper on the table “Ask.”
Penguin is crying “Oh my God, he's serious.”
“I'm serious.”
Bepo looks hesitant “Captain…”
“Ask.”
Shachi wipes tears from his eyes “Fine.”
He clears his throat dramatically.
“Question one. Do you have a specific person in mind before starting this test?”
Law immediately says, “No.”
The room gasps, then Penguin points at him “You answered too quickly.”
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
“I didn't.”
Shachi narrows his eyes “Captain.”
“What?”
“Who were you thinking about while waiting for me to read the question?”
Law opens his mouth and closes it.
Penguin aggressively checks the box.
Law glares “This is stupid.”
The second question somehow goes worse “Could you spend six months alone on an isolated island with this person?”
“No.”
Everyone stares.
Law crosses his arms “No.”
Shachi leans forward “You wouldn't miss Y/N?”
“No.”
“You wouldn't want to hear their voice?”
“No.”
“You wouldn't like having them all to yourself?”
Law freezes and here the room goes completely silent.
“...That's not what the question says”
Penguin slowly lowers his head onto the table.
Bepo covers his mouth.
Shachi starts screaming “CHECK THE ANSWER.”
Someone says “CHECK IT TWICE.”
“I HATE ALL OF YOU.”
After a few more questions, the answers barely change.
Actually… they get worse.
Because now Law is answering himself, and unfortunately, he's honest.
Ten minutes later Penguin finishes counting.
Law crosses his arms “Well?”
Penguin is shaking.
Shachi is on the floor again.
Bepo looks apologetic “...Captain.”
“What.”
“You scored…”
He flips the page.
YES, YOU'RE MADLY IN LOVE.
And underneath one of the idiots wrote:
YOU ARE EVEN MORE IN LOVE THAN BEFORE, YOU GOT A 100/100!
Silence.
Law stares, then grabs the newspaper and flips it upside down, as if maybe the result will change.
Law stares at the page a little longer, then quietly mutters, “...This quiz is a scam.”
“THAT'S NOT A DENIAL.”
“SHUT UP.”
By now there are papers everywhere.
Crossed-out answers.
Ink circles.
Notes.
Arguments.
At one point Shachi has written: HE’S IN LOVE
Across an entire page.
Law immediately threw that page away, but unfortunately someone picked it back up.
Penguin dramatically points at the final score.
But before he can even say something, the door opens.
“Oh. You’re all still here?” your voice echoes through the room.
Everybody freezes.
You stand in the doorway carrying several shopping bags.
Your eyes travel across the disaster in the room.
“...Should I ask?”
Nobody answers.
You slowly walk into the room, looking around. More confused with every step.
Law immediately speaks “It’s nothing.”
You look at him, then at the room and then back at him.
“It’s clearly something.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
You look at the others “What’s going on?”
The entire crew suddenly becomes very interested in the ceiling… but also the walls, the floor… literally anything except you.
You narrow your eyes and give them the kind of look that has made grown pirates confess crimes they didn't even commit.
“What. Did. You. Do.”
Shachi breaks first, predictably “IT WAS PENGUIN’S IDEA.”
“TRAITOR!”
And suddenly everyone starts talking.
“There was a quiz.”
“A love quiz.”
“He got full points!”
Law closes his eyes. The headache is becoming physical.
You blink. Then reach for the newspaper.
Nobody stops you.
You pick it up, look at the title, look at the answers, look at the circles and look at the notes.
Your eyes move quickly until you reach the result.
You stare at it for a few seconds.
The room is silent.
Then you look up, confused “...Who is in love with me?”
Silence.
Nobody moves.
Nobody breathes.
Nobody blinks.
Even Law freezes.
You look around, waiting.
Then Shachi suddenly points at you “You’re so full of yourself that you assume it’s about you?”
You slowly turn toward him.
The room collectively prepares for his funeral.
“Idiot.”
Shachi immediately regrets everything.
You point at the newspaper “There’s literally a note near the results.”
Everyone looks down and written in messy handwriting there’s:
HE LOVES Y/N AWWW
Shachi slowly lowers his head “Ah.”
You look back at the crew “So?”
Pause.
“Who is it?”
Nobody answers. Which is an answer by itself, because suddenly, every single person in that room looks at Law.
You follow their gaze and find Law staring at the floor.
The pieces connect.
Your eyes widen a little.
Law notices and his soul immediately leaves his body.
For a moment nobody speaks.
Then, unexpectedly, you relax. The tension leaves your shoulders. The surprise leaves your face and something softer appears instead.
You look at Law for a second, then you smile and tell him “I bought you a necklace.”
The room freezes again.
“What?” Penguin blurts.
You continue like nothing happened “It’s really cool.”
Law blinks.
You point at him “It’s totally your style.”
Nobody understands what's happening, not even Law.
“And don’t worry.” you raise a hand “I didn’t use the crew’s money.”
Shachi immediately nods “Good.”
“I used mine.”
“Even better.”
You smile proudly, then start backing toward the door “I have it somewhere between all my new clothes.”
Law is still staring, completely lost.
“So…” you point toward the hallway “I’ll give it to you later.”
A pause, then you smile at him again.
A little brighter this time “Bye!”
And before anyone can answer, you rush out.
The door slams shut.
Absolute silence.
The crew slowly turn toward Law.
Law is still staring at the door.
Penguin speaks first, very carefully “...Captain.”
No answer.
“Captain…”
Still nothing.
“Captain.”
Law finally blinks then quietly asks “...Do you think they figured it out?”
The room explodes.
“HE ASKED IF they FIGURED IT OUT.”
“they DEFINITELY FIGURED IT OUT.”
“they BOUGHT YOU A GIFT.”
“A PERSONAL GIFT.”
“A NECKLACE.”
“they CHANGED THE SUBJECT TO SAVE YOU.”
“CAPTAIN YOU ARE SO DONE.”
Law drops his face into his hands and sighs, regretting all his life’s choices.
The moment you close your bedroom door behind you, your brain starts screaming.
“Oh my God.”
You pace.
“Oh my God.”
Turn.
“Oh my God.”
Turn again.
You bury your face in your hands “What was that?”
You groan loudly and fall face-first onto your bed.
Then immediately sit back up, because that doesn't solve anything.
“He likes me.”
Pause.
“No.”
Pause.
“Maybe.”
Pause.
“Definitely.”
Pause.
“Maybe?”
You scream into your pillow.
A few minutes later you're still pacing.
The necklace sits on your bed, mocking you.
You stare at it and then at the wall, and back at the necklace again.
Finally, Ikkaku enters the room.
“Ikkaku, you’re here!”
“Oh no.” She says.
You stop pacing “What do you mean, ‘oh no’?”
“You're using your emergency tone.”
“...”
“What’s wrong?”
Five minutes later Ikkaku knows everything, the quiz, the results, the notes, the staring, the necklace and the panic.
There is a concerning silence on the other end “Just confess to him.”
You nearly choke “WHAT?”
“Confess.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“No.”
“Good argument.”
You throw yourself onto your bed “I can’t just confess.”
Ikkaku watches you and sits on the edge of your bed, “Why not?”
“Because.”
“Excellent point.”
You groan “Ikkaku.”
“What?”
“What if I’m wrong?”
A pause to judge your stupidity, then “Y/N.”
“What?”
“The entire crew practically pointed at him. He didn't deny it. And according to you, he looked ready to die when you figured it out.”
“...”
“He likes you.”
You cover your face “I hate this.”
‘No, you don’t.”
You hate how right she is.
Hours pass.
Dinner comes and goes.
You barely remember eating.
The necklace remains on your bed. Waiting.
Eventually, very late at night, when most of the submarine is quiet, you finally pick it up.
Your hands shake a little “Okay.”
You take a deep breath “Okay.”
Another deep breath and you leave your room.
Your heart is trying to kill you. Every step feels heavier than the last.
Eventually you stop in front of a familiar door.
Light still shines from underneath, of course he's awake.
You knock and he answers immediately “Come in.”
You open the door.
Law is sitting at his desk. Several books are spread around him. The usual.
He looks up and freezes.
You almost turn around and run.
“Y/N?”
“Hi.”
Brilliant.
Amazing.
A true master of conversation.
Law sets his pen down.
You walk forward slowly, but your eyes never leave the floor.
You stop in front of the desk and hold out the small box “The necklace.”
Law blinks, and then takes it “...Thank you.”
You nod, still staring at the floor.
The silence stretches.
Law notices and then he sighs softly… a tired sigh.
And says “Don’t worry about all that.”
Your stomach drops.
“It was just a stupid test they forced me to do.”
You don't move.
“They answered all the questions for me.” Law leans back in his chair “I didn’t even have a say in it.”
The words hit harder than they should.
You stare at the floor.
Law opens the box, inside rests the necklace. Simple dark metal, exactly his style.
A small smile appears on his face “Thank you for this.”
Your throat tightens.
You don't care about the necklace anymore.
Instead, very quietly, you ask “So the test…”
Law looks up.
“The results and everything…” Your voice gets smaller “Were just for their fun?”
The room suddenly feels too warm.
“So…” You swallow “It’s not true.”
Law's expression changes immediately, because now he's really looking at you and finally notices the tears gathering in your eyes.
The way you’re refusing to blink and the way your hands are shaking.
His heart sinks “Oh.”
For the first time all evening, Law understands.
He stands up quickly “Y/N—”
You immediately step back and his chest tightens.
You look down, still refusing to blink… trying so hard not to cry.
“I thought…” Your voice cracks.
You hate that it cracks but you continue, “I thought I had a chance.”
Law freezes.
Your fingers curl around your sleeves “But it was all just fun and games for the other idiots?”
The room becomes silent.
Law stares, for once, completely speechless.
Because somehow… you wanted there to be a chance… with him.
His heart pounds.
Then slowly, carefully, he takes a step forward and this time you don't move.
His voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it, almost gentle “I agree with all the answers they gave in my stead.”
You finally blink and a tear escapes.
Law’s chest aches “And…”
He swallows, his eyes never leave yours “I agree with the results, Y/N.”
The world stops.
You stare and he stares back.
“I didn't say anything because… you know me, I was… embarrassed.”
A tiny smile appears.
“And because I was trying to figure out how they managed to know before I did.”
Another tear slips down your cheek.
Law reaches out slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. When you don't, his thumb brushes beneath your eye and wipes it away.
“You had a chance. You have a chance. Actually I’m the one who needs a chance.” his voice is barely above a whisper.
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly “Apparently I was just the last person on the submarine to realize it.”
You stare at him.
Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure he can hear it.
“So…” your voice is small “So you really…”
Law lets out a quiet breath. For someone who always seems to have an answer, he suddenly looks almost nervous “I really do.”
You laugh weakly through your tears, then cover your face “Oh my God.”
Law actually smiles, small and soft, but real.
“Oh my God.” you repeat.
“That’s your response?”
“I’ve been panicking for six hours.”
“Fair.”
You laugh again.
Then neither of you says anything, you just look at each other, and somehow that feels even more dangerous, because now there is nothing left to misunderstand and nothing left to hide behind.
The silence stretches, then Law sighs softly as if he can finally breathe normally.
And before he can think too much about it, he reaches for your wrist and gently pulls you closer.
Your breath catches as his hand slides to your cheek.
For a moment he just looks at you, like he’s still making sure this is real.
Then he murmurs “You know…”
“What?”
“For someone who basically read it, you’re the last one to find out…” a tiny smirk appears "You were pretty slow too.”
Your jaw drops “Excuse me?!”
Law chuckles.
The unfair bastard.
You barely have time to complain before he leans down and kisses you.
The argument dies instantly… your brain dies instantly too.
The kiss is soft and careful, like he's still giving you a chance to pull away… as if that's going to happen.
You grab the front of his shirt and kiss him back immediately. That earns a quiet laugh against your lips.
When you finally separate, both of you are breathing a little harder.
Neither of you lets go.
You rest your forehead against his chest “...The quiz was really accurate. It was basically science.”
Law groans “It wasn’t.”
You start laughing “It literally was.”
“It was a stupid quiz.”
“It was an accurate stupid quiz.”
“It was not.”
“It predicted your feelings.”
Law drops his forehead onto the top of your head “I’m never hearing the end of this.”
“Nope.”
“Penguin is going to be unbearable.”
“Yep.”
“Shachi is going to tell everyone he’s a doctor.”
“Absolutely.”
Law closes his eyes “Maybe I should just throw them both into the ocean.”
You grin, then tilt your head up and steal another quick kiss.
His expression softens instantly and suddenly neither of you cares very much about what the crew will say tomorrow.
Eplogue:
The relationship lasts exactly three days before the crew figures it out.
Which is honestly impressive (negatively) considering everyone was involved in that love test.
You don’t announce it and you don’t hold hands in public. You don’t suddenly become disgustingly affectionate.
At least that's what the two of you think.
Unfortunately, everyone else has functioning eyes and they’re nosy.
It starts at breakfast.
Law sits down first and a few minutes later, you walk into the mess hall.
There are at least twenty empty seats, but without thinking, you sit beside him.
Nobody says anything at first, because it's not the first time you sit next to him, but it's weird enough after that love test day.
So Penguin slowly lowers his coffee “...Interesting.”
The next day is somehow worse… you pass Law in the hallway and either of you stop or speak.
But your fingers brush for half a second.
HALF A SECOND but Bepo sees it… Bepo, who is absolutely terrible at keeping secrets.
His eyes become huge and yells”CAPTAIN HELD Y/N’S HAND!”
Law kinda panics “I DID NOT!”
“You totally did!”
“It was an accident!”
You panic as well “IT LASTED ONE SECOND!”
“SO IT WAS THERE!”
By the third day, the entire submarine knows, including people who weren't even involved in the original quiz.
The problem is that nobody tells you they know, they just become weird… weirder than usual.
Penguin starts making kissing noises at you everytime Law enters a room.
Shachi somehow becomes worse, like one morning he walks into the mess hall with his chest puffed out “Good morning.”
You look at him with disgust and ask “...Why are you smiling like that?”
Shachi places a hand dramatically over his heart “Please.”
You already don’t like where this is going.
“Address me properly.”
“Never, but go on. I want to see where you’re trying to get to.”
“That’s Doctor Shachi to you.”
“No.”
“The Love Doctor.”
You stare.
Law, who is drinking coffee nearby, slowly lowers his cup.
“You can’t just call yourself that.”
“I absolutely can.”
“No.”
“I literally united two souls.”
“You found a newspaper.”
“Details.” Shachi points dramatically at himself “I saw the truth before anyone else.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“You literally thought Law was in love with his sword three months ago.”
The room explodes.
“I WAS GOING THROUGH A THEORY PHASE!”
A week later things somehow get even worse.
You walk into the mess hall and immediately spot Shachi waiting near the entrance and the second he sees you, he points dramatically “How’s married life?”
You freeze.
Law freezes.
The room freezes.
Then you grab the nearest thing you could find… “Oh, you’re dead.”
Shachi immediately runs “CAPTAIN!”
You jump over a chair to follow him “COME BACK HERE!”
“CAPTAIN, YOUR LOVER IS TRYING TO KILL ME!”
“That’s not my problem”
“IT SHOULD BE!”
The chase lasts almost thirty seconds before a hand catches the back of your shirt.
You stop and you turn around. Law is holding your shirt.
“Let me go.”
“No.”
“Law.”
“No.”
“Law.”
“No.”
You point at Shachi, who is currently hiding behind Bepo “His head is empty anyway.”
“I know.”
“Then let me hit it.”
“No.”
“Just two times.”
“No.”
“Once?”
“No.”
You cross your arms and Law sighs.
Then he pulls you a step backward before you can launch yourself at Shachi again.
The crew immediately loses their minds.
“DID YOU SEE THAT?”
“HE JUST DRAGGED THEM AWAY.”
“THAT WAS SO DOMESTIC.”
“I’M GOING TO THROW UP.”
Law's eye twitches.
You point at Penguin “You’re next.”
“THE LOVE DOCTOR WILL PROTECT ME!”
“NONE OF YOU IDIOTS IS A LOVE DOCTOR!”
Shachi gasps dramatically “Excuse me? I’m the greatest romantic genius of our generation.”
“No.”
“I diagnosed Captain.”
You narrow your eyes “You bullied him.”
“I guided him.”
“You harassed him.”
“I enlightened him.”
“You gave him a headache.”
The room is laughing so hard people are crying.
Even Law looks like he’s trying not to smile.
Then Shachi points triumphantly toward a wall.
Everyone turns, and you immediately regret it, because somehow… some way… the original newspaper quiz has been framed.
Under the final result someone (guess who) has written:
LOVE DOCTOR SACHI WAS RIGHT
You immediately grab something else near you again “Oh, now you’re definitely dead.”
“CAPTAIN!”
This time Law catches you before you even take two steps “Stop trying to assault my crew now.”
“I’m trying to improve your crew.”
“By hitting them?”
“Maybe it will make them smart.”
Law pinches the bridge of his nose.
You smile innocently, but nobody is fooled, especially not him.
A few minutes later the chaos settles down.
You end up sitting beside Law while the crew keeps talking, teasing, and generally making everyone's life worse.
Shachi is currently explaining his future plans “The Love Doctor’s Guide to Romance.”
“No one is reading that.”
“I’ll make Captain read it.”
“No.”
“I’ll dedicate the first chapter to you two. My first success.”
Law looks ready to slice him.
You laugh and lean your head against his shoulder without even thinking about it and of course the room immediately explodes again.
“OH MY GOD.”
“THEM'RE SO CUTE.”
“DOMESTIC.”
Law groans and you laugh harder, but despite all the noise, all the teasing, all the comments that you'll never hear the end of… his arm quietly settles around your shoulders.
The crew starts screaming again.
And somewhere in the corner, Shachi wipes away a fake tear “My work here is done.”
wc: 17k || art creds: @/winterrbluess @/su2kuna || 18+
frat!sukuna x shy!nerd!reader
A/N lowk this fic is much more toned down compared to what i usually post but fuck it we ball it's cute
summary ! sukuna doesn't give a shit about chemistry, that is until the big red 8% on his last test threatens to get him kicked out of his frat. desperate, he turns to the only person who can save him: you, the adorable, shy girl who aces every quiz. you agree to help, but only if he helps you get the attention of your hallway crush, his best friend, toji. what starts as a deal between you slowly turns into a spiral of love and jealousy. (18+, fluff, slight toji x reader (?), no angst for once omg go me)
the big red number stares back at him from the top of the paper like a brand burned into his pride. 8%.
sukuna exhales through his nose, the sound rough, annoyed. the paper crumples in his hand before he tosses it onto the desk. he leans back in his chair, the metal legs creaking under his weight as his jaw works.
normally, he wouldn’t give a damn about a grade. it’s not like chemistry was ever something he cared about. but this time, it’s different. one more fail and he’s out. the frat has rules, grades too low and you’re done. and he knows exactly what’ll happen if that happens.
tojis smug laugh. satoru’s endless teasing. the guys calling him “brain-dead” for weeks. no more parties. no more sorority hoes. no more lazy afternoons drinking on the porch with his friends.
he runs a hand down his face, dragging his fingers over the faint scar under his eye and the sharp tatted lines on his cut face. he can’t let that happen.
at the front of the room, their professor is rambling about averages and assessment weightings, something about the next major project. sukuna tunes back in when he hears the words “sixty percent” and “partner work.” that catches his attention.
the next gruelling assessment is a two-month long research investigation worth sixty percent of their final grade.
he was on the verge of strangling himself to death or jumping out of the top story window when he realised.
that’s it.
that’s his way out. he just needs a smart partner who can carry his hopeless ass.
sukuna’s eyes sweep across the room, scanning for anyone who looks like they know what the hell they’re doing. most of the people he usually talks to in class are as useless as he is, too busy flirting or sleeping through lectures.
but then his gaze catches on someone sitting right up the front.
you.
the quiet girl with the tidy notes and the neat handwriting, the one who always answers when the professor asks a question no one else dares to.
you’re sitting there now, head slightly tilted as you jot something down, your pen gliding across the page with that easy confidence of someone who actually understands this shit.
you’ve always sat alone, tucked near the window. you never talk during lectures unless you have to, and even then your voice is small, hesitant. you wear oversized sweaters, keep your hair pinned up, and avoid eye contact with anyone who looks remotely like they belong to his world.
still, he’s noticed you before. everyone has. it’s hard not to. you’re the kind of girl that seems untouchable, not because you’re trying to be, but because you’re so far removed from everything he knows. soft, focused, real sweet.
and right now, you look like salvation.
he pushes up from his seat, ignoring the curious glances from a few classmates as he moves down the aisle. his tall frame blocks the light for a second when he stops beside your desk. you glance up, startled, your pen pausing mid-sentence.
"yo, my names sukuna. and you?"
"uh, hi? it's y/n." he smirks at your shy response, but continues.
“you’re like, a chem genius, right?” his tone is low, rough with disinterest, though his eyes linger on you a little too long.
you blink up at him, hesitant. “oh, um… i guess? why?”
“i need a partner, like, real bad,” he says, dropping the failed exam onto your desk with a dull slap. the red ink almost glows. “i'm gonna be honest, i completely fucked myself with this last exam. i can’t afford to fail again.”
you stare at the paper, then at him. up close, he’s intimidating. messy pink hair, dark eyes sharp and unreadable, tattoos trailing up his arms, his face, and peeking out from under his shirt collar.
he looks nothing like someone who’d ever ask for help, especially from you, and the fact that he’s doing it now makes your mind reel.
“i- look, don't take this the wrong way, but... theres a lot of people in this class,” you manage softly. “why pick me?”
he shrugs, leaning one hand on the desk beside your notes. “because you actually know what you’re doing. and i’m not looking to get stuck with some idiot who’ll drag me down, i'm already so fucking cooked."
you hesitate, glancing away. you’ve never really talked to him before. actually, you’ve barely even noticed him beyond the times you’ve seen him walking across campus with toji. that’s usually when your stomach does that stupid fluttering thing. watching toji laugh, his arm slung lazily around sukuna’s shoulders, both of them looking like they own the place.
it’s strange seeing one of them standing here now, asking you for help.
you fidget with your pen. “that's fine, sure. but… if we’re partners, wed have to split the workload.”
"yeah,” he says. “i can pull my weight, don't stress it, sweetheart. mostly just need someone to keep me from bombing it.”
it’s almost funny. he’s trying to sound casual, but something about the way he’s watching you feels uncharacteristically careful. like he’s actually waiting for your answer rather than being the overbearing dick he usually is.
maybe it’s because you’re cute. or maybe it’s because he knows you hold his fate in your small, nervous hands.
you chew your lip for a moment, then nod. “yeah, okay. i’ll help you out.”
his mouth tilts in a grin that’s half smug, half genuine relief. “good. 'preciate it, babe.”
you look down instantly, pretending to organize your papers so he doesn’t see the way your face warms. you weren't used to such casual name calling.
he drags a chair over from the next row and drops into it beside you, leaning back like he’s been sitting there all semester.
the professor’s voice fades into the background again as you stare straight ahead, trying to focus on anything but the fact that sukuna ryomen, the most notorious guy in beta tau, is now your project partner.
a few minutes pass in silence. the lecture drags on, your notes filling another page. but your mind’s racing the whole time. sukuna, meanwhile, can’t stop sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye.
he hadn’t expected you to actually agree. and he definitely hadn’t expected to find himself curious about you. you’re so… different. not the kind of girl who shows up to parties. not someone who flirts back when he smirks at her. just quiet and sweet, head buried in your work, the type that shouldn’t even be in his orbit.
and yet here you are.
when the professor dismisses the class, people start packing up. you hesitate, fingers tightening around your pen. then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you turn to him.
“hey… sukuna?”
he hums, eyes flicking toward you lazily. “yeah?”
you look nervous, the words almost tripping over themselves before they leave your mouth. cute. “i’ll help you pass. but… can you help me out with something too?”
his brow arches. “hmm. depends what it is.”
you take a quiet breath. “it’s about your friend. uh.. toji.”
that gets his attention. his posture stiffens a little. “what about him?”
you look down at your notebook, like it’s safer than looking at him. “i just… i think he’s really attractive. and he looks nice. i know it’s kind of stupid but i was wondering if maybe... you could help me get him to notice me.”
for a second, sukuna just stares at you.
out of all the things he expected you to say, that wasn’t it.
you, the shy little thing sitting up front, blushing and tripping over her own words, want toji fushiguro. one of the biggest assholes on campus. his best friend, sure, but a guy who barely remembers girls’ names after he sleeps with them.
he leans back slowly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “you’re serious?”
you nod, eyes still fixed on your notebook.
he studies you for a long moment. you’re fidgeting again, twisting your pen between your fingers, your voice so soft he almost misses it. “you don’t have to if it’s weird, i just thought… you two are close, so maybe…”
sukuna exhales through his nose. part of him wants to tell you it’s a bad idea. that toji doesn’t deserve someone like you. that you’d get hurt trying to chase a guy like that.
but he doesn’t.
instead, he tilts his head and says, “yeah, fine. i’ll help you out.”
your head snaps up, eyes wide. “huh? really?”
“yeah. but only because you’re saving my ass with this project,” he says, smirking a little. “guess we’ll call it even.”
you smile, small, bright, genuine, and something tightens in his chest.
you're so cute.
“thank you,” you say quietly.
he grins again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “don’t mention it, honey.”
and as you pack up your notes, he watches you go, already trying to ignore the strange feeling crawling up the back of his neck.
he tells himself it’s just a deal. a trade. nothing more.
but as you disappear out the door, he can’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, he’s gotten himself into more trouble than he realises.
~
music blasts through the frat, heavy bass shaking the walls, bodies moving in rhythm across the living room floor. someone’s yelling over the noise, someone else is laughing too loud.
the air smells like bad beer, smoke, and sweat, the classic friday night cocktail that means beta tau is alive and wild again.
sukuna leans against the kitchen counter, red solo cup in hand, watching a game of beer pong play out in front of him. the noise is deafening, but it’s a familiar kind of chaos. toji’s across the table, grin sharp as he sinks another ping-pong ball into the last cup.
“hell yeah,” toji shouts, hands raised. “that’s another win for me, baby!”
someone hands him another drink, and he downs it in one go, slamming the cup down as the room cheers. toji fushiguro lives for this kind of night, beer, bets, and easy company. sukuna’s used to it, the routine almost comforting.
he joins the next round, barely losing after a stupid bounce, then lets himself collapse onto the sagging couch beside toji. the music’s pounding through the walls, but the corner they’re in feels quieter, almost like the noise fades around them.
toji stretches out, arm slung over the back of the couch, shirt sticking to his skin. “you’re slipping, man,” he says, smirking at sukuna. “used to be able to hold your own in beer pong.”
“fuck up,” sukuna mutters, head tipped back, eyes half-lidded. “that last shot was rigged.”
“rigged?” toji laughs, deep and unrestrained. “you’re just rusty.”
sukuna grunts, tossing his empty cup onto the coffee table. his head’s buzzing, not from the alcohol, just from thoughts, mostly the image of you, the way you looked earlier in class, keeps floating up uninvited. you sitting at the front of the room, your careful handwriting, the little way you’d fidget with your pen when you were nervous.
he doesn’t even realize he’s been quiet until toji elbows him. “yo, what’s got you zoning out?”
sukuna runs his tongue over his teeth, deciding. screw it. “you ever heard of someone named y/n?”
toji raises a brow, blinking like he didn’t catch that over the noise. “who?”
“y/n,” sukuna repeats.
toji shakes his head, lips quirking. “nah. that some new chick you’re banging?”
sukuna sputters, choking on air. “what? no. i’m not-” he cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. great. smooth start.
toji’s smirk widens. “come on, man. don’t get shy on me. you’re stuttering like some freshman.”
“shut up,” sukuna mutters, glaring at him. “it’s not like that.”
“then what’s it like?”
he hesitates, watching the light flicker off the beer bottles on the table. there’s no way to explain it without sounding weird. he’s not even sure why he’s bringing you up at all, except that he made a promise, and now he’s gotta start somewhere.
“she’s just… in my chem class,” he finally says. “smart as hell. the kind that actually knows what she’s doing, y’know?”
toji snorts. “so, a nerd.”
“yeah,” sukuna says, ignoring the way toji says it like it’s an insult. “but, like… cute. shy, quiet, nice, i guess.”
toji’s grin widens. “bro. you’re seriously telling me about a crush right now? what the hell happened to you?”
“it’s not a crush,” sukuna says quickly, though his voice comes out sharper than he means. “she’s just..” he stops, running a hand through his hair. “she’s helping me with chem, okay? and i told her i’d help her with something too.”
“what, she want free alcs?” toji laughs.
“no.” sukuna exhales through his nose. “she wants you.”
that earns him a pause. toji tilts his head, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to decide if he misheard. “me?”
“yeah.”
“as in… she wants to, what, date me?”
“basically.”
toji’s silent for a moment, then he breaks into a bark of laughter so loud it turns a few heads. “you’re kidding, right? some shy nerdy girl wants me?” he grins, tapping his chest. “guess she’s got good taste.”
sukuna grits his teeth. “don’t be an ass about it.”
“what? i’m not being an ass,” toji says, still smirking. “just saying, that’s not really my type, man. i like girls who can actually keep up, y’know?”
“yeah, i know,” sukuna mutters. “that’s kinda the problem.”
“problem?”
sukuna leans forward, elbows on his knees, voice dropping low. “look, she’s… she’s sweet. like, actually sweet. the kind of girl that probably still says ‘sorry’ even when someone bumps into her first. you’d break her in half.”
toji shrugs, unbothered. “then maybe she shouldn’t be into me.”
“she doesn’t even know you,” sukuna says, frustration creeping into his tone. “she just saw you around. thinks you’re… i don’t know. hot and nice.”
“ha,” toji barks out a laugh, finishing his drink. “then she’s definitely got the wrong idea.”
sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. this was going nowhere.
he tries again, his tone careful. “i just figured maybe you could give her a chance. she’s not like the other girls you mess with. she’s…” he hesitates, searching for the right word. “different. the kind you’d actually like if you gave her five minutes.”
toji side-eyes him, clearly amused. “you trying to sell me a girlfriend or something? what’s in it for you?”
sukuna’s jaw tightens. “nothing. i told her i’d help her out, that’s all.”
toji grins, eyes glinting. “you sure about that? you sound kinda like you wanna keep her for yourself.”
sukuna’s silent for a beat, his pulse ticking faster than it should. “i don’t.”
“right. and i’m the pope.” toji laughs, leaning back. “are you high? tellin’ me about how cute and shy she is… just fuck her and move on, bro. no need for all this emotional shit.”
sukuna drags a hand down his face, groaning. “i wish i was fucking high. jesus, you’re impossible.”
the music gets louder again, another chant rising from the kitchen as someone calls for shots. toji stands, stretching, grinning down at him. “come on, man. stop thinking so hard. let’s go get wasted.”
sukuna waves him off. “nah, i’m good. go ahead.”
toji shrugs and disappears into the crowd. sukuna sinks further into the couch, head tipping back, letting the noise drown out the frustration burning in his chest.
this was going to be a nightmare.
.
the next morning, the fluorescent lights of the lecture hall feel like punishment. the air smells like stale coffee and paper, and the chatter around the room grates on his nerves. sukuna slouches into his seat, sunglasses hiding the exhaustion clinging to him.
you’re already there, of course. neat stack of papers beside your laptop, pen in hand, posture perfect. you glance up as he approaches, offering a small smile.
“morning,” you say softly.
“hey,” he mutters, sliding into the seat next to you.
the teacher doesn’t waste time, telling everyone to start working on their projects. pairs scatter across the room, some staying behind, others leaving for the library. you glance at sukuna, uncertain.
“should we…?”
“yeah, library,” he says before you can finish. “less noise.”
you nod quickly, tucking your notes under your arm as you follow him out.
the walk’s quiet. you keep close but not too close, fingers gripping the strap of your bag. sukuna glances at you once or twice as you walk, the sunlight catching the edge of your hair. there’s something weirdly calming about you, like your presence forces the chaos in his head to settle for a bit.
when you reach the campus library, you pick a small table near the back, away from the groups of whispering students. the morning light filters through tall windows, catching dust motes in the air. it’s quiet enough that every turn of a page feels loud.
you sit across from him, pulling your laptop from your bag. “um, before we start, maybe we should exchange contact info?”
he nods, pulling out his phone. “yeah. what's ya' number?”
you rattle it off, and he types it in. his phone pings a second later when you text him, and he adds your contact with a lazy swipe. then you both exchange social media.
you open your instagram to show him, but he’s already found it. your account’s small. cozy, soft colors, pictures of coffee cups, notes, and the occasional selfie that looks like you were trying not to take one.
then you look at his. thousands of followers, stories from parties, shirtless gym photos, snapshots of him and toji grinning like idiots with red cups in hand.
you blink, then smile politely. “ours are… really different.”
he huffs out a quiet laugh. “yeah. just a little.”
he doesn’t tell you that he finds it kind of adorable, how small and peaceful your corner of the internet looks compared to his chaos.
you both settle in to start discussing the project, papers spread between you. you talk about ideas, your voice growing steadier as you get into the topic. you explain concepts easily, your hands moving as you describe how you could structure the research, how to divide the work.
he listens. or tries to. mostly, he’s just watching the way you light up when you talk about something you love.
after a while, you pause, glancing at him with a small, hopeful look. “did you… talk to toji?”
he freezes for a fraction of a second, mind flashing back to last night. the laughter, the teasing, the absolute disaster of that conversation.
“yeah,” he says after a moment, forcing a smile. “i did.”
your eyes widen, curious. “what’d he say?”
he hesitates. you’re looking at him so earnestly, waiting for an answer, and he can’t bring himself to tell you that toji laughed it off, that he’d said something crude about just sleeping with you and moving on.
so he lies.
“he seemed interested,” sukuna says smoothly. “asked who you were. said you sounded cute.”
you go still for a moment, then your cheeks flush, and you duck your head. “really?”
“yeah,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “told him you were smart, nice. he said that’s rare.”
your shy smile makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t understand.
“that’s… really nice of you, sukuna,” you say softly. “thanks.”
he shrugs, forcing a grin. “told you i’d help.”
but as you turn back to your notes, still smiling faintly to yourself, he can’t look away. he doesn’t know what’s worse, the way lying to you actually hurts his heart, or the way part of him’s starting to wish that toji never finds out who you are.
because the thought of you smiling like that at anyone else makes his stomach twist.
~
the frat house is quieter than usual when sukuna pushes the door open.
no bass pounding through the walls, no laughter echoing down the hallway, no beer pong table clattering in the kitchen. just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant muffled sound of someone’s tv from another room.
it’s strange. unsettling, almost. he’s gotten used to the constant noise, the never ending roar of people that filled the house from dusk till dawn.
he kicks off his shoes at the door, shoulders rolling back as he heads for the stairs. his head still feels heavy from the long day, the faint scent of your shampoo stuck in his memory.
it’s weird? he’s been around a thousand girls, maybe more. girls who practically threw themselves at him, who laughed too loud at his jokes and leaned in too close.
but somehow, you, sitting across from him with that shy smile and your soft voice explaining inter molecular relationship, manage to stick in his head longer than any of them ever have.
his room’s dark when he steps inside, save for the light bleeding in from the street through the blinds. he tosses his keys onto the desk and falls back onto his bed, exhaling. the ceiling stares back blankly.
he doesn’t even mean to grab his phone, but his hand moves before he can think. he unlocks it, thumb hovering over instagram.
just checking something, he tells himself.
his fingers type your username into the search bar without hesitation.
your profile opens instantly.
the same cozy layout he remembered. a few new story highlights. your bio, something simple, maybe a quote or a flower emoji. his thumb scrolls down slowly, eyes following the grid of neatly arranged photos. you, a few landscapes, coffee cups, snippets of sunlight through your window, a cat that might not even be yours.
he stops when he sees a picture from about a month ago.
you’re holding a tiny puppy in your arms, your face caught mid laugh, like someone had said something funny right before snapping the picture. the puppy’s paw rests against your chest, nose tucked near your chin. in your other hand, you’re holding a paper cup of coffee, a little swirl of foam peeking through the lid.
he stares at it for longer than he should.
it’s just a photo, nothing special, but something about it hits him hard . the little details, the way your fingers hold gently under the puppy’s paw, the sunlight catching on the curve of your cheek, the way your smile looks completely unposed.
he catches himself wondering stupid things.
was that your dog? probably not. maybe a friend’s. or some random one you met at a cafe.
was the coffee yours? it looks like something you’d order, something simple. maybe vanilla, maybe something with caramel.
where was that taken? some small corner cafe? a weekend morning somewhere quiet?
he doesn’t know. and that bothers him more than it should.
his thumb hovers over the photo for a second before he double taps it. the little red heart fills in on the corner of the screen.
great. now you’re going to see that he liked a post from a month ago. real smooth.
he tosses his phone onto the bed beside him, covering his face with his hands.
“what the fuck am i doing,” he mutters.
he’s never been that guy. the one who scrolls through a girl’s profile like he’s studying for an exam. the one who cares enough to wonder what her favorite coffee order is, or if she likes dogs or cats more. he doesn’t ask those questions. he doesn’t want to ask those questions.
but he can’t stop himself.
he scrolls again, back up to your most recent post, another candid shot, you’re wearing one of those oversized sweaters you always seem to wear to class, sleeves pulled over your wrists.
you look peaceful. and sweet. and so painfully far from the world he lives in.
his throat tightens unexpectedly, he looks deeper, really looks at you.
you’re really fucking pretty.
he’d always known that. he’d noticed, sure, he’s not blind. the first day you’d agreed to work with him, he’d thought you were cute. adorable, even. but now, staring at your pictures, seeing the small glimpses of your life beyond those chemistry notes and shy smiles, he realizes it’s more than that.
you’re beautiful.
and that realization sits heavy in his chest, thick and uncomfortable.
because he knows exactly where this is supposed to go.
he still owes you. he still promised you something.
toji.
the thought of his friend’s name makes him exhale hard through his nose.
he can already picture it. if he brings you up again, toji will laugh the same way he always does. say something crude. maybe shrug and agree to meet you, just for the hell of it. and maybe you’d smile that soft, nervous smile at him, and maybe you’d fall for him harder than you already have.
and that image, that thought? makes sukuna’s jaw clench.
he shakes his head, forcing the phone screen off.
“get a grip,” he mutters, rolling onto his side.
but it’s no use. even as he closes his eyes, the image of you laughing with that puppy burns into the back of his mind.
~
two weeks pass withf lectures and late-night text exchanges about project deadlines.
you’ve met up three times since that first day at the library. each time, sukuna’s noticed small things. how you seem to relax around him more, how you’ve started teasing him lightly when he messes up an equation, how your laugh sounds quiet but genuine when he actually manages to make you smile.
and now, on the fourth meeting, he finds himself heading to the library again, trying to ignore the way his stomach feels weirdly tight.
you’re already there when he walks in.
same table. same corner near the back.
but this time, something’s different.
you’re standing by your seat, waving slightly when you see him. and in your hands, you’re holding two cups of coffee.
“hey,” you say, your voice bright and clear in a way that makes him pause.
he blinks, momentarily thrown off by how cheerful you sound. “hey,” he replies, trying to sound as casual as usual.
you hold out one of the cups toward him. “i, um, got this for you. black coffee, right?”
for a second, he just stares.
it’s stupid. it’s a coffee cup. but his mind stutters anyway.
“yeah,” he says, voice quieter than he means it to be. “yeah, that’s right.”
“i wasn’t sure how you take it,” you admit with a small laugh. “you seem like the kind of person who drinks it straight. no sugar, no milk.”
he huffs out a small laugh, taking the cup from you. “you got that right.”
“lucky guess.”
you sit down, cheeks faintly pink. he watches you for a second longer than necessary before clearing his throat and dropping into the chair across from you.
“thanks,” he says finally, lifting the cup slightly. “for the coffee.”
you smile, soft and genuine. “you’ve been helping me a lot with this, so i thought it was the least i could do.”
he wants to tell you that you’ve got it backwards, that you’re the one keeping him afloat, not the other way around, but he bites his tongue.
instead, he takes a sip, the bitter taste grounding him.
“you didn’t have to, y'know.”
“i wanted to,” you say, eyes flicking down to your notes.
and for a brief second, he feels his pulse skip.
you wanted to.
he tries to shake the feeling, pulling out his own notes. “alright, so. what’s the plan for today?”
you talk about the experiment data, what needs to be written up, the references you still have to gather. he listens, but part of him’s distracted.
it’s the way you’re talking now, louder, lighter. you’re not tripping over your words anymore. you’re not afraid to meet his eyes. the shy girl who could barely look at him two weeks ago is now smiling at him between sentences.
and fuck if that doesn’t make something twist in his chest.
as the minutes pass, the project talk starts to blur into something else. he’s the one who changes the subject first.
“so,” he says, leaning back slightly. “what’s with you and coffee? every time i see you, you’ve got one.”
you look up from your laptop, blinking. “i just like it, i guess. i go to this little place near campus almost every morning before class.”
“the one with the green sign?”
“yeah, that one.”
“figured.”
you laugh quietly. “you go there too?”
“sometimes,” he says. “after workouts. they’ve got good espresso.”
you tilt your head. “you work out every morning?”
“almost,” he says, smirking faintly. “gotta keep my sexy frat guy aura in tact.”
“oh, right,” you tease, eyes glinting a little. “wouldn’t want to disappoint your fans.”
he blinks, caught off guard. “fans?”
“your instagram,” you say, trying not to laugh. “you’ve got, like, a thousand girls following you. i saw.”
he groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “don’t remind me.”
“why?”
“because half of them don’t even go to this school,” he says, grinning a little. “they just… show up.”
you laugh, the sound soft but real, and he finds himself smiling before he can stop it.
after that, the conversation drifts. you talk about random things. your classes, your favorite kind of music, the dog from your photo (“that’s my friend’s puppy,” you explain. “he’s named mochi.”).
sukuna finds himself asking questions, more than he’s ever asked anyone before. not just because he wants to fill the silence, but because he genuinely wants to know.
you tell him about your hobbies, your part tme job at the campus bookstore, how you’re saving up for a trip after graduation.
he listens. really listens.
and for every small thing you share, he feels himself drawn in deeper.
when the session finally ends, the clock showing that two hours have slipped by without either of you noticing, you start packing up your things.
“same time next week?” you ask, glancing up.
“yeah,” he says. “same spot.”
you smile again, that soft, shy one that makes his chest ache.
and as you wave goodbye and walk out of the library, sukuna stays seated for a moment, staring at the empty chair across from him.
he should be thinking about the project. about grades. about keeping his promise to you.
but all he can think about is how the smell of coffee still lingers faintly on his fingers and how, somehow, that’s become his favorite part of the day.
~
the frat house always feels heavy on monday mornings. air thick with the smell of stale beer and cheap cologne, empty red cups scattered on tables like small grave markers from the weekend before. sukuna drags himself through the hallway, towel hanging around his neck, hair still damp from a quick shower.
toji’s already waiting in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a protein shake in one hand and his phone in the other. he looks up when sukuna walks in, flashing that familiar cocky grin.
“yo, you down to hit the gym?”
sukuna doesn’t even hesitate. “for sure.”
mondays are brutal, but skipping a session isn’t an option. not when you’ve got someone like toji keeping score. they finish off their drinks, grab their bags, and head out.
the campus is still quiet. early morning sun stretches across the pavement, birds chirping somewhere above. their sneakers hit the concrete in sync.
“bro, did you see the game last night?” toji asks, tossing a smirk his way.
“yeah,” sukuna mutters. “you owe me twenty.”
toji groans. “bullshit. that last call was garbage.”
“still counts.”
they go back and forth for a while typical talk. girls, workouts, who pulled who at the last party. toji’s loud, animated, the kind of guy who fills silence with his own voice. sukuna listens, laughs when he should, but half his mind’s somewhere else.
they’re cutting across the main quad when he spots you.
you’re walking toward one of the lecture halls, tote bag slung over your shoulder, hair catching the light in a way that makes his breath hitch.
you’re wearing something simple. a cute shirt and nice jeans, your hands wrapped around a coffee cup, but somehow it makes you stand out more than anyone else on the path.
you don’t see him, too focused on your phone, but his chest tightens anyway.
for a second, it’s like the rest of the campus fades away.
then he remembers who’s walking beside him.
toji’s still talking about some girl he hooked up with over the weekend, words fading into the background as sukuna’s jaw tightens. he forces his eyes away, tells himself to stop being weird. this is stupid. you’re just his lab partner.
except he’s not supposed to be thinking about how good you look in the morning light. he’s supposed to be thinking about the deal.
the one with toji.
his throat feels dry as he forces himself to speak.
“hey,” he says suddenly. “you remember that girl i was talking about the other night?”
toji glances over, raising a brow. “the chem one?”
“yeah. that’s her.”
he nods toward you before he can second-guess it.
toji slows immediately, his attention shifting in your direction. you’re still walking across the path, the sunlight brushing over your face as you look up for a moment, squinting.
sukuna watches as toji literally stops in his tracks.
“no way,” toji says, eyes widening. “that’s her?”
“yeah,” sukuna mutters.
“holy shit.” toji’s grin spreads, sharp and impressed. “you didn’t tell me she was that cute.”
sukuna doesn’t respond. he just keeps walking, pretending to be unfazed, but every word toji says feels like it’s digging deeper under his skin.
“seriously, bro,” toji continues, still staring after you even as you disappear into the building. “you made her sound like some dorky little nerd. i was picturing ugly glasses, messy bun, the whole thing. but she’s, damn. she’s adorable.”
sukuna’s stomach twists. he forces a smirk, because that’s what’s expected. “yeah, she’s not bad.”
“not bad?” toji laughs, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “she’s gorgeous. you holding out on me, man?”
“nah,” sukuna says quickly. “just didn’t think you’d be into that type.”
“what type?”
“the smart, quiet type,” he says, voice flat. “thought you liked girls who could ‘keep up,’ remember?”
toji scoffs. “yeah, well, she’s too cute to pass up. shit, you should let me tag along next time you’re studying with her. see what she’s like up close.”
sukuna forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. “yeah, sure. whatever.”
inside, he’s cringing so hard he feels sick.
they head into the gym, the sound of clanging weights filling the space. he tries to focus on the burn in his muscles, the rhythm of his breathing but his thoughts won’t shut up. toji’s words keep echoing. she’s adorable. she’s gorgeous. you holding out on me?
this was what he was supposed to do. this was the plan. introduce you to toji, let things fall into place, make good on his end of the deal.
so why does it feel so wrong?
~
the next study session comes faster than he expects.
the day’s overcast, the library quiet except for the soft hush of the air conditioning. you’re already there when he walks in, sitting in your usual spot by the window, books neatly stacked, pen tapping absently against your notebook.
you look up when you hear his voice.
“hey,” he says, slipping through the aisles toward you.
your face brightens instantly, that small, warm smile tugging at your lips.
“hi,” you say, already starting to greet him.
then your voice falters.
because right behind him, towering and broad-shouldered, is toji.
your words die halfway out of your throat, eyes going wide. he’s impossible to ignore, dark hair, sharp grin, that easy confidence that radiates from him like static.
sukuna can see the exact moment you freeze. your fingers grip your pen a little too tightly, your posture going stiff.
“this is toji,” sukuna says, trying to sound casual. “he wanted to tag along today.”
“hey,” toji says smoothly, pulling up a chair without asking. “nice to meet you, y/n.”
you nod, cheeks pink. “h-hi.”
it’s awkward from the start. painfully so.
sukuna tries to start things off, opening his notebook and asking about the data you collected last week, but toji’s already jumping in with his own questions, none of them relevant.
“so,” toji leans forward, elbows on the table. “you’re really good at this chem stuff, huh? always been a little nerd?”
you laugh nervously, eyes flicking between the two of them. “i… guess so?”
“yeah, i could never,” he says, shaking his head. “i barely passed last year. too many parties, you know how it is.”
you nod politely, but the look on your face says it all, you have no idea what to say.
sukuna grits his teeth.
toji keeps going, oblivious. he talks about the last frat party, about the time he benched two hundred in front of half the football team, about some girl who texted him last night. you just sit there, smiling faintly, giving small nods and quiet hums of agreement.
it’s brutal.
every word toji says feels like a slow car crash sukuna can’t stop. he knows he should’ve expected this. this was always how toji was but now that it’s happening in front of you, he can’t stand it.
you’re sitting there, trying so hard to be polite, cheeks flushed, fingers fidgeting with your sleeve. and for the first time, sukuna hates how loud the other guy is. hates how he’s filling the space that’s always felt quiet and easy with you.
after what feels like forever, toji’s phone buzzes. he glances down, reads the message, and stands up.
“gotta head out,” he says, smirking. “good luck with your project, sweetheart. maybe i’ll swing by next time, yeah?”
before you can respond, he gives you a wink.
you freeze again, murmuring something that barely sounds like a goodbye.
he leaves, whistling under his breath, completely unaware of how painfully awkward that was.
the second he’s out of sight, sukuna exhales hard and runs a hand through his hair.
“fuck,” he mutters. “sorry about that.”
your eyes widen a little. “oh, um, it’s fine.”
“no, seriously,” he says, glancing at you. “i should’ve told you i was bringing him.”
you hesitate, then smile, shy but real. “it’s okay. i was just… nervous, i guess.”
he tilts his head. “why?”
you look down at your notes. “he’s just… kind of intense. i didn’t expect that.”
“yeah,” he says quietly. “he’s like that.”
the silence that follows isn’t awkward, though. it’s calm. steady.
you’re visibly more relaxed now, shoulders no longer so tight, your voice softer when you start talking again. sukuna listens, his chest loosening with every word.
you don’t mention toji again.
and he doesn’t either.
for the rest of the session, it’s just the two of you again. back to the easy rhythm he didn’t realize he’d missed until it was gone. you explain a reaction mechanism, he teases you about your handwriting, you roll your eyes and laugh.
when it’s time to leave, you pack up your things slowly, almost like you don’t want the moment to end.
“see you next week?” you ask.
“yeah,” he says, smiling faintly. “next week.”
you give a small wave, and as you walk out, sukuna watches you disappear between the shelves, that same quiet warmth settling in his chest.
he should feel relieved, he did what he was supposed to. he introduced you to toji. he followed through.
but instead, he just feels like he’s made a mistake.
because the whole walk back to the frat, the only thing running through his head isn’t how toji couldn’t shut up or how awkward the whole thing was.
it’s how your voice had softened when you told him it was fine. how your eyes met his, even for a second, and he felt that stupid little spark again.
he doesn’t know what to call it. doesn’t want to.
but deep down, he knows one thing for sure.
the next time you two meet, he’s showing up alone, keeping you to himself.
~
music pounds through sukuna's chest, pulsing out of the open doors of the sorority like a heartbeat on overdrive. laughter spills down the steps, mixed with the sharp scent of alcohol and perfume and that sticky-sweet haze that always clings to these kinds of parties.
banners hang crooked above the door, fairy lights tangled like spiderwebs. the sorority girls really went all out.
it’s a mixer. one of those invite only things, where every girl in greek row tries to get noticed by the “right” house. and sukuna’s frat, their house, was always the right one. full of grade A hotties like sukuna and toji and successful athletes like gojo and geto.
he spots toji near the entrance, already in his element. white t-shirt, chain glinting at his throat, grin carved sharp enough to cut through the noise. every few seconds, someone calls his name. girls from different sororities, guys from the rugby team, even one of the organizers waving him over.
toji was built for this. sukuna knew it. hell, everyone did.
“about time, man,” toji says when sukuna steps up beside him. “thought you’d bailed.”
“nah,” sukuna mutters. “just took my time.”
“yeah, well, tonight’s supposed to be wild. let’s make the most of it.”
they shoulder their way through the crowd, music pounding overhead, the smell of beer and sweat and too much perfume thick in the air. sticking together like usual.
a few girls call out sukuna’s name as they pass, and he just flashes that lazy grin he’s perfected, the one that says he’s not interested, but he might be later.
it’s all automatic now. the smirk, the eye contact, the way his shoulders roll when he laughs. it’s all muscle memory.
but tonight, something feels off.
maybe it’s the way every laugh sounds fake. maybe it’s the way the lights flash too bright, painting everyone in the same plastic color.
maybe it’s because all he can think about is you.
they end up in the kitchen, where the music’s still loud but not deafening. beer pong’s already set up on the long dining table, cups half-filled, ping-pong balls scattered across the sticky surface.
toji grabs a ball and grins. “let’s go. loser does a shot.”
sukuna smirks, rolling up his sleeves. “you’re on.”
they start playing, drawing a small crowd of girls who cheer and giggle at every throw. toji’s competitive as always, talking shit between shots, while sukuna plays quiet and steady. the rhythm feels familiar, the weight of the ball, the sound of it hitting the cup, the way everyone leans in to watch.
after two rounds, they’re tied. toji wins one, sukuna the other. the girls watching don’t seem to care who’s winning they’re too focused on the way the two of them look, the easy confidence that comes with knowing the room revolves around them.
and then they descend.
a blonde slides up beside toji, pressing herself against his arm. another girl, brunette this time, drapes herself over sukuna, laughter dripping from her lips like honey.
“you guys are, like, scary good at this,” she says, voice high and flirty.
“practice,” sukuna says automatically. his smirk looks real enough. it always does.
her nails trace the edge of his sleeve, and she leans closer. “bet you’re real good at other things too.”
normally, this is the part where he’d lean in, let the moment pull him under. he knows how this goes, shots, dancing, slipping upstairs when the music gets too loud. normally he'd do anything for a quick fuck.
but tonight, it doesn’t land.
he looks down at her, at the perfect makeup and glitter around her eyes, and all he can think is how different she is from you.
how you’d never lean on someone like this. how you’d never grab at someone you just met. how when you talked, you actually meant what you said.
his jaw tightens.
toji’s already got two girls around him, laughing loudly, drink in one hand, the other at someone’s waist. he looks like he’s having the time of his life. and for the first time, sukuna feels nothing but exhaustion watching it.
the brunette keeps talking something about the psych department, something about a pool party next weekend but her words fade into static.
god, he can’t stop thinking about you.
he pictures your small smile, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous. the way your voice lifts just slightly when you talk about something you love. the way your eyes meet his only for a second before darting away again.
then he thinks about how you’d react if you saw this.
if you saw toji right now, grinning, drunk, hands everywhere.
you’d look crushed. maybe not outwardly, but he knows you’d feel it. he can see that tiny flicker of hurt in his head, your lips pressing together, pretending not to care.
and for some reason, that thought hits him like a punch.
you’d be heartbroken over a guy like toji. and he hates that. hates it enough that his fake smirk starts to slip.
because toji’s the one you wanted. and toji’s right there, laughing with some random girl like you never even existed.
it makes his stomach twist.
the brunette leans in closer, her perfume cloying and too strong. she presses her lips against his neck, and something cold floods through him instead of the usual heat.
he stiffens.
she pulls back, confused, maybe even offended, but he just steps away, shaking his head.
“you good?” she asks, pouting a little.
“yeah,” he mutters. “just need a smoke.”
he grabs a beer from the counter and makes his way outside.
the air’s cooler out here, cleaner. it hits his lungs in a way that almost feels like relief. he digs into his pocket, finds his pack, and lights up. the first drag burns his throat, grounding him a little. he thinks back to the time you'd seen a flash of the packet in his pocket, the look of concern plastering your cute face.
"you smoke cigarettes? y'know that pretty bad for you, sukuna..."
he sighs and takes another drag, he knew you were right, hell, he even cut down after that little statement.
inside, the party’s still raging. someone shouts, laughter echoing off the walls. he hears toji’s voice above the rest, loud and easy and so damn sure of himself.
sukuna exhales a long stream of smoke and stares out at the street.
why’s he even thinking about you like this?
you're just a girl. just a project partner. you needed his help, he needed yours. that’s all it was supposed to be.
but then he remembers how you'd smiled when he showed up on time for once, how you’d brought him that stupid cup of coffee just because you thought he’d like it. how careful you’d been, shy but trying.
and now he’s here, surrounded by everything he used to want, feeling nothing but restless.
he thinks about the library tomorrow morning.
you’d be there early. you always are. waiting at the same table, your notebook open, your pen tapping as you concentrate. you’d look up when he walks in, offer that small, quiet smile like you’re genuinely happy to see him.
the thought of showing up hungover makes his stomach knot.
he can’t let you see him like that. not reeking of beer, not bleary eyed and dead from a night he didn’t even enjoy.
he flicks the ash off his cigarette, curses under his breath.
“what the fuck am i doing?”
he looks back toward the house. the windows are glowing with golden light, silhouettes moving inside. laughter spills out again, shrill and wild.
that used to feel like home.
now it just feels loud.
he takes another drag, the ember lighting up in the dark.
this isn’t him. at least, it’s not the version of him you’ve seen. the one who actually listens, who tries, who stays sober enough to remember what you said about catalysts and reactions. the one you’ve somehow turned him into without even knowing.
he huffs out a quiet laugh, bitter and low.
you’d probably never believe it if someone told you sukuna ryomen left a mixer early because of a girl.
but here he is.
he stubs out the cigarette, tosses the butt into the gutter, and pulls his jacket tighter around him.
he steps back inside just long enough to find toji at the beer pong table, a girl perched on his lap now, and rolls his eyes.
“yo,” toji calls over. “where the hell’d you go?”
“m' heading out,” sukuna says. “got shit to do tomorrow.”
toji raises a brow. “it’s friday, man.”
“yeah. i know.”
“whatever,” toji laughs. “your loss.”
sukuna just shrugs, already turning toward the door.
the music fades behind him as he walks out again. the night air hits him, cool against his skin. campus is mostly empty now, streetlights flickering.
he lights another cigarette as he walks, the smoke curling up into the cold.
his mind won’t stop racing.
he thinks about you again, about how small you look sitting behind your laptop, about the way you focus so hard you don’t notice him staring sometimes. about how quiet the world feels when it’s just the two of you in that corner of the library.
you’d laugh if you saw him now. the guy everyone calls a monster, walking home early from a party just because he wants to look sober in front of some shy chemistry nerd.
but it’s not just that anymore.
he doesn’t want to look sober. he wants to look good for you.
he wants you to think he’s better than this. better than what everyone thinks he's like.
he blows out smoke and watches it fade into the dark.
when he gets back to the frat, the house is nearly empty—most of the guys are still at the mixer. it’s quiet for once. he climbs the stairs, every step heavy, and stops at his door.
he stares at the handle for a second before going in.
the room smells like cologne and laundry detergent. his desk’s still a mess, papers and dumbbells scattered everywhere. he drops onto the bed and stares at the ceiling, cigarette burning low between his fingers.
he should sleep. he should forget tonight.
but all he can see is you.
your smile. your voice. your eyes when they meet his and flick away just a second too fast.
“fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
he ashes the cigarette in the tray, lets his head fall back, and closes his eyes.
the thought of you lingers like smoke in his lungs. intoxicating, slow, impossible to shake.
and for the first time in a long time, the idea of tomorrow doesn’t feel like just another day. it feels like something he’s waiting for.
~
the sun crawls through the blinds too early for a saturday.
pale light drags itself across the room, landing on the mess of clothes and empty bottles scattered over the frat floor. everyone’s still passed out.
bodies everywhere. some sprawled across couches, others snoring in corners, heads tipped back with half-empty beer cans slipping from their hands.
but not sukuna.
he’s awake.
he’s the only one who doesn’t feel like he got hit by a truck. no pounding head, no sour stomach. just the faint trace of smoke on his tongue and the quiet buzz in his chest that’s been there since last night.
he sits up, rakes a hand through his hair, and exhales. the air smells like sweat and cheap vodka. he looks around at the disaster that was his frat house, sticky floors, someone’s shoe on the counter, a guy in nothing but boxers drooling into the carpet, and shakes his head.
he’s not sticking around for the aftermath.
there’s something about this morning, something clean, light, strange. he grabs his hoodie, slings his bag over his shoulder, and checks his phone. too early for most people. not too early for you.
he smiles a little at that.
when he walks into the hallway, a few guys groan from the couch.
“yo,” one of them croaks. “where the hell are you going? it’s like… eight?”
“got plans,” sukuna says, slipping on his sneakers.
“plans?” another mumbles, half-asleep. “with who?”
“no one,” sukuna says quickly. “don’t worry about it.”
he’s already halfway out the door before they can start asking more questions. the last thing he needs is toj or anyone, really catching wind of this and deciding to tag along like last time.
the air outside hits him cold and fresh. campus is quiet, only the occasional sound of birds or a bike rolling past. everything’s washed in soft gold light, the kind that makes the world look cleaner than it really is.
he starts walking.
there’s a bounce in his step that he tries to ignore. it feels stupid to feel this way. giddy. like he’s got something worth looking forward to. he tells himself it’s just because he didn’t drink last night. he’s clear-headed. alert. that’s all.
but he knows it’s a lie.
the café comes into view just down the block. it’s the one you always go to, the one with the green sign. he remembers the first time he saw you there, hunched over your laptop with a coffee that had already gone cold, scribbling in your notebook like the world might end if you looked up.
the memory makes his chest feel weird.
he pushes open the door, the little bell chiming. the barista greets him with a sleepy smile. he glances over the glass case, scanning the pastries. croissants, muffins, a few danishes. then he spots the one he remembers you ordering once, faky and soft, sugar dusted over the top.
“one of those,” he says, pointing.
the barista wraps it up neatly in paper. sukuna hands over the cash, then hesitates when she asks if he wants a drink.
he almost says yes. almost orders a sweet coffee for you.
but then he remembers.
you’ll already have one right now, you always do.
“nah,” he says, shaking his head. “js' the pastry.”
he walks out with the small paper bag in hand, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
he feels ridiculous. it’s a fucking pastry. but somehow it feels like more than that. like he’s carrying a confession.
when the library comes into view, he spots you right away.
you’re there, in your usual spot. that back table near the window, the one you’ve claimed without ever really saying so. your coffee’s beside your laptop, steam curling up faintly. you’re biting your lip, eyes narrowed in concentration as you read through something.
and god, you’re cute.
it slaps him all over again.
the way your hair falls forward, the soft sweater you’re wearing, the tiny crease between your brows. you’re not trying to be anything. you’re just there, focused, quiet, real.
he stands there for a second, just watching.
then he remembers himself and walks over.
“g'morning,” he says.
you look up, startled, then your whole face softens when you see him. “oh, hi! you’re early.”
“yeah,” he says, dropping his bag into the chair across from you. “didn't wanna sleep in today.”
you laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “fair.”
he pulls the paper bag from his hoodie pocket and slides it across the table.
he holds it out to you. “for you. figured you might want breakfast.”
you blink, startled. “wait, really?”
“yeah. it’s from that cafe you like.”
your mouth falls open slightly, and your cheeks go pink in that way he’s starting to adore. “you... remembered that?”
“guess so.”
you take the bag from him carefully, like it’s something fragile. when you peek inside and see what it is, your expression softens even more.
“oh my god,” you whisper, smiling so hard your eyes crinkle at the corners. “this is my favorite one.”
he watches, almost helpless, as you keep talking, thanking him over and over. your voice stumbles with embarrassment, your fingers fidget with the bag, and the more flustered you get, the more something warm spreads through his chest.
“you didn’t have to! really, that’s so sweet of you.”
“it’s nothing,” he says, but his voice is rougher than he means it to be. “just figured you might be hungry.” he softens.
you look down, still smiling. “thank you.”
and it hits him, how long it’s been since a girl said that to him and meant it.
you break the silence first, switching to the assignment, pulling up your notes and explaining something about the next section. he nods along, but he’s not really listening. he’s watching the way you push your hair behind your ear, the way your brows furrow when you focus.
he forces himself to pay attention. still, the moment feels easy.
you talk for a while about the project, comparing notes, trading small jokes. he feels himself relax into the rhythm of it, like it’s become a routine.
and then, without warning, you bring up toji.
you clear your throat first, eyes flicking down to your notes. “so, um... toji.”
he stills, one brow lifting, you were finally gonna talk about him since that awful run in last time. “hmm?”
“he’s… very…” you trail off, searching for the word. “loud.”
he snorts. “that’s one way to put it.”
“and, um, big. like, physically. and personality-wise. very… confident.”
he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “yeah. sorry about that. he’s… a lot. again, i didn’t mean to unleash him on you like that.” he was apologising again, so out of character for him but he couldn't help it. not with you.
“no, no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “he’s just… different than i expected.”
“different how?”
you hesitate, chewing your lip. “i guess i thought he’d be more like you.”
the words hang between you for a second. his pulse stutters.
“like me, huh?” he says, teasing, leaning back in his chair, spread wide as he looks you up and down. “what’s that supposed to mean, hm?”
you go red instantly, trying to drag your eyes away from his man spread legs. “i just meant- you’re, um, thoughtful. more focused. not overbearing, you're nice...”
he grins. "nice, huh?"
you hide your mouth behind your hand and look off to the side. "nicer than toji, yeah."
he laughs, "that's not a very high bar to clear."
you giggled in response, letting him continue.
“so you like my type better?”
“that’s not what i said,” you mumble, covering your face with your hand again.
“didn’t have to.”
you peek at him through your fingers, and he has to bite back a laugh. your cheeks are so pink it hurts to look at you.
“you’re bullying me,” you say, your voice small.
“maybe.”
you shake your head, still smiling, and reach for your coffee. he watches the way you hold it, the delicate tilt of your wrist, the little sigh you make after a sip.
then, quieter, he asks, “so… you still interested in him? toji, i mean.”
you freeze.
“i.. uh.” your voice falters. “i guess so? i... i don’t know.”
“you don’t sound sure.”
“he’s just, not what i thought he’d be. i thought he’d be a little calmer.”
“he’s not really the type to surprise you in a good way,” sukuna says.
you smile faintly, eyes on your cup. “yeah. maybe not.”
the way you say it, soft, thoughtful, uncertain, it makes his chest ache.
you’re too sweet for this. too genuine. you deserve someone who actually listens, who doesn’t treat you like background noise. and for some reason, he hates that the person you’re hung up on is his best friend.
he sighs, rubbing his jaw.
you look up, curious. “what’s wrong?”
“nothing,” he says, forcing a smile. “just tired.”
you nod, and the two of you fall back into quiet work. it’s peaceful again, the only sounds the soft click of your keyboard and the scratching of his pen. time blurs.
when you finally close your laptop, stretching your arms, he realizes two hours have passed.
“we got a lot done,” you say, smiling.
“yeah,” he says, though he can’t remember a thing you just studied.
you start packing your things, tucking the empty pastry bag into your bag. before you can leave, you hesitate. then, shyly, you step closer and wrap one arm around him in a little side hug.
“thank you,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “for breakfast. and for helping me.”
for a second, he forgets how to breathe.
you smell like coffee and sugar and something faintly floral. your hand rests briefly against his side, and he swears every nerve in his body lights up.
then you pull away, smiling up at him, oblivious to the chaos you’ve just caused.
“see you tomorrow?”
“yeah!” he says quickly, way too excited. “d-definitely.”
you wave and head out, the door swinging shut behind you.
he stands there for a full minute, still staring at the spot you’d been standing, until he realises his hands are clenched and his pulse is hammering.
he grabs his bag, mutters something under his breath, and heads outside.
the moment he’s in the open air again, he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
the breeze does nothing to cool the heat crawling under his skin.
he walks fast, head down, eyes on the pavement.
every step feels heavy with restraint.
because all he can think about is how soft you felt, how small your hand was against him, how much he wanted to pull you in, bury his face in your neck, keep you there for hours.
he curses under his breath, tugging his hoodie lower, hoping it hides the problem growing in his jeans.
“get it together,” he mutters.
he tries to think about anything else the assignment, the game tomorrow, the half finished paper on his desk but his mind keeps circling back to you. your laugh. your blush. your hug.
by the time he reaches the frat, his heartbeat’s finally starting to slow, but the feeling stays. that dizzy mix of guilt and want.
he steps inside quietly, the house still a mess of hangovers, and slips upstairs to his room.
the first thing he does is sit on his bed, elbows on his knees, and let out a long, shaky exhale.
he’s in trouble.
he knows it.
because he can’t stop smiling.
~
the gym in the frat house isn’t much. it’s a dim room tucked behind the kitchen, with cracked mirrors and rusted weights, the air always heavy with the stale scent of sweat and cheap deodorant.
the guys call it a “home gym,” but it’s really just a collection of mismatched dumbbells, an old bench press, and a speaker that always buzzes when the bass hits too hard. its nothing like the fancy campus one him and toji visit, still, it works for sukuna.
he’s halfway through a set, sweat sliding down the back of his neck, when his thoughts start slipping away from the burn in his muscles and land right where they always seem to go lately.
he tries to ignore it, focusing on the motion, the rhythm, the push and pull of the bar in his hands.
but the harder he tries not to think about you, the more vivid you become. your voice, soft but steady, your shy little smiles whenever he cracks a joke, the way you always tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re trying not to blush.
it’s infuriating, how easily you creep into his head.
he exhales sharply, finishing the set with a grunt, letting the bar clang down harder than he means to. it rattles against the frame, echoing in the small room.
“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, sitting up and grabbing the towel draped over his shoulders.
he wipes his face, breathing hard, his reflection in the mirror smudged with fingerprints and dust. he looks exhausted, not just from the workout but from everything sitting in his head.
you and toji.
you and that stupid, innocent crush you’d confessed to him like it was nothing.
he leans forward, elbows on his knees, towel hanging loosely around his neck. he can’t keep fucking around pretending like this is going to work anymore.
he can’t sit through another study session with you knowing that toji knows you're into him.
toji doesn’t even remember half the girls he flirts with, so why should he get to occupy that sweet spot in your brain.
that thought alone makes his blood boil.
you’re too good for that. too damn good.
he picks up the dumbbell again, trying to lift through the frustration, but his mind keeps racing. toji’s face flashes in his mind—the obnoxiousness, his interest in you only after finding out what you looked like.
the memory makes his jaw clench.
toji doesn’t deserve to know you exist, let alone be someone you lose sleep over.
his grip tightens around the handle. he lifts again, but it feels pointless now, his muscles burning for a different reason entirely.
finally, he slams the weight down and stands up, chest heaving.
he’s done.
done thinking he can stomach this, done keeping that deal, done lying to himself.
without even thinking about it, he walks out of the gym, towel still slung over his shoulder. his feet move on instinct, carrying him through the hall, up the grand stairs, straight to toji’s room.
the door’s half-shut, light spilling from the gap, and he doesn’t bother knocking. he pushes it open, the wood hitting the wall with a dull thud.
toji’s sprawled across his bed, shirtless, scrolling through his phone. there’s a protein shake on the desk, a game controller tangled in the sheets. he looks up lazily when sukuna appears.
“yo,” he says, grinning. “you look pissed. what, satoru stealing your shirts n' shit again?”
sukuna doesn’t answer. he stands there for half a second, jaw tight, and then the words just fall out before he can stop them.
“y/n has a boyfriend,” he blurts. “so you can forget the whole crush on you thing.”
toji blinks, confused. “uhm?”
“what,” sukuna says, crossing his arms. “shes got a guy.”
toji sits up slightly, eyebrows furrowing. “who’s y/n again?”
the silence that follows is deafening.
sukuna stares at him, the vein in his temple twitching.
“are you actually deadass right now?”
toji shrugs. “bro, i talk to a lot of girls, you gotta be more specific.”
that’s it.
sukuna drags a hand down his face, muttering something that sounds halfway between a growl and a groan. he doesn’t even bother explaining. it’s not worth it.
“don't worry, man,” he snaps, spinning on his heel.
he slams the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame.
by the time he gets back to his room, his chest is tight, the frustration boiling over into something heavier. he paces once, twice, then finally drops onto his bed, letting his head fall back against the wall.
“who’s y/n again?”
the words echo in his mind like a bad joke.
he can’t believe it. he can’t believe he ever thought this was a good idea, trying to set you up with that idiot.
it’s not even about the deal anymore. it’s about you.
because now he knows what it feels like to be around you, to hear you laugh, to see the way your eyes light up when he remembers the smallest things. he knows what it feels like to walk beside you through campus at night, the air cool and soft, your voice quiet but steady.
he likes you.
really, really likes you.
and it’s not just because you’re pretty, though god, you are. it’s because you’re kind. because you make him feel human again, in a way that nothing else ever does. because you talk to him like he’s worth something more than the reputation that follows him.
he doesn’t know when it happened, but it’s there now, and it’s not going away.
.
the weeks that follow move in a blur. the two of you keep meeting for study sessions, but they’ve shifted. so subtly that neither of you seems to notice.
you’re more relaxed now. you smile more, laugh easier. you’ve started showing up with little things for him too. chocolates, protein bars, a can of cold brew. every time, he teases you about it, but inside, he’s having a spaz out.
and every time he brings you something in return, you light up like he’s handed you the world.
you’ve started talking about more than the project. now, it’s everything. random things. favorite youtuber, weird scandals, childhood fuck ups, "yeah, i used to be one of those devious lick kids in middle school, me and gojo stole an entire sink".
sometimes, you talk so much you forget the assignment altogether, and he never stops you.
he lives for these moments.
sometimes, when you’re sitting side by side at the library, your knees brush under the table. it’s barely a touch, accidental every time, but it makes his pulse stutter.
you’ve started giving him hugs too, real ones. not just quick, polite ones, actual, full-bodied hugs that make him want to forget how to breathe. all he wants to do is bundle you up and take you back home, lock you away where no one could possibly taint that beautiful smile.
he pretends to be chill and nonchalant, but inside, he’s crashing out so hard.
one afternoon, it’s raining outside, and you show up in a damp tank top, hair slightly damp. he nearly forgets how to speak. you hand him a hot chocolate and giggle when he stares at it like he’s never seen one before.
“it’s not that weird,” you say, smiling. “i thought you might want something warm and sweet for this type of weather.”
he looks at you for a long moment trying not to stare at your see through chest, then takes the cup. “thanks,” he murmurs, and it sounds like something heavier than gratitude.
you shrug, shy but pleased, then sit down beside him, close enough that your shoulders almost touch.
when the session ends that day, he walks you home like he always does. it’s become a quiet habit between you. no one suggested it, but neither of you questions it either. you live just off campus, in a small apartment with ivy creeping up the walls, and every time you reach your door, you both hesitate.
he wants to ask if he can come inside, just once.
you always look like you might invite him, too.
but neither of you ever says it.
instead, you smile, soft and warm, and tell him goodnight. he always watches until you disappear inside, until the light flicks on and frank ocean starts softly pouring from the window.
and every time, he walks back to the frat with that same ache in his chest, the one that’s half longing and half fear.
he knows he’s in wayyy too deep.
but he can't stop.
you’ve started coming out of your shell in little bursts. you tease him now, gently. you call him out when he’s being lazy, roll your eyes when he tries to act too chill. and he eats it the fuck up. every second of it.
you’re different with him now. freer. you trust him.
and that makes everything both better and worse.
because every time you look at him with that open, honest expression, he has to remind himself of the lie he built this on, th e deal, the fake promise to get you closer to toji.
it barely comes up anymore. sometimes you mention toji in passing, usually as a joke, and you both laugh it off. it’s like neither of you really care about it anymore.
and maybe that’s the truth. maybe it stopped mattering the moment you started looking at him like that.
one evening, when the sun’s setting, you’re sitting across from him at the library, talking about nothing in particular. you’re smiling, head tilted, your voice soft. and he catches himself staring, not hearing a single word.
you stop mid way through your sentence, blinking. “what?”
he shakes his head quickly. “nothing.”
“you’re staring,” you say, cheeks pink.
“you’re imagining things, honey."
you laugh, hiding your face in your hands.
he smiles too, but there’s something behind it something he doesn’t let you see.
because in that moment, it hits him all over again, stronger than before.
he’s seriously can't do this shit any longer.
he doesn’t want to help you get to toji anymore.
he doesn’t want to stand by while you talk about someone else, even in passing.
he wants you. all of you.
the quiet smiles, the shy blushes, the little quirks he’s learned by heart.
he wants to be the one who gets to see every part of you, every version of that soft, sweet girl who’s been slowly unraveling in front of him.
and he knows, deep down, that if he ever let himself say it out loud, he’d never be able to take it back.
so he keeps it buried, just for now, as he walks you home again that night. the streetlights stretch long shadows across the pavement, and your arm brushes his once, twice, and each time, he swears of he doesn't concentrate he'll trip over his jordans.
when you reach your door, you turn to him with that same bright smile, the one that always knocks the air from his lungs.
“thanks again,” you say softly.
he nods. “anytime.”
you linger for a second, like you want to say something more, then wave goodnight and disappear inside.
he stands there for a long moment, staring at the door, listening to the faint hum of music from your apartment.
then, finally, he exhales, a small, helpless laugh slipping out.
he’s ruined. completely.
and for once in his life, he doesn’t even mind.
~
the classroom is thick with the sound of quiet chatter, chairs scraping against tile, pens clicking as people jot down reminders before leaving. the fluorescent lights flicker slightly, casting everything in a washed-out glow that makes it feel like time’s been stretched too thin. the chemistry teacher’s voice cuts through it all, cheerful but distant.
“alright, everyone, just a quick reminder that your paired assignment is due at the end of this week. make sure you’ve got everything finalized. i’ll be checking submissions on friday.”
the words hang in the air like a quiet ending bell.
you look up from your notes at the same time sukuna does, and for a moment, your eyes meet across the shared lab table. he’s already watching you, elbows resting on the counter, twirling his pen between his fingers.
he gives you this crooked half-smile, something between fond and nervous, and you return it, though yours falters just a little at the edges.
it hits both of you at once. this thing between you, this rhythm you’ve fallen into, the study sessions, the walks home, the quiet coffees before class? it’s been built around this assignment. and when the assignment ends, what happens then?
he taps his pen against his notebook, looking away first. “guess we’re almost done, huh?”
you try to sound light. “yeah… crazy how fast it went.”
but it doesn’t feel fast. it feels full. it feels like a lifetime compressed into a few short weeks, every minute threaded with something unspoken.
he hums in agreement, glancing at you again. “we should probably go over everything one more time. make sure it’s perfect.”
you nod, pretending to check the notes in front of you. “mhm, library after class?”
“yeah,” he says. “one last session.”
one last. the words make your stomach twist.
.
sukuna drops his bag on the chair across from you, stretching his arms as he sits down. his hair’s a little messy from the wind, and he smells faintly of the sexy cologne he always wears, something clean and manly that clings to his skin.
you open your laptop, trying to focus on the document in front of you. it’s almost done, just small edits, formatting, double-checking citations, but the words keep blurring. you can feel his presence across the table, solid and steady, and it’s impossible to think about chemistry when he’s right there.
he’s quieter than usual too. his knee bounces under the table, a restless rhythm, and every now and then you catch him glancing up, like he’s about to say something but decides against it.
the silence stretches between you, thick and loaded. you can’t stand it anymore.
“so…” you start, voice softer than you mean it to be.
he looks up instantly, like he’s been waiting for you to speak. “yeah?”
you open your mouth, close it again, glance at your hands. “never mind. it’s nothing.”
he frowns slightly. “come on. what is it?”
you shake your head, forcing a small smile. “seriously, it’s nothing. just focus.”
he watches you for a second longer, then sighs and leans back, crossing his arms. “fine. but you’re acting weird.”
you let out a soft laugh that sounds too nervous. “i could say the same about you.”
that gets a real smile out of him, crooked and teasing, but it fades quickly.
you both go quiet again, typing half heartedly, neither of you really working. the tension builds, unspoken and unbearable.
you can feel the words sitting on your tongue, begging to be let out. you want to tell him everything. how the crush on toji fizzled out weeks ago, how stupid it feels now, how you can’t stop thinking about him instead. how every time he looks at you, your whole chest feels like it’s about to give out.
you glance up. he’s staring at his screen, jaw tight, eyes unfocused. and somehow, you can tell he’s holding something back too.
finally, you both move at the same time.
“i have to tell you something,” you say, right as he says, “there’s something i should tell you.”
you both stop, eyes locking.
you laugh softly. “you first.”
he shakes his head. “nuh uh, you first.”
“no way,” you say, smiling now despite the nerves. “you looked like you were about to explode. go ahead.”
“ladies first,” he shoots back, that teasing lilt returning to his voice, though his eyes are still serious.
you roll your eyes, but your heart’s hammering. “fine,” you breathe.
he leans forward, forearms on the table, watching you carefully.
you swallow, your fingers twisting the edge of your sleeve. “okay. so, um… this is kind of embarrassing, but.."
you stop, take a breath, try again. “it's about toji.”
his expression flickers for a second, something unreadable crossing his face. “yeah,” he says slowly. “what about him?”
you toy with a pen to keep your hands busy. “i don’t really… feel that way anymore. about him.”
his brow lifts just slightly, his voice careful. “ts' that so?”
you nod, cheeks warm. “yeah. i mean, it was kind of silly, wasn’t it? i barely knew him. i think i just liked the idea of him. and then when you brought him to that one session, i realised he’s… kinda clapped, nothing like what i imagined.”
he lets out a small sound, something close to a laugh, but it’s quiet, almost nervous. “yeah, that sounds like him.”
you smile faintly, tracing a finger along the edge of your notebook. “the truth is, i think i was just projecting. when we started hanging out, i didn’t know you that well, and i guess i thought maybe toji was like you. you know? confident, funny, easy to talk to.” you pause, your gaze flicking up to his. “but he’s not you. not even remotely close.”
his breath catches slightly, and for a moment, he forgets how to speak.
“i don’t know,” you go on, voice softer now, almost trembling. “i kept thinking i wanted someone like toji, but… the whole time, i was really just wishing he’d be more like you, sukuna.”
you meet his eyes fully now, and the world seems to narrow around you both. “and then i realised maybe i don’t want someone like you. maybe i just, you know, want you.”
the silence that follows feels endless.
he’s staring at you, completely still. you can see the realization hit him. the tension in his shoulders easing, his expression softening in disbelief and relief all at once.
you bite your lip, instantly flustered. “that sounded so stupid, didn’t it?”
he shakes his head quickly. “no. no, not at all.”
he leans back in his chair, letting out a long, shaky exhale. it’s the biggest breath of relief you’ve ever seen someone take. he runs a hand through his hair, laughing under his breath, a sound that’s half disbelieving, half overwhelmed.
“holy shit,” he murmurs, still smiling. “you have no idea how good it is to hear that.”
you blink. “uhm, what?”
he laughs again, softer this time, his hand still pressed to the back of his neck. “that’s what i was gonna tell you. i’ve been losing my fucking mind these past few weeks because i’ve been trying so hard not to say it.”
you stare at him, your heart pounding. “say what?”
he meets your gaze again, eyes warm and honest. “that i like you. like, really like you. i’ve had this massive crush on you for a while now, and it’s been killing me trying to act normal.”
you can’t help the little laugh that escapes you, part disbelief, part giddy joy. “you’re deadass?”
he nods. “one hundred percent.”
“but… the deal,” you say quietly. “you were supposed to help me with toji.”
“yeah, about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “i kinda… just didn’t.”
you tilt your head. “uhhm, what?”
he laughs again, nervously this time. “i told him you had a boyfriend.”
your eyes widen. “you did?"
he winces. “yeah. i told him that weeks ago. i just... i couldn’t do it anymore. couldn’t keep pretending i was helping you get with him when all i wanted was to keep you all to myself.”
you blink once, twice, then cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. “you told him i had a boyfriend?”
“yep.” he grins now, a little cocky, a little embarrassed. “guess that’s me sabotaging the deal.”
you drop your hand, still smiling. “that’s so stupid.”
“i know.”
“but…” you pause, your smile turning softer. “it’s kind of sweet.”
he leans forward again, elbows on the table, eyes never leaving yours. “you’re not mad?”
“mad?” you repeat, shaking your head. “no. that’s… exactly what i wanted, actually.”
he blinks. “really?”
you nod, heart in your throat. “yeah. i didn’t want you helping me with toji. not anymore. i just didn’t know how to tell you.”
he stares at you for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “so what now?”
you smile. “i don’t know. maybe we just… stop pretending.”
he exhales, leaning back with a grin that could light up the whole room. “i can do that.”
for a moment, neither of you says anything. you just sit there, the quiet hum of the library around you, the sun slipping lower through the windows, painting his skin in gold.
finally, he breaks the silence, voice low. “for the record, i was terrified you were about to tell me you had a new man for real.”
you laugh softly. “no chance.”
“good,” he says, and the way he looks at you soft, sure, a little possessive, makes your pulse race.
you don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you’re both leaning across the table, closer than you’ve ever been. the distance between you shrinks until you can feel his breath on your lips, his hand brushing lightly against yours.
neither of you say anything. you don’t need to.
the moment stretches, slow and sweet, full of everything you’ve both been holding back.
~
the second you get back to your apartment, your face ignites with the kind of fire only a really nice fireplace could match, the ones in those fancy houses you see on the block.
the guy you'd been crushing on for a total of four weeks now had just told you he felt the same. and ever more, he'd been so obsessed he'd told your ex-crush you'd had a boyfriend in hopes of bagging you himself.
for a girl not used to being in the spotlight, having such a loud, well known frat guy like ryomen sukuna become vulnerable, just for you? it was like the world came crashing and burning down at your feet. he made your stomach swim with love and passion, a feeling you'd only ever gotten from receiving higher grades than everyone else, a feeling so much better than finding a new delicious pastry you couldn't help but order again.
ryomen sukuna was it. he was the kinda guy you'd been dreaming of ever since you'd started college. he was the perfect man, and he was as into you as you were him.
you settled into your living room with an adorably large smile painted on your lips, the sensation of fulfilment taking over your ever thought as you dreamt of what was to happen next.
~
the week after the submission crawls by. you think about both sukuna and the possible grade you'll both get every day. every time you pass the lab, every time you open your laptop, every time you catch sight of sukuna across the courtyard, leaning against the wall with his friends.
you can tell he’s thinking about it too. the way he catches your eye during class and offers a small, crooked smile says everything. neither of you can really stop wondering what the final mark will be, as well as what life has in store for the both of you.
friday finally rolls around, the classroom feels weird. students trickle in with tired faces and restless energy, everyone buzzing quietly with the same anticipation. the teacher walks in, holding a stack of papers in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other.
she sets everything down at the front desk, claps her hands together, and gives a small, approving smile.
“alright, everyone,” she says, her tone almost teasing. “i’ve marked your projects. you’ll get the official grades through the online portal, but since i know you’re all impatient,” her gaze sweeps the room, landing briefly on you and sukuna, “i’ll let you know this much: some of you really impressed me.”
a ripple of chatter runs through the class. sukuna shoots you a look from across the room, eyebrows raised. you smile nervously and shrug.
after class, the two of you linger by the doorway, waiting for the crowd to clear out. you’re clutching your phone, refreshing the student portal again and again even though the grades still aren’t visible. sukuna leans close, peering at your screen.
“nothing yet?” he asks.
“no,” you sigh. “probably another hour.”
he tilts his head, thinking for a moment. “want to check it together later? at that little cafe with the green sign?”
you blink. “awe, my favourite. sure!”
“of course,” he says, smirking lightly. “how good am i remembering your favourite things n' shit.”
you laugh, cheeks warming. “what a man. how about we meet there at five?”
“five it is.” he gives a small wave as he heads down the hall. “see you then, partner.”
the cafe smells like roasted coffee beans and sugar, the air humming with quiet conversation and the clinking of ceramic cups. it’s early evening, and the place is wrapped in that warm, lazy glow that makes everything feel softer. the green sign outside flickers faintly through the window, the letters worn from years of weather and sunlight.
you spot him immediately sitting near the counter, wearing a black hoodie and tapping his thumb against his phone screen. his hair’s pulled back, a few loose strands falling into his eyes. he looks up the moment the door chimes, and that grin spreads across his face like it’s second nature.
“hey,” he says as you approach.
“hey,” you echo, sliding into the seat across from him.
he gestures toward the counter. “i already ordered for us. black coffee for me, that thing you like for you, and...” he grins, “...a pastry, because apparently you can’t sit in this place without one.”
you laugh softly, trying to ignore the way your heart flutters. “you know me too well, we needa' hang out less.”
“noo,” he teases, leaning back. “i'm just an observer.”
the drinks come quickly, steam curling from the cups. you take yours with both hands, staring at the little swirl of foam, trying to calm your nerves. sukuna pulls out his phone again, refreshes the student portal, and freezes.
his eyes widen. “holy shit,” he mutters.
you look up sharply. “what?”
he turns the screen toward you. there it is, your names side by side, and next to them, the number that makes your breath catch.
98%.
you stare at it for a second, then look at him, and the two of you just burst out laughing.
“oh my-” you say, grinning from ear to ear. “ninety-eight?”
he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “holy shit- holy shit! can’t believe it,” he says, half-laughing, half-sighing in disbelief. “i actually passed. i can stay in the frat. holy shit.”
you laugh again, the sound bubbling out of you uncontrollably. “i told you you’d do fine!”
he stands up suddenly, still laughing, and before you can react he pulls you into his arms. it’s a full, tight hug, so warm, so big. his chest rumbles with laughter, and you can feel how much this means to him, how much the stress and pressure have finally melted away.
“thank you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low, almost breathless. “thank you so much for helping me. i would’ve completely fucking tanked without you.”
you laugh against his shoulder, feeling your own face heat up. “you’re welcome,” you mumble, your words muffled by his hoodie. “you did so good, really.”
when he finally lets go, you can still feel the warmth lingering where he’d held you. he looks just as flustered, rubbing the back of his neck as he sits back down.
“sorry,” he says, half-smiling. “got a little carried away.”
“it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel. “it was… nice.”
his grin widens at that.
you both take a moment to calm down, sipping your drinks in the cozy corner. the sound of the coffee machine hums faintly in the background, and sunlight filters through the leaves outside, dappled across the table. it feels like the whole world’s slowed down just for the two of you.
“so,” he says eventually, voice softer now, “ninety-eight percent. that's so peak."
“yeah, we did that,” you reply, smiling. “you’ll probably get a compliment from the teacher next class.”
“you too,” he says. “you carried me, you're actually so clutch.”
“you helped too,” you insist. “you actually tried, sukuna. that’s what mattered.”
he chuckles, shaking his head. “yeah, but even if i hadn’t passed…” he pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “i don’t think i’d be too upset.”
you tilt your head, smiling faintly. “no?”
“nah.” he leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “because i got to spend all that time with you. and honestly? that made it worth it.”
your chest tightens, a flutter rising under your ribs. you look down quickly, pretending to focus on your coffee. “you’re just saying that.”
“i’m not,” he says firmly. “you made studying actually fun. no one’s ever done that shit before.”
you look up again, and his expression is so genuine, so open, that you forget how to breathe for a second.
“well,” you say softly, “i liked spending time with you too.”
your cups sit forgotten on the table, the croissant half-eaten, and all you can hear is the chatter of other uni kids and the soft clatter of dishes.
you stare into his eyes, and there’s a question there, unspoken but clear.
he smiles, almost shyly, a rare thing for him. “so… what now?”
you shrug lightly, but your smile mirrors his. “i don’t know. i guess we don’t have to stop hanging out just because the project’s done.”
his grin grows wider, and you can see the faintest pink dusting his ears. “good,” he says. “because i was kinda hoping you’d say that.”
he hesitates for a moment, then sits up a little straighter, as if gathering courage.
“actually,” he says, rubbing his thumb against the edge of his cup, “there’s something i wanted to ask.”
you tilt your head. “hmm? and what’s that?”
he exhales slowly, eyes locked on yours. “i know this is probably cheesy as hell, but… i’d really like to take you out. like, properly. dinner, movie, whatever you want. an actual date.”
the words sink in, soft and certain. you blink, surprised but instantly smiling, your cheeks growing hot.
“you mean… like, a date date?” you ask, teasing just a little.
he laughs under his breath. “yeah. a date date.”
you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “i’d love that.”
his expression softens into something that almost makes your heart ache. “yeah?”
“yeah.”
for a moment, you just sit there, both grinning like idiots. it feels unreal, like something out of a quiet, sunlit dream.
he leans back in his chair, relief washing over him in waves. “good,” he says. “i was worried you’d say no.”
you shake your head, still smiling. “never.”
the light outside shifts slowly, spilling gold through the window, painting his skin in soft warmth. he looks at you like he’s memorising the moment, the coffee, the laughter, the way you keep tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
and as he sits across from you, grinning like he can’t quite believe his luck, you know that whatever comes next, it’s going to be something worth waiting for.
~
months slide by, slow but lovely. what once was a study partnership built on awkward exchanges and quiet glances has become something sooo much more. somewhere between library stops, coffee stops, and tight hugs, it shifted. you shifted. sukuna shifted. the line between school and romance blurred until it disappeared completely.
now, you’re his. officially his. and he’s yours.
the first time sukuna brings you to the frat house as his girlfriend, it feels like stepping into a completely different world. the place is loud, music spilling from bluetooth speakers, guys shouting from the kitchen about who’s out of beer, the smell of cheap cologne and pizza hanging in the air.
you pause in the doorway, clutching sukuna’s hand like it’s an anchor. he glances down at you with that little smirk that never fails to make your heart stutter.
“don’t stress it baby,” he murmurs, leaning close enough that his breath grazes your ear. “they’ll love you.”
and they do.
weather or not that's because he threatened to beat them unconscious if they made you feel uncomfortable before you came over is irrelevant.
satoru’s the first to notice you, perched on the couch with a controller in hand. he looks up mid game, grins wide, and immediately calls out, “holy shit, sukuna actually brought a girl here voluntarily?”
“shut up,” sukuna grumbles, tightening his grip on your hand. “this one’s permanent.”
that earns a chorus of oohs and whistles from the guys nearby. your face burns, but when you glance up at sukuna, he’s smiling,not his usual cocky grin, but something softer. proud.
“hey,” you mumble under your breath, “it smells so bad in here, ryo.”
he chuckles quietly. “you’ll get used to it.”
before you can even respond, toji appears from the kitchen, a beer in hand and a knowing grin on his face. “well, if it isn’t the little chem genius.”
you blink. “you… remember me?”
“of course,” toji laughs, setting his drink down and stretching out a hand. “heard you saved this idiot’s academic career.”
“hey,” sukuna cuts in, rolling his eyes. “i wasn’t that bad.”
“you had an eight percent, bro.”
the whole room bursts into laughter. sukuna just grumbles and flips toji off while you try not to giggle too loudly. it’s strange, seeing them all like this. so loud, so chaotic, so different from the quiet rhythm you’re used to, but somehow, it feels okay. you feel okay.
by the end of the night, you’re sitting between sukuna’s legs on the couch, his arms draped loosely around your waist, your back against his chest. someone puts on an old movie in the background, and the chatter slowly fades into easy quiet. for the first time, the frat doesn’t feel intimidating. it feels warm. welcoming.
satoru catches your eye from across the room, giving a thumbs up before mouthing, she’s a keeper. sukuna just smirks.
later that night, when everyone else has gone to bed and the house has fallen quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the faint creak of floorboards, sukuna presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“told you they’d love you,” he whispers.
“yeah, you were right,” you murmur, smiling softly. “they’re so nice.”
“you’re even nicer,” he says, his voice barely audible. “that’s why they love ya'.”
and you can hear the truth in his tone. you know he means it.
after that, everything starts to fall into blissful routine. you help him study, drilling formulas and reactions into his head late into the night. he’s surprisingly good at it now, his grades climbing steadily, proof that maybe he was capable all along, he just needed someone to push him in the right direction.
and in return, he helps you come out of your shell.
he brings you to tiny cafes you’ve never been to before, teaches you how to play pool (terribly, but he doesn’t care), and pulls you into spontaneous late-night walks through campus when the air is cool and the stars are bright.
sometimes, you end up sitting on the hood of his car, his jacket wrapped around your shoulders, your fingers tangled with his as he talks about everything and nothing.
he tells you things he’s never told anyone else—about his parents, about the pressure to be someone bigger, stronger, louder. about how he never really cared about anything before he met you.
“you made me start giving a shit,” he says one night, his voice low as he traces lazy circles against your palm. “about school, about the future. about being a better guy.”
you glance up at him, smiling faintly. “you're the bestest guy, kuna.”
he looks at you for a long time, his chest squeezing with the urge to squish you until you pop. then, with a soft exhale, he leans down and kisses you. gentle, slow, like the world could end and he’d still be happy just holding you against his muscular chest.
word gets around campus fast. whispers follow you sometimes. half disbelief, half awe. people don’t really understand how you ended up with him. the shy, quiet girl who sits at the front of every lecture, always polite, always prepared… dating one of the loudest, most notorious frat boys on campus.
but the thing is, neither of you care.
you’ve seen the way people look at you two when you walk hand in hand across campus, his tall frame towering beside yours. you’ve heard the murmurs, 'how long do you think it’ll last, she’s too good for him, he’ll get bored'. but then he catches your hand, presses a kiss to your knuckles, and all of it melts away.
"don't listen to those clowns."
because you know him now. the real him.
the boy who wakes up early to get your favorite pastry from the cafe before class. the one who drapes his hoodie over your shoulders when it’s too crisp. the one who never forgets to text you goodnight, even when he’s exhausted.
the one who stopped showing up to most frat partys because, as he put it, “none of it’s fun without you anyway.”
you see it in the way he’s changed. not because you asked him to, but because he wants to.
he doesn’t flirt with girls anymore. he doesn’t even seem to notice when they do. his focus is all on you. your laughter, your voice, your little quirks that no one else ever bothered to notice.
and it’s not just the big things that show it. it’s the way he always walks on the side of the road closest to the cars. the way he remembers all your orders without ever asking. the way he’ll pull you closer when you’re out together, even if it’s just to rest his big hand on your hip.
he doesn’t talk about feelings much, not directly. but in every gesture, every glance, it’s there.
you’re his world now, and everyone can see it.
his room at the frat house has changed, too. gone are the stacks of solo cups and random gym gear scattered across the floor. in their place are little pieces of you. a throw blanket you brought one day, a mug you left on his desk, your notebook tucked on the shelf next to his textbooks.
he keeps a photo of the two of you pinned on his bulletin board. it’s a candid, one of those moments you didn’t even know he was taking. a shot of you sitting cross-legged on the couch, wearing his hoodie, laughing with a half-eaten cookie in your hand. he swears it’s his favorite picture in the world.
“you look so fucking cute, and happy,” he tells you when you catch him staring at it one night.
“i am happy,” you reply softly.
“better be,” he says. “that’s all i ever want for you, y/n.”
some nights, he stays over at your apartment instead of the frat. he always claims it’s because it’s quieter, easier to focus on studying. but you both know it’s just because he sleeps better when you’re beside him.
you cook together sometimes, though “cook” might be a really shitty out of touch excuse for the disaster you two create. he burns half the things he touches, laughs through every fuck up, and still insists on taste-testing everything like he’s on master chef. you can’t stay mad when he grins at you with flour on his cheek, his dimples showing as he holds up a misshapen cookie.
“hey, we’re improvin',” he says.
“barely,” you reply, giggling.
he just leans down, presses a quick kiss to your nose, and murmurs, “yeah, but you’re still here, so i must be doing somethin' right.”
there are still parties, of course, he’s still in the frat, and sometimes showing up is expected. but it’s much different. when he does go, he stays by your side the whole night, a protective hand on your back or wrapped around your waist.
he barely drinks anymore, claiming he doesn’t need to. when people flirt or make comments, he just laughs them off and pulls you a little closer.
and when it gets late, when the music’s too loud and the air too heavy with alcohol and perfume, he’ll lean down and whisper, “wanna get out of here?”
you always nod. and the two of you slip away, walking through quiet streets until you reach your place, where everything feels calm again.
people still whisper, still wonder how it works. how a shy, soft-spoken girl could tame someone like ryomen sukuna. but you know the truth.
you didn’t tame him, you just saw him. really saw him. beneath the tattoos, the reputation, the arrogance. you saw the boy who just needed someone to care, and he saw the girl who needed someone to make her feel brave.
and together, you found something that feels a lot like forever.
months pass, the seasons shifting from late autumn to the first chill of winter. the air turns crisp, the sky pale and bright. the two of you walk through campus hand in hand, your breath forming little clouds in the cold.
“remember when we first started that project?” you ask one day, laughing softly. “you barely knew what a periodic table was.”
“hey,” he says, pretending to be offended. “i knew what it was. i just didn’t give a shit.”
“hmm, and now you’re pulling straight a’s.”
he grins. “guess i had a real good tutor. she's real sexy, too..”
you bump his shoulder lightly. “awe i bet she'd be real flattered to hear that.”
he stops walking for a moment, looking down at you with that same warm, unguarded look that still makes your stomach flip.
“you know something?” he says quietly.
“hmm?”
“i still think that fuckass project was the best thing that's ever happened to lil' ol' me.”
you smile, reaching up to fix the collar of his jacket. “yeah?”
“hell yeah,” he murmurs, leaning down until his forehead rests against yours. “because it led me to you.”
the world fades for a moment, the cold, the noise, the people around you, and it’s just him. just you.
when he kisses you, it’s slow, steady, full of all the fuzzy romantic fire that’s been culminating between you since the day he walked up to your desk with a failed test and a hidden nervous smile.
you remember that moment so clearly now, and you can’t help but think how far you’ve both come. from shy glances and awkward silences to this. a love that feels like home.
and as his hand tightens around yours, you realize something simple, something certain.
you’ve both found exactly where you’re meant to be, with each other.
chemically bonded headcanons <— here!
soft sukuna is my fav icl
anyways tysm for 6k im gonna cry im gonna miss you all on your mouths 🥹💞
୨୧ — When his daughter brings home her first potential boyfriend at fifteen, Sukuna doesn't say a word. He simply sits across from the terrified boy at the kitchen table, his fork clinking against the plate, the sound sharp in the tense air. The entire time, he maintains unblinking eye contact while you attempt to salvage the rest of the dinner conversation with meaningless small talk.
After about twenty minutes, Sukuna finally speaks, "You touch her wrong, they won't find enough of you to bury. Got it, boy?" The boy is out the door just as you bring out the dessert, and your daughter doesn't speak to her father for three days. But when rumors start to circulate that the same boy pressured another girl into something she didn't want, his daughter quietly finds him outside sipping on his favorite whiskey.
Sitting next to him -her shoulder pressed against his-, she whispers, "How did you know?" Sukuna just shrugs, but there's understanding in the silence between them. After that, she doesn't fight his "inspections" quite so hard. He's always been her protector after all.
︵︵︵ ๑❤︎๑ ︵︵︵
୨୧ — During a parent teaching conference, his daughter’s literature teacher suggests she might be "troubled"… due to her persistent interest in writing dark, violent stories… The teachers eyes flicker towards Sukuna’s tattoos and scars, suggesting it might be due to the home environment.
Wrong choice of words.
Before you can intervene, Sukuna leans forward and asks with a deadly calm, "You ever read Dostoyevsky? The fucking Bible?"
The teacher nods, shrinking back in his seat…
"All full of violence. All considered genius. My daughter’s writing isn’t the problem." His voice never rises, but the temperature in the room seems to drop a whole ten degrees as he continues. "Your small mind is."
Two weeks later, your daughter rushes home holding her regional writing trophy. Sukuna has her piece professionally framed and hung in the living room next day.
Because at the end of the day, that’s still his little girl.
Five love letters that were never meant to be read accidentally end up in the hands of every boy you’ve ever loved. You’re willing do anything to avoid your childhood friend for as long as you can, and Ace seems to have an idea to help you both out.
༯ ace x reader / fem reader / modern au / sfw / fake dating / ‘to all the boys I’ve loved before’ inspired / 4k+ wc
AN: thank you guys so much for 500+ followers! I appreciate you guys so much. I hope you guys enjoy this, it took me a while lmfao..
You figured it was inevitable that at some point, you would develop at least the smallest crush on your childhood best friend, Zoro.
After all, he’d been a constant for as long as you could remember. You grew up side by side, scraped your knees together, argued, and somehow always found your way back to each other. There was a comfort in him you never found anywhere else.
You never gave those feelings a name until sophmore year, after he announced he was dating Kuina.
Your sister.
Zoro had started spending more time at the local sword club alongside her. Watching them together felt natural, it became painfully obvious that there was something between them, something deeper than rivalry, something you couldn’t compete with no matter how hard you tried.
You never blamed either of them. In fact, you congratulated them without hesitation.
You were happy for them. You had to be.
Even if every outing somehow ended with you trailing a step behind, even if they did everything they could to make sure you never felt left out. It wasn’t the same. They tried to keep things normal, but there was no pretending years of familiarity hadn’t shifted overnight.
No matter how much you wanted to move on, feelings built over a lifetime didn’t simply disappear.
So you did the only thing you knew would help.
You wrote him a letter.
Not to give to him, of course not, you only wanted to keep this for yourself. Just to empty every thought that had nowhere else to go.
Every memory, every “what if,” every feeling you knew would never be returned found its place on paper. Once you finished, you folded it neatly and tucked it inside a small box hidden in the back of your closet.
It joined four other letters addressed to people you had once quietly loved, feelings that had never been meant to leave those pages.
You could live with it.
—
You were going to die.
The summer before senior year, Kuina broke up with Zoro just days before leaving for college.
The worst part was that neither of them had fallen out of love. She ended things because she didn’t want either of them tied down while they were heading in different directions. It was the “right” decision, in her mind at least.
It didn’t make watching the aftermath any easier.
Your only two friends had become strangers overnight, and somewhere in the middle of it all, you’d drifted away from Zoro too. It wasn’t intentional. Neither of you had done anything wrong. But after spending so long watching him and your sister together, you couldn’t tell if the friendship you once had still belonged to the two of you.
Your grip tightened around your phone. A notification from Luffy lit up the screen.
‘Where are uuuu!!! Thought you’d be with Zoro :(‘
You stared at it for a long moment before locking your phone without replying. How were you supposed to answer that?
The cafeteria was filled with conversations. Students clustered around familiar tables while you stood awkwardly near the entrance, unable to find a single place that felt like yours anymore.
With a quiet sigh, you turned toward the exit. Halfway there, your shoulder bumped into someone.
You couldn’t even mutter a sorry.
“What the hell?” The sharp voice made you look up. She glared down at you, fingers intertwined with her boyfriend’s.
Portgas D. Ace.
Or, more accurately, the reason behind the third letter tucked away inside your closet.
Your first kiss.
Ace let out a small sigh, gently rubbing circles over his girlfriend’s knuckles in an attempt to calm her. It didn’t help. She pulled her hand away from his and shot you one last irritated look before walking toward an empty table without another word.
You never really understood why she disliked you, you’d been friends once.
Ace lingered behind for a second, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry about that,” he muttered with an apologetic smile. “She’s.. having one of those mornings.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Must’ve been some strong coffee.”
A laugh escaped him before he shook his head. “Yeah. Something like that.”
He gave you a small wave before jogging after her.
You watched him leave without much thought. You didn’t dislike Ace. You couldn’t, at least without a valid enough reason. But liking him wasn’t exactly an option either.
Not after everything that happened.
The two of you existed somewhere in the middle, close enough to know eachother, yet distant enough that neither of you ever bothered trying.
With nowhere else to go, your feet carried you toward the courtyard. Habit, more than anything, that was basically your spot.
The familiar bench beneath the old tree came into view. And sitting there was Zoro. The exact same spot the three of you used to claim every lunch period last year.
A strange ache settled in your chest.Despite having plenty of friends, he sat by himself, arms resting on his knees as though he’d been waiting for something, or someone.
You slowed your pace.
For a brief moment, you considered turning around, before you could decide, his gaze flickered toward you. There wasn’t much point pretending otherwise now.
You walked over, stopping beside the bench. “Why aren’t you with your friends?” you asked, hesitating before taking a seat.
Zoro shrugged. “Waiting for you.” The answer came so fast it caught you off guard.“I figured you’d be by yourself.”
A short laugh escaped you. “You weren’t wrong.”
You dropped onto the bench beside him and reached into your bag, pulling out a pack of snacks you’d bought out of habit. Holding it toward him, you gave it a little shake.
“Want some?”
A familiar smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sure.”
For the first time in weeks, something almost felt normal. You managed to make up with your close friend, despite the awkwardness.
It was going good.
—
You jogged along the track beside Vivi, still dressed in your gym uniform as the afternoon sun beat down on the field. The sound almost drowned out the voice calling your name. You pretended not to hear it.
Maybe if you ignored whoever it was, they’d give up.
“Y/n!”
Still nothing.
It wasn’t until a hand caught your shoulder that you finally stopped, letting out a tired sigh as you caught your breath. “What do you need?” you asked between breaths.
Ace glanced briefly at Vivi before looking back at you. “Can I talk to you?” He hesitated. “Alone.”
The request sounded innocent enough. So why did it immediately make you nervous?
You looked toward Vivi, only to find her already wearing a suspiciously amused smile.
“Oh,” she snickered. “I’ll see you later.”Before you could protest, she waved and continued around the track, leaving you completely defenseless.
You bit your lip. “Make it quick, please.”
You reluctantly followed Ace toward the empty bleachers, far enough away that no one else would overhear. For a moment, neither of you spoke, which was valid in your case.
Ace scratched the back of his neck. “So..”
“So?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes.
He looked strangely flustered, rubbing his thumb across his fingertips. You weren’t used to seeing him like this. “Look,” he started carefully, “I’m really flattered.”
“Flattered?”
“Really flattered,” he emphasized. “But… I don’t think this is gonna work.”
You blinked, a part of you wanting to walk away. “Excuse me?”
He looked almost guilty, you didn’t know why just yet. “I mean, what you wrote was really sweet. About my eyes.” He smiled awkwardly. “‘The little golden specks when the sunlight hits them.’ And… um…” He cleared his throat. “When you mentioned how warm I always was, something like that.”
Your body froze, no.
Your eyes slowly dropped to his hand, an envelope. Your handwriting. Your letter. The letter. The one you’d written in seventh grade— so how was it in his hands? Your mind completely shut down, there had to be an explanation. Maybe you were hallucinating?
Maybe you’d passed out from running laps and this was some bizarre fever dream.
That had to be it.
Because there was absolutely no universe where Portgas D. Ace was gently rejecting a confession you had written years ago and never intended another soul to read.
“..And me and my girlfriend are already in a rough spot,” Ace continued, completely oblivious to what was happening inside your head. “So I don’t think I’m ready to—”
Your vision went white, then black.
“Whoa!”
Everything disappeared.
—
“Y/n?”
Your eyelids fluttered open, you kinda wished it stayed closed. The first thing you saw was Ace’s worried face hovering above yours. His hands were gripping your shoulders, gently shaking you.
“You okay?” he asked. “You just kinda collapsed.”
You stared at him blankly. “What happened?”
“You fainted.” He let out an awkward laugh. “Do you need some water? This happens to my brother all the time when he gets dehydrated.”
You slowly pushed yourself upright, rubbing your aching forehead. “I drink plenty of water, thanks.”
“You sure?”
Before you could answer, something over Ace’s shoulder caught your eye. Someone was walking toward the two of you, green haired, a little lost, and..
..another envelope in his hand.
Your heart stopped again.
Zoro couldn’t know how you feel, let alone talk to you about it. “Oh, no.” Your voice barely came out above a whisper. “No.. no.”
Ace frowned, a little bit frightened by your sudden panic. “What? Did something happen?”
You wanted to tug at something. “Oh my God!”
You came up with a plan that was probably not your smartest. No, definitely a rock bottom idea.
Your body moved before your brain could catch up. Without thinking, you grabbed the front of Ace’s shirt and pushed him back. He stumbled, catching himself with both hands against the grass as you leaned over him. “Wha—”
His words never finished once the touch lips went over his.
You kissed him.
—
You sat miserably in one of the old spinning counter chairs, your elbow propped against the countertop as you lazily sipped your soda. Not only did you somehow end up kissing Ace, you’d also managed to let Zoro find out you used to have feelings for him.
Hah, It was worse than that. Every single guy you’d ever written a letter to now knew.
You absentmindedly tapped your fingernail against the side of your glass, the quiet clinks filling the silence.
The bell above the diner’s door chimed, and you assumed it was just a stranger.
Footsteps echoed across the checkered floor until someone pulled out the stool a seat away from you. It wasn’t strange, the counter was small enough that strangers often ended up sitting closer than they’d like.
Curious, you stole a glance to your side.
…oh.
Your stomach dropped.
Ace.
You immediately pulled your arms closer to yourself, silently praying that, by some miracle, he hadn’t noticed you. No such luck.
“Hi again, y/n” he gave a weak nod.
You stiffened up.
“..Hi.” Your eyes stayed glued to your drink, hoping the conversation would simply die there.
Before either of you could say another word, Dadan suddenly appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. She looked between the two of you before a tiny frown tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“You brought a friend?” She said while looking at Ace. You were shocked your server knew him personally for just a second until the accusation became clear.
You nearly inhaled your straw. “No, we’re not—“
He answered at the same time. “I know her.” His response somehow meant more than your panicked denial.
You shot him a glare. He either didn’t notice, or chose not to. It was more than likely the second. “I’ll take a chocolate shake too,” he added casually. “I did dishes, remember?”
She clicked her tongue before leaving to the kitchen, too annoyed to fight about it.
Once she left, you felt obligated to talk this time. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s my foster mom’s diner, so I like to come here from time to time.” He nodded with each word.
You tried to not sound surprised, you liked coming here after all. “That’s.. that’s nice.”
It took an embarrassingly long pause before he said something.
“Look, I’m still flattered by the letter, but it’s not gonna happen. It’s not against you. You’re cute, in a quirky way.” Hold on, he thought you were cute? “It’s just that I’m still in a awkward position—“
You interrupted his speech, a bit of boldness in you. “Are you trying to reject me right now?”
“Well.. yes.” Ace looked just as confused. “Earlier it didn’t seem to work.”
You let out a forced laugh. “Look, Portgas D. Ace, I’m not trying to date you. Alright? So you can stop this whole thing now.”
“Really?” A grin slowly spread across his face, more out of amusement than tease. You took it just as annoying nonetheless.
“Yea.” You shuddered.
Ace nods. “So your mouth says this now, but just a few hours ago your mouth was saying something else—“
“Excuse me?” You hissed low, like someone you knew might just pop up and hear everything. “Don’t say it like that.”
He looked far too pleased with himself.
At a perfectly but bad timing, Dadan returned carrying an overly tall chocolate shake and placed it in front of Ace with a heavy clink. Ace gave an awkward laugh. She didn’t look convinced in the slightest before disappearing back into the kitchen.
You rubbed your forehead.
“So here’s the thing, I don’t actually like you.” You began to ramble, he didn’t look convinced at all. “I just had to make it look like I liked you at the time so that someone else wouldn’t think I liked them. Got it?“
“Got it.” Ace didn’t even give you a chance to slide off your seat. “Who? Who’s this mystery guys that’s so bad.”
You rolled your eyes. “None of your business.”
Ace rested his chin in his palm. “I think I have a right to know the mystery guy, since you pulled me into your drama.” He pouted his lips in your face, it was an irritating sight. “If there even is one.”
“Convincing, but no.”
He clicked his tongue like another idea clicked. “I might still be under the impression that you just desperately wanted to touch my lips.”
“I just told you I don’t!” You whispered viciously. “How about you don’t say that at all, it’s weird.”
“What?” he asked, feigning innocence that was clearly a taunt. “‘Desperately wanted to touch my li—’”
“I’m leaving.”
The second you shifted in your seat, he pointed a finger at you. “If you leave, I’ll tell the whole school about the love letter.”
..
Slowly, you turned back around. “You’re blackmailing me?”
He shrugged. “It’s light blackmail.”
“There is no such thing as light blackmail.”
“There is now.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose, in the end you complied and sat down again.
“..Fuck.” You drummed your fingers against the countertop a few times, each tap buying yourself another second. “It’s Roronoa Zoro.”
Ace blinked. “Luffy’s best friend?”
“Yes.” You almost forgot they were brothers.
Hos eyebrows raised in shock. “Your sister’s boyfriend?”
“Ex boyfriend.” You corrected immediately, “that distinction is important before I’m a wrecker.”
“Oh.”
You leaned both elbows onto the counter, burying your face in your hands before looking back at him. “Do you understand now?”
“Hm?” He mumbled as if he forgot all about it.
“Why I kissed you.” You stared at him dumbfounded. “Imagine your ex’s little sister suddenly confessing to you through a years-old love letter.”
“I’m following.”
“And now imagine you’re holding one of those letters while walking toward me.”
Ace’s expression slowly twisted into one of genuine understanding. “..Okay.”
“Exactly.”
“I’d panic too.”
“Thank you!”
“..Still would’ve handled it differently.” He smirked, chewing on the straw of his shake.
You glared, but took the choice of words lightly to make yourself feel better. A brief silence settled between you before Ace tilted his head.
“There’s multiple letters?” He suddenly asked.
You looked away. “Maybe.”
“Well now I have to know who those are too.” He raised a hand before you could reject again. “I still have blackmail.”
Your eyes glared. “So you’re gonna keep me at your fingers because of a lover later? I never knew you were that type of guy.”
Ace frowned, subconscious filling in. “It’s harmless questions, I just wanna know since you were the one who kissed me anyway—“
“First was Koby, the sophmore.” You bit out, annoyed with the amount of times that kiss was forced back in your memory.
He took a second before responding, trying to take it in. “He’s.. he’s gay.”
You knew that, just not at the time of the letter. “You don’t know that.”
“Everyone knows that,” he chuckled into his empty glass. “Who else?”
“Uhm.. there was this kid, at camp.” You took a second to think about it, mainly to delay the inevitable. “And then someone at a model group I joined in middle school.”
“Damn, I’m shocked you didn’t just confess to them.” He said without thinking, he didn’t catch the way your gaze faltered, embarrassed. “Those letters you write were good.”
…okay, that was a new step of friendship you guessed.
“Thanks, if only it didn’t take this long to reject me.” You couldn’t help the tiny smile that escaped despite your situation. It all felt so.. strange.
Ace laughed with you before absentmindedly spinning the empty glass in front of him. The conversation slowly died out after that, neither of you seemed to have much else to say.
You glanced toward the clock hanging behind the counter, standing from your seat. “Everything we talked about stays here, yeah?”
Ace raised both hands. “My lips are sealed.”
You eyed him suspiciously. “Sounds good, goodbye.” You turned toward the exit.
“Hey.”
You paused, stopping right behind him, giving him the okay to turn around and face you.
“What?”
Ace pointed through the front window. “Was that your bike outside?”
You followed where he was pointing, leaning against the wall of the spot sat your bicycle. Bright blue, covered in glitter, the little star shaped beads woven into the spokes, making them sparkle every time the wheel shifted in the breeze.
A kids bike that you didn’t even think to not take with you in your moment of distress.
“..Yeah.” You closed your eyes for a brief second.
“The glittery blue one?”
“Yes.”
“The one with the tiny bell that goes—”
“I know what my bike looks like.”
Ace broke into another laugh. “I wasn’t making fun of it.”
“You’re a shitty liar.”
“I was just surprised.”
“Of what?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” His smile softened just a little. “Want a ride?”
You stared at him suspiciously.
You’ll say no.
—
You weren’t entirely sure why you got into Ace’s car. Maybe it was because your brain had stopped making reasonable decisions sometime after you fainted. Or maybe it was just a genuinely kind gesture.
Whatever the reason, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat as the engine quietly hummed beneath you.
Neither of you talked much during the drive. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, at least in the way people would expect. Just strange. You’d never really spoken to Ace this much before today, let alone been alone with him.
The car eventually rolled to a stop in front of your house. You reached for your seatbelt, ready to make the fastest escape of your life, because of course Zoro was your neighbor.
“So,” Ace broke the silence, adjusting the rearview mirror absentmindedly. “What’re you gonna tell Roronoa?”
You froze for half a second before unbuckling yourself. “I’ll figure it out.”
He was trying, and failing to hide a laugh. “Then good luck.” His grin widened as he pointed through the windshield. “Looks like he’s outside. Should I say hi for you?”
Your eyes followed his finger, and there he was.
Zoro.
Standing in front of his house with a garbage bag slung over one shoulder, arguing with someone on the porch. Every ounce of color drained from your face.
“You’re kidding.” Your body instinctively sank lower into the seat. “I can’t go out there.”
“You kinda have to eventually.”
“No shit.” You groaned into your hands, knowing Zoro, he was definitely going to say something once he spots you.
Ace leaned back in his seat, absentmindedly tapping the steering wheel as he thought. “What if you.. don’t tell him.”
You immediately frowned. “Tell him what?”
“That you don’t like me.” He looked over with far more confidence than the idea probably deserved.
...
Your brain completely stalled. “So let him think we’re talking? No way.”
“If he thinks you kissed me because you actually like me, then he won’t question anything.”
You blinked. “So.. pretend dating.”
He scratched his cheek. “It solves your problem, and mine” He looked out the windshield again. “My ex was pissed when she found out we kissed, like overly pissed.”
You stared, raising an eyebrow, finally understanding a bit of him.
“So if she thinks I’m already moving on, maybe she’ll want me back.”
You stared even harder, maybe you don’t understand him. But it’s not like you were any better. “That’s a dumb plan.”
“I didn’t say it was smart.” Ace’s grin faltered, regretting it instantly when he spot how hesitant you were to look at him. He leaned into his chair, tapping at the steering wheel anxiously.
Then you sighed again, this time much louder. “What do we do?”
He blinked. “You’ll do it?”
“If it works now, I’ll think about it.” You contemplated for a second, but what’s another bad choice gonna do to your already horrible situation.
A slow grin returned to his face. “Easy.” He reached for the door handle, swinging it open. “Just hold my hand on the way.”
You palmed your cheek, hoping that maybe it could take away how nervous you were getting right now. “That’s it?”
“Well yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We’re only fake dating, we don’t need to make out or anything.”
..
“We’re you thinking of kissing me again—?“
“No!”
Before you could scold him, he climbed out of the car. You watched through the windshield as he casually walked around to your side, overly stiff. A second later, your door swung open.
Ace leaned against it with an annoyingly bright smile. “M’lady.”
“Don’t say that either, it’s corny.” You muttered.
He chuckled, giving a nod that carried no certainty. You don’t understand how he was so composed, maybe because his problem wasn’t right there. “You complain a lot.”
“Yea well, you’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe.”
You sighed and climbed out. The warm afternoon air immediately hit your face, so did the reality that Zoro was probably noticing you right about now.
Reluctantly, you slipped your hand into Ace’s, barely given a chance to pull back. His fingers curled around yours without hesitation.. warm. Your younger self had at least gotten one thing right.
He really was warm.
Ace closed the passenger door before naturally starting toward your house, leading just enough that anyone watching would’ve assumed this wasn’t the first time.
To your surprise, it didn’t feel as awkward as it should’ve considering the fact you guys weren’t close at all. But the most important part was that it looked believable.
Every instinct screamed at you to glance toward Zoro, but you refused to, certain he was staring already.
By the time you reached your front porch, you quietly pulled your hand away. “Are we seriously doing this? Take backs start now.”
Ace shrugged. “Seems like we already started.”
“Then what about school?” You pointed at him sharply, he caught how much you didn’t want to fuck it up.
“That’s easy, hang out with me.” He leaned casually against the porch railing. “It’ll make my ex jealous.”
“You’re really committed to this terrible plan.”
“And you’re using it to hide from your childhood crush.”
Suddenly, you smiled, and Ace swore his heart skipped a beat. “We’re both losers.” You dug your phone out of your pocket and unlocked it before holding it toward him. “Put your number in.”
He looked up, taking your phone. “That was fast.”
“We need rules.”
He groaned. “For what?”
You folded your arms. “If we’re pretending to date, there are going to be boundaries.”
He looked amused at first, still tapping at the screen while he placed down digits in your contacts, deciding between horrible names.
“I can’t just let you do whatever you want because everyone thinks you’re my first boyfriend.”
He paused halfway through typing. “First Boyfriend?”
You nodded matter of factly. “My first fake one, but yeah.”
Ace’s head snapped toward you so quickly you thought his neck might’ve actually cracked. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, then stopped. Instead, he quietly finished entering his name before handing the phone back.
“There ya’ go.”
You glanced at the contact before locking your screen. A tiny, victorious smile tugged at your lips. “Bye.” You gave him a small wave before stepping inside and shutting the front door behind you.
Silence.
You leaned against the wood, exhaling the longest breath of your life. Your eyes slowly widened.
Morning arrived and you were far too awake for somebody whose head had been lost in thought for the vast majority of the night but with Ace asleep on your chest, the time had passed quickly either way. And he was properly passed out, snoring softly with his mouth open, both arms wrapped around your ribs and his body weight pressing into yours.
It had finally reached the hour when waking him would be okay and you could get up to do something useful. But also… he was asleep and the thought of disturbing him bothered you more than you cared to admit.
So you played around with a tiny scrap of paper you'd found; lifting it over his arm and trying to drop it onto him rather than through him.
It was a work in progress.
The sunlight crept along the bed, moving higher until the rays were cascading over his shoulders, illuminating the freckles there. Ace’s nose twitched and he turned his head to bury his face into your chest properly.
“It’s too bright,” he muttered.
You looked toward the large curtains and ran your fingers over his arm. “Mm I didn’t close the curtains last night and you haven’t moved enough for me to do it since then.”
He frowned, opening his eyes for a second to look at where he was lying. He shifted his weight to free his arms but didn’t move off you. “Oh, sorry. Makes sense why I had good dreams then.”
You brushed hair away from his cheek. “What did you dream about?”
“Don’t remember,” he mumbled. “But it was nicer than usual.”
With the conversation from yesterday, you truly weren’t surprised that he’d been tired enough to not move for hours on end. He still looked faintly bleary-eyed as he picked his head up, leaning forward only slightly to press his lips to yours.
The kiss was lazy and warm, still half in the realm of dreams, and Ace leaned closer, tongue pressing into your mouth with an addictive indulgence. You hummed in response, free hand continuing to brush through his hair.
He shifted further over you, heat saturating through his skin and you let him; your legs tangled in the blankets and him in equal measure.
His hand moved under your top, hesitant for a second, and then bolder when you allowed it. The touch shouldn't have felt so novel after everything that had happened recently but warmth still curled low in your stomach. He traced patterns against your skin, creeping over your stomach and then moving higher still until his palm brushed over your ribs. You hummed, pleased, against his mouth and that seemed to destroy any uncertainty in him, the kiss turning burning.
For a second, you tilted your head away to catch your breath. Brief thoughts flashed through your mind of how ridiculous this would look from the outside but your lips were still tingling and Ace was trailing attention over your throat, then sliding lower along your body, and you found you couldn’t be bothered too much.
He nipped at your hip bone and you jumped, making him laugh. You caught his jaw before he could sneak further down and pulled him back up for another kiss. Your nails ran over his ribs and he made a soft groaning sound that pooled deep in your chest.
You shifted your hand higher, slipping over his shoulders when he suddenly hissed with pain, jolting away from your touch.
Panic laced through you like a knife. “Are you okay?”
Ace tried to give you a lop-sided smile that didn’t quite work. “Yeah fine. Sorry. Don’t know why that hurt so much.”
He rolled his shoulder and you took the second to glance over him toward his back. You’d remembered about the big injury – how could you forget it – but there was other damage there you couldn’t quite make out.
“I must have brushed against something,” you said, lightly kissing his cheek in apology. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, it’s okay,” he said, moving back toward you for an open-mouthed kiss you returned only briefly.
He adjusted closer, seemingly wanting to continue, but you broke the kiss early and slipped out from under him. You hadn’t really looked over his body to map out where the worst damage was but now, you let yourself gaze over his back to find what you’d touched in case you’d made it worse.
His shoulders grew tight the second you were behind him but he didn’t turn. He just brought his legs forward to sit and let you look.
The morning light spilled over his back, catching every mark in unfortunate detail. Bruises bloomed dark beneath sun-bronzed skin, ugly shadows that climbed from his shoulder toward his neck. Undoubtedly what you’d touched accidentally.
They crept further down, darkening against the deep scratches and deeper cuts that marred what remained of his enormous tattoo. Fire had burned straight through most of it but some of it had escaped untouched. You sighed and leaned down to press a kiss on one of the undamaged edges.
Ace startled slightly, turning his head to see what you were doing.
“I want to see this tattoo properly,” you said.
He grinned and flexed his shoulders forward though that didn’t really show the tattoo off well anymore. “It’s cool right? I sat still for hours to get it done.”
You kissed the side of his ribs where the tattoo curved around untouched. The smell of burnt flesh caught at the back of your throat, stubborn and unpleasant beneath the familiar warmth of his skin. It should have made you pull away.
Instead, you pressed another kiss there and felt him laugh beneath your mouth.
“You can show it to me when you’re back. I'm sorry for hurting you.”
“It’s not that bad,” he muttered, clearly annoyed. “I just forgot about it. I don’t understand why they’re still sticking around when I have my fire.”
“It’s probably because they played a part in your death,” you told him. “So they’re stuck even if your fruit is present.”
He groaned and flung himself over, twisting onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “It’s annoying.”
You kissed his jaw, tickling your fingers very carefully over his chest. “We can continue in a month,” you promised. “When the ritual works.”
Ace huffed. “That’s too long.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine waiting,” you teased. “And it’ll probably feel much better when you’re not in pain.”
“It’s not even painful anymore. Just tiring.”
Something in your chest ached at that. You brushed the hair from his eyes and kissed his nose. “Soon. I’ve been trying something this morning actually. Theoretically, I don’t need all the chalk to use my fruit but it makes it more focused. If I’m going to lose the fruit anyway, I may as well try force it, right?”
“So, you could just give me things?”
“Or thin the barrier enough to send them through without a whole ordeal,” you said.
He propped himself up on his elbows. “Are you sure you’re okay with getting rid of the fruit entirely? Thought you liked having it.”
“I do,” you said. “But the initial reason I ate the thing is long gone.”
“Why’d you do it?”
You smiled, a little forlornly. “Because I thought I could see somebody who was gone. But that’s not how the fruit works and they had already moved on.”
Ace frowned. “That sucks. So, if you bring me back then…”
“That was many years ago. Losing the power changes nothing now but I am going to practise a few things.”
He stared at you and then smiled, the simplest expression that melted you. “Okay,” he said. “As long as your practise has nothing to do with my injuries.”
You reached out to lightly touch the bruise on his cheek. “Not even this one?”
He batted your hand away immediately. “No. That one hurts too much.”
“Then what about this one so I can kiss you more?” Your hand drifted over to his mouth, brushing against the split lip.
His breath stuttered slightly before he answered. “No.”
“Pity.” You leaned in to kiss him sweetly. “Then I suppose I’m resigned to just trying to get pieces of paper to touch you.”
Ace stared after you as you got up and you looked back at him, stretching slightly. “Something wrong?”
“Just thinking,” he said and he sat up fully.
Your gaze lingered on the injury in his chest. That was definitely going to be the biggest problem. If his devil fruit didn’t heal him fast enough… maybe you should consider getting somebody else involved. A regular doctor wouldn’t do much but Ace had mentioned something not too long ago about Marco having healing powers, hadn’t he?
“Sorry,” he said.
You blinked. “What for?”
“You were staring at it,” he said. “I know it’s not pretty but – ”
“Oh no,” you said, firmly shaking your head. “I was thinking about how we can deal with that when you come back. But I don’t know why your fruit allowed you to get so injured in the first place.”
Ace relaxed a little more at your words, smiling loosely. “If you stare this much now, you’re going to like it when I’m all healed.”
You rolled your eyes playfully. “We’ll have to see,” you huffed. “Marco’s healing powers appeared pretty strong. Maybe we should ask him if he’d be able to be there in case…”
“He would, if you told him what you’re going to do.”
“Then I will.”
Ace swung his legs off the bed and rolled his shoulders. “You really think this will work? This whole coming back to life thing?”
“I do.”
“You said you could die.”
You shrugged. “There’s always a chance for that. This is worth it.”
He laughed. “When I first met you, you told me you weren’t going to travel too far for a ghost. Now you're bringing one back to life?”
You stepped closer to him, tilting his head up to you to kiss him again. That was an addictive sensation. “It’s your fault for being so charming.” You ran your fingers over his cheeks to nudge the hair away from his face. “At least you’ll be free of the tether once you’re back too. You can go wherever you want without worrying.”
“You’re going to come with me though, right?” he asked, leaning into the touch. “I don’t want to do the normal thing.”
“Normal thing?”
Ace grinned. “That pirates do. Where I go exploring and leave you sitting somewhere waiting. You should come with me. We can do things together.”
You hummed. “Well, once you’re alive, you’ll have more options than just me.”
Even though you were mostly teasing, the idea stung worse than you cared to admit. You could probably handle it if that was what it came to. Probably… actually, not at all. Losing those bright eyes would cut deep.
Luckily for you, Ace was wholly uninterested in entertaining your worries. “Why would I want that?” he huffed. “What, after all this? Not happening.”
You laughed and kissed his forehead. “Thank you,” you said. “You’re very distracting, do you know that? I can’t get any work done if I keep wanting to touch you.”
“You could touch me in other ways if you want.”
“I will. In a month.”
He groaned and fell back on the bed.
It didn’t take you long to find Robin when you left. It turned out, she was recovering from some injuries of her own but you still found her in the library, happy to discuss your fruit and what she knew of it. It was a lot of what you knew but some things caught you by surprise.
She paged through the journal when you offered it to her. “It’s not an easy fruit to study,” she said. “Especially as it can expend itself. Most of the books I remember were quite clinical about it.”
“And it won’t regrow until the user dies, even if expended,” you acknowledged.
“How did you stumble across it?”
“I paid. A lot.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve heard there’s a black market of fruits out there but I’m surprised the world government didn’t go after this one.”
“It’s too random,” you said. “Unreliable. Most people see no use in it because you can’t even choose which ghost gets bound to you and even if awoken, well, not everybody is lucky enough to find a spirit they want to use it on.”
“You’ve got good luck then,” Ace said from where he’d sprawled over the table, having fallen asleep not too long ago.
“I do,” you told him.
Robin tapped at a spot on the page. “The same space as the death is going to be difficult.”
“Really? Of the two, I think it’s the easiest.”
“What’s the second requirement?”
You grimaced and gestured for her to turn the page. “I need the same space and the source.”
“Which would require you to be within touching distance of an admiral.”
Ace lifted his head, frowning. “What?”
“Technically his devil fruit,” you said. “His magma will be enough. Which is not impossible to find if we can wait for a fight.”
“Though the admirals are rarely called out to begin with,” Robin mused.
You glanced towards Ace, nervous for a second as to how he might respond. He was staring into the side of your head and you waited to reassure when he instead smiled lazily, clearly pleased with your attention.
“I can start a few fires,” he suggested. “Maybe they’ll think somebody else got the fruit and come looking?”
“Maybe,” you admitted. “But I don’t think that’s admiral-worthy.”
He shrugged and summoned a small flame between his fingers that Robin immediately looked at. “I can make it pretty big,” he said. “But I need some motivation to do so. I work best for kisses and food.”
You laughed and nudged his hand, and the fire, away from your books. “Very distracting today,” you reiterated.
“Your fault.”
“Why’s Ace causing fires?”
Sabo’s voice caused you to turn your head toward him. He looked exhausted but he perched himself at the table with an easy smile.
“Because he’s bored,” you said.
Ace grumbled something and dropped his head back to the table. You looked fondly toward him and he smiled in response.
“I was thinking of returning to Sphinx Island,” you said to Sabo. “We might need a healer for Ace and I’ve been told the phoenix phoenix fruit is particularly strong.”
“Oh, yes, I can organise you a ship for that. Can he be healed now?”
“No,” Ace grumbled. “He also keeps having his attention stolen.”
You laughed and made a small ball of paper, flicking it toward him because the entire conversation had been about him to begin with. But it didn’t pass through him. It bounced off his arm and rolled across the table.
You stared at it for a second. Wait –
“Hey, that worked!” Ace said. “Nice!”
Your momentary satisfaction was cut off because Sabo’s head snapped to the side so quickly that it looked like he broke his neck. “Did Ace – did Ace just talk?”
Ace sat up straight. “You heard me?”
Sabo didn’t respond to the question. He looked at you and then back toward Ace. “I swear I just heard him shout something.”
“I heard it too,” Robin said, closing the book in front of her. “Clear as a bell.”
“Can they hear me?”
You looked between them but they didn’t respond to Ace’s question and then you looked down at the piece of paper. To send something, you had to thin the boundary between life and death… But things could cross the other way. You had to wonder...
“Alright,” you said. “Well, I didn’t know I could do that.”
Sabo’s expression was brimming with a mix of excitement and grief. “Can you do it again?”
tags ꩜ 2.8k words ， fluff ， lots of obscure gaming references ， gojo being down bad ， nerdy gamer gojo ， you can really tell he has the tism and i'm insufferable irl ， pining ， friends to lovers ， slowburn ， acts of service ， accidental confession ， mild social anxiety
taglist ꩜ @nightmarenyxx @spectranix | click me 4 taglist
notes ꩜ not my usual format but this is based on an actual fic in my deep coal mines ， felt bad since i hadn't made anything during exam season so i worked this up in an hour ， this is a two parter because it got too long for this format lmao. the next is just dating hcs with smut
gamer!satoru who absolutely judges people by their game libraries. not out loud, at first. because satoru, even if he’s a fucking prick, still has a sense of shame and humility hidden beneath his lack of internet decorum. he’ll ask what you play in the same tone normal people ask what your favorite color is. then you answer; something that’s not really his taste—because gamer!satoru is a gamer; he drops bucks on triple A titles if they’re worth it (and even if they’re not), but also pirate things if they’re too shit and ironically, sometimes unironically say it’s to preserve media—and suddenly he’s conducting a psychological profile.
"Stardew Valley?" he murmurs under his breath. You can almost hear him thinking. “...Interesting."
Your brows have already furrowed by the time he reaches the third syllable. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing,” there is something. Satoru is looking at you with the smuggest smile possible, glasses perched on his nose, the one who’s stuck ridiculously high right now in a way that makes you want to punch him until his head falls off.
gamer!satoru who physically cannot resist backseating. He swears he’s trying. He really is. He sits beside you with both hands over his mouth while you struggle with a puzzle, or a shooting game with god awful base settings. twenty seconds pass. Then forty seconds. one minute. He tries so hard not to but he starts shaking in his seat not long after. Eventually, he’s asking you "okay but hypothetically, if someone were to move the box to the left—"
gamer!satoru who has never paid for WinRAR. not once. not a single day in his life. which isn't astounding, isn't a horrifying either. but the free trial is entering year 14. satoru who knows torrent etiquette. he seeds. satoru who knows exactly which torrent site is currently alive after the last one got nuked. satoru who owns a tb external hard drive.
gamer!satoru who owns the most absurd setup imaginable; it’s a blessing and a curse that his parents spoonfed him with the gift of financial freedom. triple monitors. custom keyboard. a sennheiser headset. chair worth more than a used car. yet somehow his desktop is still covered in random screenshots named things like: finalfinalREALfinal.png, newbuild3actualfinal.png, screenshot_938.png
gamer!satoru who opens Wikipedia for one thing. he’s a goal-oriented man, but most times, his goals can change. four hours later he’s reading about Byzantine tax policy, extinct sharks, and maybe medieval siege weapons. and then somehow remembers all of it to run his mouth off to you during a Discord call. He’s also the same satoru who knows Homestar Runner, Newgrounds, and whatever old forum culture that was present at some point and can explain what happened to websites that died before you were born.
gamer!satoru who accidentally develops a sudden obsession because you're better than him at one game. just one. one singular game. maybe it's rhythm games. maybe it's tetris. maybe it's some obscure puzzle game. doesn't matter. he loses once. then twice. then six times. and now he's staying awake until four in the morning practicing. not because he likes you. he just thinks it'd be embarrassing to lose seven times.
gamer!satoru who starts measuring his emotional state through gaming terminology.
"How are you feeling?" you ask.
"Honestly?"
"Yeah?"
"I think I'm tilted."
"..."
gamer!satoru who learns your schedule without realizing it. he knows when you log on. he knows when you usually go offline. he knows when you're busy. he knows when you start sending increasingly incoherent messages because you're tired. he doesn't notice this is weird until geto points it out.
"You know her sleep schedule."
"No I don't."
"You just told me she usually disappears around 11:43."
gamer!satoru who experiences genuine heartbreak when you start playing a game without him. this starts because he found you playing Resident Evil: Umbrella Corps which he genuinely cringed at when you told him you paid real money to buy slop. his face twitched and contorted into the ugliest pout. not because he's possessive. that's ridiculous. he just—well. you usually play together, even the shitty cash cow games. so why didn't you ask him? he's not upset. he's just. he's… he's opening discord and staring at your status.
gamer!satoru who sends you increasingly specific memes. at first they're normal. then the palate shrinks. then it gets nicher. then they're so specific that they only apply to:
1. a game with 700 active players
2. a bug that existed for three days in 2021
3. an interaction you had two weeks ago
gamer!satoru who discovers that flirting is infinitely harder than competitive gaming. boss fights? easy. ranked matches? relatively easy unless your teammates give you hypertension. public speaking? easy, relatively. sending you: hey, and then waiting for a response? most stressful thing he's ever experienced.
gamer!satoru who realizes he's in love because you become his favorite notification. not texts. not game updates. not patch notes. not ranked rewards. not steam sales. you. he'll be mid-match in the most stressful situation in his life, threatening to rank up. sweating. trying to clutch. then your message pops up. and suddenly he doesn't care if his team loses.
gamer!satoru who starts giving you priority access to things he never shares. his save files. his favorite builds. his private servers. his secret farming routes. his meticulously organized mod folders. he doubles down and tells you he's just being particularly generous with you because you're an idiot who trips over herself more times than not when you catch on.
gamer!satoru who keeps saying "one more game" when you're together. you both know it's a lie. he knows it's a lie. you know he knows it's a lie. three hours later: "okay this is the last one."
gamer!satoru who, upon realizing he likes you, starts showing off in the dumbest ways possible. you'll be talking about your day. completely normal conversation. and suddenly:
"Oh by the way."
"What?"
"I solo'd that boss."
"...okay?"
"Just thought you should know."
gamer!satoru who thinks romance is cringe until it's happening to him. other couples? embarrassing. holding hands? corny. matching icons? pathetic. then one day he catches himself staring at matching profile pictures for twenty minutes. and now he's googling: "subtle matching icons not cringe" at three in the morning.
he's the first to point and laugh when suguru and his girlfriend, some girl who was apparently the love of his life—for two weeks—made the quintessential mistake of having matching anime profile pictures on his Discord account. he bullied the man so hard, and so much, to the point where ieiri actually felt bad for suguru.
now he's genuinely thinking suguru's later more subtle Discord statuses with his girlfriend, well, on-and-off girlfriend, are fucking genius. he hates himself for thinking that because supplementing that thought is a picture of you in his mind.
gamer!satoru who codes. not software engineer coding. weird hobby coding. he taught himself how to code through his willpower alone. it probably started when he was eleven and wanted his own custom Minecraft server, didn't know how plugins worked, downloaded random plugins, broke the game, then had to figure out basic config files. then he pirated, then it spiraled when he learned of GitHub and reached nirvana. it's stupid how a hobby born of willpower, pure hatred, and Reddit-based advice.
now you get satoru who automates things because he's lazy. made a Python script once to rename 4,000 files and never stopped talking about it. satoru who learns regex and immediately becomes unbearable. satoru who uses VS Code; has 57 extensions and only uses 4.
satoru who has a GitHub account with exactly two repositories:
one abandoned project
one script that calculates gacha probabilities
satoru who learned C# exclusively because he wanted to mod games. the most he did was make Minecraft plugins and Discord bots. now, it's satoru who's spending days figuring out if it'd be overkill to make a website dedicated for you, concluding that it's a bad idea, then doing it anyway discreetly.
gamer!satoru who realizes he's in love with you because his Steam Wrapped equivalent tells him he's spent 73% of his gaming time in co-op games this year. the statistic is humiliating but he still stares at it intensely. then he stares at your Discord icon in the minimized window below.
then he stares at the statistic again.
because before meeting you, he was a competitive ranked ladder god. now he's spending four hours helping you decorate your latest typically rage-inducing cute games. something has gone horribly wrong.
gamer!satoru who accidentally starts treating your messages like rare loot drops. he'll be doing nothing, then his phone vibrates; and his response is immediate with sub-second reaction time.
most of the time, you don't even send him anything profound. sometimes you just send him a photo of your drink—always carbonated—and his brain thinks of ten pathways of how to respond so you'll keep chatting with him until at least fifteen chat bubbles. you send him look with a blurry photo of a pigeon and he'll spend fifteen minutes discussing the pigeon.
god forbid you send him a selfie you don't even think twice about. he dies.
gamer!satoru who develops a Pavlovian response to Discord notifications. not notifications. your notifications. he doesn't care about anybody else's. suguru could message. ignored. he's gotten hit on the head for this. shoko could message. ignored.
you send hey and suddenly he's sitting upright. it's even worse when you text him late at night, and he images you sleepy, on your phone (because you said you "don't want eye strain" from being on your laptop), choosing him to text and suddenly he wants to wrap his USB cable around his neck.
gamer!satoru who keeps trying to figure out whether you like him back using the same logic he uses to optimize game builds. because satoru has never dated. satoru does not date. but he knows what it is, how it works. and now he's fallen in love with you and obsessing over his own feelings for you.
gamer!satoru who starts making spreadsheets. actual spreadsheets. this includes evidence you might like him: responds quickly, laughs at jokes, joins calls, sends cat videos to him. and recently you gave him your TikTok account and willingly made a streak with him. evidence against? you're you. way too out of his league. inconclusive.
gamer!satoru who confesses in the most embarrassing way imaginable. because he absolutely wasn't planning to. he had a speech. a good one. an actually cool and charismatic one.
he never gets to use it.
Most of the time, you're at home because you don't have anything better to do than lie around in your bed. Satoru's air conditioning is running cold, that same setting he keeps pretending doesn't make his hands freeze. You guys are on VC at hours you shouldn't comment on.
It's 2:17 a.m.
The conversation has long since derailed, because while in a game of Overcooked 2, you suddenly ask some dumb, lacking intellectual weight question, probably about whether cereal counts as soup. That has resulted in your game being minimized, and neither of you paying attention anymore, let alone playing anymore.
And then you laugh. Not even at him or anything he says. Just laugh. And Satoru's brain immediately blue screens. Through all his grandeur and bravado about his qBittorrent knowledge, there's nothing that prepares him for what his mouth says.
"I think I'm in love with you."
Silence. Absolute silence. Satoru can't even hear the usual expressions you make he's somehow learnt to recognize through the Discord call. There's only the hum from his PC fans, then his brain finally catches up to him.
"Wait," he rasps, "no, fuck."
Visible panic actually laces every syllable he breathes out. Almost instantly, he feels himself sweating cold. "That's not how I wanted to say that."
gamer!satoru who immediately buries his face in his hands after confessing. smartest person in the room, most times and destroyed by his own mouth. he almost impaled himself with the corner of his computer case when he backtracked and you simply said "well, I didn't say no."
gamer!satoru who grumbled for a day straight, still not believing you're actually his girlfriend, but bragging about himself to you saying he knew you would say yes. if you knew what the hell was going on in his brain, you'd call him pathetic. maybe he'd like it. gamer!satoru who started thinking of hypothetical ways he could've confessed, including showing you the personal website he made for you.
gamer!satoru who becomes uselessly, excessively affectionate after you start dating. actually unbearable. because before? he had to pretend. how? no regulations. no restrictions. no laws. now he can actually say the shit he wants to say about your hair.
gamer!satoru who a week into dating, starts abusing the girlfriend DLC. satoru who starts inviting you into every activity not because he needs help but because he just likes your company.
building a pc? come over. watching a documentary? sit with him. playing a game? obviously. studying? he'll complain the entire time but yes.
gamer!satoru who has accidentally become the epitome of boyfriend simulator, but in the most annoyingly him way possible. you recently mentioned how your latest amusement is Cooking Mama speedruns. three weeks later, he comes back and he remembers unconsciously. well, technically not, because the next two weeks after you had said that, he had spent his free-time hissing and cussing at his own Cooking Mama run. he has never played Cooking Mama in his life prior to this.
he started developing couple projects. not romantic projects, like taking you out on a date and painting a clay figure. it's somehow still romantic. because he asked you to make a Minecraft world together and it's been going for four months. because he also made a private wiki that has a 'History' section where he just describes all your dates together.
gamer!satoru who keeps making couple spreadsheets ironically, to the point where you saw something labeled date ideas.xlsx and [name]'s cranky habits.xlsx that remembers you always forget to refill your tumbler when you drank all of your water. so that's why he keeps periodically refilling it...
gamer!satoru who starts unconsciously bragging more around you. not because he's trying to impress you. he already impressed you. you dated him. mission accomplished. now he just wants your praise.
"Look," he nudges your shoulder."I fixed it."
You look over to see some script he wrote shaved six seconds off a process. You don't understand it at all. "Good job, Toru."
Pure dopamine. He fears he may become addicted to it.
gamer!satoru who becomes physically attached to you during calls, and especially in real life. if you're in the same room? you're touching. shoulder. leg. hand. something, anything. because for years his version of intimacy was asking if you want to vc. now he can actually hold your hand. huge upgrade.
gamer!satoru who not only kept working on that stupid website—not even hosted on Neocities or anything of that sort, no, he paid for his own domain with money you don't know where he got—but also put meticulous effort in it. everything inside it was a collection of everything you've ever said, probably.
from the long, almost tedious block of text describing, narrating, ridiculing just how much satoru adores you, which he added accumulatively over the dawning of his horrible crush on you, to the array of things he put in a section that reminds him of you. his writing isn't subpar, but typical of a guy whose only writing experience probably came form roleplaying with dweebs on Discord.
it doesn't change the fact that when he showed you the site three months after you started dating, you were left in a state of shell-shock from the way he memorized what your favorite Pokémon is, and was when you were a kid, and how much time he spent talking about how much your voice alone in a shitty high-ping Discord call made his day.
gamer!satoru who starts introducing you to every niche interest he's ever had, not because he expects you to care; he knows you don't care. but you'll sit there, listening while he explain ROM hacks, obscure gaming scandals, random internet history. and every single time he catches you genuinely paying attention he falls in love all over again.
gamer!satoru who one day realizes you know what he's talking about now. a fatal mistake. because suddenly you're quoting back and asking him about a speedrunning scandal and he freezes.
annaxmalina
blakekathryn
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
izzy806
areudirty
prguitarman
