NOW HIRING: Professional Monster Handler (Intimate Specialization)
AKA MOONS 250 FOLLOWER SPECIAL!! READER X MONSTER JJK!
Not every monster that stirs in the night wants to hurt you. Some of them just want you and need someone brave enough to stay.
Are you brave, flexible, and exceptionally good with your hands? Do you thrive under pressure - sometimes literally? Can you keep your composure when your client has claws, fangs, a tail, maybe all three? Do you look at a creature twice your size and think challenge accepted?
The Guild is looking for qualified Soothers to fill the following open contracts The work is intimate, dangerous, and the pay is good. The work is very hands on.
Nine new job postings. Nine monsters. Nine long nights. One professional built for the work.
SUGURU GETO: A naga in the mountains hasn’t been able to pass his eggs in TWO YEARS and needs someone patient enough to help him through it. He’s gentle, he’s gorgeous, he’s mortified by the whole thing.
TOJI FUSHIGURO: A feral werewolf in a rut has been terrorizing the eastern woods. Every hunter they’ve sent comes back a hot flustered mess. He doesn’t need to be caught, he needs YOU to wear him out.
SHOKO IEIRI: The forest’s healer hasn’t had someone take care of her in centuries. Her vines are overgrown, her patience is thin, and she could use someone with a good green thumb and an affinity for horny honey.
KENTO NANAMI: An overworked incubus from the Demon Bureau has been skipping meals because he thinks feeding is unprofessional. It’s you and him on a strict two-hour appointment.
RYOMEN SUKUNA: The local oni is in a bad BAD heat and the village would really like to sleep through the night. He has four arms, he’ll be using all of them if you’re lucky!
CHOSO: Something ancient is under the old shrine and now the nearby villagers keep falling in love with strangers. Maybe you can find love older than time with this tentacled terror?
HIROMI HIGURUMA: Locals have been complaining about a forlorn angel that’s taken up outside of the old courthouse and its pent up divine energy keeps damaging the town! They need you to teach him how to feel real good again.
YUKI TSUKUMO: A Phoenix mid-rebirth cycle has been burning so hot she’s been causing heat waves. She can’t handle the heat alone, and needs someone to help her reach the climax…of her flames! Marathon lovers needed for this hottie!
SATORU GOJO: A dragon god, the local land deity of the region, has stopped answering his prayers, and now he’s hogging up the hot springs! Now it’s time for you to answer his hot and bothered prayers!
Okay so nerdjo who needs to tutor reader, who’s fratkuna’s girlfriend and during one of their sessions reader slips and kinda reveals she’s as dorky as nerdjo is and that’s when nerdjo develops a crush but how can he confess when you’re dating sukuna? But do u look happy trying to be someone you’re not?👀👀
i wrote this with the song teenage dirt bag in mind 😅
today's food for thought: knight!reader whose spent her entire life devoted to guarding prince!gojo whose been pathetically pining over her from the first time she bowed and promised to protect him. the problem? he's supposed to be betrothed to a foreign princess by the end of the year :( so, who else to ask to help him gain experience with women than his most trusted knight? certainly, he'll be able to win you over eventually! until you abruptly reassign someone else to your duty and run away to the front lines rather than stay by his side
tags. fluff. angst kinda? frat!jo is secretly downbad. vaping. college au. hehe.
part one (not necessary to read)
you hate frat boys.
this is one thing that you are absolutely sure of as you make your way through a sea of smelly, sweaty bodies, all dry humping each other to distasteful club music in some rotten frat house. you should've known that coming to a party was a bad idea. your friend suggested it since it'd be good to help you get your mind off things with your ex, but obviously, it's only soured your mood even more after some white-haired frat guy tried to pull a fast one on you.
you finally find an exit leading to the back porch, which is thankfully unoccupied. the couch outside reeks of beer, but at least there's fresh air. you plop down, sighing deeply.
it's stupid to cry over a boy. stupid to cry over someone who breaks up with you over text at 2 am. stupid to fall in love in the first place.
aw crap. but here you are, crying. how pitiful. still, you let the tears fall. it's not like anyone's going to pay attention to some sobbing girl in the backyard. your friend is probably shoving her tongue throat-deep into some guy right now. no one at this stupid party would spare you a second glance, let alone spend their time on a porch doing nothing.
or so, you thought.
because the door slides open, and lo' and behold, white-haired frat dude steps out with a cherry-scented vape in hand. he looks at you and blinks slowly.
you wonder how pathetic you look to him, eyes watery and red, nose clogged as tears stream down your face.
"uh...you cryin'?" he asks.
now that you're getting a proper look at his face, you regret to admit that he's really quite handsome and that it's making you more embarrassed. he's incredibly tall, with a toned body that unfortunately is less than hidden in that tight white shirt of his. seriously, is he a slut or what? ugh, you're already pissed off.
"i'm fine," you grunt, turning away and wiping your face. "nothing to see here."
you hear a few cautious steps approach.
"you sure?" fuck, his voice is hot too, you realize, now that it's not shrouded by club music and others' chatter. "you know, it goes against my policies to let a pretty girl be alone in tears."
god, but he's just a stupid frat boy. remember that.
"i've already got a lot on my plate, thanks," you grumble sarcastically.
you feel his weight settle down next to you. "mind adding me to the menu?"
you whip your head around to him with a glare, expecting a taunting, careless smile in return. to your surprise, though, when you turn your head it brings your face close to his, and his ears go bright red as he shifts backward awkwardly.
"uh, sorry, just trying to lighten the mood." he scratches the back of his head sheepishly, eyes darting away as he takes a puff from his vape. "it came off wrong."
the cherry scent is comforting, somehow.
"whatever." you won't give in. just because he's not that much of an asshole doesn't mean he isn't a nasty frat boy. "should i leave? is this your usual spot or something?"
you stand up, wiping away your tears one final time, but he grabs onto your wrist before you can shuffle away.
"no, it's fine!" he says a little too quickly, before his ears go red again. "you came here first. just sit. i'll be gone soon."
you eye him suspiciously. he seems... nervous. but nice. sighing, you plop down again.
he takes another deep breath from his vape. noticing your curious gaze, he hands the device to you with a tilt of his head.
"wanna hit?"
you feel your cheeks flush, like you've been caught peeping on someone when you're not supposed to.
"no! i don't do that stuff!" you shove his hand away, immediately annoyed at the boyish, amused cackle that follows.
"oh yeah? you're too much of a good girl?"
"shut up." you groan into your hands, ignoring the the momentary warmth of his hands in yours. "that stuff is bad for you, you know."
he chuckles again. "didn't know i was talking to a goody-two-shoes."
"i'm not a goody-two-shoes!" you declare, fuming at him yet again.
this is, apparently, the funniest thing he's ever seen, since he doubles over laughing while clutching his stomach.
his laugh is surprisingly cute.
okay, what the actual fuck. get it together. jesus.
when he recovers, he smiles up at you with a twinkle in his eyes.
"you're fun."
"cool. so honored."
"but still a goody-two-shoes."
"i'm not!"
he laughs again, but this time you feel yourself fighting the urge to join. since when had you stopped crying?
"then tell me one wild thing you've done or you're planning to do." he leans back onto the couch, confident as he waits for your next move.
you don't want to lose.
"i...i-i want to get a tattoo," you admit begrudgingly. "that's pretty wild, no?"
you expect him to tease you. to make fun of such a silly dream. tattoos never really interested you before, but your ex, sukuna, had a plethora of them. and you guess it made you want to get one someday too. still, it's silly. you think he'd laugh at it.
but he doesn't.
"a tattoo?" he echoes thoughtfully, a warm smile dancing on his dance. "that's cool."
"... you're not making fun of me?"
he scoffs. "why would i? a tattoo is plenty wild. my friends say they hurt like a bitch." you stare at him, blinking in disbelief. "what kind of tattoo?" he asks, shifting his weight towards you.
"uh... a small one. flowers, probably. on my arm."
he hums, considering it. "that would be pretty. do you have a picture?"
"not really." you shake your head. "i was planning on drawing it myself someday, though."
at that moment, his eyes light up. "i have an idea," he declares, digging into his jean pockets for something.
you tilt your head curiously. "what?"
he finally fishes out a small black sharpie, one that he had probably been using to write names on cups earlier.
"draw it for me."
"huh?"
"your dream tattoo." he shoves the sharpie into your hand. "i'm curious about what kind of tattoo miss-goody-two-shoes would get."
you stare at the marker. "this is stupid."
"but it's fun. c'mon!"
you look at his face, somehow childish and manly all at once. his white eyelashes flutter at you.
"i'm not good at drawing on myself."
"then draw on my arm." he holds out his arm towards you.
who the fuck does he think he is? does he think he's charming or something? does he think you'd really say--
"okay. fine."
you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. why is he making you smile?
you grab onto his arm, twisting it gently so that you have access to his forearm. you watch as black ink drags against his (regrettably) smooth skin. he watches you carefully as you draw a tiny bouquet of flowers.
when you're done, he holds up his arm in awe.
"wow. it looks super cool."
"...thanks," you say quietly, unsure of what to do next.
he's... way nicer than you expected.
"my turn!" he chirps suddenly, pulling your arm towards him.
"wait, what?" the sharpie is snatched out of your hand before you realize it. "are you seriously going to--"
"shhh," he hushes you, winking mischievously. "close your eyes, i want it to be a surprise."
you resist lightly. "no way. you're going to draw a huge dick on my arm, aren't you?"
he laughs, loud and clear, and you think you might like getting used to the sound of it.
"i promise i won't."
you have no reason to believe him. honestly, you probably shouldn't. but yet you close your eyes anyways and let him have his fun. his strokes are gentle and fast, dragging across the entire length of your forearm. you really hope it isn't a dick.
it's quiet outside. maybe close to 3 am now. the house is still buzzing, but the thrum of the party is dulled by your own pounding heart. you're not sure when that started happening.
"done," he says softly.
when you open your eyes, your arm is completely covered is sloppy handwriting. you're about to protest, complaining about his poor art skills, but then you realize exactly what he's written.
nine digits. a phone number.
you look up to him, and his face is beet red.
"if you're crying again..." he glances away, avoiding your eyes. "you can call that number, if you want."
it's silent for a few seconds, only the gentle whirr of the night filling the air.
shit. you want to smile so badly that your cheeks hurt. you stopped crying a long time ago.
unable to take the awkward silence any longer, white-haired frat boy jolts up, stiffly walking back to the door to go back inside.
"but if you don't want to then it's whatever!" he quickly yells. you muffle a giggle. "i'll catch you around or something," he grumbles under his breath.
"wait!" you call out, watching as he stops in his tracks. "i don't even know your name."
relief washes over his face. then, he grins at you, cocky frat boy persona more evident than ever now. somehow--and maybe this is because you've gone crazy--you don't hate it.
"then call that number to find out."
and he closes the door behind him.
welp. you're screwed.
angels who asked to be tagged in part two <3 @sigmaskibidifortnitebattlepass @clumzywalrus @pjselee @orangetabbys-world @l1lacm1st
mei's notes. eeek! thank you so so much for all da love on part one! i wasn't planning on a part two... but what can i say i love feeding the audience hehe. hope u guys like this one, its definitely one of my favs!!! much love to you and thank u for reading!
track twenty-two: new perspective | prev track< | setlist
three rockstars! one you!
synopsis: your best friend has always been an asshole - whether it's in his band or in his bed. him ditching you? nothing new. but when one bedroom door closes, another one opens
pairings: rockstar!Suguru Geto x f!Reader x childhood fwb!Sukuna (+ rockstar!gojo!!)
content: mdni, angst and fluff and smut, beach episode!!, reader has been going through it guys she deserves a break, drinking, anxiety, tension, dealing with trauma of a leaked sex tape, more sukuna angst lol, complicated relationships and emotions, men trying to win reader back over, soft and sweet gojo, some fun beach fluff, they're getting wasted lol, kissing, drunk hooking up, 69, oral sex (m! + f! receiving), spit as lube, anal sex
a/n: art by @aransmind !!
"Do I know you from somewhere?"
"Don't think so," you lied through your teeth, faking a smile as you slid your sunglasses back down to the bridge of your nose.
The hope that maybe you'd be able to make it a day without thinking about why you were running away from your real life starting to crack in your chest as you dragged your suitcase across the lobby of some ridiculously expensive resort.
Satoru had booked you a beach vacation a plane ride away. In a different country filled with different people who hopefully would have no clue who you were.
But no, even here, the past was doing its damnedest to catch up to you.
You'd gotten a few stares on the flight, strangers whispering when you passed by, unable to convince yourself you were just being paranoid when you swore you heard a camera shutter at the airport before you took off.
All it really did was confirm that you couldn't go back to your old life of anonymity.
It was strange though, you always thought it would be Sukuna you gave it up for. That if you were going to surrender your privacy for someone, it would be for him.
You never thought it would be stolen from you.
Ripped away without ever giving you a real chance to fight for it.
Now you just had to figure out where to go from here.
Standing on the balcony of your surely ridiculously expensive room, phone in one hand while you debated on which man invading your thoughts to call.
Should you thank Satoru? Tell him how nice everything here appeared to be?
Check in on a probably (definitely) stressed Suguru? He was probably busy wrangling the girls or calling more lawyers to sort out your problems.
You felt kind of bad.
Something in your chest squeezing a little too tight when he crossed your mind. Constricting as you considered how hard he was working himself for your sake, the exhaustion obvious in his voice even over the phone the handful of times you had called him this week. And yet, he always asked about you. Sent food to the hotel room he paid for. Mentioned he spoke to a few of his other friends to see about finding a job better suited for you.
There once was a time where you thought the position you'd end up in was his kid's mother.
But before you could linger on it, twist and turn yourself into knots over everything, your phone rang - and the name on screen was one you'd been struggling to shove down in your brain lately.
"Hey," you answered awkwardly.
"Hey," Sukuna repeated, nearly nervous.
There was a thick pause, tense silence you didn't know how to cross.
"Can I see you?" Sukuna grunted, his voice grainy on the line as you leaned against the balcony, overlooking the pretty waves lapping at the shore.
"I'm, uh, not available," you mumbled back, watching the setting sun begin to dip below the horizon. It was serene. Gorgeous, really. Movie worthy.
And yet, your heart felt heavy, just a hard rock in your chest taking up too much space. Leaving your lungs no room to suck in any air as your fingers clutched onto the thin railing preventing you from falling three stories.
"Not available?" Sukuna scoffed.
You knew you should have told him before.
Made a better effort at communicating if you ever wanted to move forward from this awful place you were in now.
But everything was already so broken, you couldn't tell where to start gluing things together again.
"Satoru paid for me to go on a vacation," you reluctantly admitted, lips preemptively pressed together in a frown at whatever protest was about to leave his. "Booked a resort for me to stay at for a couple weeks while things blow over."
"What about your work? Or-" He started, and you winced at the reminder.
"Um, they let me go two days ago," you told him, replaying the uncomfortable conversation you had with your boss, the dick refusing to even look you in the eyes as he wrung his hands together. The one where you were professionally informed your position was no longer needed - as if you hadn't already found them listing your job on indeed the night before.
He didn't speak for a few painful seconds.
Him trying to find something mature to say, maybe debating on if there was any set of words he could string together to make you feel better while half of him was still fuming that Satoru had beat him to it.
"Fuckin' assholes," he so eloquently settled on instead, his deep growl reverberating through you as you let out a low laugh.
"Well, not much I can do about it when everyone there's seen me naked now," you dryly muttered.
Another awkward pause.
A moment where neither of you said what you were thinking.
"It's not fair," Sukuna spoke, uncharacteristically soft. No harshness, not even rough. "You deserve better."
"I just never seem to get it," you finished for him, swallowing hard.
He could say it. Mean it.
But you didn't know how to forget all the things that happened between you. Move forward from them.
What scared you more was the sneaking suspicion you'd never be able to move on from him either.
That your future would just be full of this back-and-forth. Letting him in only for him to let you down.
You didn't want him to change. Had never wanted him to become someone else when he was the man you fell in love with forever ago. But could he grow up without growing into someone new? Without dulling every sharp edge and dowsing the fire he always burned with?
"Is there anything I can do?" Sukuna asked, a rare hint of defeat in his disgruntled voice.
"Some movers are gonna show up to my apartment tomorrow. The front desk people said they'd let them in but-" You started, but he was already jumping at the opportunity to prove himself.
"I'll be there. Did you get a new place?" You were pretty sure he was just fishing for an address you didn't have yet, but you sighed anyway.
"No, they're, uh, just packing up what's left and taking it to a storage unit," you exhaled. You had to take like, a hundred photos of the damage to the apartment, all your stuff before you left. Documenting everything you could for evidence, and sending everything to a few lawyers Suguru had recommended? Hired?
You weren't totally sure what the status of it was, but he had mentioned that you might be able to file a lawsuit against the building for everything you'd been put through - not that you'd actually get any money from it any time soon.
"I'll make sure everything's taken care of," Sukuna promised. Steady for once.
All you could really think was how long would it last?
"I'm going back to therapy," he added, and you could tell he was embarrassed by how hard he huffed. "Booked a couple emergency sessions."
"Thanks, and um, that's good," you neutrally muttered, biting your bottom lip as your eyes fluttered shut, still wondering what he was doing right now. Where he was. What he was wearing.
If he was laying in bed wishing you were there. To have? Or just to hold?
"When you get back, uh, would you go to one with me?" He grunted, as if he wasn't asking you to attend a counseling session with him like it was a date.
"To your therapist?" You asked, struggling to figure out what to make of that request.
"Yeah," he grumbled. "He thought it would it would be a good idea. And, um, I do too."
"Like couples counseling?"
You weren't even a couple yet, and you already needed therapy.
Not exactly a great sign.
"Sorta," he admitted.
You paused, throat tight as you tried to decide what to do, already feeling yourself waver the way you always did for him. "Fine."
It wasn't like arguing in front of a third party would change much. But perhaps you both needed some brutal honesty from a licensed professional.
"Look, um, I'm gonna go," you mumbled into the phone. "I'm pretty hungry, but I'll call you later."
In a day. Or two. Maybe four.
You wanted to think some more. Spend some time with just your thoughts for company until you were reminded that you never needed any of them before. That your happiness didn't have to depend on any guy, no matter who he was.
"I miss you," he murmured, and you couldn't bring yourself to admit that you missed him too.
That a little part of you wished he was here, that he would spend the next two weeks making everything up to you in soft murmurs and sweaty sex in between the silk sheets.
You knew deep down that even if he did, there was still a reality you'd both need to return to. And that was always where things got messy.
When it was just the two of you, in stolen moments and secret meanings, you could make it work.
Neither of you knew how to be in an actual relationship with the other.
How to play boyfriend and girlfriend when you'd spent years burying feelings in being best-friends-with-benefits.
Sukuna had his anger issues. Had a short fuse the smallest amount of rage could burn through. You ran away at the first sign things weren't going to end well. Abandoned the ship before it could sail.
"Take care of yourself," you muttered into the phone, holding out hope that he wouldn't make an even bigger mess for you to come home too.
Your heart was hurting once again when you hung up.
Not giving him the chance to give you a goodbye that would only sting, leave a sour taste on your tongue you'd have to wash down with whatever they were serving at the bar tonight.
A mature adult wouldn't spend her entire vacation wasted.
Probably.
But Satoru had paid for an all-inclusive resort, so shouldn't you take advantage of your chance to relax?
Outside of sending obligatory check-in messages to your small circle of men who wanted in your bed and the few others who bothered to ask how you were doing, you spent the next three days drinking and lounging by the beach, wearing the clothes and bathing suits you used Suguru's card to buy.
Shutting your eyes and listening to the waves crash against the shore, closing off your brain to every heavy worry attempting to weigh it down.
Maybe Satoru was right.
You did need this.
Some time where all you had to do was sunbathe and sleep.
Go out for solo swims in the cool waves, feel the warm sun on your skin and let it mend some of the shattered parts of your soul.
The mornings melting into long afternoons and pretty sunsets, evenings spent drinking and dining on good food before crawling underneath the king-sized blanket in the oversized bed for one.
If anyone else noticed your presence, picked up on who you were underneath the sunglasses, you refused to notice them.
Although it was the families that caught your eye, the ones with little kids around the girls' ages that snagged your attention and made you wonder what your summer would have looked like with Suguru. If he would've spared the time to take the four of you somewhere like this, held your hand and decorated your face with gentle pecks while the girls splashed in the shallow tides.
Another thing you didn't get to know.
You told yourself it didn't matter.
Pushed it back down under the waves of your own mind, ignoring everything that wasn't positive to enjoy living in your own little bubble for once.
And honestly, it was a nice bubble. Strong enough to keep the bad thoughts at bay.
But things always changed, didn't they?
For better or worse.
"If it isn't my third favorite girl," a familiar voice purred, and your head snapped back, the thin sheen of sweat on your face from the morning spent underneath the blue sky making your sunglasses slip down your nose. But you already knew who it was, letting out a not totally surprised laugh at the man in front of you.
Satoru was grinning with practically all his teeth, white hair hidden underneath a goofy hat with a wide brim on it, his own dark shades pushed up to block your view of his probably sparkling eyes. Bright blue swim trunks hanging low on his hips, happy trail on display - along with the ridiculous tattoo you noticed before.
Why anyone would want a character permanently inked above their-
"If you wanna be left alone, I'll go-" He started backpedalling at the brief pause that passed, only shutting up when you gestured for him to sit on the lounge next to you.
"Third favorite?" You pointed out, arching up a brow as he sheepishly smiled, sliding into the seat and stretching our his long legs.
"After Nana and Mimi, of course," he laughed, and you couldn't resist returning the soft sound.
"Of course," you exhaled, mouth twitching up in a matching smile.
"Looks like you could use more sunscreen," he grinned, glancing down to the bottle on the table between your lounge chairs.
You rolled your eyes at him, slipping your sunglasses off to squint at his pale chest.
"Yeah?" You hummed, tilting your head to the side. "You're the one looking a little pink."
Satoru immediately looked down at himself, pouting before picking up the bottle. "Help a guy out?"
"Does Suguru know you're here?" You asked, ignoring his question in favor of one of your own.
He sheepishly shrugged, one corner of his mouth twitching down for half a second before it curled back up.
"He knows I paid for this," he offered instead, skirting around the subject the same way you did as he took off his sunglasses and set them by your empty glass.
"Can I ask why you came?" You rolled onto your side, wishing your drink wasn't empty so you had something to sip on. To soothe how dry your throat felt around him.
"Last meeting didn't go so well," Satoru sighed, grabbing the sunscreen and squirting far too much on his palms before starting to rub it over his muscles. You didn't think he was deliberately trying to do a terrible job at it, but he was distracted, rambling as he sloppily applied it over his chest. "My dad and I sorta got in a fight."
"Do I wanna know what it's about?" You asked, trying to tread lightly as your eyes trailed after his hands, the white streaks left behind on his skin.
"He thinks you and Suguru should pretend to be back together. Like a PR thing. Guess he wanted him to convince you to come to it so he could throw some cash at you to make you do it too," Satoru scoffed, gritting his teeth like he was getting annoyed just thinking about it.
Your mouth opened, spit drying up as you tried to process that new nugget of information, but Satoru wasn't done speaking.
"Suguru said no anyway, but I just, uh, snapped, I guess," he muttered, and if you didn't know what to make of it before, you certainly didn't now.
"You?" You asked, unable to even picture him raising his voice at someone.
He buried his face between his hands, peeking out from between them as he groaned.
"It's kinda embarrassing," he complained, his voice coming out muffled.
You had to strain to reach him, gently grabbing his wrist and pulling it down so you could see if he was being serious or just fucking with you. But it was still hard to tell if he was playing it up, blue eyes wavering as they locked onto your gaze.
"I was just sick of feeling like I'm playing someone else's game," he spoke slowly, the sharp tip of his nose stained white from some of the sunscreen still on his hands.
"Yeah," you murmured. "I know what you mean."
Even at the shittiest of times, it always seemed like he understood.
Broken in the same places as you. Edges bent enough that you nearly fit together.
He was easy to be with.
Ordered ridiculous drinks and dared you to see who could hold their breath underwater the longest. Swimming and splashing, threatening to toss you out deeper when you lost your sunglasses in the waves and stole his.
Hunting for seashells when the tide pulled back, his eyesight unfortunately far better at picking them out than yours, hands full as you stumbled back into the resort just to meet back at the restaurant for dinner and even more fancy drinks that definitely had more alcohol in them than either of you anticipated.
Both of you were teetering dangerously close to wasted, only half of it from the alcohol you'd been sipping all afternoon, the rest from the day itself, giggling and gossiping as he groaned about some embarrassing party he puked at back in high school. Your elbows knocking against each other when you finally dragged your feet back to the elevator, tripping on nothing as you lost one of your flip flops. He caught you though, hoisting you back up as you blinked up and realized he had dropped the drink he was trying to bring back to his room, sticky alcohol dripping down his sweat-slicked chest while you broke into another fit of laughter.
His previously white shirt now completely soaked through when it was already sticking to him before, as he teasingly threatened to spill what little was left on you too for giggling at him.
This was fun.
You'd forgotten what that was like.
Letting him wrap a strong arm around your waist to support your weight as you stumbled into the elevator, looking up at him as he took a few seconds too long to remember what floor you were both on, since he booked the room next to yours.
He was talking, yapping about some movie you'd never seen before as you nodded along, studying his features as his warm voice filled your ears.
And a thought you knew you should not be thinking right now popped up anyway, daring you to tiptoe onto treacherous territory.
What if you met Satoru first?
What if that night in the alley, he had stepped out and introduced himself?
His head tilted down at the elevator opened, brilliant stare squinting affectionately at you as tiny crinkles formed by his eyes. "Wanna do it all again tomorrow?"
"Uh-huh," you hummed, letting him help you back outside your room first, fumbling to pull out the key cards you entrusted him with earlier.
And it was when he put it up against the door and you heard the little click of it unlocking, you were struck by the sudden realization you still didn't want today to end.
"Satoru," you heard yourself say his name, felt his frame freeze as you pushed the door open, stepping forward to throw him a long look over his shoulder. "Do you wanna come in?"
A lump in his throat bobbed.
And then he was following you inside.
The door had barely closed before your lips were crashing into his. Hard. Fast.
He was moaning the second your tongue danced across his bottom lip, tracing over those perfect teeth of his, feeling the sharp edges of his canines before he was feverishly returning it.
It was clumsy. Sloppy kisses that didn't fully connect, the taste of alcohol and salt lingering as his hands struggled to even work the zipper of the dress you changed into for dinner.
Somewhere, in the deepest depths of your mind, you knew this was a terrible idea. The worst you might have ever had. Aware that you were sabotaging your chance of fixing things with either of the men waiting for you back home.
Satoru was your ex's best friend. Your best friend's...um, new friend?
It was the kind of messy you didn't know if you could come back from.
Crossing a line that you knew you'd never be able to undo.
And still, you couldn't stop yourself. Your own fingers trembling as you tugged down the zipper on his pants, started pulling them down as he paused, blinking down at you as if it could clear the thick haze clouding both of your judgement right now.
"We-"
"Yeah," you muttered before he could say that you shouldn't.
His white brows scrunching together in drunken contemplation as he exhaled hard through his nose.
"What if we just, y'know, made each other feel good?" He suggested, tilting his head to the side as he slurred a little. Your chest felt all warm and fuzzy, something deep inside your core burning and begging you to just take him.
And maybe it was the alcohol talking, but anything that would make you feel good sure fucking sounded like a fantastic idea to you.
"Yeah, it doesn't have to mean-" You started, coming up with any excuses you could to justify it as your hand slipped underneath the band of his boxers to find his cock.
Pre-cum had already collected at his swollen tip, coating your fingers as you started stroking what you hadn't been allowed to touch before.
"Yeah, no, definitely," he mindlessly agreed, nodding fast as he finally managed to unzip your dress.
His eyes went wide, all glossy and half-glazed over as the fabric hit the floor, staring at slight bounce of your exposed bare tits.
Cock throbbing in your hand as his pretty lips parted, "No bra?"
He sounded like he might pass out if he stared too long.
But then he was grabbing a handful of them, squeezing hard as he went in to kiss you again. His coordination clearly off, not that yours was much better, nearly tripping again as you both stumbled back to the bed.
Your back hit it first, his heavy body caging you in underneath him, all broad shoulders and thick thighs pressing you down in the soft mattress. Mouth enveloping yours with more messy making out, feeling a little bit like a teenager again, doing something you weren't supposed to with someone you really weren't supposed to want.
You lightly hit his chest, pulling back enough that he had to break the kiss, his nose nuzzling against yours as he sucked in a ragged breath.
"Roll over," you whispered, and he obeyed, listening without a word, flopping over on his back, arms out and ready to hold you again.
You flipped around to climb on top of him though, your ass in his face as you shoved his pants down enough to properly take out his cock. It was just as pretty as you remembered, thick veins pulsing as his hands slid up your legs to where your panties where still clinging to your skin.
"Shit, sweetheart," he purred, appreciating the view, you supposed as his breath floated over your skin. "You're so pretty."
You paused, held your breath as you hovered just above his face - your own poised above his cock.
He'd understand if you changed your mind. Backed out even if he was so hard it probably hurt.
But instead, you were wrapping your mouth around his swollen tip, sucking softly as he grabbed your hips and pulled you down so he could get proper access to your pussy.
He didn't dive right in.
Leaving little kisses on your skin instead, teasing you as his lips and tongue traced patterns on some of the softest parts of you.
"You taste salty," he half-laughed, licking a long line up your inner thigh again, fingers digging into your hips as you shifted your weight on top of him.
His cock twitching and throbbing against the roof of your mouth as you started taking him deeper, trying not to gag the moment it practically jumped when he peeled your panties to the side with two of his thick fingers, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of you soaked for him.
You might have said something sarcastic if his cock wasn't stuffing your throat, the sound that did come out muffled as he dragged his tongue across your entrance, eagerly lapping you up.
God, it shouldn't feel half as fucking good as it did.
One hand splayed possessively over the curve of your hip, his other fingers holding the thin lace of your panties out of the way as he worked his tongue inside of you like he was making out with your cunt.
He was moaning, but you couldn't tell if it was from you bobbing up-and-down on the thick length of his cock or simply from tasting you.
Satoru was warm, skin flushed as you dug your nails into his muscular thighs, delicately wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock, pumping what you couldn't fit in your mouth as your focus kept threatening to break from how feverishly he was feasting on you.
Eating you out like he couldn't get enough, like he wasn't even all that aware of you sucking his dick, his tip pressing against the back of your throat as his veins pulsed against your tongue.
He was too busy using his own to bully his way deeper, exploring you as your needy clit ached for attention too.
And maybe it made you needy, but your alcohol-addled body was insisting it wasn't enough.
Everything inside you was burning, chest constricting tight as the fire he just kept stoking started to get out of control.
It sounded far past filthy when his cock slid out of your mouth with a lewd pop! but you were still stuck in place, his grip on your lower half not even budging an inch as he continued to make a mess between your thighs.
"W-want you inside me," you gasped when his tongue slid out too, aching for more than he was giving you.
He stopped.
Waited for you to take it back.
But you didn't.
"Fuck," he breathed, his dick twitching again in your grip before he was lifting you up and off of him. Helping you sit up on the bed as if this qualified a serious conversation you both weren't currently capable of. "We-"
You pouted at him, pushing out your bottom lip as his big hands ran over your biceps.
"Don't you want me?" You asked softly, seeking comfort from the last person you should be begging for it from. Someone who was meant to be a friend you could turn to.
"So fucking bad," he answered in a single exhale, the words all rushed together.
"Do you think anal would count?" You suggested, despite the fact you hadn't actually done it since you were with-
Okay, no, you shouldn't think about him.
Not now. Not with Satoru.
He cocked his head to the side, genuinely contemplating it before he swallowed hard.
"I mean, it's not, like, the same," he admitted, and you were rolling onto your stomach, ass lifting up in the air now that you knew you already had him.
Besides, he was right.
It wasn't the same.
You were just...satisfying each other's needs? Clinging to each other because of the close proximity?
Whatever petty reason you pretended to believe, you still felt yourself tremble a little when his touch ghosted over your ass, slowly pulling your panties down and helping you out of them. Leaving you completely naked in the soft bed, the mattress whining as he got back up to completely remove the rest of his own clothes, the rustle of fabric hitting the floor making your breath hitch.
And then he was getting back on top of you, his skin on yours, leaning down to press his lips against your shoulder blade.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," he muttered, his voice soft and sleepy and still drawn out. The alcohol was making all your thoughts slow, almost fluffy, like clouds you could just sink into while you felt his cock sliding in between your thighs, nudging at your clit while you tried not to preemptively moan for him.
"I think I'm gonna fall asleep if you don't fuck me," you lightly teased, yawning as you felt the first hints of drowsiness start to prick at you under his weight and warmth.
He clicked his tongue, making a small huff of disapproval into your collarbone that left you shuddering as his mouth grazed higher up your throat.
"Needy," he mocked you with just a single word, as if you couldn't feel the proof of his desire digging into your thighs.
"No, you," you immaturely retorted, giggling as you gave into how fuzzy your chest still felt, thick coils of heat purring in the pit of your stomach.
He didn't immediately reply, and you started to look back over your shoulder - just for a wet glob of something to land on your ass.
And as you squeaked in surprise, there was sudden pressure, a finger working its way into your untouched hole.
"Did you just spit on-"
"I didn't bring lube," he half-whined, collecting more of your slick before pushing a second sturdy finger inside of you, whatever protest you might have come up with turning into a strangled moan as he stretched you open. "I don't want to hurt you."
His sweetness was overwritten by the searing feeling of his fingers fucking your ass.
It burned, your vision blurring as you buried your face into the pillows, sure your makeup was smearing as hot tears formed. But whatever brief pain you felt morphed into white-hot pleasure, the kind that spent sparks across your spine as you squirmed underneath him.
"S-should I keep going?" He stammered behind you, and you were nodding numbly, a primal part of your brain still desperate for more.
Hungry for anything that made you feel even remotely good after you'd been stuck feeling bad for so fucking long.
Moaning his name into the blankets as the pressure built and mounted, so intense you were pretty sure there was no way you could fit any more just for him to work his way up to a third finger.
You didn't even mind when you heard him spit again, the filthy sounds of him fucking his fist with his other hand to get it wet enough before he pulled his fingers out and replaced it with his tip.
He hesitated, and you found yourself holding your breath again.
All your muscles tense, thighs squeezing together as he slowly pushed the first two inches inside, groaning at the connection as your nails clawed at the blankets.
"F-fuck, S'toru," you whined, unable to even fully say his name when your cheek was squished against the bed, body squeezing him tight as your stomach somersaulted.
The pressure was driving you crazy, the feeling of his thick girth working its way inside, hearing him hiss out a low breath as he tried to be gentle.
"S'not fair," he still found a way to whine, pressing his pouty lips against your shoulder blade as he rested his forehead against your skin. The ends of his hair tickled, making you shiver as you felt him shove his way even deeper.
Fuck.
Was he all the way in yet?
You were pretty sure you couldn't fit any more inside you, but he kept pushing forward, the sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs begging to be touched and toyed with as you barely held yourself together. "Mm, w-what?"
"What you're doing to me," he groaned, gritting his teeth as his cock throbbed in your ass. "It's not fair."
And before you could even formulate a single thought about it, his hips were suddenly pressing against your ass, his cock bottoming out the last couple inches as you cried out, damp streaks probably on your face as he set everything inside you on fire.
Only capable of thinking about him as he jammed his hand in between your body and the mattress, rubbing desperate circles over your clit like he was trying to soothe you, attempting to paint pretty patterns as he started thrusting in-and-out, your body half-limp as he fucked into you.
And despite what Nanami had teased him for the night you first met, Satoru was, in fact, very good with his fingers.
"What's that s'pposed to mean?" You whimpered underneath him when his words finally clicked in your head, drool leaking from your lips as he dragged you closer and closer to a climax with each slam of his hips against your ass, each brush of his fingertips over your aching bud.
"Making me fall for you when we both know you're n-not mine," he whispered, soft enough you almost couldn't make out the words, only to throw you right over the edge afterwards. Fingers hitting just the right rhythm to make you cum right as he let out the lewdest moan you think you ever heard, finishing inside you as his hips snapped one last time to fully thrust in.
His body practically collapsing on top of you, your thighs trembling as fuzzy shapes dotted your dark vision, the thin rubber band keeping your sanity in check breaking as the pleasure buried you.
Satoru was rambling pretty words, telling you how good you did, how fucking tight it felt, still bottomed out inside you as you shuddered and splintered for him.
It was somewhere in the midst of it all, with his breath on your skin and his cock in your ass, what he said finally registered.
And you had to ask yourself, whose were you?
WHO WANTS A PLAYLIST FOR GOJO
reblogs n comments are super appreciated <3 love hearing your thoughts as always !
Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.
Warnings: Emotional tension, jealousy, angst, and unresolved feelings between ex-lovers. Includes crying, vulnerability, heartbreak, and intimate but non-explicit moments.
Part 8
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Y/n’s POV
2 weeks later
“All that effort Y/N put into being the ideal student… yet she still wasn’t enough to keep Gojo interested.”
“The school’s golden girl went from Gojo Satoru’s ‘forever’ to just another face in the hallway. Life comes at you fast.”
I scroll.
And scroll.
And scroll.
My face is everywhere on the school’s anonymous page. Different captions, same coward energy.
A laugh—dry, annoyed—comes from beside me.
“Fucking losers can’t even say it to your face,” Yuki mutters, peeling open a bag of chips during our sleepover like she wants to murder someone with every crunch.
“Mm.”
That’s all I can manage. My thumbs feel cold on the phone screen.
Shoko lies across the foot of the bed, blowing smoke toward the open window. “Ignore them. Half the school just waited for the breakup so they’d have a chance with Gojo. They’re not celebrating your downfall; they’re celebrating their delusions.”
I know she’s trying. I know they all are.
Still… it stings.
Because the hate posts did stop after the breakup—well after I got with Choso it stopped.
For a while.
Until the new girl arrived—some Calvin Klein model exchange student with cheekbones sharp enough to kill a man. And somehow she and Satoru were already being whispered about. Rumors, photos, sightings at the courtyard fountain.
Perfect.
“Satoru’s an easy manwhore, babe. Honestly? Just forget him,” Mei says, sprawled on the beanbag like she’s posing for a magazine. “Or better—have fun. Make him regret it.”
“Please,” Shoko deadpans. “Didn’t you literally bet with Suguru on whether Y/N would spiral or not?”
Mei shrugs. “It’s called entertainment.”
Their bickering fades as they both look at me.
My quiet.
My expression that doesn’t crack even when my chest feels like someone stuffed snow inside it.
Except not perfect enough for the boy who promised me forever behind the gym in eighth grade.
I take a breath.
If they want a show, fine.
But I’m not going to burn.
I’m going to enjoy.
I hold my phone tighter and unlock it again—this time not to doomscroll, but to scroll through my contacts.
They all freeze when they hear the ringtone start.
“Y/N?” Shoko says slowly. “Who are you calling?”
I ignore her.
Then:
“Hello?”
A male voice.
Deep. Familiar.
The kind that always makes Satoru’s jaw clench.
My lips curl into the first real smile I’ve had in days.
“Hey,” I say, lowering my voice just slightly.
“You free tonight?”
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
The Limitless Club.
Gojo Satoru’s little playground. His VIP playground, his pride, his ego on display every Friday and Saturday night. And yes, I used to be his—at least in theory. Tonight, I’m still in the VIP, still watching, still remembering, but I’m not in his lap anymore.
“You’re bold… inviting me to your ex’s club,” Sukuna murmured, his lips brushing against my ear as I perched between his legs at the bar counter. Arms locked around my sides, he leaned closer, and I could feel the heat of him against me.
I let a slow smirk curve my lips. “Oh, please. You’re just as egoistic as he is. Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying having Satoru’s ex in your arms.”
I stared at him, daring, teasing, and a little dangerous. The crowd around us moved in waves, oblivious, but I knew he could see me.
And that’s the point.
I let my fingers trace over the line of his jaw, tilting my head just enough so our lips met. Soft at first, deliberate, just enough to get a reaction. Sukuna chuckled against me, a deep, amused sound, and I leaned into it, letting the kiss linger while my mind ran through every thought I shouldn’t be thinking.
Funny… I always thought I’d never enjoy this kind of attention after him. But right now? Right now, I could almost forget that Gojo ever existed. Almost.
A stolen moment, a corner of the club away from prying eyes. Sukuna’s lips on mine, hands tracing curves and edges I hadn’t stopped thinking about. I completely let go—forgot the crowd, forgot the chaos, forgot him.
Until, of course, I didn’t.
The cheers hit me first—loud, raucous, unignorable.
“Let’s party!”
The crowd went wild, and I froze, heart hammering.
Of course, there’s my ex.
I pulled back slightly, wiping my lips, trying to act casual. Sukuna chuckled beside me, voice low, teasing.
“Regretting now?”
I slapped his chest, laughing, a little tipsy from the drinks and the thrill. “Me? You want to make out on the stage next?”
He just grinned, the smirk turning wicked as he leaned closer. I hadn’t realized how… substantial he was. Not just tattoos and looks. This—this was a whole different kind of danger.
“I’ll go freshen up…then maybe we could have some fun in your car,” I whispered, breath warm against his ear.
His eyes darkened with mischief, a smirk tugging at his lips. I hadn’t noticed the eyes already on us, the faint shift of attention from the crowd. My heart raced—not from him, not entirely—but from knowing, he’s watching.
I should move on. I know I should. Yet here I am, in Gojo’s playground, letting someone else stir up the chaos my ex could only dream of controlling.
“Move on, Y/N,” I muttered under my breath.
The restroom was quieter—still humming with bass, but muffled enough that my head finally stopped spinning. I stumbled a bit, fixing my lip gloss, steadying myself against the counter.
I didn’t even notice someone walking in until she stopped right beside me.
“You must be the ex.”
The voice was sweet—soft, almost bored—but the edge was unmistakable.
I glanced at the mirror. And there she was. The model. Calvin Klein golden girl. Satoru’s new girlfriend.
Great.
I wasn’t insecure—not even close. But jealous? Of course. You’d have to be blind not to be.
Would I ever scream or throw a drink at his new girl? No. I’m not twelve.
“And you must be the girlfriend.”
I gave her a polite smile—no shade, no venom, nothing. I have beef with Satoru, not her. And unlike the girls from before, she hadn’t done a thing to me.
She scoffed. “Don’t act like that.”
I turned to her, brows lifting. “Like what?”
“Like you’re innocent.” She faced me fully now, eyes narrowed. “I know you’ve been trying to get with him again. He’s my boyfriend now—”
I couldn’t help it—I actually laughed. “Okay, Miss Calm Down. Yes, I might’ve made a questionable decision coming to his club, but this is basically a school hangout. His other exes are literally out there too. Relax.”
“I don’t care!” she snapped, voice sharp enough to cut. A few girls near the sinks exchanged glances before slipping out, sensing incoming drama.
“I don’t want you here specifically,” she continued, stepping closer. “You’re a whore—just like everyone says. And you won’t stand a chance of crawling back to him. Not while I’m here.”
She stormed out, heels clicking like the punctuation of her final insult.
I stood there, stunned for a full second.
“…Wow,” I murmured.
I’d tried being nice. I really did. But apparently that wasn’t going to cut it tonight.
“Fuck this,” I said, letting the alcohol and the heat in my chest take the wheel.
If she wanted a problem—fine. Maybe I’d give her one.
Walking straight out of the restroom
“Y/N? What are you doing here?”
Suguru’s voice cut through the hallway as I pushed past him. His brows were pulled together, confused, almost concerned, but I didn’t stop. Didn’t look. Didn’t breathe.
Not right now.
I brushed him off with a shoulder, jaw tight, the anger in my chest pulsing like a drum. I didn’t owe him an explanation. I didn’t owe anyone one.
I only had one person in my head.
Sukuna.
And I found him exactly where I knew he’d be—leaning against the railing near the VIP stairs, tattoos peeking under the club lights, looking like trouble wrapped in smug confidence.
He grinned the moment he saw me. “You took your time, princess.”
He pushed himself up, grabbing his jacket like he was ready to leave with me.
“Let’s dance.”
His smile faltered. “I thought we were heading out—”
“Not anymore.”
I grabbed his wrist and pulled him straight into the sea of bodies under the purple strobes.
The floor was hot, packed, pulsing with bass. People cheering, drinks sloshing, sweat in the air — pure chaos. My kind of distraction.
And I made damn sure Sukuna had no room to think.
I pressed my back into him, body sliding against his as the beat dropped. His hands instantly found my hips, pulling me closer, deeper, shamelessly. A growl of satisfaction rumbled from his chest.
We moved in sync —grinding, turning, losing ourselves in the music and each other. The lights flashed across his tattoos, my hair, our silhouettes blending like something we shouldn’t be doing but absolutely were.
“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he muttered against my ear, lips brushing my skin.
“You’re so damn feisty tonight… you sure you wanna keep this a ‘for fun only’ thing? I could treat you better.”
I tilted my head, smirking. “Falling for me already?”
He chuckled, low and rough, and I reached for a random shot someone handed off behind me. I downed it in one go, not caring what it was.
The alcohol burned down my throat, warm, dizzying — good.
I wanted to drown everything out.
I turned, ready to grind back into Sukuna, ready to forget, ready to ruin myself—
But then my gaze slammed into him.
Satoru.
Standing at the entrance of the VIP balcony.
Not smiling.
Not laughing.
Not teasing.
Just staring.
Those damn blue eyes locked on me like a hand around my throat, yanking me sober in an instant. Like my whole body remembered him before my brain could tell it not to.
My stomach twisted, a sharp drop, cold and humiliating.
Of course.
Of course he’d see me now.
“Yo.” Sukuna’s hand tightened around my waist, pulling me back into reality. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer.
Because Satoru Gojo wasn’t looking away.
And I hated—hated—how my heart reacted before I could.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
I hate it.
I hate that the hands on my hips aren’t his.
I hate that the chest pressed against my back isn’t the one I memorized.
But God, I loved the way Satoru was staring — jaw tight, blue eyes burning straight through the crowd as I moved my hips to the beat, grinding even harder against Sukuna, who looked like he’d just been handed front-row seats to chaos.
“Keep doing that,” Sukuna murmured against my ear, voice dripping with dark amusement, “and I’m dragging you out of here.”
I laughed — reckless, drunk, uncaring — and pulled him down into a full, messy kiss. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer, devouring every second.
And that’s when it happened.
A hand — cold, firm, furious — yanked me back so hard the air left my lungs.
“What the—?”
Before I could blink, Satoru’s fist connected with Sukuna’s jaw.
A loud crack.
Gasps.
Music choking out into silence.
“Satoru!” I shrieked.
The crowd didn’t dance anymore — they circled, phones out, cheering like idiots as the two most volatile men in the room swung at each other.
This wasn’t Satoru’s style.
He taunted. He joked. He mocked.
But outright fighting?
Not unless he snapped.
And apparently, he snapped.
“STOP IT!” I pushed through bodies, dizzy, vision swimming as I tried to find Suguru — anyone who could help before this turned into a police report.
Instead, I heard a high-pitched gasp beside me.
Great.
The girlfriend.
She grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward her, eyes blazing.
“This is YOUR fault! Why are you literally everywhere?!” she screamed, shoving me hard.
I stumbled, dizzy and enraged.
“Don’t touch me,” I warned, pushing her back, but my balance was slipping — she was sober and furious; I was drunk and hanging on by a thread.
“I’m so sick of hearing your name!” she yelled, shoving me again. “Y/N this, Y/N that—”
No one noticed us.
Everyone was too busy recording Gojo and Sukuna tearing into each other like wild animals.
My head spun. My vision blurred.
Shit. I was actually about to pass out.
She shoved me a final time — too hard — and my knees buckled.
The floor rushed up to meet me, cold and sharp.
I groaned, hand trembling, head pounding so loud I could barely hear—
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”
Satoru’s voice. Furious. Unhinged.
Then:
“Get the fuck away from her. You don’t lay a HAND on her.”
My eyes fluttered as footsteps pounded toward me.
“Y/N!” Suguru’s voice finally broke through the noise, closer, panicked.
Good.
He was here.
Now I could finally…
finally…
…slip under and stop fighting the darkness creeping in.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
My head throbbed first.
A slow, pulsing pain that reminded me I’d drunk far more than my body could handle. I rubbed my eyes, half-asleep, wishing I could just slip back under and pretend the night never happened.
It was still dark.
Still night.
Still wrong.
I tried to let myself drift again—until I heard it.
A quiet, broken sniff.
A soft, trembling whimper.
I froze.
That wasn’t mine.
“Mhm…” I groaned, pushing myself onto my elbows, blinking away the blur. I was lying across the backseat of a car—someone’s jacket thrown over me. And up front…
White hair.
Shoulders shaking.
“Satoru?” I croaked.
The sniffing stopped instantly.
He turned just slightly—just enough for me to see his face through the dim streetlight sneaking through the window.
Tears.
Actual tears rolling down his cheeks.
My stomach dropped.
“W-why…?” The question fell out of my mouth before I could think. I tried to sit up fully, but everything spun. Still, I stared at him—at this. Satoru didn’t cry like this. Not quietly. Not shaking. Not like the world was ending.
“Hey… hey, what’s wrong?” I whispered, dread filling my lungs. He didn’t answer, just hunched over the wheel, hands trembling.
“Satoru?”
No response.
“Tor—”
The old nickname slipped out without permission.
His head snapped up.
Those blue eyes—usually bright, cocky, annoyingly confident—were swollen, red, filled with something rawer than I’d ever seen.
“Y/N…” His voice cracked, barely a sound. “It hurts.”
My heart clenched so sharply I forgot to breathe.
“What does? What hurts?” My voice shook. A hundred fears raced through my mind—his fight with Sukuna, injuries he was hiding, something bleeding, something broken.
“Did Sukuna—?”
“Yes.”
He swallowed hard, knuckles white around the wheel.
“It hurts. Too much.”
Panic surged up my throat. “Then—why are we in a car?! We need to get you to a hospital, Satoru—”
He shook his head violently, breath hitching.
“No. Not that. Not him. I mean—”
His voice shattered.
“Everything.”
I froze.
“I really didn’t want that date,” he whispered, words trembling like he was ripping them out of his chest. “I fought with my parents for weeks. I told them no. Over and over. But they kept pushing because—because of you. Because they said you were ruining my future. They said if I didn’t start ‘moving on’ they’d—”
He broke off, wiping his tears with the back of his sleeve, failing miserably.
“And after we broke up, I just—”
He choked, breath trembling.
“I couldn’t take it. I thought… if you got jealous… if you saw me with someone else… you’d come back—”
He sucked in a sharp breath.
“You didn’t. You looked at me like I didn’t matter anymore.”
I had no idea what to say.
Every word he threw at me hit like a punch.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he whispered. “But watching you walk around like you were fine—like you could live without me—”
His voice dropped, quiet, defeated.
“—it killed me.”
“Satoru,” I whispered, finally finding air.
He didn’t stop.
He couldn’t.
“I can’t—I can’t live like this. I can’t pretend we’re strangers. I can’t watch you dance with someone else. Kiss someone else. I—”
He let out a small, broken laugh.
“God, I sound pathetic.”
He finally turned fully toward me.
Tears streamed down.
His chest rose and fell too fast.
He looked shattered.
“I love you,” he whispered. “So much it fucking hurts. I hate that we’ve come to this. I hate every second we’re not together. I hate waking up without you. I hate that you think I don’t care.”
He swallowed thickly, voice barely audible.
“Please… take me back.”
The desperation in his eyes—
the fear—
the ache—
hit me harder than any punch Sukuna landed.
“I—” My throat closed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
But he leaned closer, breath trembling against my cheek, voice small and terrified.
“Please, Y/N,” he whispered.
“I don’t know how to live without you.”
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Present
“Satoru!”
“Y/n!”
“Yuji!”
Voices crashed into the darkness like distant waves — frantic, relieved, alive. The rescue team.
Finally.
“We’re found!! Right here!” Yuji yelled, his voice cracking with exhaustion.
“Here!” I called out too, even though my voice trembled. Maybe from the cold.
Maybe from something else entirely.
Beside me, Satoru stayed unusually, eerily quiet. His breaths were shallow, every inhale trembling slightly. I swallowed the lump rising in my throat — the same one that came every single time my brain replayed our memories despite my constant command to stop.
Footsteps, then—
“Satoru! Oh dear, are you okay?”
Utahime rushed to his side, her voice sharp with worry. She wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, her hands fluttering, inspecting him for injuries.
A pang bloomed in my chest — jealousy, stupid and uninvited — and I forced myself to look away.
“Y/n! Are you okay?”
Choso.
Gentle, steady, always showing up exactly when someone needed him. He draped a blanket over me, his cold hands surprisingly reassuring as he checked for bruises.
“I’m okay,” I sighed softly, giving him the faintest smile. “Don’t worry. Worry about your brother.”
He cupped my cheeks with both hands, eyes softening the way night lights soften an empty street.
“Thank you… for being with my brother,” he whispered.
I opened my mouth to respond — but my gaze was pulled, unwillingly, irreversibly, toward a pair of blue eyes.
Satoru’s.
My ex.
The man I left.
The man who still looked at me like I had hung the galaxies he was doomed to orbit.
And that should’ve been the end of it.
Closure. Done. Clean.
But the way he looked at me now…
Like hope and heartbreak were waging a war in his chest…
It made something inside me stutter painfully.
Suddenly—
A soft press on my forehead.
My breath halted.
“Choso?” I whispered, blinking.
His face flushed immediately. “I—I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m so happy you’re okay.”
His hand slid down to caress my cheek, thumb brushing tenderly.
I smiled at him — because he deserved that. Because moving forward with someone like him would be safe, painless, warm.
A new chapter.
Right in front of me.
Uncomplicated. Steady. Real.
But even as I tried to lean into that thought, I felt it —
a stare like a hand around my ribcage.
Satoru.
His eyes were burning holes into Choso’s hand still cupping my face.
Blue, shattered, desperate.
A storm with my name carved into the lightning.
And the question struck me so hard I almost hated myself for it:
Why couldn’t it just be him again?
Why couldn’t my heart choose the easy path?
Why couldn’t he have been the one who stayed?
Why couldn’t the universe have made us less fragile, less broken, less doomed?
Why did his eyes still make something deep inside me ache so violently —
like no matter how much distance I put between us,
Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.
Warning: this story contains themes of heartbreak, jealousy, emotional manipulation, alcohol use, and minimal sexual scenes
Part 7
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Author’s POV
“Fuck, stop smoking, Shoko! I’m dying here!”
“Fuck no,” Shoko snapped, completely unbothered, her cigarette smoke curling around them like a wall.
The car was thick with tension. Y/N sat stiffly, heart hammering, trying to steady her breath. Shoko and Mei were beside her, both silent, watching. Earlier, Mei had spilled the truth: Gojo was on a date. Y/N hadn’t believed it at first—she even shoved twenty thousand yen at Mei, demanding honesty. But now, parked at the lot, staring at Satoru, the evidence was undeniable.
Her chest felt tight, every inhale sharp and shallow. Her stomach churned, twisting as her eyes caught him opening the car door.
And there she was—the girl holding flowers. Flowers. then Y/n compared and remembered Satoru’s ritual, the little weekly roses meant for Y/N, had suddenly stopped.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Shoko muttered under her breath, but Y/N barely heard it.
Everything inside her froze. There were no tears, yet her chest ached with a suffocating weight, memories of him flooding every nerve. Her Satoru—her childhood friend, her first love, the boy who had always been hers—was standing there with someone else.
“Are you… okay, dear?” Mei’s gentle voice cut through the tension.
Y/N let out a shaky laugh, hollow and brittle, as the reality sank in. Her hands twitched slightly on her lap, powerless to stop the wave of hurt and disbelief. She wanted to look away, to deny what she saw, but her eyes were glued to him, seeing the life they had together now somehow slipping through her fingers.
Everything they’d shared—the quiet mornings, the teasing smiles, the warmth of their closeness—felt distant, frozen behind a wall she couldn’t reach.
And just like that, the world felt impossibly cold.
At the school courtyard, skipping classes had always been a thrill, a rebellion—but today, it felt like the weight of every misstep had landed squarely on her shoulders.
“How could you let that happen?!” Y/N’s voice cracked, fierce and trembling, the anger and hurt a storm she couldn’t contain.
“I—I said it! I didn’t want it either! I had no choice, okay!? So will you just stop being insecure and move on already?!” Satoru shot back, his words sharp, but his eyes flickering with something else—a careful watch over her expression.
Y/N’s breath hitched. The sting of his words dug deeper than she expected, and he noticed. That small falter on her face didn’t go unseen.
“W-wait, I’m sor—” he began, voice breaking, the words caught halfway between apology and pleading.
“Fuck… you, were over.” she cut him off, flat and cold, as if the weight of their past didn’t matter.
“What?! No!” he shouted, disbelief and frustration fueling his words, heart pounding like it could burst out of his chest.
And in that moment, Y/N realized something about herself—back then, as a teen, she had fire in her veins, a fearlessness she rarely allowed herself now. That raw, unfiltered anger, that unwillingness to let him or anyone walk over her, would set the tone for the wild, chaotic seven months that followed—a time that would define her, heartbreak and all.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Whispers chased her the moment she stepped into the hallway.
“Oh, the famous Y/N finally got dumped.”
“Right? Guess Gojo finally realized he could do better.”
Every word felt like gravel under her shoes. Y/N kept her head down, walking beside Suguru, who looked half-dead from his hangover and completely lost.
“What the hell’s going on?” he muttered, rubbing his temples.
Y/N didn’t answer. She didn’t need to — the laughter echoing around them spoke loud enough.
“He probably got tired of her.”
“Heard she even did his homework just to keep him around.”
“Pathetic.”
Her hands clenched around her books. One more word—just one—and she’d snap.
“Cheap girl.”
That was it. Her head shot up, eyes locking on the group of girls lounging by the lockers, smirking like they owned the world.
Y/N opened her mouth, but another voice cut in first.
“Isn’t your mom an escort?” Mei Mei’s voice sliced through the noise like a whip. The hallway went silent for a beat.
Y/N’s POV
I forced a laugh, sharp and humorless, trying to mask the heat rising in my chest. The kind of laugh that said don’t mess with me—but my hands were trembling.
Then, I saw him.
Satoru Gojo, strolling down the hallway like he owned it — his uniform slightly undone, sunglasses perched in his hair, and a dark hickey blooming across his neck.
Perfect.
Suguru blinked in confusion. “Seriously, what’s going on? Did I miss a memo?”
“Oh, you’ll figure it out, Sugu,” I said, voice low and cold. My gaze didn’t leave Gojo. “Just… give it a minute.”
He looked at me then — just for a second — like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. He walked right past.
And that hurt more than I wanted to admit.
“Y/N,” Yuki’s voice snapped me back. She was leaning against a doorway, arms crossed, watching me. “There’s a party tonight at my place. Might be good to let off some steam.”
I gave her a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah. Sounds like exactly what I need.”
But in my head, I already had a plan — and it wasn’t just about the party.
It was about reminding Satoru Gojo exactly who he let go.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Yuki’s party was the quieter version of Gojo’s.
If Satoru’s parties were all smoke, sweat, and bad decisions, Yuki’s were the opposite—still chaos, but the kind you could breathe in. Less sex, more conversation.
Almost ten drinks in, I was slouched against the counter, glass half-empty, brain running on fumes. My friends were gone—either too drunk to stand or too busy making out in corners. And Satoru… yeah, he wasn’t here. He had his own crowd. His own party. His own new girl.
I stared at the amber liquid swirling in my cup, but it wasn’t whiskey I was tasting—it was memory. Us. Him. All of it.
God, how did it all end so fast?
At least I wasn’t alone for long.
“Too many drinks for someone so small, don’t you think?”
The voice came low, smooth—like the bassline of a slow song.
I turned and almost choked on my own breath.
Choso Kamo
Older. Mysterious. The kind of senior who didn’t talk much but made everyone look twice when he did. He leaned against the counter beside me, black hair falling slightly into his eyes.
“‘m fine,” I slurred, smirking despite myself. “You can take care of me, right?”
His lips curved—not quite a smile, more like a dare. “How sure are you that I’ll take care of you?”
The air between us changed. His tone was playful, but the way his gaze dropped—slowly, deliberately—wasn’t. My thighs pressed together on instinct.
And he noticed.
His eyes flicked back up to mine, and I swear I forgot how to breathe.
“I…” I swallowed, feeling the burn of alcohol and something else entirely. “I trust you. You can take care of me in any way you want.”
My tongue darted out to wet my lips without thinking, and his gaze followed that too. The corner of his mouth twitched, half amusement, half interest.
And that’s how it happened — in some random bedroom I hoped no one would walk into.
The door clicked shut behind us, and the noise of Yuki’s party faded into a distant hum. My head was spinning, half from the alcohol, half from the way Choso’s gaze pinned me there.
I stumbled back a little, laughing softly. “Oops.”
He caught me with one hand around my waist — steady, warm.
“You’re drunk,” he said quietly, amusement tugging at his voice.
“Mm, maybe,” I mumbled, looking up at him through heavy lids. “You gonna scold me for it?”
“Not my style,” he said. His eyes lingered on mine a moment too long.
The space between us disappeared without either of us deciding it. His breath brushed my cheek, carrying the faint scent of smoke and sweetness. I could feel my heart thudding in my throat.
“You’re trouble, Y/N,” he murmured.
“Good thing you like trouble,” I replied, words slurring into a laugh.
He smiled — slow, restrained — the kind that made him look impossibly calm while everything inside me was spinning. His hand slid up to my jaw, thumb tracing the corner of my lips like he was memorizing it.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” he asked softly.
“Not really,” I whispered. “But I want to.”
For a moment, the air between us trembled — full of things unsaid. And then he leaned in, close enough for the world to blur, his voice barely a breath against my ear.
“Then don’t think,” he said.
The kiss that followed wasn’t rushed or rough — just deep, lingering, and certain. The kind that made the room disappear. My hands found their way to his shoulders, and everything else — the noise, the ache, the memories of someone else — slipped away.
When he finally pulled back, our foreheads stayed pressed together, breaths tangled.
“You always talk this much when you’re drunk?” he asked, eyes glinting.
“Only when I’m with people who actually listen,” I said, and he smiled — that small, knowing smile that could undo anyone if they stared too long.
He leaned closer, so close that the space between us disappeared, his voice brushing against my ear.
“Then keep talking, Y/N.”
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
“HOLY SHIT, you slept with Kamo?!”
“Shhh!” I hissed, nearly tripping over the doorway as Yuki’s voice echoed through the hall. My head pounded. My heart, worse.
It was 8 a.m., sunlight spilling through the curtains, and I’d just snuck out of some random bedroom — wearing mostly his clothes. Choso was still asleep, peaceful in that maddeningly quiet way, and I wasn’t about to stick around to explain it.
“Y/N, this is— oh my god,” Yuki whisper-yelled, hand covering her grin.
“Please, not now,” I groaned, adjusting the oversized shirt on me. “Just… get me home, okay? Before anyone sees.”
“Wait— Y/N!” she called as I started walking off.
I ignored her. My head was spinning, my chest heavier than my hangover. Guilt nipped at the edges of my thoughts — stupid, because I was single. But still…
Then I heard it.
“Oh?”
I froze.
The living room came into view — too bright, too full. And there he was.
Gojo Satoru.
Standing there like he’d been waiting for the perfect time to ruin my morning.
“Oh, yeah, Y/N,” Yuki started awkwardly, voice a little too chipper, “I was gonna tell you… the whole group’s here.”
My stomach dropped. My eyes met his, that blinding shade of blue I used to call home.
His gaze trailed over me once, taking in the shirt that clearly wasn’t mine — and the way my face must’ve screamed caught.
“Fun night, huh?” he said, voice cool, teasing, sharp enough to cut.
The smirk that followed was worse. It wasn’t amused — it was mocking.
Before I could find words, he was already walking past me, leaving nothing but that bitter sting of his cologne and a silence that burned.
“The audacity of that man,” Shoko muttered from the couch, snapping the tension like a twig.
I just sighed, tugging the shirt lower, letting the girls pull me away — anywhere but there.
Because if I looked back, I knew I’d find him still watching.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Somehow, Satoru had figured it out — that I’d slept with Choso Kamo.
Which, to be fair, was a big deal. Not just because it was Choso, but because he was kind of the ghost in our old relationship. Before Satoru and I ever happened, Choso was the crush. The quiet senior with the unreadable face, the one I used to daydream about instead of doing homework. My type, apparently.
And of course, Satoru Gojo was the opposite — loud, golden, magnetic, everything Choso wasn’t. That was part of why I’d fallen for him. That was also probably why he couldn’t stand hearing Choso’s name now.
Now here we were — back in the cafeteria. Same friend group. Same table. Only difference? We weren’t us anymore.
And it sucked. Because four days after our breakup, he was sitting across from me, letting some random girl perch herself comfortably on his lap like she’d already earned the right.
“Get a room,” Nanami muttered dryly as he sat down, tray in hand. His eyes flicked to me, quiet concern hidden behind his usual monotone.
I took a bite of my burger and rolled my eyes. “Clearly, there’s not much to see, so a room wouldn’t be needed.”
Suguru whistled low under his breath.
Satoru didn’t even look up from his phone. “Jealous much?”
I shot him a look sharp enough to kill a man. Before it could get bloody, Suguru slid in between us, the eternal peacekeeper. “Alright, children, let’s not burn the cafeteria down today.”
Unfortunately, Yuki was here too. And Yuki had no concept of timing or peacekeeping.
“So,” she began, voice way too loud for 11:30 a.m., “how’s everyone?”
A few half-hearted replies followed. I focused on my fries. Maybe if I ignored her long enough—
“Oh, by the way,” Yuki announced, tone casual and completely traitorous, “Y/N hooked up with Choso Kamo at my party!”
The entire table went silent.
My head snapped up so fast I nearly choked. “Yuki!”
“What?!” she said defensively. “That’s, like, an honor. It’s Choso.”
Across the table, a few gasps erupted. Someone from another table actually turned around.
“Choso?!”
Suguru just blinked, then grinned like he’d been waiting for this. “My man!” He reached across to dab me up. I didn’t even bother stopping him.
“Finally,” Mei said, snickering. “Your taste got better.” She paused, eyes darting toward Satoru. “No offense, Gojo. Well, maybe a little.”
The table chuckled, the kind of laughter that tried to cover the tension leaking through the cracks.
And then Satoru spoke.
“Uh-huh,” he said with that careless drawl of his, leaning back in his chair. “What’s Choso gonna do when he realizes he’s just another fuck to her?”
The laughter died instantly.
“Oi, Satoru,” Suguru warned, voice low. Even Yuki’s grin faded.
I set my burger down slowly, wiping my hands, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. My chest felt like it might cave in, but if he wanted a scene — fine.
I met his eyes, steady, sweet, venom hidden behind my voice.
“Jealous much, Toru?”
I dragged out the nickname deliberately — the same one the girl on his lap had just used five minutes ago.
His jaw twitched. The girl shifted awkwardly, sensing she’d just wandered into a battlefield.
For a heartbeat, the whole cafeteria froze — noise dulled, air thick. Just me and him. A standoff.
And maybe it was the worst part of all — that even after everything, I still couldn’t look away.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Of course Satoru had to fuck with every girl I’d ever had issues with—
the same girls he used to gossip about with me. Typical.
I could’ve used Choso to get even. The thought crossed my mind more than once.
But no. Choso’s too good for this kind of mess, too decent to drag into the noise that follows me and Gojo wherever we go.
Besides, I’ve been avoiding him ever since. Thank God the seniors’ building is on the other side of campus. The fewer run-ins, the better.
Still, the rumors don’t stop. They grow legs, multiply, twist themselves into new versions of me I barely recognize.
I hear my name down the hall and keep walking—chin up, heartbeat steady. I’m too smart to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.
And that’s when I spot Sukuna leaning against the lockers.
He’s half-hidden in the shade of the open window, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding a can of soda like it’s an afterthought.
There’s something lazy about the way he stands—like he owns every inch of the hallway without trying. Tattoos peek from under his sleeve, and his eyes flick up when he notices me.
He doesn’t smile, not really. More like a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, just enough to say I’ve seen worse days, but you might make this one interesting.
I stop a few steps away. “Hey, Sukuna…”
He glances up lazily, one brow raised. “Didn’t expect you to remember my name, princess.”
I shrug, leaning against the machine beside him. “I remember the interesting ones.”
His mouth twitches — not quite a smile. “Flirting before lunch? Bold move.”
“Maybe I’m just bored.”
“Or maybe,” he says, eyes flicking past me toward the courtyard where Satoru’s laugh cuts through the noise, “you’re trying to make someone jealous.”
The air goes still. He doesn’t sound accusing — more entertained. Like he’s found the plot twist before anyone else.
I scoff, feigning indifference. “You think too much.”
He laughs once, low and rough. “Not really. You’re too obvious, princess.” He steps closer, just enough for me to catch the faint scent of his cologne — clean, sharp, something that makes my pulse jump.
you might not be sweet...but these three have decided you'll be their treat tonight!
synopsis: attending a frat party for Halloween sounds fun...until all your flings show up when you're trying to seduce someone else!
pairing: frat!Gojo, guitarist!Geto, tutor!Nanami x f!Reader
content: mdni, SMUT SMUT SMUT!, foursome, costumes, reader sleeps around a LOT, rough sex, every hole filled, SO MUCH JEALOUSY, sukuna mentioned, drinking/smoking, casual sex, sleeping around, frat parties, making out, oral sex (m! receiving), unprotected piv sex, anal fingering + sex, being manhandled, creampies, possessive men, nanami is so done with all of them but this is gojo's best night ever lmfao, so much bickering, facial, FILTHY FILTHY STUFF!!
a/n: art is by @/thatsallitchief + divider by @/petalpxl !!
You might look an angel. But you weren't going to be acting like one tonight.
What better excuse was there than Halloween to dress up in as little as possible?
Wearing a flimsy white scrap of fabric that barely passed for a dress, a crooked halo delicately fixed on top of your hair as the tiny wings you strapped on fluttered with every step. Ignoring the stares sticking to glitter shimmering on your skin, reflecting the low streetlights as you stumbled out of your friend's car onto the front lawn of the nicest frat house. A warm buzz already burning underneath your chest from pre-gaming earlier, a tight ball of desire that was starting to pulse and grow fangs of its own as your heels sunk into the grass.
"So, who's the lucky guy tonight?" Yuki giggled, poking your halo back into place.
You'd been the lucky one lately.
Juggling three different men of all different flavors.
Satoru Gojo, the pretty playboy president of the frat club, had fingered you stupid in a dark closet during seven minutes in heaven last weekend. Nanami Kento, your cute history tutor let you give him a handjob in the library after class on Tuesday. And your personal favorite, resident guitarist in a local rock band, Suguru Geto, ate you out backstage after one of his shows just two days ago.
But none of them were more than pretty friends with prettier benefits. Just fun flings. Guys you filled your spare time with.
"Dunno," you lied, finger reaching up to brush over where your lip gloss was already smeared.
Your target tonight was simple: Ryomen Sukuna.
A guy who dealed pot and a few more illicit substances in the corner of frat parties, lips wrapped around a beer while he pocketed the cash he was slipped.
But you heard he had a really big dick - and honestly?
Size did matter.
Especially when the only thing you wanted to suck on tonight wasn't candy.
"Sure," Yuki giggled, looping her arm in yours to pull you out of the way when some drunk dickhead almost spilled his beer on you as he slurred an apology.
Maybe you should've taken it as a sign.
The universe trying to subtly say, 'Hey, this is a bad fucking idea, by the way.'
In your own defense, you never thought all three of them would be here.
Nanami never showed up to parties, like, period. Suguru was too cool for something like this, probably back in his dorm or at some bar with a cute girl in an equally exposing costume flirting for his attention. Satoru, well, you thought he might come, but you figured he'd be wasted by the time you made your appearance. Easy to slip past.
Except, it seemed someone was waiting for you.
Who apparently must have bribed one of your friends to find out what you were wearing tonight judging by the flimsy white fabric he had loosely fastened into a toga and the much bigger angel wings attached to his back, the only part of his costume that was actually store-bought. His halo was shiny and silver and made of what looked fucking tinfoil, standing out above his fluffy white hair and about to fall off at any second.
Satoru was standing by the front door, holding a huge candy bowl and proudly passing it to some frat initiate next to him the second he saw you.
"There's my girl," he happily purred, slinging an arm around your shoulder.
You rolled your eyes, shrugging him off with an exaggerated sigh. It wasn't that you really minded his flirting - but you didn't need everyone here to think you were his. Satoru's words carried weight, more than he actually realized.
"You wish," you teased, batting your lashes and pushing past him to walk through the cracked-open door. The music you could hear from the street was jarring inside, bass thumping loud enough you could feel it in your bones as Yuki slipped out to go greet someone else.
Satoru was harder to shake off.
"You know I do," he hummed, following close behind you, his own angel wings making everyone else skirt around him in a wide berth.
He plucked out one of your feathers feather with a light laugh, the one that always seemed to take up space in your head after you heard it. You swatted at his hand, but he was already holding it over your head like it was fucking mistletoe.
"C'mon, sweetheart," he hummed. "Just one kiss for your favorite guy?"
Currently, you would rank him like number four or maybe even five, but you bit your tongue. Didn't have it in you to correct him. Got up on your tip toes to press a begrudging kiss on the corner of his mouth instead.
"Happy?"
"For now," he grinned.
You let him tug you into the kitchen, listening to him ramble on about someone you wanted to meet later. You didn't ask how he was planning on introducing you - and honestly, you didn't want to know.
For a guy who could have any girl on campus, he seemed awfully inclined to tack on a label to something you were both better off leaving unnamed.
Why ruin a nice thing?
Turn sloppy make outs and occasional casual sex into anything that could be construed as serious?
People were shouting his name as you passed by, one of those wide grins creeping across his face as his halo nearly fell off with how much he kept swiveling his head to greet his friends and the other girls who wanted to fuck him.
They could have him tonight.
You casually replied back to whatever he was chatting to you about, nodding and keeping an eye out for a head of pink hair while he rummaged through the fridge and pulled out some drinks. One of his frat bothers came up, leaning in to ask about how many kegs they had as Satoru rolled his eyes.
You managed to slip away before he even finishing cracking open his hard lemonade. Glancing over your shoulder at the irritatingly cute way his nose scrunched up at the sour taste at his first sip.
There was some foreign uncomfortable pressure in your chest, squeezing all your organs as you snuck out - forcing yourself to set your mind back on your mission.
It only took five minutes to find him.
Sukuna was reclining on a couch in one of the back rooms, thick thighs spread and smoking a blunt while heavy music blasted in the background. He hadn't bothered with anything other than his typical lazy outfit, a long-sleeved shirt clinging to his chest, loose jeans ripped and torn.
His head tilted to the side, a tiny smirk curling up on his lips as you walked over, wobbling on your heels as you pretended to be just a smidge more drunk than you really were so you'd be able to get away with more. Have an excuse in case you got rejected, easily slotting yourself in the empty spot next to him as his eyes dragged over your costume.
"Can I help you?" He grunted, like he wasn't considering what his dick might look like between your tits.
You looked down at the roll still perched between his fingers and then up to his lips.
"We could help each other," you slyly suggested, letting the implication hang in the air and biting your bottom lip.
"Oh yeah?" He arched a brow, still feigning nonchalance, but you knew better.
You had him.
He patted his lap, and it was so easy to toss your legs over his. He didn't touch you yet - let you do the work of scooting closer while he held out his blunt.
All you needed to do was wrap your lips around it. Except you got caught in the act.
"If you wanted some weed, I would've bought it for you," someone dryly commented behind you, and your manicured fingers paused above the blunt before you could reach out and grab it.
Throwing a look over your shoulder, angel wings fluttering as your eyes locked onto your second problem of the evening.
Suguru was smiling at you, perched all pretty on another man's lap, but it was hollow. The way his lips curled up was more like a smirk, one that spelled out trouble. He'd chosen some cheesy priest costume this year, as if he wasn't hoping to be worshipped himself.
"I'm just looking for a little fun," you hummed, daring him to say something else.
Suguru wasn't like Satoru. They were sorta similar, in a funny way, although you weren't sure if they even knew each other. Carried the kind of gravity that sucked you in. Satoru's was light, airy, playful like you were just animals batting back-and-forth with each other. Suguru?
He was closer to a panther, watching you with those dark eyes, waiting to strike and get you underneath his paw.
"You think you'll find it here?" He challenged, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop your smile. He knew you wouldn't be able to resist the temptation of taking him up on whatever he was offering.
"You're the worst," you groaned, giving in before he could pick a fight and completely ruin your chance with Sukuna.
God, he knew how to derail your plans. With him though, you didn't really mind. Not when you could see if he was planning on putting those thick fingers to use for something other than strumming his stupid guitar.
You untangled yourself from Sukuna with a sigh, squeezing his thigh as you stood up. Suguru didn't step in how Satoru probably would have, waited for you to get close enough before one of his huge hands pressed down on the small of your back beneath your fake wings.
"Hey," Sukuna called out, and you barely concealed your own smirk when you looked back.
"Oh yeah?" You mimicked him. Tilting your head innocently, batting your lashes as cute as you could.
"I'll see you around."
You'd make sure of that.
Suguru stiffened, and you caught the way his mouth twitched before his thumb dug into your spine. He was pretty when he was jealous. The little pinch in his brows. The subtle clench of his jaw.
As if he didn't have his own fan club of sorority girls chasing after him.
He noticed you staring as he led you out of the room, squeezing in between passing people and up the stairs, his dark eyes swirling as they kept shifting down to see if you were still looking.
"What?" He asked, as if he didn't know.
"You're cute," you commented, shrugging a little bit.
"I thought I was the worst?" He teased, and you tried not to laugh.
Struggling to keep a straight face when his hand drifted lower, dancing over the curve of your ass right as he knocked twice on a door down the hall before pushing it open, peeking in first to make sure no one was inside.
And then he was dragging you to the bed, half-flopping down before pulling you on top of him. A hand on your ass, under your dress, possessive as you straddled him and got comfortable. A hint of annoyance still clinging to the corners of his mouth at the thought Sukuna got to have you on his lap first.
Even if he hadn't gotten a taste.
"What do you think you're doin' with a guy like that?" He asked, attempting to pull off your wings. For a guy who looked like he was ready to preach about heaven, you had a sinking feeling he wanted to drag you to hell with him.
"I don't know what I'm doing with a guy like you," you retorted, echoing him just to get a soft chuckle out. Dragging your finger down his chest, feeling for where his pants were underneath the dark tunic - and that thick bulge barely hidden, just waiting for your palm to press down.
"You want me to remind you?"
All it took was a smile for him to give up on plucking your wings to pull out his cock. It was one of the thicker ones you'd seen, a long vein pulsing all pretty along the side as pre-cum collected around his tip.
But before you could do anything with it, his hand was on your side, dragging you in for a kiss. Demanding, tongue on your teeth and hand in your hair, tethering you to him with soft kisses that didn't taste drunk.
Maybe a little hint of something sweet, but no nasty aftertaste of beer or alcohol clinging to him when he deepened it, sucking on your bottom lip like he'd die if he didn't.
His kisses ventured south - and it didn't take long for him to yank your tits free from your corset. Wrapping his mouth around one to suck hard, sharp canines grazing over your sensitive nipple while you whined his name.
Suguru was never sloppy, but he wasn't as precise as he usually was during your typical hookups. Dragging his tongue over the sore spots his teeth left, remarking the same places like he was just having fun.
Your chest was warm, pleasant heat drifting down to your core as you glanced around the room. It was dark, only the headlights of passing cars and the warm yellow lights street lamps bleeding through the window to illuminate the soft blue of the wrinkled comforter underneath you, dorky posters of characters you didn't know plastered on all the walls.
Suguru wasn't in a frat - but you guessed maybe it was his friend's room. You preferred not to hookup with a guy in their own bed. They got ideas of you being theirs.
But this wasn't a bad loophole.
"I don't like the idea of sharing you," Suguru confessed, his cock throbbing underneath you when your weight shifted down.
"Too bad," you teased, smirking as he barely stifled his own groan at the contact.
He might've made you eat those words - but the universe seemed to have something to say about it too.
The door swung open and someone too familiar stumbled in.
Your heart sank to your fucking ass. Staring at the open door, Satoru's hazy blue eyes sharpening fast the second they landed on you on top of someone else.
"Baby," he breathed. "I'm wounded."
Before you could say anything, Suguru was sitting up with an exaggerated scoff. Still holding you in place, but pulling you up against his chest to hide your breasts from Satoru. Oblivious that he had already seen them.
"How many times have I told you not to call me baby?" Suguru grinded his back molars, exhaling hard as his fingers sank deeper into your back. You blinked, trying to process what that meant before Satoru was rolling his eyes.
"I was talking to her," he huffed, pointing at you.
"You're sleeping with him?" Suguru fixed you in a hard frown, head snapping between the two of you like he couldn't conceive it.
"That's supposed to be my line," Satoru retorted, hands on his hip, moving a little to call attention to his wings like he was trying to show off the fact you were unfortunately matching him in front of Suguru.
"You guys, um, know each other?" You awkwardly asked, as if it wasn't obvious. Satoru snorted.
"Apparently not as well as you," Suguru muttered, more jealous than he started off as.
"Don't be mean to my princess," Satoru defensively said, and you both swiveled to stare blankly at him.
"I'm not-" You started, about to hold up your hand before he kept talking.
"Did you really ditch me for Suguru?" He whined, walking over casually, like he was ready to just fucking climb in bed with the two of you.
"No," you shook your head, avoiding the actual answer.
Suguru laughed though, and you shot him a glare to shut up. His dark eyes had narrowed though, amusement glittering in them as he leaned in.
"Seriously? You and that idiot?" Suguru chided, all low and a little sleazy, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.
"Hey," Satoru pouted, standing directly in front of you now, pulling your attention back to him with two firm fingers on your chin. "I can hear you too, y'know."
"I know," Suguru sharply replied. Daring him to do something, as he continued in a low drawl. "You've got terrible taste, pretty girl."
"Clearly if she wants you," Satoru scrunched his nose up again to argue.
"She wanted Sukuna earlier," Suguru ratted you out, and you felt the pulse of his cock, the bite to his voice that made it clear he was itching to claim you.
"What?" Satoru's perky voice dropped into something sharp enough to skewer your heart.
"Caught her on his lap," Suguru revealed, like he was letting him in on some juicy bit of gossip.
"Were you gonna fuck him on my sheets too?" He bluntly asked, pretty lips pushed together as he leaned in close enough for his nose to nudge against yours.
The tension was too thick to slice through, filling up your lungs when you sucked in a shaky breath. An even worse idea than your initial one starting to form as your eyes flicked between each man.
The only thing better than one hot guy was two, wasn't it?
"What are you guys gonna do about it?"
You felt Suguru's smirk against your throat before Satoru chuckled, surprisingly deep as he cupped your cheek.
"You really wanna find out?"
You were really in trouble now. Had fucked around and found out just how much your flings could take before they were finished.
Literally and figuratively and soon-to-be stuffed with proof of just how screwed with you.
But their hands were too nice to ever say no to. Their mouths latched all over your body, throwing jabs at each other while they pulled-and-pushed you between them. A blur of fingers and cocks and tongues, your angel wings and panties discarded somewhere on the floor so you could be stretched out on Suguru's thick digits. Scissoring you open just to replace it with his unfairly large dick, dragging it against his walls and bucking his hips up so you kept falling forward on his chest. Relying on him for support while Satoru painted your back and shoulders with hickies, his chest against your back so you were stuck between them.
And then Satoru straining to reach past you to pull out a bottle of lube, softly muttering that he could satisfy you more than either of them ever could - only earning a scoff from Suguru.
"How do, um, you guys know each other?" You stammered out the question, breathing heavily between each word, eyeing where Satoru had stationed himself behind you as he squeezed an intimidating amount on his palm, already rubbing some on his cock before his cold hand started drifting down your ass. Skimming over your other hole, previously unbreached before he slowly started pushing the tip of a finger in.
He hesitated, testing the waters to see if you wanted it before you nodded yes, as if anal was a fucking peace offering.
"We've been best friends since high school," Satoru easily replied, like this was a conversation you were having in class instead of while you were being fucked and fingered.
"D-do you guys do this, like, a lot?" You asked, eyes scrunching shut as Suguru's tip grinded against a sweet spot inside of you, your nails digging into his chest for purchase as Satoru continued his steady exploration of the other parts of you.
"Do you?" Suguru remarked, his next thrust accidentally forcing Satoru's fingers further in time with him, a pathetic little whine torn from the back of your throat as you clawed at him again.
Your lips were stuck in a permanent part, about to say no, but you couldn't find it in yourself to form a single coherent word as Satoru readjusted just enough to slot another finger in your ass, the searing stretch rewiring your brain until you could only think about how fucking full you felt.
It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but teetering on the brink of brain-breaking as he started to pump his fingers in and out, the weight of his chest starting to press down as he swirled them around just enough you could feel the thin barrier between him and Suguru straining to contain both of them. A new kind of intense you never experienced before, hyper aware of each and every movement and still lost in all of it.
"You think you can handle the real thing, baby?" Satoru tempted you, his mouth pressing a painfully soft kiss to your shoulder before his tongue licked a clean stripe up your neck. Making you shiver, seeking their warmth like a second skin.
"Mm, mhm," you mindlessly moaned, a tiny little whimper escaping when his fingers slid out and something even more enticing pressed against the base of your ass instead.
At least he wasn't as thick as Suguru was.
Unfortunately for you though?
He was longer.
The new stretch was brutal, but the lube and his fingers managed to loosen you up enough that the sting of his cock slowly sliding in was pleasurable instead of painful.
Suguru's mouth was back on yours, capturing you in reverent kisses while Satoru worshipped you from behind, slow strokes eventually picking up the pace, messy squelches and lewd moans drowned out by the party still thumping outside. Although if someone was standing on the other side of the wall, they might have heard the bed frame constantly knocking into it in time with their mean thrusts.
You were folded almost flat between them. Knees digging into the wrinkled blankets, thighs still spread wide as both their dicks dug in deeper. Drool probably leaking out of your lips before Suguru lapped it up.
"Am I not good enough for you?" Satoru huffed in your ear, teeth nipping at you while you were splayed in this position, buried in your ass while he nagged you about his feelings.
"I jus' don't w-want a boyfriend right now," you managed, slurring half your words when your lungs could barely get any air in them. Suguru's cock felt like it was fucking lodged in your throat, insides being rearranged by both of them.
"But if you did-"
And because your night wasn't messy enough, the door swung open for the second time tonight.
Your knight in cardboard armor had arrived.
And Nanami Kento was not happy at what he walked into.
His favorite tutoring student being sandwiched between morons number one and two. And maybe math wasn't your best subject either, but it wasn't hard to calculate that he didn't approve.
"Ken," you started, batting your lashes like both your holes weren't being filled. Like you could manage more than broken thinking and begging when you couldn't even breathe.
As if Satoru wasn't still halfway in your ass where he could see the filthy connection between your bodies.
"God, do not tell me that you've been hooking up with him too," Satoru whined. "He's the fucking frat treasurer."
Somehow, you missed that memo.
"Maybe?" You offered, both dicks inside you throbbing and pulsing as Suguru snickered. His own jealousy only overwritten by his amusement at Satoru being more jealous.
As if this was a competition he'd ever win by being nonchalant.
"Your presence was requested downstairs," Kento dryly said, his annoyed stare settling on Satoru, arms folding across his chest.
"Sorta busy, man," Satoru huffed, but your heart pulsed at the way Nanami started to turn.
"Unless you wanna join too?" You called out all airy and soft, watching his shoulders freeze.
"Are you suggesting I-?" He stopped himself, pushing the bridge of his glasses higher up on his nose while you stuck out your bottom lip.
"What? Are you scared?" Satoru eagerly joined in, ready to ragebait Nanami or call him a pussy for passing on yours.
"No," Kento scoffed, a faint hint of pink blooming underneath his cheeks.
"We could always see if Sukuna wants to join since you liked his attention so much," Suguru sarcastically added, that familiar edge in his honeyed hum, his cock grinding in deeper, kissing your cervix to make you whimper in front of the blond.
"This is a horrible idea," Kento muttered, and you were inclined to agree. But he just locked the door - throwing away his better judgment for the night.
The only thing all three of them seemed to agree on was their dislike for him. Or maybe just their want for you.
Kento stopped at the edge of the bed, as if touching it would mean he was just as bad as the rest of you. Your eyes hesitantly looked up to meet his, but instead of disgust waiting for you, it was just the faintest flicker of disappointment drowning in an amber sea of something much stronger.
Desire.
He knew he never had all of you. And he'd make due with what you could give him.
Right now? That meant your throat.
It was a little awkward at first, but then he was pulling his dick free too, one knee on the bed to position himself at the right height for where your face was. Although Suguru side-eyed the pale member, making sure it didn't get too close to him before your lips parted, tongue out and ready.
"Y'know," Satoru unhelpfully chimed in behind you. "It's bigger than I thought it'd be."
"Shut up," Kento hissed through gritted teeth before he stuck his dick in your mouth like he was trying to get you to stop talking instead.
But you took it, cheeks hollowing out as you sucked on him, barely keeping your own teeth from grazing him when your body was being tugged three different ways. His strong fingers tangling in your hair to pull you in, cock bobbing in the back of your throat. Suguru's hands on your side to hold you in place while he pumped you full. Satoru's full weight on your back keeping you pinned there for all of them to fuck.
"Your mouth's better than your hand," Kento slyly murmured, and Mr. Cool and Collected underneath you snapped, his dark brows furrowing together and throwing his competition a seething glare.
"How romantic," Suguru retorted, all snarky as you struggled to breathe through your nose.
You didn't think you'd ever done anything so filthy.
And you only wanted more, body trembling and shaking as you whined and whimpered for them. You could feel the sinful way you were squeezing down on Satoru and Suguru, the wall barely separating and holding both of them in as they dragged themselves in-and-out over and over again. All your sounds muffled by the girth of Kento pressed up against the roof of your mouth. You didn't even know whose name you would moan if you could.
Completely and utterly filled, their words going in one ear and out the other as you took their thrusts.
You had no idea who came first.
Maybe Satoru? Or Suguru? Both?
Overwhelmed by sudden warmth down between your thighs, deep groans as someone's fingers found your clit. You were pretty sure it was the former, judging by the sloppy little circles being rubbed over the sensitive bud. Messy massages, just as desperate and needy as you were as he moaned your name into your skin, his teeth sinking down on your shoulder as he worked you closer to a climax.
"Come on, sweetheart," he purred, pleading. "Cum for me, okay?"
You still didn't have the heart to tell him no.
With the pressure of his fingers, his arm wrapped around your waist to get better access, or maybe just from how full you were, the rubber band barely holding you together snapped hard and fast.
The noise it ripped from you sounded like some animal, all strangled and raw, the reverberations making Kento cum too, warm ropes of cum shot down your throat, nearly making you choke. The veins against your tongue throbbing briefly before he abruptly pulled out like your gag concerned him just for another thick spurt of it to suddenly coat your face.
Satoru's fingers were still underneath you, still rubbing you through it, Suguru's voice coaxing you and offering pretty praises while Kento cursed, pumping his cock as the last of it dripped out on your lips.
You felt like a puddle. Reduced down to something limp and boneless, collapsed on Suguru's chest while Nanami cleaned you up, grabbing a pair of boxers from the closest drawer after asking Satoru if it was actually fresh. Suguru was saying something to his friend too, but he was preoccupied pulling out of your sore ass, his fingers disappearing from your front as he shifted off of you. Someone was brushing your hair from your face, but your eyes were closed, lashes still fluttering as exhaustion set into your bones. Cum still leaking down your thighs, probably a mess soaking into Satoru's sheets, a mix of all of you.
Maybe you didn't get to fuck Sukuna. But surely this was better, wasn't it?
You could just try again next party.
other kinktober fics
a/n: feel kinda meh about how it turned out but hope you guys liked it <3
Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.
Warnings: Emotional tension between exes, jealousy, past relationship drama, mention of infidelity and heartbreak, suggestive themes, strong language, alcohol reference, and heated arguments. Contains angst.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Y/n’s POV
Fully clothed now — thank god — I sat on a rough piece of wood beside him. My ex.
The flickering light from the fire cast shadows on the icy walls, and for a moment, I wondered if fate was just playing one long, cruel joke.
Across from us, Yuji was busy trying to feed the fire while Satoru guided him, like some smug, one-armed survival expert.
“Careful, kid. Don’t smother it — give it air. Fire needs space,” he said, voice low but annoyingly confident, even with a broken leg and arm.
I watched him for a bit — how calm he looked despite everything. Typical Gojo. Too good at everything, even at looking good while injured.
“I’m starving,” I finally muttered, rubbing my cold hands together. My stomach growled in protest as dizziness from exhaustion began to creep in.
Yuji immediately looked up, rummaging through what little we had in our bags before tossing something my way. “Here.”
A small biscuit — two bites at best. Still, I smiled. “Thanks, Yuji.”
He smiled back sheepishly. “No, thank you. You didn’t let go when you could’ve. Honestly, if you hadn’t grabbed me, I’d probably be decorating the bottom of that cliff right now.”
“Don’t say that,” I frowned. “Anyone else from our group would’ve done the same.”
Satoru scoffed from beside me, leaning back against the cold wall, arms crossed with that half-smile of his. “Not me though. I’d say ‘fly high, little bird’ and wave goodbye.”
“Real funny,” I muttered, glancing at him. The corners of his lips quirked up like he was proud of that.
Yuji blinked between us, clearly catching the awkward current in the air. “So… you jumped ‘cause Y/N fell with me?” he asked innocently.
The cave went quiet for a beat. I stared at the fire, waiting — half afraid, half desperate — for Satoru’s answer.
But of course, he brushed it off with a smirk. “Nah, rope snapped. Bad luck, I guess. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Eh? But you were almost at the top!” Yuji pressed, eyes narrowing. “You literally could’ve saved yourself—”
Before he could finish, Satoru lightly punched his shoulder with his good hand. “Ow!” Yuji yelped.
“You talk too much, kid. Focus on keeping that fire alive. You’ll freeze faster than my heart did,” Satoru said, grinning — but there was something in his tone that didn’t match his expression.
Yuji grumbled under his breath and turned back to the fire.
I pretended to look away, but I could feel Satoru’s gaze on me. Maybe it was just the firelight, or maybe it was the fact that he always looked at me like he was memorizing every inch, every reaction.
“So…” I said quietly, without looking at him, “you really didn’t jump?”
There was a pause — one too long for comfort. Then came his answer, soft and half-teasing:
“Would it make a difference if I said I did?”
My breath hitched before I could stop it.
Yuji, completely unaware of the tension that filled the small cave, groaned and rubbed his arm. “Man, you two are weird. Can’t tell if I’m third-wheeling or babysitting right now.”
Satoru chuckled lowly.
I rolled my eyes, trying to laugh it off, but my chest felt tight — painfully tight.
Whether he jumped or not didn’t matter… right?
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Being with Satoru had always been… intense. We were reckless, impulsive teenagers who thought the world revolved around the two of us. Everything back then burned too bright—his touch, his laughter, even our fights. It started small—his fingers brushing against my thigh under the desk, a teasing smirk when I’d glare at him, the kind of silent dares that left my skin tingling. It never took much for us to lose control after that. One minute, we’d be pretending to study; the next, we were skipping class to make out in the janitor’s room like we owned the place.
Of course, fate had a twisted sense of humor. We got caught once—by Sukuna, of all people. I can still remember that smug, knowing grin on his face, the way Satoru froze yet smirked at him, and me trying to hide behind a mop. Tragic, really. Or hilarious, depending on how you look at it. The irony? A few months later, I ended up in that same janitor’s closet—with Sukuna this time. Don’t ask. Life had a funny way of reminding me I was just as reckless as the men I fell for.
I tell myself to stop thinking about all that—to stop dragging my mind back to a time when everything was simpler, messier, but alive. But how could I, when I’m pressed so close to Satoru now, trapped inside a freezing cave, my breath mingling with his in the dim glow of a fire Yuji managed to keep alive? He sits between us, his coat pulled tight, his leg still injured. Yuji’s shivering beside him, looking like a lost puppy trying to act brave.
Satoru’s quiet for once, his usual arrogance replaced by something I can’t quite name. His hair’s a mess, and I can see the faint bruise along his jaw—the kind that reminds me he’s still painfully human. The storm outside howls against the ice, the sound of wind so loud it feels like it’s screaming through my bones.
I tell myself it’s just the cold that makes my heart race, but it’s not. It’s the way he keeps glancing at me from the corner of his eye, like he’s remembering too. The way his hand brushes mine when he shifts, deliberate or not, and I hate that part of me still wants to reach back.
Yuji tries to crack a joke, bless him, something about how he’d rather fight Sukuna in a drawl he knew he’d lose than spend another night in a frozen cave. I smiled—too quickly—and Satoru chuckles low under his breath. That sound alone makes my chest ache.
It’s dark now. The snow outside’s turned into a full-blown blizzard, and though we’re wrapped in layers, the cold still seeps into our bones. But in this tiny cave, between the flicker of the firelight and the quiet sound of his breathing, everything feels suffocating.
The lack of warmth and food was starting to eat at me, but I couldn’t complain. We were stuck in a snowed-in cave after that stupid hike gone wrong, and these two had it worse. Satoru’s leg was wrapped up in a makeshift bandage, Yuji’s arm was swollen, and me… well, I was just cold, dizzy, and awkwardly sitting between my ex and our overly chatty dense friend.
“Y/n, from how much you drank last night, I’m surprised you’re not worse off!” he said brightly, grinning through the chill.
I just hummed, praying to every higher being that the conversation died right there. Of course, it didn’t.
“Uh huh,” Satoru’s voice came, low and amused, “I still remember every detail last night and how cute you were.”
My breath hitched. Cute. He said it too easily, like it wasn’t a word loaded with years of memories and ache. My chest tightened—Utahime’s cruel little words still echoing in my head. I wanted to say something sharp back, but before I could—
“Oh! You mean when Y/n made out with my brother, Choso?”
Silence.
Not the casual kind. The kind that could murder you on the spot.
I turned slowly, blinking, trying to process what he just said. Out of the corner of my eye, Satoru’s face fell from his usual smirk to a flat, unreadable expression.
“W-what?” I managed.
“Yeah!” Yuji nodded, oblivious. “He was so shy about it! I think it was after the game last night? Oh wait—does that make things weird for you guys? Since, y’know, you two used to date and all, and now—”
“Yuji!” I practically shouted, my cheeks burning.
He froze, eyes wide. “Oh. Uh. why?”
I could feel Satoru’s stare burning into me, the kind of stare that demanded an explanation.
And my mouth—traitor that it was—started spilling words before my brain caught up.
“W–wait! I thought that was you, Satoru! Or—or Sukuna or— I don’t even remember, I was half-conscious and—”
“Oh?” His voice came out lower than I expected, smooth but tight. “You thought it was me?”
He leaned back against the wall, eyes narrowing just slightly. His usual teasing tone was still there—but sharper, more like a knife than a joke.
“I carried you upstairs with Yuki,” he said, poking at the fire with a stick, his jaw flexing. “You kept mumbling my name, though. Over and over. Guess you just like saying it. But hey,” he added, that bitter smirk curling back into place, “seems like you’ve got a thing for guys with darker hair now.”
My stomach dropped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Yuji blinked between us, slowly connecting dots he absolutely shouldn’t.
“Oh yeah!” he said, as if remembering a fun fact. “That’s right—Satoru-senpai took you upstairs before me and Sukuna went outside. We were messing around and then got stung by bees.” He snorted. “Man, Sukuna was so dramatic about it. He had, like, three red spots on his neck.”
I froze.
My brain short-circuited.
“Wait.” I blinked, once. Twice. Then a slow, dawning horror crept over me.
“Those weren’t hickeys?”
Satoru turned to me with the slowest, most devastating grin I’d ever seen. “Oh my god,” he said, a soft laugh slipping through. “You actually thought you gave Sukuna-”
My face burned. “Shut up—”
He leaned in just enough for the firelight to hit his cheekbones, his eyes glinting like he was enjoying every ounce of my humiliation. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Feeling embarrassed? Or just disappointed they weren’t from you?”
I threw a glove at him, but it only made him chuckle. A low, quiet, infuriating sound.
“Guess you’ve always had a wild imagination,” he said, his tone shifting—less teasing, more… something else. “Too bad it only works when I’m not around.”
The words stung more than I wanted to admit.
I swallowed, forcing a tight smile. “Guess you’ve always had a big mouth.”
He smiled back, but there was no warmth in it. “You didn’t seem to mind before.”
Yuji stood up so fast he nearly tripped over the logs. “I—uh—I’m gonna… go check how deep the snow is outside!”
He vanished in record time.
Leaving just me and Satoru.
And the sound of our fire crackling against the howling storm.
“Choso, huh?” Satoru said, as casually poisonous as ever. I turned my face to hide how my fingers curled at the edge of the coat. Try as I might, I couldn’t mask the prickle in my chest.
“You really gonna bring that up?” I said, voice flat. Let him talk. Let him dig. I was tired of flinching.
He leaned his head back against the cave wall, jaw clenched. “Just funny,” he said casually. “You’re suddenly all friendly with the guy who used to start half our fights.”
I exhaled through my nose, tired already. “You done?”
He didn’t look at me. “Weird, though. I thought it was me that night, but I guess you moaned his name pretty well, huh?”
My stomach dropped. The next thing I knew, I’d accidentally nudged his injured foot, and he hissed.
“Shit—sorry,” I muttered.
He gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Sure you are.”
That was it. “What’s it to you if I did?” I snapped. “You’ve got someone now. So why are you even asking?”
He finally looked at me, eyes sharp even through exhaustion. “Because I don’t get it,” he said, voice low but steady. “You get drunk, say my name like you miss me, and then what? You go make out with someone else right after?”
“You’re not making sense,” I shot back, my chest tight. “You’re acting like I owe you something. You can’t just show up and—”
“I’m not acting like anything,” he cut in, tone flat. “I’m just saying what I saw.”
“Well, maybe you should stop looking,” I said quietly.
He gave a small, dry laugh. “You really did, huh?”
“What?”
“You slept with him.”
I stared at him, searching his face for any trace of humor, but there was none. Just that tired bitterness that clung to him whenever we talked about us.
“Yeah,” I said finally. “Maybe I did. Maybe I will again. What about it?”
His lips twitched like he wanted to smile but couldn’t. “Nothing. Guess I just didn’t expect it to be him.”
“It wasn’t about you,” I said, though my voice wavered. “Not everything is.”
He nodded slowly, staring into the fire. “Right. Of course.” Then, after a beat: “Still—guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You always ran when things got hard.”
That one hit deeper than I wanted it to. My throat burned, but I didn’t look away. “And you always pushed until people broke. Guess we’re both good at something.”
He hummed, quiet. “Yeah. Guess so.”
For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire and the wind howling outside.
Then Satoru exhaled softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t trying to start a fight.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I muttered.
He glanced at me — just a flicker of something real behind the sarcasm. “I just… didn’t think you’d move on that fast.”
“I didn’t,” I said honestly. “But what am I supposed to do? Keep waiting for you to come back?”
He looked away again, jaw tightening. “Didn’t say that.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But you wanted it anyway.”
Silence again. He just sat there, staring into the fire like it might burn the conversation away.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Glimpse of the Past
There was something about Satoru Gojo’s parties.
They weren’t just parties — they were events.
The kind everyone at Jujutsu High counted down to the way normal people counted down to Christmas.
Perfect house, loud music, pool lights reflecting off glass cups — and of course, the golden circle: Satoru and his friends.
Suguru, Nanami, Yuki, Mei, Shoko — the school’s definition of untouchable.
And right at the center, the couple everyone envied —
Satoru Gojo and Y/N L/N.
He was the loud, confident troublemaker; she was the student council president with perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect smile.
Together, they looked unstoppable.
But like every teenage dream, theirs was just one good fight away from falling apart.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
“Yuki, what the hell— why’d you invite that guy?”
Satoru’s voice cut through the bass-heavy music, loud enough that a few people turned their heads.
He stood near the snack table, one arm already slung around Y/N’s waist possessively, his lips brushing her shoulder as she tried — and failed — to ignore him.
Yuki rolled her eyes mid-sip of her drink. “You mean Choso? He’s my seatmate, Gojo. Chill.”
“I am chill,” Satoru said, very clearly not chill. “I just don’t want him here.”
Y/N sighed, tugging his arm off her. “He’s literally just a guest, Satoru. Why are you acting like he’s the devil?”
“He looks like one,” Satoru muttered under his breath, glaring across the room at the dark-haired boy leaning casually against the wall, talking to Suguru like he’d been part of the group for years.
“Oh my god,” Y/N groaned. “You’re impossible.”
Yuki smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Too bad, Gojo. He’s staying. And he brought snacks — the good kind.”
That was that.
Even if it was Satoru’s house, no one really won against Yuki when she was in her party host era.
So the entire night, Y/N found herself glued to Satoru — literally.
His arm around her waist.
His chin resting on her shoulder.
His hand brushing hers whenever someone new came close.
It wasn’t just protective — it was territorial.
Because even for someone as confident and obnoxiously loved as Satoru Gojo, Choso Kamo was a threat he couldn’t laugh off.
And maybe he had a reason to be nervous.
Rumor had it, Y/N had gotten a bouquet of her favorite snacks that morning — a mix of chocolates and chips tied up with a single rose.
Hidden in the petals were tiny folded notes, each one spelling out her name.
No one had to say who sent it. Everyone already knew.
Even Y/N didn’t deny it — not because she was guilty, but because she couldn’t quite explain what to think when she read that stupid note that said “for the girl who deserves more than perfect.”
And that warmth — that tiny, dangerous spark — was enough to make Satoru spiral.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Hours later, when most of the guests were outside by the pool, Y/N found him leaning against the hallway wall, drink in hand, pretending to be casual.
But she could read him like a book.
His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense. He wasn’t even looking at her when she stopped beside him.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
He snorted. “Totally. Just watching my girlfriend’s type laugh at my best friend’s jokes.”
“Seriously?” she muttered, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna do this now?”
He finally looked at her, blue eyes sharp. “You think I don’t notice how he looks at you?”
“He looks at everyone, Satoru. It’s called being polite.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not polite,” he said flatly. “Especially not when some guy starts sniffing around what’s mine.”
“That possessive now?” she repeated, voice rising.
He opened his mouth to argue, but stopped.
Because there it was again — that shift. The same one that always happened right before they fought.
Her tone going cold.
His temper getting defensive.
Two people who were supposed to be perfect together, slowly realizing they were anything but.
“Whatever,” she said finally, shaking her head. “If you’re that jealous, maybe don’t throw a party and invite half the school next time.”
He turned to walk away, but her voice caught his mid step
“You think I didn’t know about that little date you went on, Satoru?”
Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.
Warnings: Mentions of injuries, Rude remarks, hypothermia risk, mild nudity, physical intimacy for warmth, emotional tension between ex-lovers, angst.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Y/n’s POV
Being in a relationship with Satoru Gojo used to feel like living inside a dream.
It wasn’t just love — it was laughter, chaos, and the kind of comfort that only comes when your souls grow up side by side. Being childhood friends meant my parents trusted him completely. “At least she’s with Satoru,” they’d say. Little did they know that being with him meant losing all sense of time and logic.
When he confessed, it was so him — dramatic, loud, impossible to ignore. He stopped an entire soccer match, singing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” at the top of his lungs. Everyone was staring, but he only looked at me. The next night, after watching 10 Things I Hate About You together, he shyly confessed again — no crowd this time, just him whispering, “You make me feel like I’m starring in my favorite movie.”
Our relationship was full of grand gestures and quiet moments. After every class, I’d find a bouquet of light blue roses or tulips waiting for me, each petal carrying one of his handwritten compliments or tiny poems. He’d grin and say, “You look beautiful in white,” even when I was in my school uniform, hair messy, lips chapped.
And our fights? They were fire and stubbornness — me walking away, him chasing after me, singing that same song until I cracked a smile, mortified but too in love to stay mad. He’d always say, “You don’t get to leave angry, not when I still have something to sing about.”
It wasn’t just a honeymoon phase. Satoru was consistent — his words, that are very true. Through all the teenage heartbreaks and family pressure, he stayed. When we were seventeen and thought we’d break for good, he gave me a promise ring, swearing that he’d find me again no matter what. That little ring still sits buried in my drawer, glinting with memories I wish I could forget.
But then came the real world — and his parents. They liked me, sure. But only as the girl Satoru would outgrow. Not the one he’d choose to love. To them, I was temporary. A phase. And maybe… maybe they were right.
Because now, as I stand here in the cold mountains, I hear her voice.
“Toruuu, I’m cold!” Utahime’s soft giggle slices through the air.
And his — still warm, still playful — answers back,
“Come here, let me warm you up!” He opens his coat, wrapping her in that same warmth that used to be mine.
My chest tightens, my throat burns.
“Hey, you good?”
That voice—steady, calm, familiar. I turned to see Suguru, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, watching me with that knowing half-smile that said he already knew the answer.
“Y–yeah,” I lied, but my voice cracked like thin glass.
He smiled softly, the kind that almost hurt to look at. “I know things are… complicated,” he started carefully. “If I could just—”
“Suguu,” I cut him off, forcing a grin.
“Let’s not, okay? Let’s just have fun.”
He paused, exhaled softly. I didn’t need another sympathetic look, not from him—not from anyone.
Right on cue, Yuki and Yuji’s chaotic energy exploded in the distance.
“ICE CLIMBING!!” they screamed like maniacs, waving their axes in the air.
I chuckled, the heaviness breaking for a second. “You’re right,” Suguru said with a small grin, bumping my shoulder gently. “But I’m here for you, you know that, right?”
“Yeah,” I smiled faintly, walking beside him as we joined the others getting ready for the climb. It wasn’t even that high—just steep enough to be fun, dangerous enough to make us feel alive. Except, of course, for the right side… where one wrong step led straight to a cliff. Comforting.
“Y/n?”
Utahime’s voice cut through my thoughts. She was standing beside Satoru—her gloved hand brushing his arm, his expression calm but his smile… strained. Too practiced.
“Let’s go on ahead?” she said, all sweetness and challenge.
“Okay,” I said simply, masking the sting in my chest.
Before we could move, another voice—deeper, rougher, way too confident—slid into the mix.
“How ‘bout we go together, princess? I think you’ll need a hand.”
Sukuna.
Of course.
I glanced at him, smirking. “You aren’t done with me yet, I suppose?”
His grin widened, sharp and smug. “You seem to like it that way.”
“You wish, tattoo boy.”
Somewhere behind us, Yuki’s whistle pierced through the freezing air. “Ohhh! One point for Sukuna! Choso, get moving, my money’s on you!”
My head snapped back. “You’re betting on this now?!”
Laughter erupted across the group. Mei, the devil herself, chimed in, “My bet’s still on the one you said was best at fucking.”
“Mei!” I gasped, face heating instantly.
Sukuna’s confident smirk deepened, his body language practically radiating arrogance. He didn’t even have to say anything—the glint in his eyes said yeah, that’s right.
And beside him… Choso.
The ever-gentle, soft-spoken hunk was suddenly quiet—too quiet. His jaw tightened, eyes flicking between me and Sukuna, then quickly darting away. His face was pink, just barely, but enough for me to notice. He pretended to adjust his gloves, muttering something under his breath.
I bit back a smile. He was trying so hard to play it cool.
Meanwhile, Satoru was a few steps ahead, staring straight forward, his usually playful expression wiped clean. His tone was casual—but the bite underneath was sharp enough to cut through ice.
“Seriously,” he said, voice low, “can we just start climbing already? Might be a better use of time than… whatever this is.”
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Ice climbing. Of all things.
Of course, Mei and Nanami were the only ones who opted out—smart, reasonable, perfectly dry on solid ground—while the rest of us lunatics geared up to claw our way up a wall of frozen death. We didn’t bother convincing them; no one wins arguing with Mei, and Nanami’s glare alone said, “Absolutely not.”
“Alright losers, try not to embarrass yourselves!” Yuki shouted, already halfway up the ice wall, her energy unmatched.
“Who’s racing?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
“The gifted ones,” Mei replied dryly from the sidelines. “So… not you.”
I shot her a look and began climbing anyway. Above me, the overachievers—Yuki, Suguru, Sukuna, and Satoru—were neck and neck, their competitive streaks lighting the air more than the sun ever could.
“You weak-ass bitches!” Yuki yelled victoriously from the top as she finished first.
“Show-off,” I muttered, trying to keep my footing steady.
Below, I heard Shoko call out, “I’m out! Enjoy dying!” before getting helped down. I couldn’t help laughing. Typical Shoko.
At least things were peaceful—until they weren’t.
To my right, Yuji was red-faced, grunting like his pride was physically slipping away with each foot he lost to his senpais. To my left, unfortunately, was Utahime. Lucky me.
And below? Choso. Calm, careful, perfectly capable of passing me and the rest of us, but too considerate to rush ahead.
“So, Y/n…”
Oh no. Her tone. I could already taste the venom.
“…How’s life these days? Must be nice having two attractive men wrapped around your finger.”
My grip faltered slightly. “They aren’t, and that’s just—just some stupid joke Yuki started.” I tried to sound casual, focusing on the next hold.
“Right,” Utahime replied, her voice sugar-coated with disdain. “So, what—Satoru, then? Still aiming for him?”
The insult in her tone hit me harder than the cold wind. My hand slipped off the next hold, metal scraping ice. “I’m not some cheap, indecent ex,” I snapped, heat rising in my chest.
“I didn’t say you were,” she said, a mocking tilt to her voice. “But maybe you are. I mean, last night? What was that about?”
I blinked. “Last night? What do you mean?” My heart started racing for a different reason now—confusion, dread.
Before she could answer, chaos exploded above me.
“Watch out!” Sukuna’s warning came too late.
Yuji, distracted by Sukuna’s smug shove, lost his grip and slammed right into me. My balance vanished instantly, and in the next second, my shoulder clipped Utahime’s side.
She shrieked, slipping—but Choso, quick as ever, caught her harness and yanked her back to safety.
Me? Not so lucky.
The jerk sent me swinging off balance, my boot missing the ice, my pick clattering uselessly against the frozen wall.
“Oh my god—Y/N!!” Yuki’s voice sliced through the panic.
“Shit!” I heard Choso curse below, scrambling to reach me. His gloved hand brushed my ankle for half a second before slipping away.
The rope dug painfully into my waist. I gasped, lungs burning.
“What’s happening!?” someone shouted—Suguru, maybe—but the panic was everywhere. Echoes of “Hold on!” and “Don’t move!” filled the air.
Then I saw it—Yuji, dangling by a single line, his terrified eyes meeting mine.
“Y/n! Don’t hold me!” he yelled, the rope around his waist fraying. “Let go—it’ll snap!”
“Not happening!” I screamed back, reaching for him with shaking hands. “Shut up and hold me!”
“Y/n, no—!”
But it was too late. The sound of splitting fibers was louder than the wind. Snap.
And then the world gave way.
I felt the weight vanish under me, the pull of gravity too fast to think, too fast to scream. Ice shards sliced the air. My stomach lurched. I clutched Yuji tight, both of us falling—spinning, twisting.
Somewhere through the roaring in my ears, I heard it.
“SATORU, NO!”
The voice was distant, drowned by the wind and my own pulse pounding in my head. And before I could make sense of anything—before I could even scream—something slammed into me.
Strong arms. Warm. Familiar.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Author’s POV
The rescue station was chaos disguised as order. The fluorescent lights buzzed harshly overhead, flickering against pale faces lined with panic. Wet snow dripped from everyone’s jackets, the sound of boots against tile echoing with every frantic step.
Nanami stood at the front desk, his patience stretched to breaking. His voice was calm—too calm—but the twitch in his jaw betrayed him. “What do you mean you can’t start the rescue right now?”
The man across from him shifted nervously, clipboard in hand. “We apologize, sir, but the blizzard’s too severe. Visibility is nearly zero. We’ll begin as soon as it clears.”
“As soon as it clears?” Yuki snapped, voice sharp enough to slice through the howl of wind outside. “That could take hours! You’re basically giving them less of a chance to survive!”
“We understand your concern,” the man replied, his tone practiced and hollow, “but we can’t risk our men’s lives either. If we contact backup, they’ll take time to arrive from the nearest town.”
That was the wrong answer.
The crash of metal echoed through the station—a chair went flying, splintering against the wall. Everyone flinched.
“The fuck kind of rescue team is this?!” Sukuna roared, stepping forward like a storm wrapped in flesh. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, veins thrumming under his tattoos.
Suguru was on him in a second, pulling him back before he could lunge across the desk. “Sukuna. Hey. Not helping right now.”
“Not helping?” Sukuna growled, jerking his arm free. “Yuji’s my cousin. And that girl—” his jaw flexed, “—that girl doesn’t deserve to die because your rescue team’s too scared of a little snowstorm.”
Suguru didn’t reply, because there wasn’t much he could say. The tension in the room was choking.
Choso, voice quieter but trembling with restraint, spoke next. “Can’t we go after them? We’re not just gonna sit here while they freeze to death.”
Shoko exhaled a long cloud of smoke from where she leaned against the wall, her eyes tired but sharp. “We don’t even have the right gear,” she said. “If we go out there blind, we’ll die too. We can’t navigate that storm without equipment.”
Silence fell. A suffocating kind. One filled with the sound of snow pounding the glass windows and everyone’s unspoken fear.
And then—Utahime.
Her voice cracked first, trembling, panicked—but bitter. “This is ridiculous! Why don’t we just call Gojo’s family already? They can move mountains if they want. They can do something!”
“Utahime—” Suguru began, but she wasn’t done.
“In the first place, this was that Y/N’s fault!” she snapped. Her hands were shaking, eyes wide, but her tone dripped with resentment. “If she hadn’t been flirting with him nonstop, he wouldn’t have—he wouldn’t have jumped after her like some damn hero!”
Every head in the room turned toward her.
The temperature dropped, and it wasn’t from the blizzard.
Shoko’s voice was calm, but deadly quiet. “I’d be damned to let you talk about her like that,” she said, lowering her cigarette. “She might be dead out there right now, and that’s your reaction?”
“I don’t care!” Utahime barked back, eyes glassy with tears she refused to shed. “She’s been seducing him since we got here! That’s why he followed her!”
“That did it,” Mei muttered from her corner, crossing her arms.
Suguru, the calmest man in the group, finally snapped. His tone wasn’t loud—it was cold, each word deliberate. “You really are that blind, huh?”
Utahime froze.
“Maybe it hasn’t occurred to you,” he continued, stepping closer, “that Satoru never moved on. That all this—” he gestured vaguely toward her, “—was just him trying to convince himself he could. Maybe you were just a distraction. Or a favor to his family. Someone to keep him occupied while he tried not to miss her.”
Her lips trembled. “That’s not true.”
Suguru didn’t even blink. “You know who he wants, Utahime. You’ve always known.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. No one defended her. Not even Yuki, who usually had something smart to say.
Because they all knew Suguru was right.
Utahime looked down, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, while Shoko turned away, crushing her cigarette against the table. The sound echoed in the stillness like a period at the end of a cruel sentence.
Outside, the blizzard raged on—merciless, loud, and indifferent.
And somewhere beneath all that white, Satoru and Y/N were still out there.
Meanwhile
Y/n’s POV
What. The actual. Fuck.
“The fuck?!” I blurted out, voice echoing faintly against the icy walls. My breath misted in the freezing air as I blinked—once, twice—trying to make sense of where the hell I was. A cave. A glacier cave. Cold, glittering walls. And me?
Buried under what looked like every jacket, coat, and sweater known to man.
Wait. Why was I under a mountain of coats?
Someone must’ve dragged me in here. My pulse quickened when I moved and felt… bare skin.
“What the—” I muttered under my breath, glancing down. My clothes were gone, replaced by only thin undergarments. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
My heart started racing, flashes of the fall hitting me all at once—Utahime shouting, Yuji slipping, the cliff cracking beneath us, and then—darkness.
And now this?
I inhaled deeply, mentally preparing for whatever I was about to see. Slowly, I turned my head.
My heart raced, breath puffing out in frantic little clouds. Oh my god. Don’t tell me a yeti found me, undressed me, and—I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. “No. Nope. We’re not doing that.”
Gathering courage. I slowly turned my head, hoping—begging—it was Yuji beside me. Sweet, awkward, I’d never look at you wrong Yuji.
Please let it be Yuji.
I squinted through the pile of coats and gently tugged one down.
…
“Oh dear God.”
There, a few feet beside me, wrapped half in some coats and half in snow—was Gojo Satoru.
Topless. Unconscious. Bruised.
My jaw dropped. “Oh dear,” I whispered, my voice weak. “Did we fall off a cliff and fuck?”
The words slipped out before my brain could stop them.
There was a long pause. Then, his lazy, teasing drawl broke the silence.
“As much as I’d find it interesting to fall off a cliff and fuck—no, we did not.”
I yelped, practically launching back. “S-Satoru! You—You’re awake?!”
He turned his head slightly, lips curling into that maddening smirk. “You sound disappointed, sweetheart.”
Before I could throw a snowball at his stupid handsome face, another voice came from the mouth of the cave.
“You guys up?”
I whipped my head around. “Yuji?! You’re alive?”
He smiled sheepishly, clutching his arm. “Yeah, just a broken arm. Thanks to you two, actually. You saved my ass—literally.”
“Oh, thank god,” I breathed out, relief flooding through me.
Yuji continued, glancing at Gojo with a grimace. “Satoru took most of the hit. Broke his right leg, right arm, and, uh… his neck’s kind of stiff.”
He exhaled sharply, grimacing as he tried to sit up. “I’ve been worse.”
That made my chest tighten. “Don’t move too much, idiot. You’re too hurt”
He tried to grin. “Still handsome, though.”
I rolled my eyes. “Barely.”
Then I noticed Yuji’s ears go red. I followed his gaze—down.
Oh. Right. Still in my underwear.
I shrieked and yanked the nearest coat over me. “YUJI!!”
He turned away immediately. “S-sorry! I’ll go find help! You guys, uh, stay warm!” And just like that, he disappeared faster than a snowflake in lava.
Silence.
“So. Just us again.”
“Don’t start,” I muttered, sitting beside him.
“I wasn’t going to.” He chuckled weakly. “I think I’m too tired to flirt properly.”
“Good.”
A pause. Then, softly: “You really thought we… you know. After the fall?”
I turned to him, cheeks warming. “I was half-delirious and half-dead, excuse me for panicking.”
His lips curved slightly. “You’ve always had a vivid imagination.”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, pulling the coat higher up my shoulders.
We sat like that for a while—awkward, quiet, yet strangely comforting. Then his voice broke the silence again, softer this time.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” He shifted slightly, biting back a hiss of pain. “Come here.”
I frowned. “Satoru, you can barely move—”
“Not for me,” he said quietly. “You’ll freeze.”
Something in his tone—gentle, serious, stripped of all his usual arrogance—made my chest ache. Reluctantly, I moved closer, pressing against his uninjured side. His body was warm despite everything, heartbeat steady against my temple.
“Better?” he murmured.
I nodded, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.
Then, barely above a whisper, he said, “You scare me sometimes.”
I looked up. “What?”
He smiled faintly. “Because even after everything, I still can’t stop worrying about you.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The storm outside roared louder, but here—in this tiny, frozen cave—I could only hear his breathing and my heartbeat refusing to slow down.
Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.
Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, suggestive dialogue, alcohol references, and heavy sexual tension. Expect teasing, jealousy, emotional confusion
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Y/n’s POV
Moans. Kisses. Whimpers.
The sounds come first—familiar, dizzying, like an echo from a place I can’t remember but somehow crave.
“You taste just as sweet as you’ve always been.”
That voice—low, deep, and maddeningly close.
“Mm… shut up and kiss me.”
My own voice? Breathless. Needy. Desperate.
Fingers tangle in my hair; lips crash against mine again and again. My back arches, his breath hot against my ear—then a tug, a gasp, a shiver that feels too real. My vision blurs into white stars, the room spinning until—
I jolt awake.
The air is cold. My chest rises and falls too fast, my skin damp with sweat. Beside me, Shoko’s soft snores fill the silence of the dorm room. The sheets are tangled, my heart pounding like it’s still trapped in that dream.
“What the hell…” I whisper, pressing a hand to my forehead. My head throbs.
Who was that?
The voice lingers—familiar, intimate, dangerous. I can almost feel him still, taste the phantom warmth of his mouth against mine.
A dream… right?…yeah definitely a dream.
“Y/n, you up?”
I groaned, rolling over, my head pounding like a war drum. Through blurry eyes, I spotted Yuki standing by the window, holding a steaming mug of coffee like she’d just stepped out of a commercial. Of course, she looked perfect—fresh, glowing, and completely unfair.
“Hey, Yuki…” I mumbled, voice rough, eyes half-open.
She smirked, taking a sip. “Well, someone definitely had fun last night.”
I frowned, trying to piece together the blur that was last night. “Didn’t we all?” I managed, pretending to sound casual, though my mind was still replaying the flashes of me stripping in front of three guys I’ve slept with. God. Kill me now.
Yuki raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you had it way more than fun, babe. And I’m honestly here for it.”
Before I could even process what that meant, the peace was shattered by Yuji’s obnoxiously cheerful voice blasting through the speaker system.
“WAKE UP LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WE’RE GOING ICE CLIMBING AND THEN SLEDDING!!”
He repeated it—again, and again—his voice echoing through the hallways like a curse.
I heard Shoko groan from the other bed. “If I hear that brat one more time, I’m throwing him off the cliff we’re climbing.”
Mei’s muffled voice followed, “I second that.”
I buried my face in my pillow. “That little shit…”
Yuki just laughed, way too energized for someone who downed an entire bottle of vodka last night. “Come on, hangover princess. Adventure calls!”
“Yeah,” I muttered, dragging myself out of bed.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
After a long, too-hot shower that felt more like a full-on existential crisis, I stared at my reflection in the bedroom. The faceless man from my dream kept flashing in my head like a broken film reel. Every sigh just made it worse.
Conclusion? I just need a good fuck. I’ve been wound up tighter than anything for months. Why am I even punishing myself when he’s out there, living his best life, laughing, flirting, probably giving another girl the same smirk he used to give me?
Nope. Not going down that rabbit hole again. I’ve got bigger problems—like facing them.
“Hold up,” Shoko started, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “I’ve known you for forever, and you told Suguru but not me?!”
She wasn’t exactly furious—Shoko doesn’t do furious—but that slight tilt of her brow? Yeah, I was doomed.
Before I could even explain, Mei jumped in, gasping dramatically. “Excuse me? I’ve been painfully open about my sex life—graphic details included—and you were just sitting there, sipping tea, hiding this kind of gossip from us?”
I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Oh my god, do I get a lawyer or do I just surrender?”
Yuki, of course, was lounging like a cat who smelled chaos. “Forget the moral betrayal,” she said. “How was it?”
I blinked. “The what now?”
“The sex, obviously,” she said, grinning. “You’ve got three of the hottest men I’ve ever seen under your belt, and you’re giving us nothing? You’re selfish.”
I gasped, appalled. “We are not talking about this!”
Mei scoffed, fake-offended. “Wow. So we bare our souls, and you can’t even rate your exes? Do you even see us as your friends?”
I stared at the ceiling. God, take me now.
“All right, fine!” I snapped, throwing my hands up. In one breath I said “Sukuna fucked the best, Choso ate the best, happy now?!”
They screamed like I’d just announced world peace.
“Damn, Y/N! You lucky bitch!” Yuki howled, shaking my shoulders.
“Okay, but like—where does Satoru fall in this?” Mei asked, leaning forward with an evil glint in her eye.
Oh, she did not.
“That’s enough,” I said quickly, standing up and grabbing my jacket like I was running from a crime scene. “We’re done. I’m done. Everyone shut up and get ready.”
As I walked to the door, I heard Yuki whisper, “That means he fucked and ate the best.”
Shoko snorted. “Nah, that means she’s still emotionally constipated about him.”
“Both,” Mei added.
I slammed the door behind me. “I can hear you!”
“Good!” they yelled back in unison, laughing.
Yeah. They were definitely going to be the death of me.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Every corner of this damn cabin had turned into enemy territory.
The bedroom? Overrun by Shoko, Mei, and Yuki gossiping like their lives depended on it.
The living room? Claimed by Choso and Nanami, looking like two brooding philosophers over black coffee.
The balcony? Utahime — and her aura of judgment — stationed like a sniper with her tea.
And the kitchen? Yuji and Sukuna, for some godforsaken reason, eating raw ramen noodles and arguing about flavor packets.
So, the only safe zone left? The first-floor deck.
Finally. Sanctuary.
The cool air bit at my skin the moment I stepped outside, the muffled chaos fading behind me. I sighed — deep, dramatic, freeing. Coffee in one hand, cigar in the other. Heaven.
I sank into the hanging swing chair, rocking lightly. “Peace,” I whispered to no one, lighting up and exhaling a perfect swirl of smoke. “Actual peace.”
For once, my head wasn’t full of what-ifs or annoying male voices or memories I didn’t ask for. Just me, caffeine, and nicotine — the only stable men in my life.
Until—
“Smoking again, I see?”
The voice cut through the quiet like a knife, low and far too familiar.
My entire body jolted — the cigar slipped from my fingers, and I spilled hot coffee all over my thighs.
“OH MY—shit! Hot, hot!” I hissed, grabbing a napkin.
“Whoa, hey—Plums, you okay?”
I froze.
Plums.
No one called me that. No one but him.
Satoru.
And there he was, standing in front of me like some smug, beautiful problem in a white turtleneck and sweatpants, mug in hand, the morning sun making him look too good for my emotional health.
“What the hell?!” I snapped, mostly to cover up the way my pulse just skyrocketed.
Stepping closer, eyes dropping to the spill on my thigh. “You burned yourself?”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, though my voice cracked like the world’s worst liar.
Before I could move, he knelt down and touched my thigh — his palm warm against my skin.
I froze. My heart forgot its job.
I gasped, pushing his hand away. “You can’t just—touch people!”
He looked up, pretending innocence. “Relax, Plums. I was checking if you burned yourself. You were always the dramatic one.”
My face was on fire.
“Then check with your eyes, not your hand!”
He grinned — slow, infuriating. “Well, I used to have permission, remember?”
I blinked. “Wha—You—Gojo—”
He tilted his head, “Gojo?”
His grin widened, sharp as ever. “I see. Back to Gojo now? Thought we were doing first names again last ni-”
“Whatever, i’m outta here” I warned getting up, trying to hide the chaos in my chest.
“Can’t stand my presence?”
“I have no business with you,” I said flatly, grabbing my coffee again — because apparently, humiliation wasn’t enough, I also needed caffeine to survive this.
“Really?” He leaned against the railing, his smirk lazy but his tone bitter. “You’ve been avoiding me like I’m contagious. Can’t even smoke in peace without running into me, huh?”
“I’m not avoiding you,” I lied, taking a sip. “Just avoiding arrogance in the morning.”
“Ouch,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “Still got that sharp tongue. I almost missed it.”
“Yeah? Miss that, not me.”
“Who said I didn’t?” he muttered under his breath, quiet enough to make me doubt I heard it.
Silence stretched between us. The breeze tugged at my hair; he just watched me, too calm, too knowing.
Then—
He was quiet for a moment before saying, “You brought a pack of cigarettes with you, didn’t you?”
I blinked. “What—why?”
He held out his hand.
“You don’t smoke,” I said.
“Maybe I’m picking up bad habits,” he replied, voice light but eyes sharp.
I sighed, reaching into my pocket for the pack. “Here.”
Before I could even hand it to him, he snatched the whole packet— and crushed it in his palm.
I gasped. “Satoru, what the hell?!”
“It’s Satoru now, huh?” His grin was maddening.
“You just—what is wrong with you?!” I shoved his chest, though it felt more like a push against a wall
“Can’t let you keep this, Plums,” he said simply, opening his palm to show the ruined cigarettes. “You know what this does to you.”
My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “But at least I’m consistent.”
I tried to stay angry. Really, I did. But as he turned to leave — shoulders relaxed, smugness practically glowing off him — all I could do was watch him disappear back into the cabin.
That insufferable, beautiful bastard.
I sat back in the swing, glaring at the crushed pack in my hand. My anger fizzled as quickly as it came, replaced by something much worse.
Plums.
He still knew exactly how to unnerve me.
Exactly how to make me feel seventeen again — mad, flustered, and stupidly in love with him.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Now in the cold, snowy mountains — laughter and chaos echoing through the frosted air, the kind that fogs your breath and bites at your nose. Everyone seemed paired off, moving in their own rhythm.
Yuki and Utahime were together, laughing as they adjusted each other’s gear. Shoko and Mei, bickering and joking like always. And Satoru—he was with Yuji, of course, pestering Nanami to no end, ruining the man’s morning peace with his usual over-the-top energy. Though I can’t help but notice the distance between Satoru and Utahime.
“Thought you were afraid of heights,” Sukuna’s low drawl slid behind me, laced with that smugness that always managed to crawl under my skin.
I shot him a look over my shoulder. “I am. But this isn’t really much.”
He smirked — that dangerous, knowing smirk. And that’s when I noticed it: only four of us were left waiting for the next chairlift.
Wait. Four?
Where the hell did everyone else go?
Before I could call out, the chairlift creaked up to us. It seated four.
Me. Sukuna. Choso. And—oh, perfect—no one else.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I looked around — my so-called good, nice friends already gone ahead, waving from above like the traitors they were.
“Seems like you’re riding with me, princess,” Sukuna drawled, the corner of his lips tugging up in a way that said he knew exactly what he was doing.
I exhaled sharply, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t get used to it.”
Then came Choso, ever the quiet storm — tall, soft-spoken, the kind of man whose presence hums more than it speaks. “Here,” he said gently, reaching for the heavy gear I was carrying. “Let me hold that for you.”
His tone was so calm, so careful it almost made me forget what happened last night. Almost.
God, how the hell do you act normal around a man you once moaned the name of?
“Uh… t-thanks,” I mumbled, my voice catching a little.
Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Sandwiched between two men I’d fucked.
Two men who both knew exactly what I sounded like when I wasn’t pretending to be composed.
The metal bar clinked shut in front of us. The cold breeze nipped at my skin, and yet the heat radiating from both sides of me was suffocating.
Our thighs brushed — lightly at first. Then unavoidably. Sukuna’s leg spread lazily, his arm casually resting behind the backrest, knuckles grazing my shoulder. Choso sat on the other side, quiet but firm, his body heat seeping through the layers of fabric between us.
The scent of them hit me — Sukuna’s musky cologne, sharp and teasing, like sin wrapped in smoke. Choso’s cleaner, soft but heavy with something masculine and grounding.
And there I was, stuck between them, pretending the cold air was the reason my chest was tight.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Finally, Choso spoke up.
“So… how’s your hangover?” His voice was low, almost careful, like he wasn’t sure if I’d bite back or fall asleep mid-answer.
“It’s fine now,” I replied, rubbing my temples with a half-smile. “Took some meds. How about you?”
“I didn’t drink much,” he said simply — quiet, gentle, like he always was.
And then, of course—
Sukuna.
“No one’s gonna ask me?”
I rolled my eyes, already done with his dramatics. “I wasn’t planning to.”
That earned me his trademark smirk — smug, lazy, the kind that always made you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. This was our usual dynamic: me pretending I hated his guts, and him enjoying every second of it. The real surprise was still how I ever ended up in bed with him more than once. Especially when Choso — literal boyfriend material — was sitting right beside me, existing like the walking definition of restraint.
But Sukuna, being Sukuna, just couldn’t leave it there.
“I did drink a lot, though,” he said, leaning back like he owned the air around him. “But I’ve got good control, you know? Didn’t forget a thing from last night.” His voice dipped, teasing, dangerous — like he was hinting at something only I should understand.
“Good for you, Sukuna,” I replied flatly, trying to sound bored even as my pulse picked up.
Then he smirked deeper. “Yeah, my neck’s all fucked up, though.”
I frowned, finally glancing his way — and froze.
Faint purple marks trailed down the side of his throat, curling toward his collarbone.
Bruises.
Hickeys.
My heart dropped to my stomach.
And just like that, the dream from this morning — the moans, the whispers, the faceless body above me — came rushing back in vivid flashes.
No. No, no, no. There’s no way.
As if the universe decided to make it worse, he tilted his head toward me and said, “You’ve got one too, right there…” his finger ghosting near my neck, “rough night?”
I choked on my own breath, instantly reaching up to check, patting frantically at my skin.
“You don’t have anything there, Y/N,” Choso cut in, his calm voice grounding me. “He’s just teasing you.”
I exhaled — half relief, half humiliation — sinking back into my seat. But before I could even recover, Choso spoke again, his tone quieter this time… almost unreadable.
“I don’t think it was that long for you to get a—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
My head snapped toward him.
That pause.
That damn pause.
Was he implying what I think he was?
My stomach twisted — not from guilt, but from confusion.
Was he… talking about himself?
Did something actually happen between us—?
The chairlift jolted slightly as we reached the top, breaking the silence. Both men stood, stepping off casually like nothing happened, while my mind spun out of control.
I followed, still dazed, snow crunching beneath my boots, heart pounding in my ears.
Yuki’s voice echoed in my head from this morning — “You definitely had fun last night.”
Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.
Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, suggestive dialogue, alcohol references, and heavy sexual tension. Expect teasing, jealousy, emotional confusion
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Y/n’s POV
Moans. Kisses. Whimpers.
The sounds come first—familiar, dizzying, like an echo from a place I can’t remember but somehow crave.
“You taste just as sweet as you’ve always been.”
That voice—low, deep, and maddeningly close.
“Mm… shut up and kiss me.”
My own voice? Breathless. Needy. Desperate.
Fingers tangle in my hair; lips crash against mine again and again. My back arches, his breath hot against my ear—then a tug, a gasp, a shiver that feels too real. My vision blurs into white stars, the room spinning until—
I jolt awake.
The air is cold. My chest rises and falls too fast, my skin damp with sweat. Beside me, Shoko’s soft snores fill the silence of the dorm room. The sheets are tangled, my heart pounding like it’s still trapped in that dream.
“What the hell…” I whisper, pressing a hand to my forehead. My head throbs.
Who was that?
The voice lingers—familiar, intimate, dangerous. I can almost feel him still, taste the phantom warmth of his mouth against mine.
A dream… right?…yeah definitely a dream.
“Y/n, you up?”
I groaned, rolling over, my head pounding like a war drum. Through blurry eyes, I spotted Yuki standing by the window, holding a steaming mug of coffee like she’d just stepped out of a commercial. Of course, she looked perfect—fresh, glowing, and completely unfair.
“Hey, Yuki…” I mumbled, voice rough, eyes half-open.
She smirked, taking a sip. “Well, someone definitely had fun last night.”
I frowned, trying to piece together the blur that was last night. “Didn’t we all?” I managed, pretending to sound casual, though my mind was still replaying the flashes of me stripping in front of three guys I’ve slept with. God. Kill me now.
Yuki raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you had it way more than fun, babe. And I’m honestly here for it.”
Before I could even process what that meant, the peace was shattered by Yuji’s obnoxiously cheerful voice blasting through the speaker system.
“WAKE UP LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WE’RE GOING ICE CLIMBING AND THEN SLEDDING!!”
He repeated it—again, and again—his voice echoing through the hallways like a curse.
I heard Shoko groan from the other bed. “If I hear that brat one more time, I’m throwing him off the cliff we’re climbing.”
Mei’s muffled voice followed, “I second that.”
I buried my face in my pillow. “That little shit…”
Yuki just laughed, way too energized for someone who downed an entire bottle of vodka last night. “Come on, hangover princess. Adventure calls!”
“Yeah,” I muttered, dragging myself out of bed.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
After a long, too-hot shower that felt more like a full-on existential crisis, I stared at my reflection in the bedroom. The faceless man from my dream kept flashing in my head like a broken film reel. Every sigh just made it worse.
Conclusion? I just need a good fuck. I’ve been wound up tighter than anything for months. Why am I even punishing myself when he’s out there, living his best life, laughing, flirting, probably giving another girl the same smirk he used to give me?
Nope. Not going down that rabbit hole again. I’ve got bigger problems—like facing them.
“Hold up,” Shoko started, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “I’ve known you for forever, and you told Suguru but not me?!”
She wasn’t exactly furious—Shoko doesn’t do furious—but that slight tilt of her brow? Yeah, I was doomed.
Before I could even explain, Mei jumped in, gasping dramatically. “Excuse me? I’ve been painfully open about my sex life—graphic details included—and you were just sitting there, sipping tea, hiding this kind of gossip from us?”
I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Oh my god, do I get a lawyer or do I just surrender?”
Yuki, of course, was lounging like a cat who smelled chaos. “Forget the moral betrayal,” she said. “How was it?”
I blinked. “The what now?”
“The sex, obviously,” she said, grinning. “You’ve got three of the hottest men I’ve ever seen under your belt, and you’re giving us nothing? You’re selfish.”
I gasped, appalled. “We are not talking about this!”
Mei scoffed, fake-offended. “Wow. So we bare our souls, and you can’t even rate your exes? Do you even see us as your friends?”
I stared at the ceiling. God, take me now.
“All right, fine!” I snapped, throwing my hands up. In one breath I said “Sukuna fucked the best, Choso ate the best, happy now?!”
They screamed like I’d just announced world peace.
“Damn, Y/N! You lucky bitch!” Yuki howled, shaking my shoulders.
“Okay, but like—where does Satoru fall in this?” Mei asked, leaning forward with an evil glint in her eye.
Oh, she did not.
“That’s enough,” I said quickly, standing up and grabbing my jacket like I was running from a crime scene. “We’re done. I’m done. Everyone shut up and get ready.”
As I walked to the door, I heard Yuki whisper, “That means he fucked and ate the best.”
Shoko snorted. “Nah, that means she’s still emotionally constipated about him.”
“Both,” Mei added.
I slammed the door behind me. “I can hear you!”
“Good!” they yelled back in unison, laughing.
Yeah. They were definitely going to be the death of me.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Every corner of this damn cabin had turned into enemy territory.
The bedroom? Overrun by Shoko, Mei, and Yuki gossiping like their lives depended on it.
The living room? Claimed by Choso and Nanami, looking like two brooding philosophers over black coffee.
The balcony? Utahime — and her aura of judgment — stationed like a sniper with her tea.
And the kitchen? Yuji and Sukuna, for some godforsaken reason, eating raw ramen noodles and arguing about flavor packets.
So, the only safe zone left? The first-floor deck.
Finally. Sanctuary.
The cool air bit at my skin the moment I stepped outside, the muffled chaos fading behind me. I sighed — deep, dramatic, freeing. Coffee in one hand, cigar in the other. Heaven.
I sank into the hanging swing chair, rocking lightly. “Peace,” I whispered to no one, lighting up and exhaling a perfect swirl of smoke. “Actual peace.”
For once, my head wasn’t full of what-ifs or annoying male voices or memories I didn’t ask for. Just me, caffeine, and nicotine — the only stable men in my life.
Until—
“Smoking again, I see?”
The voice cut through the quiet like a knife, low and far too familiar.
My entire body jolted — the cigar slipped from my fingers, and I spilled hot coffee all over my thighs.
“OH MY—shit! Hot, hot!” I hissed, grabbing a napkin.
“Whoa, hey—Plums, you okay?”
I froze.
Plums.
No one called me that. No one but him.
Satoru.
And there he was, standing in front of me like some smug, beautiful problem in a white turtleneck and sweatpants, mug in hand, the morning sun making him look too good for my emotional health.
“What the hell?!” I snapped, mostly to cover up the way my pulse just skyrocketed.
Stepping closer, eyes dropping to the spill on my thigh. “You burned yourself?”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, though my voice cracked like the world’s worst liar.
Before I could move, he knelt down and touched my thigh — his palm warm against my skin.
I froze. My heart forgot its job.
I gasped, pushing his hand away. “You can’t just—touch people!”
He looked up, pretending innocence. “Relax, Plums. I was checking if you burned yourself. You were always the dramatic one.”
My face was on fire.
“Then check with your eyes, not your hand!”
He grinned — slow, infuriating. “Well, I used to have permission, remember?”
I blinked. “Wha—You—Gojo—”
He tilted his head, “Gojo?”
His grin widened, sharp as ever. “I see. Back to Gojo now? Thought we were doing first names again last ni-”
“Whatever, i’m outta here” I warned getting up, trying to hide the chaos in my chest.
“Can’t stand my presence?”
“I have no business with you,” I said flatly, grabbing my coffee again — because apparently, humiliation wasn’t enough, I also needed caffeine to survive this.
“Really?” He leaned against the railing, his smirk lazy but his tone bitter. “You’ve been avoiding me like I’m contagious. Can’t even smoke in peace without running into me, huh?”
“I’m not avoiding you,” I lied, taking a sip. “Just avoiding arrogance in the morning.”
“Ouch,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “Still got that sharp tongue. I almost missed it.”
“Yeah? Miss that, not me.”
“Who said I didn’t?” he muttered under his breath, quiet enough to make me doubt I heard it.
Silence stretched between us. The breeze tugged at my hair; he just watched me, too calm, too knowing.
Then—
He was quiet for a moment before saying, “You brought a pack of cigarettes with you, didn’t you?”
I blinked. “What—why?”
He held out his hand.
“You don’t smoke,” I said.
“Maybe I’m picking up bad habits,” he replied, voice light but eyes sharp.
I sighed, reaching into my pocket for the pack. “Here.”
Before I could even hand it to him, he snatched the whole packet— and crushed it in his palm.
I gasped. “Satoru, what the hell?!”
“It’s Satoru now, huh?” His grin was maddening.
“You just—what is wrong with you?!” I shoved his chest, though it felt more like a push against a wall
“Can’t let you keep this, Plums,” he said simply, opening his palm to show the ruined cigarettes. “You know what this does to you.”
My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “But at least I’m consistent.”
I tried to stay angry. Really, I did. But as he turned to leave — shoulders relaxed, smugness practically glowing off him — all I could do was watch him disappear back into the cabin.
That insufferable, beautiful bastard.
I sat back in the swing, glaring at the crushed pack in my hand. My anger fizzled as quickly as it came, replaced by something much worse.
Plums.
He still knew exactly how to unnerve me.
Exactly how to make me feel seventeen again — mad, flustered, and stupidly in love with him.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Now in the cold, snowy mountains — laughter and chaos echoing through the frosted air, the kind that fogs your breath and bites at your nose. Everyone seemed paired off, moving in their own rhythm.
Yuki and Utahime were together, laughing as they adjusted each other’s gear. Shoko and Mei, bickering and joking like always. And Satoru—he was with Yuji, of course, pestering Nanami to no end, ruining the man’s morning peace with his usual over-the-top energy. Though I can’t help but notice the distance between Satoru and Utahime.
“Thought you were afraid of heights,” Sukuna’s low drawl slid behind me, laced with that smugness that always managed to crawl under my skin.
I shot him a look over my shoulder. “I am. But this isn’t really much.”
He smirked — that dangerous, knowing smirk. And that’s when I noticed it: only four of us were left waiting for the next chairlift.
Wait. Four?
Where the hell did everyone else go?
Before I could call out, the chairlift creaked up to us. It seated four.
Me. Sukuna. Choso. And—oh, perfect—no one else.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I looked around — my so-called good, nice friends already gone ahead, waving from above like the traitors they were.
“Seems like you’re riding with me, princess,” Sukuna drawled, the corner of his lips tugging up in a way that said he knew exactly what he was doing.
I exhaled sharply, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t get used to it.”
Then came Choso, ever the quiet storm — tall, soft-spoken, the kind of man whose presence hums more than it speaks. “Here,” he said gently, reaching for the heavy gear I was carrying. “Let me hold that for you.”
His tone was so calm, so careful it almost made me forget what happened last night. Almost.
God, how the hell do you act normal around a man you once moaned the name of?
“Uh… t-thanks,” I mumbled, my voice catching a little.
Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Sandwiched between two men I’d fucked.
Two men who both knew exactly what I sounded like when I wasn’t pretending to be composed.
The metal bar clinked shut in front of us. The cold breeze nipped at my skin, and yet the heat radiating from both sides of me was suffocating.
Our thighs brushed — lightly at first. Then unavoidably. Sukuna’s leg spread lazily, his arm casually resting behind the backrest, knuckles grazing my shoulder. Choso sat on the other side, quiet but firm, his body heat seeping through the layers of fabric between us.
The scent of them hit me — Sukuna’s musky cologne, sharp and teasing, like sin wrapped in smoke. Choso’s cleaner, soft but heavy with something masculine and grounding.
And there I was, stuck between them, pretending the cold air was the reason my chest was tight.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Finally, Choso spoke up.
“So… how’s your hangover?” His voice was low, almost careful, like he wasn’t sure if I’d bite back or fall asleep mid-answer.
“It’s fine now,” I replied, rubbing my temples with a half-smile. “Took some meds. How about you?”
“I didn’t drink much,” he said simply — quiet, gentle, like he always was.
And then, of course—
Sukuna.
“No one’s gonna ask me?”
I rolled my eyes, already done with his dramatics. “I wasn’t planning to.”
That earned me his trademark smirk — smug, lazy, the kind that always made you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. This was our usual dynamic: me pretending I hated his guts, and him enjoying every second of it. The real surprise was still how I ever ended up in bed with him more than once. Especially when Choso — literal boyfriend material — was sitting right beside me, existing like the walking definition of restraint.
But Sukuna, being Sukuna, just couldn’t leave it there.
“I did drink a lot, though,” he said, leaning back like he owned the air around him. “But I’ve got good control, you know? Didn’t forget a thing from last night.” His voice dipped, teasing, dangerous — like he was hinting at something only I should understand.
“Good for you, Sukuna,” I replied flatly, trying to sound bored even as my pulse picked up.
Then he smirked deeper. “Yeah, my neck’s all fucked up, though.”
I frowned, finally glancing his way — and froze.
Faint purple marks trailed down the side of his throat, curling toward his collarbone.
Bruises.
Hickeys.
My heart dropped to my stomach.
And just like that, the dream from this morning — the moans, the whispers, the faceless body above me — came rushing back in vivid flashes.
No. No, no, no. There’s no way.
As if the universe decided to make it worse, he tilted his head toward me and said, “You’ve got one too, right there…” his finger ghosting near my neck, “rough night?”
I choked on my own breath, instantly reaching up to check, patting frantically at my skin.
“You don’t have anything there, Y/N,” Choso cut in, his calm voice grounding me. “He’s just teasing you.”
I exhaled — half relief, half humiliation — sinking back into my seat. But before I could even recover, Choso spoke again, his tone quieter this time… almost unreadable.
“I don’t think it was that long for you to get a—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
My head snapped toward him.
That pause.
That damn pause.
Was he implying what I think he was?
My stomach twisted — not from guilt, but from confusion.
Was he… talking about himself?
Did something actually happen between us—?
The chairlift jolted slightly as we reached the top, breaking the silence. Both men stood, stepping off casually like nothing happened, while my mind spun out of control.
I followed, still dazed, snow crunching beneath my boots, heart pounding in my ears.
Yuki’s voice echoed in my head from this morning — “You definitely had fun last night.”
Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.
Warning: This chapter contains heavy tension, suggestive themes, alcohol use, and chaotic party energy. Expect teasing, jealousy, and lots of heat — read at your own risk
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Y/N’s POV
I can feel his eyes on me — heavy, familiar, and annoyingly deliberate.
Gojo Satoru never looks at anything halfway; even when he’s pretending he’s not watching, he makes sure I feel it.
And out of this entire friend group, only three people know how awkward this truly is — me, my ex, and Suguru.
The others? Oh, they think this is all harmless fun. Yuki’s “little treat” for me.
Sure, if “treat” means dragging two of my biggest mistakes into the same room as my ex.
Yuji, bless his chaotic heart, is the first to break the silence.
“Choso-niisan?? And Sukuna?! Whoa, that’s random!” He laughs, waving them over like we’re not about to recreate Love Island: Emotional Damage Edition.
Sukuna’s the first to speak, smirk deepening as his eyes find mine.
“Yuki got me coming here like I needed to,” he says, voice smooth, rough-edged, dangerous.
I hate that my stomach flips. Not again, Y/N. Not over a man with tattoos and a smirk that could ruin me.
And right when my brain’s short-circuiting, the devil himself speaks.
Satoru.
“I wouldn’t be too surprised,” he says casually, twirling his drink. “Yuki’s good at convincing people to do things for her.”
Then he looks right at me, smirking.
“But I bet someone’s really enjoying this right now.”
Venom. Pure, charming, Gojo-branded venom.
I hum softly, pretending to be amused, Asshole. You have Utahime sitting on your lap and now you’re suddenly acknowledging my presence?
“Well,” Yuki spoke up, forcing my grin wider, “I’m here now. With them. So—are we drinking or what?!”
Everyone cheered…here we go.
You see, during my ten-year mess of a relationship with Satoru, there was this seven-month breakup we refused to admit was a breakup.
We were seventeen, stupid, and dramatic — the perfect disaster.
That was when I found out Satoru’s parents set him up on a date behind my back. He didn’t tell me.
So, naturally, I got pissed.
And naturally, Yuki threw a party.
Choso was there. The hot senior who could say “hi” and suddenly your knees just forget their function.
We drank. We flirted.
And… yeah. That happened.
Satoru found out, and we really broke up.
Then two months later, rumors started flying — he slept around, the school called me “the girl Gojo dumped,” and my pride said, ‘Oh, we’re not doing that.’
So I fucked his rival, Sukuna. Four glorious weeks of chaos and bad decisions.
It was great. Until it wasn’t.
“Hey.”
The voice pulls me back. Choso’s beside me now, sliding a canned drink across the table.
“How’ve you been?” His tone’s the same as always — calm, genuine. The kind that makes you feel like you can breathe for a second.
“I’ve been… alright,” I say, managing a small smile. “Working from city to city, how about you? you’ve been well I heard.”
Before he can reply, Yuki’s loud voice cuts in like a cymbal crash.
“Yes, for sure, indeed, Choso! Y/N’s soooo single!”
The group bursts out laughing, raising their drinks like I just got baptized in tequila.
I glance across the fire.
Satoru’s laughing, too — hand over his face, shoulders shaking. But I know that laugh. It’s the one that means you got under my skin, but I’ll make you think you didn’t.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says finally, lowering his hand, his smile sharp enough to cut. “She’s single. Nothing new.”
He leans back, tone turning colder. “Anyway, let’s liven things up — things got boring.”
Suguru hums, giving him that warning look he always does when Satoru’s about to be an asshole.
Me? I just take a sip of my drink and smile faintly.
If I’ve learned anything, it’s that pretending not to care hurts him more than showing I do.
“How about we play dare or dare?”
Yuki’s grin screams trouble, and naturally, everyone groans in unison.
Except for him.
“I like the sound of that,” Satoru says smoothly, the corner of his mouth lifting.
Utahime’s already perched on his lap again like she owns the seat — or him.
Cute. Love that for me.
I’m sandwiched between Choso and Yuki. Honestly? Not a bad view.
Choso’s being his usual calm, soft-spoken self, asking about my week like this isn’t a social war zone. Mature, polite, and pretty. If only my teenage brain had chosen him instead of Mr. Emotional Headache across the fire.
“The fuck is that kind of game?” Suguru mutters, looking half-tipsy, half-done with everyone. “You mean truth or dare?”
“Whatever that is, I’m out,” Nanami announces, standing up like a disappointed dad leaving a party. No one stops him — we all know he’ll be in bed reading by nine.
Yuki rolls her eyes dramatically. “Boo! Truth or dare is for pussies! With dare or dare, you just pick which dare you’re ballsy enough to do!”
She cackles like the chaos gremlin she is.
I should leave. I really should. My brain says get up like Nanami, but my heart (and tequila) says stay and suffer attractively.
Then Utahime, of course, opens her mouth.
“I’m in!”
“Well, I like you already!” Yuki beams, clinking her glass with Utahime’s.
That does it.
Something in me snaps. Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe it’s the three drinks I’ve downed since dinner.
“This better be fun,” Shoko says dryly, exhaling smoke like she’s narrating a documentary.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I’m fucking in. Don’t be too shy with the dares.”
The words come out lower, smoother, more confident than I feel.
“Oooh, Y/N, you’re just making it hot in here,” Mei teases, fanning herself dramatically.
I smirk, taking a slow sip, letting the burn roll down my throat as my gaze flicks toward Sukuna.
He’s already staring — smirking like he’s waiting for a challenge.
I look away fast. Bad move. Because guess who’s staring next?
Of course. Him.
Satoru.
Elbows on his knees, chin tilted slightly, that infuriating smirk painted across his lips. He looks amused. Dangerous.
My heart betrays me with a stupid skip, and my brain goes: great, back to square one, dumbass.
Whatever. I’m not letting him win this silent war.
I toss my hair back, leaning into my seat between Choso and Yuki, pretending to look completely unbothered.
“Alright then,” I say, flashing a grin. “Whatever happens tonight, stays tonight.”
“Vegas rules?” Mei laughs.
“Exactly,” I say, voice steady, even though my pulse isn’t. “Except we’re not in Vegas.”
Sukuna hums. “Shame. I’d like to see what you’d do in Vegas.”
I grin back — maybe a little too sharp. “Keep dreaming, tattoo boy.”
The group howls with laughter, and the air shifts.
That tense, electric quiet right before something stupidly hot and hilariously messy happens.
And through it all, Satoru’s still watching.
Smiling.
Like he already knows he’s not done with me yet.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Somehow, we’ve migrated from the freezing balcony to the cozy TV room — the air thick with heat, laughter, and the faint smell of roasted marshmallows and bad decisions.
Two rounds into dare or dare — or whatever this demonic invention is — and we already have casualties.
Yuji’s been sent to bed after Suguru dared him to pee in the jacuzzi and then drink from it.
He actually considered it. Considered it. I’ve seen enough.
“Night, champ!” Mei called after him, cackling.
Now, the rest of us are sprawled across the couches and rugs, cheeks flushed, drinks half-finished, and logic long gone.
And then there’s him.
Gojo Satoru.
Shirtless. Because apparently, between “kiss Utahime for a minute” and “lose the shirt,” he’d rather flash his abs than his pride.
Typical.
Utahime didn’t seem to mind either — she’s lounging beside him, acting unbothered, but her smile says otherwise.
…Okay, I might be glaring at the fireplace a little too hard.
My drink’s warm in my hand, the alcohol buzz just enough to blur the edges of irritation into something else. Something dangerous.
Shoko’s half-laughing, half-scolding. “You’re all gonna regret this tomorrow, you know that, right?”
“Tomorrow’s problem,” Mei replies, already pouring another round.
I look over again, and of course, Satoru catches my gaze mid-sip — that lazy smirk tugging at his mouth like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
He stretches, muscles flexing like it’s a damn movie scene, then throws me a look. “What? You seem distracted.”
My lips curl into a faint smile. “Just trying to figure out what’s more tragic — your ego or your sense of fashion.”
He chuckles, head tipping back slightly. “Still paying attention, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I roll my eyes, turning away before my face betrays me.
The room bursts into laughter over another dare, and for a second, I’m grateful for the noise. It hides the way my heart keeps tripping over itself.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Author’s POV
“Finally, Y/N!”
Y/N groaned, cheeks flushed from the drinks. “Mmm, don’t bore me now,” she teased, spinning the wine glass between her fingers. Shoko, Yuki, and Mei exchanged knowing looks — that mischievous kind that meant something was about to go down.
Suguru leaned forward, grinning like a man with a secret.
“I’ve got one,” he said.
Yuki gasped dramatically. “Suguru speaking? This must be serious!”
Everyone laughed until he dropped the bomb:
“Sit on the lap of the person you think is the biggest red flag here for sixty seconds or Swap shirts with someone in the group — no leaving the room.”
The group erupted. Yuki was already hollering, “That’s evil!” while Utahime sat up straighter, eyes darting toward Satoru.
Y/N’s laughter stalled.
Utahime’s voice came smooth, but sharp as glass. “Well, how would she even know who’s the biggest red flag? She’s only ever been with Toru.”
The air went still. Y/N tilted her head, her smile tight.
“Relax, Utahime,” she said sweetly, voice edged with danger. “I’m not planning on sitting on your man. I’m sure there are worse options.”
Sukuna leaned forward, smirking. “Oh, she knows us all very well.”
Her smirk returning. “Don’t worry, Utahime. I’m not in the mood to sit on anyone’s… ego tonight.”
A low wave of laughter rippled through the room — Shoko chuckled behind her drink.
Suguru raised a brow. “So… you’re undressing then? With whom?”
Y/N shot him a lazy grin. “You sound awfully eager, Suguru. Something you want to admit?”
Everyone hollered in amusement. The teasing was thick in the air, tension crackling like electricity.
The teasing tone had the room buzzing. Even Satoru, lounging back like he owned the world, couldn’t help but glance her way — sharp blue eyes flicking over her, trying not to look too long.
“You’re all talk,” he finally said, voice low, almost bored. “You gonna take the dare, or just keep trying to sound dangerous?”
Y/N’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Dangerous is doing something stupid, right?”
Satoru chuckled. “Yeah, like still wanting to impress your ex.”
The whole group went quiet.
The tension hung thick — even the fire outside seemed to flicker lower.
Yuki clapped once, trying to ease it. “Soo, Y/N? What’s it gonna be?”
Y/N met Satoru’s gaze head-on. That smug look of his — confident, untouchable, taunting.
Fine. Two can play that game.
She stood up slowly, smirk tugging at her lips.
Everyone went still, watching her — waiting.
“Well,” she said, drawing out the word, “if we’re going by red flags…” Her eyes scanned the room. “I’d say there’s a few I could sit on, but that’d be a public service announcement, not a dare.”
The group howled. Satoru leaned back, jaw tightening, a flicker of irritation showing before he hid it behind a laugh.
Then she turned toward Choso, eyes glinting. “You.”
Choso blinked, startled.
Y/N grinned, stepping forward like a queen about to make her move. As she tugged on her sweater upwards slowly — revealing her perky tits sitting perfectly in her black lace undergarment
She had the room in her hands and she knows that.
The girls screamed, half cheering, half scandalized, while the guys… well, none of them even tried to hide their reactions.
“Choso,” Y/N purred, voice dripping with amusement, “would you mind changing sweaters with me?”
Choso blinked — once, twice — clearly trying to process what just happened as she leaned closer, the scent of her perfume wrapping around him. “S-sure,” he stammered, his voice suddenly rough, eyes darting everywhere except where they wanted to be.
“Don’t be shy,” Yuki teased, slapping his arm. “You heard the lady.”
He nodded, gulping audibly as he peeled off his sweater — his toned abs catching the light.
Someone whistled. Yuki’s voice cut through the noise, half laughing, half amazed.
“Damn, underneath all that emo? You’re ripped!”
Laughter burst out, but it didn’t mask the tension humming in the air.
Y/N, ever the performer, accepted Choso’s sweater like it was a prize. Her fingers brushed his as she slipped it over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame, his scent instantly clinging to her skin.
Choso froze — a deep shade of red crawling up his neck.
Meanwhile, Satoru’s jaw twitched.
Y/N caught his look from across the room and gave him a slow, taunting smile — the kind that said I win.
Sukuna leaned back with a grin that could cut steel. “Too bad, princess. I was wearing your favorite sweater tonight.”
Y/N shot him a wicked glance. “Then it’s a good thing I upgraded.”
That got the room howling again.
Even Shoko — ever the composed one — just sighed and muttered, “I knew this would turn into a mess.”
“Y/N, you’re hot!” Yuki screamed, raising her drink.
The group joined in, cheering, laughing, teasing — the whole place alive with alcohol, chaos, and heat.
Through it all, Y/N just smirked, sinking into her new oversized sweater.
She felt tipsy, powerful, untouchable — her pulse thrumming with adrenaline and the thrill of it all.
Satoru, though, didn’t cheer. He just watched. Quietly.
That stupid grin still on his face, but his eyes? They gave him away — the kind of look that wasn’t just playful.
It was hungry.
Possessive.
Y/N lifted her glass again, smirking as if she didn’t feel it. “So,” she drawled, “who’s next?”
Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old
Warning: This story contains heavy emotional tension, jealousy, suggestive dialogue, and messy ex-lover dynamics that may cause secondhand heartbreak
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Y/n’s POV
Last night was hell.
I tried to act normal —smile, laugh, maybe even toss a joke or two —but every time I caught sight of him, it was like someone pressing a bruise I’ve been pretending wasn’t there. If I looked even slightly uncomfortable, it’d be admitting the truth: I’m not over him.
And I think he knows. God, I hate that he knows.
It’s around noon now. I haven’t left the room once. Shoko brought me breakfast that turned into lunch, and she’s been keeping me company while Mei hums around, getting ready to ski like we’re not all living in emotional purgatory.
“I’ve always found that girl annoying,” Mei says, tightening her gloves. “She’s wealthy, but not wealthy enough to make it bearable.”
Shoko exhales smoke beside me, the window cracked just enough for the cold air to mix with the scent of nicotine.
Yes, I smoke. A nasty little habit Satoru made me quit years ago. Now it’s my small act of rebellion. Or maybe self-destruction. Hard to tell these days.
“Let that bitch be, Y/N,” Mei says, tossing her hair. “Come on, let’s go ski. We’re not letting her ruin your week.”
Right. I shouldn’t. I won’t. I can’t let that girl take away the fun I was supposed to have with my friends.
“Fineee,” I groan, dragging myself out of bed. “But if I fall, you’re carrying me back.”
⸻
The cold outside hits like a slap, but at least it keeps me awake.
I’ve known Satoru since forever —like, literally, since we were kids. He was the boy next door, always showing off, always making me laugh. We grew up together with Suguru and Shoko; we were the inseparable four.
Then high school happened. Somewhere between late-night study sessions and stupid dares, we fell in love. We started dating at fifteen. Stayed together till twenty-five. Ten years. A whole decade of us.
We were that couple.
The one everyone teased, envied, adored.
And then one day, we weren’t.
“Hey, Y/N. Need a hand?”
I nearly drop the ski gear when I hear Nanami’s voice behind me. He looks just like he did back then —calm, steady, polite. The opposite of Satoru’s chaos.
“Oh, thank you, Kento!” I smile, trying to sound casual as he helps me adjust the gear. “How’ve you been? I rarely hear from you anymore.”
“I’ve been good,” he says, tightening a strap. “Though, I didn’t expect Satoru to move on so soon. I take it you’re doing okay?”
My chest tightens at his words. I force a smile. “Don’t worry about me.”
He gives me that soft look — the one that says he knows I’m lying.
Then, laughter pierces the air.
A familiar voice.
Satoru’s.
I turn instinctively, just in time to see Yuji rolling down the slope in chaos while Satoru and Utahime speed past, laughing like they’re in some winter commercial.
“‘Toru! Stop! We’re going too fast!” Utahime squeals, clutching his arm.
My stomach drops.
That nickname.
‘Toru.’
I used to be the only one who called him that.
“What a cute couple,” an old woman nearby says, smiling at the scene.
I swallow hard, forcing my gaze away, pretending I didn’t hear her.
It shouldn’t hurt. It’s been three months. Three months should be enough to stop caring, right?
But it still hurts like it happened yesterday.
I hate that I still look for him in every laugh, every voice, every shadow on the snow.
I hate that I still remember how warm his hands felt fixing my gloves.
And I hate that even now, standing here pretending to be fine, part of me still wishes it was me laughing with him.
Yeah, I left early.
Stupid of me, I know. Congratulations, Y/N —you just broadcasted to everyone how totally fine you’re not.
I sigh, staring at my reflection in the dark window. “It’s alright, Y/N,” I mutter. “You’re the normal one for not jumping into someone’s arms right after a ten-year relationship.”
I smile, even though it hurts. At least my friends are still here —real or fake, I’ll take the company. Mei could be out skiing like the adrenaline junkie she is, but she chose to stay. Shoko’s here too, nursing her cigarette like a war veteran. It’s nearly 6 p.m. now, and the sky’s starting to bruise purple.
“Let’s start prepping for the bonfire later,” Shoko says, pulling her hair back. “And let those man-children clean up for once.”
“Finally, a plan I can get behind,” I say, grabbing the drinks. The kitchen smells like smoke and spice; the kind of cozy that makes you forget how much your chest hurts.
We fall into rhythm — cutting, stirring, teasing each other — until I realize it’s quiet. Too quiet.
I turn around, and both Shoko and Mei are gone.
“Uh, hello?” I frown. “You guys better not be leaving me with dish duty again.”
When they walk back in, they’re grinning like they just found out state secrets.
“Why are you two smiling like that?” I ask slowly, raising a brow.
“Y/N,” Shoko starts, exhaling like she’s about to drop a bomb, “I’ve known you too long to just sit here while that jackass pretends you don’t exist.”
I laugh, half amused, half exhausted. “You’ve known him just as long as I have.”
“Yeah,” Mei cuts in, tossing her hair. “And that’s exactly why I can confirm —men are idiots.”
I snort. “You’re not wrong.”
Then Shoko’s lips curl into that evil little grin she gets before chaos. “By the way… Yuki’s coming later.”
I nearly drop the knife I’m holding. “What?! Finally! She never makes it to these things!”
Mei winks. “Oh, don’t worry. She’s got a little treat for you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Treat?”
Shoko hums. “Mmm… actually, treats.”
That makes me pause. “Plural? Should I be scared?”
Mei just smirks. “Depends. On how ready you are to make Gojo lose his mind.”
I blink. “What the hell are you two planning?”
Shoko shrugs innocently, opening another beer. “Nothing illegal. Just… entertaining.”
They share that look again —the one that says this night’s about to get interesting.
I try to brush it off, but my pulse quickens anyway. Maybe it’s the anticipation, maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the idea of finally getting the upper hand.
Either way, for the first time all weekend, I actually can’t wait for the night to start.
The night was supposed to be chill. Just us, the snow, the view, and a makeshift bonfire on the balcony that looked one strong gust away from falling off.
Marshmallows and drinks in hand, everyone’s laughing, voices bouncing off the cold air.
Yuji, of course, takes the spotlight. “Gosh, I peed once during my birthday at the pool!”
The table erupts in disgust.
“Are you serious!?” Suguru’s half-laughing, half-horrified. “Dude, I swallowed some of that water!”
“Ew, you what—” Mei chokes on her drink.
We’re dying laughing until—
“That’s so silly!” Utahime pipes up, that fake little giggle riding on her words. “I think I was invited to that party… kinda remember that happening!”
And there she is. Sitting. On. His. Lap.
My brain short-circuits.
Nope. Nope nope nope. I will not look their way. I will not lose my cool in front of all these people.
“Silly girl,” Satoru says, voice dripping with amusement —and something too close to flirtation.
My fingers tighten around my drink. Silly girl? Silly girl? Okay, clown him later, cry later.
Thankfully, Nanami decides to save the night with dry sarcasm. “You’ve always been disgusting, Yuji. And completely opposite of your older brother.”
“Man, don’t bring Choso into this,” Yuji groans as everyone bursts into teasing.
Trying to sound normal, I blurt out at the worst time, “That older brother—was that Choso or—”
Before I can even finish, Shoko smirks, eyes glinting. “Seems like you remember, Y/N. What was it you called Choso again?”
My stomach drops. “Don’t you dare—”
“Ohhh, I remember!” Suguru adds, leaning forward with that infuriating grin. “That ‘hot long-haired man I’d let disrespect me,’ right?”
The group loses it.
I gasp, face burning. “Hey! I did not—!”
From the corner of my eye, I see it.
Satoru shifts slightly —moving away from Utahime. His hand brushes her knee off casually, pretending like nothing happened.
Yeah. Pretend all you want, Gojo. My heart’s still doing gymnastics.
Before I can fully recover, the doorbell rings.
“Are we expecting more people?” Satoru asks, tone suddenly serious, his hand halfway to his drink.
Mei raises a brow. “Oh, right. Forgot to say… Yuki’s coming.”
The room explodes in cheers.
“YESSSS! SOME FUNNY YUKI-SENPAI ENERGY!” Yuji screams, nearly spilling his drink.
I laugh, actually relieved. Finally! Someone to break the awkward tension.
Or so I thought.
Footsteps echo closer —two sets, heavy boots on wood.
Shoko and Suguru return, both trying (and failing) to keep straight faces.
Utahime slides off Satoru’s lap, brushing her hair back. “Oh? Who are they?” she asks sweetly, clearly confused.
And then —
I see them.
My entire body freezes.
Oh.
My.
God.
Standing right there in the doorway, snow still clinging to their coats—
Choso. My one-night stand.
And Sukuna. My ex fuck buddy.
My jaw drops.
Yuki’s standing behind them, smug as hell. “Surprise,” she says, winking. “Told you I brought treats.”
Shoko snorts into her drink. Mei’s grinning like she just paid for front-row drama. Suguru mutters, “Oh, this is about to be good.”
Meanwhile, I’m frozen, brain screaming.
No. No. No. Not here. Not now. Not when Satoru’s watching. Oh, this woman planned my emotional funeral.
Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.
Warning: This story contains emotional tension, jealousy, toxic relationships, subtle manipulation, and heavy angst
Part 1
Y/N’s POV
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.
Four hours on the bullet train, two crying babies, one broken headphone, and a guy eating tuna without shame—just to end up trapped in a cabin… with my ex.
For five days.
Kill me.
“Y/N! Finally, you’re here!” Mei cheers, way too cheerful for someone who just signed my death sentence. “Now I can finally have a little fun!”
Her words blur into static the moment I see him. Satoru freakin’ Gojo. My stomach twists—no, somersaults. The last time I saw him, I threw up in the middle of a grocery store. God, am I gonna add “cabin puke” to my list of humiliations now?
“Earth to Y/N?” Suguru waves a hand in front of my face, and I jerk back like I’ve been caught staring. Which I have. Fantastic.
“Y-yeah? Sorry, I think the train fried my brain,” I mumble, forcing a weak laugh.
Suguru grabs my luggage effortlessly, because of course he does. “Almost thought you were gonna pass out—”
“Didn’t,” I cut Mei off before she can say something embarrassing. She always does. “Anyway, where am I crashing?”
Mei hums innocently, which is always a bad sign. “Well, definitely not with Satoru. You two broke up, right?”
Before I can even fake a laugh, Yuji’s loud-ass voice cuts through the room like a sword. “Wait—you and Gojo broke up?!”
Silence. Actual, coffin-level silence.
Everyone freezes.
Suguru sighs, muttering under his breath, “Yuji, why don’t you, I don’t know, go outside and cut some wood or something?”
“Wood? It’s snowing,” Yuji protests.
“Exactly,” Suguru deadpans.
Meanwhile, my brain’s doing Olympic-level gymnastics trying not to look at Satoru. He’s sitting on the couch, AirPods in, pretending the world doesn’t exist. Probably doesn’t even notice I’m here. Or maybe he does—and just doesn’t care.
God, his stupid white hair still looks unfairly good. His posture’s the same too, all lazy confidence and long legs. I hate that I remember what those legs feel like wrapped around—
Nope. Nope. NOPE.
I swallow hard and plaster on a smile. “Sooo… where’s the bathroom? I might, uh… throw up again.”
Because yeah—apparently that’s our new love language.
Now I’m in the girls’ room — if you can even call them my “friends.”
Shoko and Mei. My dear, loyal, backstabbing, fake friends who didn’t even think to warn me that Satoru freaking Gojo would be here.
I mean, yeah, we’re all in the same friend group — but Satoru and Suguru? They’re not the type to join long weekend trips. Yet here they are.
Shoko clears her throat. “We can explain.”
I let out the loudest sigh my lungs can manage. “Really? No heads-up? Not even a tiny warning text like, ‘Hey, by the way, your ex will be haunting the cabin’? Nothing?”
I plop down on the bed dramatically. The mattress groans, just like my patience. Three months since the breakup and I’ve moved absolutely nowhere from that restaurant. Mentally, I’m still sitting there, watching him walk away.
Mei crosses her arms. “We did call you, you just never picked up.”
“I didn’t think I needed to screen for Gojo Satoru appearances, Mei,” I mutter, pressing my palms over my face.
Then Shoko hesitates. “Well… there’s more you need to know.”
Oh god. My heart instantly starts doing push-ups. “More? What, you found out he brought a girlfriend? He got married? He’s secretly a cult leader?”
They share that look — the one people do right before ruining your week.
“You see… Utahime’s here,” Mei says carefully.
I blink. “Our old classmate?”
“Yeah.”
“What about her? You guys invited her? Wait—no way. Is she dating Suguru?!” My mood spikes instantly. “Oh my god, finally! My boy’s getting some!”
Mei and Shoko both stare at me like I just said something stupid. Which, apparently, I did.
“Not exactly…” Mei murmurs.
I frown. “Then what—?”
“She was invited by Satoru,” Shoko says quietly. “She’s… staying in his room. She’s, uh, showering there right now.”
My breath catches. My stomach clenches so hard it hurts. I can actually feel my ears ringing.
“Oh. Haha. Well, good for him,” I say with a shaky laugh. “Yeah, it’s… nice. He deserves to move on, right?”
My voice is trembling so bad I could swear the walls can hear it. Shoko reaches over and places her hand over mine, firm and warm.
“He’s a shitty ex, Y/N. And honestly, a shitty friend,” she says. “Who invites both his ex and his new fling to the same gathering?”
“Three-month rule, duh,” I mumble with a brittle smile. “It’s all part of the breakup playbook.”
They keep talking — calling Utahime annoying, saying she must’ve begged for Satoru’s attention, that she’s trying to sneak her way into our group — but their words start to blur.
Because the truth is, what’s there to talk about?
She’s his present.
And I’m just the inconvenient past sitting two doors away, pretending I’m fine.
Or so I thought.
Three times.
That’s how many times I’ve accidentally made eye contact with him tonight — and every single time, my heart dropped like it was trying to escape.
We’re all sitting around the long wooden table, plates clinking, laughter bouncing off the cabin walls. It should feel warm, loud, chaotic — and it does. Except for the part where Utahime is practically sitting on Satoru’s lap.
“You guys were such idiots back in high school,” she says with a fond laugh, brushing a strand of hair from her face — his hand helping her tuck it behind her ear.
Everyone’s laughing. Yuji’s choking on his drink, Nobara’s teasing Megumi, Suguru’s sipping sake with that unreadable calm expression — and me?
I’m just staring at my beer bottle, scrolling aimlessly through my phone like it can save me from this dinner table nightmare.
“Y/N,” Suguru calls, voice cutting through the chatter.
I look up — and there it is again.
Eye contact number four.
Satoru’s gaze, steady and sharp, just for a second before he looks away like nothing happened. My throat tightens.
Before I can even ask Suguru what he said, Utahime’s voice cuts in, all sugar-coated poison.
“Y/N! I just remembered — you and ‘Toru’ dated back then, right?” she says with a sweet smile. “You two were sooo cute together.”
The air goes thick in an instant.
Everyone freezes except for the faint crackle of the fireplace.
It’s one of those backhanded comments — the kind that sounds sweet but stings like hell.
I force a smile. “Yeah. It was fine.”
Fine — the most useless word in the world.
Satoru clears his throat, obviously trying to redirect. “Utahime, didn’t you say something about your new job at—”
But she’s not done.
“Oh! Right, but I heard…” she starts, tone light but loaded.
The table tenses again. Even Yuji’s stopped chewing. This girl really wants smoke — and unfortunately, I’m too busy pretending not to care to light it.
Mei leans forward, lips curving into a smug little smile. “You know, Utahime, you’re kind of bad at communicating, huh? That’s something you and Satoru have in common.”
A few low chuckles ripple around the table. Suguru even hides a laugh behind his glass.
Utahime lets out a stiff little laugh of her own. “Guess so,” she says, finally shutting up.
Relief floods through me like a quiet wave.
But then I feel it again — that heavy gaze from across the table.
Satoru’s looking at me, his expression unreadable, lips parted like he wants to say something.
