YOU HAVE TO WALK THROUGH THE DOORS YOU BEG TO HAVE OPEN!!!!! THE CHANGE CANNOT HAPPEN SIMPLY BY THE OPPORTUNITY

another tommy thought ive not let go this morning is him being w a really talkative girl, and i mean she never shuts up; there's always something on her mind or something she remembers that she just has to tell him! and he listens patiently every single time she speaks, nodding along and adding commentary here and there and everyone is so perplexed by their relationship cos tommys essentially a stoic and hardly ever speaks whereas his gf can just keep going and going!

happy birthday day junmyeon ♡

(# >o<) mikey layouts . . . 🍶

☆ › like / reblog if u save ๑ バカ !!

Jongin laughing so hard he starts crying ♡ The TakFather Episode 8.

𝐎𝐇 ?

꒰ your egg just hatched, @heresan ! ꒱ — sukuna \ teachers \ blind date.

꒰ 18+ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 ! ꒱

sukuna may be the most hated teacher alive, but it doesn’t make him immune to a desire for love. or, two teachers walk into a poetry slam for a blind date.

⊹ f!reader ⊹ no curses, teacher au ⊹ fluff. tiny angst. humor.   kinda enemies to lovers ⊹ sukuna is a jerk as usual. everyone is a highschool teacher. yuuji x todo poetry bromance. satoru n sukuna are friends. i kinda just threw everyone in a role here, so i hope it fits ⊹ 4.3k lol ⊹ footnote. here it is, tina! thank you so much for attending my event! i wasn’t able to fit everything i wanted because the word count got brazy. i hope you enjoy!

ryomen sukuna may just be the most hated teacher on all of campus, absolutely loathed by students and teachers alike. in his mind, it matters not if others find him likeable or intolerable. the result of such a decision is personal; that’s not his concern nor is it his business. he’s intended to enrich the minds of his students, not become their friend. he’s supposed to prepare them for the mercilessness of reality, not coddle them.

sukuna is no gojo satoru; he has no desire to meet the youth where they stand in their childishness just to teach them. he doesn’t want to revel in all their senselessness with them. gojo satoru is the most liked, but he’s hardly the best teacher. sukuna is no nanami kento; he refuses to hold their hands and protect them from their mistakes. in his eyes, their stumbling is a means of development. it gives them individual depth; it helps them determine their own meaning and cultivate their own merit based on what values their subjective experience insists they prioritize. nanami kento is the most entrusted, but he’s still a step below the best teacher. and sukuna is no you, most certainly no you; he’d sooner perish than perform the sheer amount of mental gymnastics you do to ensure all your wording, teaching, and intent is coated in honey and well-received. you’re the most caring and the most cared for, but you don’t even begin to scratch the surface of being the best teacher. but sukuna, even for all his standoffish demeanor and strict boundaries, even for all his intolerance and impatience, even for all his frustration and his dismissal, he’s the best teacher here. you all know it; you all hate it. he knows it; he knew it before any of those standardized test results signaled it. his methods feel cruel and they aren’t ideal; no other teacher would dare implement his rigid grading system that leaves zero wiggle room for noncompliance but plenty for creativity ꒰ despite what you all think and say. ꒱

the results his students yield are an endless testament to sukuna’s success at equipping them with tools and allowing them to develop the skills to adequately use them. he’ll correct their inconsistencies, sure, but he’ll never lie to their faces about what he thinks of their capacity as it stands. he doesn’t care to have them daydreaming about where they could go. he wants them to acknowledge exactly where they’re at. his sole endeavor as a cultivator of minds is to instill the strength and willingness to critically observe literary material, which in turn gives them the capacity and ability to critically observe themselves and the way they’re present in every environment they encounter. contrary to popular belief, he wants his students to be better than him. and so, he can never go easy on them. he can only lead them to the cusps of their potential and shove them over with a borderline menacing smirk. and as he listens to the likes of itadori yuuji and aoi todo recite a joint poem for their reattempt at an assignment, he recalls exactly why he’ll never entertain their foolishness. “jennifer, o jennifer,” yuuji muses dramatically. “your eyes a dazzling reflection of my yearning…” todo’s eyes are squeezed shut as he recites, “jennifer, o jennifer! i see you parade around every corner of my daydreams.” “AND YET!” yuuji yells, slamming his fist onto the surface of the podium that stands at the head of the class. “YOU WILL NEVER KNOW THE LOVE MY HEART CAN HOLD FOR YOU.” in shock, sukuna’s lips part as he stares ahead at the two troublesome boys while they startle the classroom with yet another dramatic recital of a poem that will most assuredly become inappropriate. “jesus christ,” he hears kugisaki grumble. “JENNIFERRRRRRRR,” todo yells, stretching out the end of the name with a passionate fist held high as his voice descends down to a whisper. “my jennifer.” “your chest, your voluptuous bosso—” sukuna holds up a flat palm. “enough,”

confusion befalls yuuji. his head tilts to the side. “why’d you stop us? we were getting to the best part!” “considering you’ve failed for the third time in a row at this assignment, i assure you that you were not.” “WE FAILED?!” the two boys shout in unison. “AGAIN?! HOW?” an exasperated sigh leaves his lips. “not only is this poem the end result of a dumpster fire and highly inappropriate yet again, but you once again did not follow a single instruction.” “untrue!” todo protests. “you said it needed to be a poem about our greatest desire!” a roll of the eyes. “i did not. i said to write a poem that embodies the concept of an emotion; for example, a great desire. not only that, but the poem was to be a quatrain. this is a couplet, at best.” “well how am i supposed to know the difference?” yuuji says, his voice in a light panic. “i worked so hard on this poem.” sukuna evaluates the copy of the poem he holds in his hand. inwardly, he admits that yuuji’s ability to weave imagery and eloquent speech is present, but he doesn’t take his assignments seriously enough. “you earned points for creativity but none for anything else. this was your last chance to correct this, if i recall.” yuuji’s eyes become wide and sad, lips forming into a pout as he stares at his teacher with a silent plea in his eyes, a plea that sukuna will gladly ignore. sukuna firmly believes if these simple-minded brats would follow the very simple directions he lays out, they wouldn’t be struggling to pass his class and devoting all their free time to meaningless busy work that he routinely reminds them they can avoid if they set aside their need for instant gratification and concentrated on their academic efforts instead. todo looks frustrated, angry eyes glued down at his feet as he suffers through his third humiliation. “b-but!” yuuji tries, only to be met with the shake of sukuna’s head. “please, mr. ryomen! if i fail this class, my mom will take away all my games and manga!” a soft snort. “i imagine your grades will improve drastically should that occur. take your seats.” “sir, please!” hard eyes glare into innocence. “do you think i’m running some kind of circus for you to entertain us all in? if so, i should fail you for boring me. i have one hour to teach you something and lately, i spend a quarter of my time bickering with the two of you about using very basic levels of comprehension to execute a simple task. sit. down.” and they do, with all their grief and disillusion in tow. 

when class ends, sukuna revels in the silence of his free period before his next group arrives. he sighs, reading over yuuji’s poem again. a problem child most certainly, but a creative one who excels in writing but fails to pay attention to what it is he’s intended to write. sukuna aims to help him understand the importance of discipline and execute it. sure, he’s disappointed now, but with this failure under his belt, sukuna believes his next assignment will be much closer to what he’s been asked to do. if he knows yuuji, and he does, the boy will still fail to follow a very specific direction, but he’ll get closer, and sukuna will acknowledge the improvement but yuuji won’t receive the reflection of his efforts in points. sukuna is adamant about the boundary of only distributing the points when he executes the task correctly, not for his efforts of doing such a thing. he doesn’t offer participation trophies. a gentle knock at his classroom door pulls him out of his thoughts. sukuna peers up from the top of his glasses noticing you standing in the doorway holding up a pink slip of paper that he’s quite familiar with.

so he’s requesting to be removed. insolent brat.

“and what do i owe the displeasure of seeing you?” he asks, looking back down at the papers he intends to grade. “can i help you?” with a sigh, you enter the room fully and pull up a chair to sit beside his desk. “my classroom is full and it’s breaking my heart to keep turning away all the students who don’t see a future while having you as their teacher.” this is precisely why sukuna can’t stand you. you’re hardly a rival, teaching in the only alternative class for first years to take english, but each time he has the misfortune of making conversation with you, you speak to him as if you are. “get stronger at rejecting them then.” he counters with ease. “it’s character building.” your voice gets quieter. “itadori yuuji came to me crying. your class is giving him a level of anxiety he’s quite literally unable to manage. he’s a child, sukuna.” “mr. ryomen is fine, thank you.” he grumbles. “yuuji’s inability to turn in his assignments on time and follow my very simple directions has little to do with me and everything to do with him. he’s not a child. he’s a teenage boy who we’re expected to prepare for the harsh realities of the real world. do you think his behavior will be accepted in any workplace? no, it won’t. he’ll be terminated. and do you think they’ll care if he comes into their office crying about the consequences of his own shortcomings? they won’t. an average employee is a dime a dozen. he’s not great enough to afford his slacking.” for a moment, you sit there in silence and despite not looking your way even once, not even sparing you a single glance, he can feel the disappointment rolling off of you in thick waves that crash into him. “his grandfather just died. it’s already hard enough for him to come to school, mister unreasonable.”

and my wife left me yet here i am each day, dragging my feet into this rundown building without making excuses for not meeting the mark.

sukuna doesn’t speak it aloud, of course. he has enough empathy to keep some of his hatefulness at bay. “and my condolences are with him and his family. i already suggested to his mother that she withdraw him for the time being but yuuji made the decision to return. if he can exercise the autonomy to choose to stay, then he can exercise the autonomy to do his work adequately. i will not hold him to separate expectations because of his circumstances. i would have to do it for all of my students, and where would that leave those who do not have a soul-crushing event that warrants them room to frolic?” “have you considered that, perhaps, all your students deserve a little room to make mistakes and correct them?” you inquire through gritted teeth. “i swear you have no heart.” he winces, the words slicing through him just as sharply as the memory of his ex-wife uttering identical words as she rallied her loved ones to assist her in leaving him behind with the future they were supposed to share in love. “if having a heart were enough to teach these students in a way that matters, i imagine your test scores would be higher. and yet, they’re one of the lowest. i appreciate your concern for my student, but he will simply have to make peace with his failures and let the shame he feels fuel him into accomplishment.” without another word, you slam the pink slip down onto his desk and huff harshly as you stomp out of the room. he doesn’t understand why you bother time and time again.

you hold their hands and soothe them when they cry. it’s no wonder they have poor self-regulation.

ryomen sukuna has one friend, and it’s the man that he has the least amount of tolerance for: gojo satoru. even after being told repeatedly that he’s disinterested in being friends, disinterested in having him involved in his personal affairs, disinterested in any level of personal connection outside of the work environment they both share, satoru insists. he insisted upon himself until the frightful day came that ryomen sukuna lost the only person he had ever brought himself to love, and in response called satoru to sit beside him at a bar in total silence while he drank. he didn’t need to do anything. sukuna just needed to convince himself that there was another being in this world ꒰ besides the one that walked out on him ꒱ who had a shred of care in their hearts for him. satoru came without question, came without speaking, came without apologizing for his loss when sukuna uttered the words ‘she left me’. satoru offered him a soft ‘oh shit’ and ordered another drink for him when his glass emptied out. since then, at the very least, they’re on a first-name basis but hardly a friendly one, despite what satoru continues to believe. “so guess what i got for my loving best friend who adores me so very much.” satoru sings as he enters the teacher’s lounge and throws an arm haphazardly over his shoulder. sukuna shakes his arm off of him and proceeds to sneer. “don’t touch me.” “well someone’s a grumpy cat today.” satoru mumbles. “so what’s got your panties in a wedgie?” a disgusted scoff and a demand that comes through gritted teeth. “don’t be lewd.” “but it’s part of my charm.” satoru says with an exaggerated pout. sukuna sighs. “what do you want, satoru?” “well,” he sings, sitting in a chair adjacent to where sukuna stands at the coffee machine, legs sprawled out wide. “you have a blind date tonight.” an immediate response. sukuna spins to face him, nostrils flaring. “no, i don’t.” “oh, come on!” satoru groans. “you can’t seriously spend the rest of your life hung up on your ex.” “i don’t plan to.” he seethes. “but i don’t plan to date, either.” satoru shrugs carelessly. “okay, so just show up and give her even a little charm so you can bust a nut before you bust a blood vessel.” “not only am i uninterested in dating, but i would never date anyone you suggested for me.” of course, the snow-haired man is offended, a palm flat against his chest. “excuse me, i have great taste in women. you’re just a prude.” “you don’t have taste in anything, especially women.” sukuna grumbles. satoru ignores him at first, instead redirecting his attention to his phone before mumbling, “i didn’t want to resort to this, but you leave me no choice.” after he speaks, he turns the screen of the phone in sukuna’s direction to which he’s met with a post on facebook of all places where the words ‘ryomen yuki is in a relationship with fushiguro toji’ are in bold letters across the screen with two identical photos side-by-side, both a sporting a matching picture of them together. for a moment, his mouth goes dry. the grip he has on his empty mug tightens until he hears and feels the ceramic starting to crack in his grasp.

she’s already moving on. she’s already found someone to replace me. her love was everything to me and mine was nothing to her, a gift that came with proof of purchase so she could return it at will.

unable to continue staring at his greatest loss to date, he turns his back to satoru, the mug slamming down into pieces on the counter.

so it’s really over then. six months of half-expecting you to return because you never bothered to change your name back. another thing you took from me and ran off with. shamelessly. with no remorse. another display of my fragility that you keep attached to you like a badge of honor. your trophy for murdering a deathless man.

“i’m sorry to spring this on you like this.” satoru says, the sadness evident in his voice. “but i think it’d do you some good to get back out there.” he’s been trying for months to get sukuna to test the waters with someone new, but he admittedly held out for his ex-wife. now, all the rumination and theorizing of returns seems pointless. silly. a wasted effort. his patience becomes another labor of love that she won’t reciprocate or return back to him, either. it’s at that moment that he decides enough is enough and he can’t leave his heart in layover, waiting to be carried to a destination he’ll never see again. with a heavy heart, sukuna mumbles, “fine, i’ll go.” “atta boy,” satoru says, pleased with his results as he stands and grips sukuna’s shoulders. “and i don’t mean this in a kind of way, but don’t scare the poor girl away, okay?” sukuna’s eyes narrow as he tilts his head to gaze at him. “and just what is that supposed to mean?” “it means…” his voice trails as he hums thoughtfully. “be anything but yourself.”

great, another woman to court with only the idea of me and the potential of the man i could become. not the man i already am.

“i can hear the emo engine revving.” satoru sings. “i don’t mean there’s anything wrong with you, but you’re harsh and you know it. actually attempt pleasantries. chivalry. niceties, you know? women like that. they don’t want an unreasonable brute.” a roll of his eyes. “whatever, where am i to meet her? what’s her name? what does she…like?” “i’m not telling you anything about her, but i did suggest a date at that bar you like that does poetry slams on fridays. so, at the very least, you both have that in common. you like to wallow over useless things.” sukuna hums, not entirely opposed to a poetry slam attendance as a first date, a blind meeting. as a man quite passionate about literature in general, this sounds like a safe option. he can speak less and listen intently. that should be enough to conceal what satoru won’t openly call his awful demanor.

sukuna will never trust satoru again, will never let him set a nosy foot into his life’s affairs. he never should have. he should have known he was toying with him, should have known that he wouldn’t set him up on a date without going so far out of his way to make a fool of him. he arrives at the bar with a single, long stem black rose in hand, a gentle symbol of the potential beginning he has to offer, dressed in his favorite deep olive sweater-vest, a white button-up underneath with an elegant black tie tucked into a deep v neckline, and casual but suitable black slacks. for the first time in a long time, he parts his hair and gels it specifically, nanami kento in mind as he does so, a testament to what he believes is the way a respectable man would present himself to a woman he may want to sincerely court, should things go well. he waits outside the establishment, unusually nervous but still simmering in a hushed excitement at the possibility of finally laying the death of his first love to rest. he’s grown sick of being a man made into a mausoleum. he stands right where he tells satoru he’ll be. it doesn’t take long to cling to the notion that all his diligence is a waste of time because now you stand before him staring at him in utter shock and it infuriates him. what’s even worse is how undoubtedly gorgeous you look in the sleeveless white dress clinging to the shape of your body, the semi-deep neckline showing off the prettiness of your smooth skin and highlighting your assets while not blatantly displaying them. it’s alluring modesty that colors him in the most vibrant shade of surprise. he’s never seen you outside of class, never seen you outside of oversized, fuzzy cardigans and dress pants. he’s never seen your ankles outside of black, cotton socks and penny loafers, but now he knows exactly what fiber looks like flowing around the shape of your thighs. if you were to inquire with him regarding the subject of you, he’s never spared you more than passing glances because he finds the weakness in your general demeanor and over-indulgence in decorum to be particularly disgusting. to him, critically evaluating your level of attractiveness would be a truly pointless endeavor, especially considering he only observes you in a work environment. naturally, he keeps all of his curiosities centered around responsibilities that just so happen to involve you both. but now, as you stand before him with widened eyes, shock gazing over shock, sukuna can’t help but memorize you from head to toe. it isn’t to say that you intrigue him; it is simply to consider why on earth satoru would organize a date with you or have the audacity to believe he would want this.

i should surely kill him for this.

“you’re my blind date?” you ask incredulously. sukuna sighs, frustration causing his head to lull back and briefly glance at the clarity of the evening sky. “it appears so.” “why the fuck would shoko think i want to go out with the likes of you?” you ask, an air of offense littering your tone. the expression contorting your features aimed at him causes a dull pang in his chest. not because he cares, but because even sukuna isn’t immune to the consequences of harsh rejection in the face of his own anticipation. the disgust for him is not only evident in the look on your face ꒰ brows raised, eyes full of disdain, nose scrunched, and your lips curved downward ꒱ but it’s indisputable in the tone of your voice. of course, he doesn’t care for you to find him attractive, but the blatant distaste aimed at him when he showed up all the same as you, expecting to engage with someone who could haply lessen the severity of his pain, if even only for a moment, is admittedly disappointing. “gee, thanks,” he grumbles. you whine, a groan ascending into a saddened pout as your foot stomps lightly against concrete. “i wore my best dress for you?” “are you a child?” sukuna snaps at you, taking in your actions with his own observable revulsion. “contain yourself. you act as if we aren’t in public.” your lips tighten into a straight line, eyes dying as you look at him. “don’t act like you’re not disappointed, too.” he snorts. “disappointed is an abysmal understatement. do you think i’m thrilled to see you? i came here under the impression i might end up liking the person i met.” your arms fold over your chest as you grumble, “i highly doubt they’d end up liking you.” “and i highly doubt they’d end up liking you.” he retorts with ease. “it appears this is a fruitless exertion of energy.” as if you don’t hear a single word he says, your eyes fixate on his hand which clutches the stem of a rose now fallen haphazardly at his side. “was that for me?” you ask softly, gesturing to it. a grunt as he realizes he still holds the physical marker of yet another romantic failure. “i guess. here.” he thrusts it towards you spitefully, sneering. he expects you to reject it, to which he plans to let it fall to the ground, abandoned as he makes his way back home to sip his weight in roscato, but you become a peculiar creature before him and reach to take it out of his hand, twirling the stem between your thumb and index finger as the softest smile takes your lips. you don’t look at him as you speak. “a black rose seems like an unorthodox flower to gift for a first date.” sighing, he parts his lips to speak, but he doesn’t get the chance, as you continue on. “but really, it symbolizes tragedy and rebirth.” surprisingly, you’re correct. his intensely irritated expression, unbeknownst to him, subdues and softens then. “yes,” he murmurs. “it was supposed to, at least.” you stay still for a moment, observing the rose carefully before you look up at him again. sukuna’s eyes subtly widen as he notices a tiny shimmer in yours, the littlest spark of curiosity twinkling as you gaze at him. “i spent a lot of time getting ready.” you state tenderly. “i’d…i’d rather not go home empty-handed, you know? and i admit, i was looking forward to this poetry slam.” for the first time in all of the time he’s known you, sukuna’s voice doesn’t carry an undertone of detest when he replies. “as was i. my favorite poet confirmed they’d be performing this evening.” “so is mine.” you admit sheepishly with a wispy sigh. “kenjaku, he’s one of the greatest poets of our time.” now, sukuna’s eyes enlarge with palpable shock. “kenjaku is also your favorite? i thought he was an undiscovered gem, but i wholeheartedly agree. truly one of the best poets of our time. he said he’d be revealing a new work on stage this evening.”

silence passes between the two of you, sukuna’s hands stuffing into the pockets of his slacks as he begins to rock on his heels. he would never admit it, but that shared preference is enough to cultivate his willingness to linger, enough to craft an ache to endure the evening despite his preconceived notions. you eye the entrance, peeking at him from your peripheral vision. “should we…just enjoy the evening? i mean, we’re already here. and there’s a bar, too.” “there is.” “which means i can drink away the extent of how insufferable you are.” a playful grin on your lips as you hold out your hand to him. “shall we?” he stares at your hand before scoffing and leaving it resting without being touched, moving towards the entrance to hold the door open for you as he avoids your gaze. “after you,”

© 2023 elusivemoon. all rights reserved.

i just don’t have the employable spirit

i hate sukuna because you could feel off one day and ask him ‘do you like me?’ as like, playful banter to feel normal again, and he’ll hold your chin and say ‘one of my ribs belongs to you.’ and act like it’s fucking nothing.

even i was the richest man alive i wouldnt buy tumblr premium because i cannot think of a more embarassing subscription to have

Hey! I love your works! Can I request badboy! Satoru x nerd!fem reader with glasses where she is dared to prank call him (she has a crush on him) and sing some seductive song or something (my mind went to a gangster's wife but you can choose another song too!) and he finds out that's her next time they meet? He corners her in a classroom and things escalate and they have heavy make out session in classroom, Followed by him asking her out on a date!

˗ˏˋcontains: f!reader x fuckboy!gojo, reader wears glasses, suggestive language, use of pet names (pretty/pretty girl), university setting, descriptive make out scene, 18+ only pls MDNI !!!

˗ˏˋwc: 3.4k

˗ˏˋa/n: sorry this is so late, i also hope u dont mind that i took some creative liberties with this prompt :v rather than reader singing i had them play the song ‘careless whisper’ over the phone for a dash of silliness heh.. other than that ive never really written any fuckboy-type characters before so i hope he’s as cocky and annoying as he should be 💔💔 ++ tagging @softgirlgonehaywire for brainrot purposes

“here,” your friend hands you an innocuous slip of paper that she pulled out of her wallet, the smirk she adorned stretching further across her face when you hesitantly grabbed it. “that’s his number, you have to call him tonight when he’s in the middle of his date.”

a heavy sigh leaves your lips as you unfold it. no doubt it’s his handwriting, messily scrawled over a piece of scrap paper he likely ripped out of his own notebook in the midst of a boring university lecture. it’s probably the very same one you saw him handing to her when he leaned over her desk at the end of said lecture, a sly grin on his face as you saw him mouth something along the lines of— “you dropped this earlier.”

it’s not like you were staring, though. obviously not.

“do i really have to do this?” you frowned at your friend, huffing in protest when she only grinned in response. “is it too late to change the terms of the bet we made?”

when she nods with a mischievous grin, you find yourself suppressing another groan. “a bet’s a bet,” she muses, taking another sip of her smoothie before continuing. “i scored 5 points higher than you on our midterm, so now you have to prank call your crush.”

you found the bet itself to be a little juvenile, if you were honest. it’d been an ongoing tradition since you both were in high school — betting on getting a higher score than the other on an important exam motivated the two of you to study your absolute hardest. the terms weren't always the same, and you usually had no problem with this — since you were often the one getting a better score. admittedly, though, you’ve been rather… distracted, as of late.

when your friend caught on to the crush you had on the biggest flirt on campus, satoru gojo — it was immediately over for you.

it’s not your fault that he was insanely good looking; that despite the two of you hanging around entirely different crowds, you couldn’t help feeling drawn to him. he seemed a lot nicer than most made him out to be; his reputation surely preceded him. and he was smart, annoyingly so— the type that never needed to study or pay attention in class, yet somehow got every question right and aced every exam.

even the small interactions you’d had with him plagued your mind. the one time you’d let yourself get dragged out to a party which happened to be hosted by his last girlfriend, you found yourself chatting with him on the porch over drinks. he didn’t seem as happy as he’d been making himself out to be.

it’s funny, how even some of the brightest people can have dark moments.

and so, you fell for him. it was more of a distant, puppy-crush— nothing really serious, since you didn’t actually know him like that, but it still happened.

which is what led to your current predicament: your thumb, hovering over the green call button.

you chewed on your lip anxiously, eyes darting between your phone and your laptop screen, where you had a window opened with the song ‘careless whisper’ by george michael. you even skipped ahead a bit, purely to get to the good part with the saxophone solo you were planning on playing.

this was stupid. this was really fucking stupid.

you called him around the time your friend said you should and the phone rang a bit, making your nerves grow with every additional ring. just as you were considering hanging up and backing out on the bet, he picked up.

“hah— hello?”

the gruff in his voice didn’t go past you, nor did the slight pant he let out as he answered the phone. your cheeks warmed up at the thought of what he could’ve possibly been doing right now with his date for the evening, but you cleared your throat and readied yourself to say the dialogue your friend had prepared for you.

“hey, uh… sexy man,” you cringed as you spoke, hoping the tone of your voice didn’t give away how humiliated you felt right now. you were supposed to be humiliating him, after all. when he didn’t respond you swallowed thickly, hovering your finger over the touchpad of your laptop.

“i thought i’d play some sexy tunes to really get you in the mood.”

before he could say anything, you were pressing play. the famous saxophone bit in the song began playing, and you put your phone down to turn away from your laptop and bury your face in your hands. you can’t believe you’re actually doing this.

you’re unsure how he initially reacted on the other end, but you thought you heard a small snort of a laugh— that is, until the sound of a woman’s voice broke through.

“are you fucking serious?” she sounded annoyed, which made him laugh harder, but then the distinct sound of bedsheets ruffling over the phone speaker made you have to fight back a laugh of your own. the sound was muffled after that — you presumed the phone had fallen under the sheets — but you could hear the woman complaining about the phone call, and satoru trying to convince her to come back to bed. when a door slammed shut on the other end and he went silent, you hung up the call if only to finally let out the laughter that was threatening to burst through you.

it’d been a week since you placed that call, and satoru still had no idea it was you. according to your friend, he’d been trying to ask around and gauge who it was, but he had no luck.

that is, until today— when your professor called on you to answer a question he’d asked. as you spoke up you were sure you’d felt satoru’s eyes on you, and they remained burning holes into your head for the rest of the lecture.

or maybe you were just imagining things, right?

you were usually the last one to leave the room at the end of a lecture, since you always liked to wrap up your notes for the day. your professor knew this, so he usually left you to lock the door on your way out.

yet, as you were finishing up your notes, you heard the sound of a lock clicking behind you.

you spun your head around, only to immediately regret it when you came face-to-face with the very person you’d been dreading speaking to all week. satoru smiled at you; it was a smile that was a little too soft to mean anything good. he walked around you and leaned over your desk, and you fought the urge to stare at the muscles of his arms as he practically caged you in where you sat.

“um—” you stammered, blinking up at him in confusion before slowly closing your notebook. “can i help you?”

he hummed, shrugging before lifting his hands off of your desk and leaning back against the one behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “i believe you can. i’m actually looking for someone…”

you held your breath, feigning your best smile as you tilted your head at him. “i’m not sure i’m the best person for that, i don’t know as many people here as you do.”

he just laughed at your words, waving you off. “trust me, i wouldn’t be asking if i wasn’t sure you were the perfect person for this,” he mused, letting his eyes rake over your demeanor for a moment before meeting your gaze once again. there was a glint in those cerulean eyes that made you feel nervous; a fluttery feeling took hold of your gut and made you swallow thickly.

“well, whatever it is, i’m sure we could talk about it on the way to the dining hall,” you mumbled, breaking eye contact with him as you haphazardly stuffed your belongings in your bag. “i’m a little hungry after this lecture, the professor always goes on and on—”

you were rambling, completely missing the way he pulled out his phone and unlocked it while never taking his eyes off of you. you slung your bag over your shoulder as you spoke, turning around to walk towards the door of the classroom, but right as you reached the doorknob you felt it— a buzzing in your pocket.

your phone was ringing.

satoru hummed again, and you finally looked back at him to realize that he’d been calling your phone number. he twirled his phone in his hands for a few seconds before ending the call, biting his lip to suppress the grin that was currently taking over his facial features.

“you see,” he started, pushing himself off the desk he was leaning on. he started walking towards you, hands in his pockets, and you hadn’t realized you were about to bump into the wall behind you until you did. you gasped softly in surprise, feeling your heart in your throat when he only advanced further. “i was hoping to consult with you, maestro. i’m in need of some more… sexy tunes, to make up for my date walking out on me the other night.”

you closed your eyes and sighed, opening them again after a moment only to find that he was standing much closer to you now. “listen, i can explain—”

“i’m sure you can,” he chuckled softly, tilting his head as he grinned cheekily at you. “i mean, if you wanted me to ask you out last week instead, you should’ve said something.”

“it was just a dare, i— wait, what?” you blinked at him, not having expected him to say that. he just laughed again, shaking his head as he took another step forward.

“it’s not like i don’t think you’re super cute, especially right now… all flustered like this,” he cooed, lifting his hand to lean it against the wall, just beside your head. you gulped, noting how it brought you that much closer to him. “it could’ve been you in my bed last week instead of that other girl, come to think of it.”

“gojo,” you swallowed again, feeling your heart race at his words. “that’s not— i, um… i was only—”

“oh, by all means,” he interrupted you, leaning closer as he did. he lifted his other hand up to your coat, gently tugging on the fabric. by now his face was a mere inches from yours, and you were starting to forget where you were going with your explanation. “tell me what’s on your mind, pretty girl.”

he smoothed his hand over your coat, bringing it up to your shoulder before squeezing it gently. you lowered your head slightly to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but then he brought his hand up to your chin to lift your head again, holding it in place.

“do you want me to ask you out, or no?”

you swallowed, unsure how to respond. “um…”

he chuckled lowly, stretching his hand beside your head to reach the light switch for the classroom before shutting the lights off in one swift flick of his wrist. “there, that should bring that confidence of yours back.”

you let out a shaky breath before relaxing yourself, closing your eyes in the newfound darkness of the room as you leaned further against the wall. “maybe, i… wouldn’t be opposed to it.” you confessed, feeling your cheeks heat up further with your own words.

you heard him chuckle, but you couldn’t see the look on his face and it made you all the more nervous. his thumb, the same one over your chin, then slid up; he swiped it across your lower lip and your mouth parted open instantly.

“i can hear your breathing picking up,” he murmured, his breath fanning across your lips, making you blink in surprise at the fact that he’d leaned in ever closer to you. “are you nervous?”

you didn’t respond, unsure how to. he took the risk of another step forward, pressing into you against the wall. the hand leaning against the surface lifted up, and he brought it down to your face, cupping your cheek and swiping his thumb over your cheekbone. his hand then slid lower, against the side of your neck, and he bent his wrist to tilt your head up further.

you felt the wispy strands of hair on his forehead tickling the space between your eyebrows, just above your glasses. you didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until he pressed his forehead into yours fully, sighing softly.

“you can relax. i won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” he mumbled, his tone almost in a whisper. he rubbed his thumb along your jawline, lightly pressing it against the pulse point in your neck and making you automatically grip the back of his shirt in response.

“w—we shouldn’t—” you stammered, your voice squeaking at the end when he pressed his body weight against you a little further. despite your words, your body was betraying you; at the feeling of his other hand slipping towards your lower back, you arched into his chest, making him chuckle softly.

“but… you want to, don’t you?” he hummed, his voice low enough to send a chill through your spine. he was so close to you now that every syllable he shaped with his lips had them brushing against yours, making your breath hitch with the barely-there contact.

his lips pressed forward a little further, gracing your own in a soft manner. he felt your jaw go slack at the contact, and as you started to try and kiss him back he pulled away, eliciting a small whine to escape you.

“what are you doing?” you groaned softly, feeling your entire being heat up. he merely hummed in response, sliding his hand up and down your back, coaxing you to melt into his embrace more than you already have. he then brought up one hand to your face, removing your glasses for you and setting them down on the nearest surface; the action making you blink up at him with a dazed expression.

“jus’ testing the waters… you’re not like the others, y’know…” he murmured, inhaling through his nose before pressing a short kiss against your lips. he felt you chase his lips as he started to pull back again, which made the corners of his mouth curl up into a cheeky grin. “take it easy, now, pretty.”

you caught on quickly that he was toying with you, testing how far he could push you until you reached your limits. while it’s true you weren’t one to go out on dates all that often, it’s not like you’re completely new to this either. he was trying to find what makes you tick, what could push your patience over the edge and make you crave him more than you already did.

and, unfortunately for you — it was working.

with an impatient huff you slid your hands up his chest and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him in for an actual kiss. he snorted softly in mild surprise but the smirk you felt on his face as he kissed you back told you he got exactly what he wanted from you. he laid out the bait for you to take it, and you did so without another moment’s hesitation.

things moved quickly now; his hands slid down to your waist and gripped it harshly as he pressed into you again, caging you between himself and the wall. you could feel his heart racing in his chest, or maybe it was your own heart — finally beating in tune with his. he deepened the kiss as his fingers dug into the flesh of your love handles which pulled a small gasp out of you. he then used the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, moaning softly when you reciprocated the action.

his hands slid lower now, gently squeezing your ass before he bent his knees to hook his hands under your thighs. as quickly as he did this he was lifting you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing his crotch right up against yours. you could feel the steadily growing tent in his pants and it pulled a moan out of you, which he responded to by sucking your lower lip in between this teeth and biting down gently.

“fuck—” he groaned against your lips, unable to stop kissing you. your hands slipped into his hair, and with a small tug on the white strands you felt his movements falter for a moment, his mouth parting again in a silent gasp. you both made out like this for another moment longer before you couldn’t take anymore; not with the way your heart was beating out of your chest, how he was making you dizzy with the way he kissed you breathless.

you gently pushed on his shoulder and he responded accordingly, pulling away from the kiss with a sharp gasp for air. his eyes were closed and he was panting softly, his adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed thickly before he decided to meet your gaze. even in the dark you could see how the bright blues of his eyes were darkened, clouded with something you could only describe as pure desire.

the fact you were able to make a mess of him like this just by making out with him made something low in your gut curl up, your legs tightening around his waist in a meek attempt to press your thighs together and give yourself a little bit of relief.

he picked up on this and chuckled lowly, his tongue darting out to lick his kiss-swollen lips. “felt good, huh?”

“whatever,” you grumbled, your voice shakier than you’d anticipated. you tapped your finger on his shoulder, a silent request for him to put you down. as your feet landed on the ground your knees buckled slightly, making you instinctively grab his arms.

“i mean, it sure looks like it did if you’re already weak in the knees,” he teased, nosing at your jawline and pressing a ticklish kiss on your neck when you rolled your eyes at him.

you blindly reached around behind you, switching the light back on in the room. once you did, you could finally see how red in the face he was. you could even see how there was a sliver of worry swimming about in darkened ocean eyes.

“so,” he cleared his throat, brows furrowing for a moment before he took a step back to give you your space. his hand came up to the back of his neck and he rubbed it awkwardly, trying to think of what to say before meeting your eyes again. “how about that date?”

you raised an eyebrow, unable to hold back the giggle that bubbled up in your chest. “what, you were serious about that?”

his expression broke out into a sheepish grin and he shrugged, his cheeks tinting a slight shade of pink. “i was, yeah… to be honest, i’d been kinda working up to asking you out for a while now. it’s easier with the others, but you… i could never figure you out,” he mumbled, clearing his throat again.

you hummed, crossing your arms over your chest. “so, what, you just want to figure me out and then toss me aside like the rest? is this still part of your little ‘game’?” you teased, tilting your head to the side in a questioning manner.

despite your words, his demeanor didn’t falter at all. “nah, it's like i said… you seem different. besides, if you keep kissing me like that i’m gonna have a harder time letting you go,” he said coolly, snickering softly when you shoved his arm in response.

“you’re annoying.”

“—annoyingly good at kissing, eh?” he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “so, what d’ya say? friday at 7pm?”

you gave him a contemplative look, before biting your lip softly to hold back the grin threatening to break past you. “i guess… we can have the one date.”

he perked up at this like an excited dog, his back straightening out again as he threw his signature smirk at you. he turned around, grabbing your glasses that he set down a few minutes ago and bringing them back up to your face before carefully placing them back on your head.

“trust me, it’ll be a night you won’t forget.” he said with a cheeky grin, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose before booping the tip of your nose in a playful manner.