Archive of Our Own ^beta

A lazy Sunday morning. 

Usually, Sundays in this house didn’t start till noon because when Gojo Satoru was around, Saturday nights were never normal. Too much alcohol, too much noise, too much of his dumbass truth or dare games that always ended with one of them or all of them fucking you till you passed out in one of their beds.

But not last night. You’d slipped off to bed early. Gojo had thrown a tantrum, naturally, whining like a brat, but Nanami stepped in and shut him down as always as the gentlemen he is.

It’s not even noon yet and you’ve already circled the house twice, barefoot, hair a little messy from all the running around, muttering under your breath like some stressed little mom.

Nanami was in the kitchen, calmly chopping vegetables. Geto was curled in the armchair with his notebook, scribbling lazily. Gojo was spread out like a king on the couch, shirtless, smug, acting like Sunday had been invented just for him.

You, on the other hand, were babbling under your breath, darting around, fixing things.

“’Toru, why is your jacket lying there?” you snapped, snatching his coat off the back of a chair.

Gojo tilted his head at you, grinning. “Oh well, last night after I—”

“—And why is there still a half-eaten sandwich on the TV stand?” You cut him off, moving to pick it up like it personally offended you.

Gojo props his chin on his palm, all wide-eyed. “Yo, well, I was gonna take it, just… never got up, y’know?”

You huffed, muttering as you picked up the container. “Unbelievable, toru. . . .”

Gojo sat up, looking around at the others like, what the hell did I do?

Behind you, Geto’s chuckle rumbles low as he raised his hands like you were a cop who just pulled him over. “Don’t look at me. I took the trash out this morning."

You ignored them both, moving on like a one-woman cleanup crew. “And why are you not even wearing a shirt, Toru? It’s not even bedtime—”

Gojo grinned wide, stretching his arms. “Bunny, the world doesn’t deserve these abs locked up, y’know? Why would I hide all this glory from you, bunny?””

“Ughh Toru, seriously. . . .” You bend to scoop up one of Toji’s discarded dumbbells from under the coffee table. “And Toji! Why are his weights in the living room? He almost killed me last night when I stubbed my toe on this—”

But Toji’s not even awake to hear it, the man still knocked out in his room. You shake your head, muttering under your breath as you pushed the dumbbell aside.

Gojo finally groaned, dropping his head back dramatically. “Jeez, why is she mad at me first thing in the morning?”

“Because you leave the most mess,” Nanami said flatly from the kitchen, not even looking up from his cutting board.

"Please Nanami, not you too."

Gojo watches you whirl around like a storm, his lips twitching with every new scold you throw at the walls. He tries answering once, twice, but you’re already on to the next thing before he can finish. 

Finally, he shoots up from the couch, crossing the room in three lazy strides.

“Oi.” His hand hooks around your wrist just as you’re bending to straighten a shoe rack.

“What—” you start, but then you’re hauled up and spun, your back landing against his chest as he plops back onto the couch with you in his lap.

You squeaked, fists pressing against his chest. “Satoru—!”

He buried his face in your neck, arms caging you in. “Bunnyyy,” he groans into your neck, the word stretched like he’s been deprived of oxygen all morning. His arms loop tight around your waist, trapping you right there. “Baby. What’s got you all snappy, hmm?”

You squirm a little but his hold doesn’t budge, his face buried against the warm slope of your throat. “Let me go, I still need to—”

“Nope. Not happening. Chores can wait, bunny can’t.” He nuzzles shamelessly, his lips brushing your skin. “You’re wound tighter than Nanamin’s tie. Did someone swap my sweet girl out for a scary housewife?”

Geto snorts from the armchair, not looking up from his notes. “Don’t encourage her, she’s on a warpath today.”

“I’m not!” you protest, pushing at Gojo’s arms. “It’s just this place is a mess and you guys—”

“Mess, shm-ess.” Gojo cuts in, fingers tracing little shapes over your stomach like he’s trying to soothe a tantrum out of you. “You didn’t even sleep in my bed last night. I’m in withdrawal. Of course I’m not wearing a shirt. I’m mourning.”

Nanami walks by from the kitchen, knife in hand, deadpan as always. “Mourning what, exactly?”

“My lack of bunny cuddles,” Gojo says instantly, squeezing you tighter.

Nanami hums, uninterested, and returns to chopping like he didn’t just hear nonsense at ten in the morning.

Gojo tilts his head to look at you again, big blue eyes wide and dramatic. “See? Even Nanami thinks you’re bullying me. My bunny doesn’t love me anymore…”

“No, that's not—” 

“Don’t lie to me.” He shifts, tucking his chin on your shoulder. His voice drops, low and sing-song. “Tell me what’s wrong or I’ll keep clinging till you melt.”

Geto finally looks up, smirking as he sets his pen down. “Honestly, let him. You've been buzzing around since morning. Might do you good to sit still for once.”

“Exactly, Suguru gets it,” Gojo says, nosing along your jaw now, ridiculously smug. “So… bunny… what’s got you pacing around like this?”

You wriggled weakly. “I told you. Because the house is a mess—”

“House is always a mess,” he mumbled against your skin, kissing lazily. “That’s not new. What’s really wrong?”

You sighed, your annoyance slipping a little as his warmth sank into you.

From the armchair, Geto smirked. “She’s nesting. Let her clean, Satoru.”

Nanami’s voice floated from the kitchen, calm and unimpressed. “Or you could help her instead of pinning her down like a toddler.”

Gojo shot them both a look over your shoulder, chin hooked on you like a koala. “She doesn’t want help. She just wants to nag me. It’s foreplay.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, but your voice had softened, body already melting into him despite your earlier ranting.

"Come on, bunny. Tell me what's wrong. Hmm?" 

You bite your lip, cheeks heating under the attention. “Nothing! I just… wanted the place to look nice, okay?”

Gojo perks. “Nice? For who? For me?”

“No.”

“Lies,” he teases. “It’s always for me.”

Suguru’s smirk deepens, eyes glinting. “You're so full of yourself as always.”

That shuts Gojo up just enough for curiosity to flicker across his face, head cocking. “…Then who’s it for, bunny?”

“Well… uhmm,” you hesitated, still nestled in Gojo’s lap, “my friend is coming over.”

Gojo stilled. “Friend? Why, baby?”

You fiddled with his shirtless chest, sheepish. “We have this presentation tomorrow… so we need to work on it.”

Gojo leaned back, squinting at you like you just said the dumbest thing alive. Then his grin slid back into place. “Oh. A friend? Hmmm… is she pretty?”

Your jaw dropped. “Toruuuu!” You smacked his chest, pouting.

He cackled, rocking you against him. “Just playing, bunnyyy. You know this dick only gets hard and this heart only beats for my angel, hmm?” His voice dropped, hot against your ear, his hands riding up your waist until he cupped your tits through your top.

“Toruuuu—” you gasped, squirming.

“Mmmmm, what’s wrong? Wanna go for a quickie before your little friend comes?” His thumbs brushed circles over your nipples like he was already trying to tempt you.

Nanami’s flat voice cut through from the kitchen. “Just stop it, Gojo. I’m going to chop your dick off at this rate.”

Gojo groaned dramatically, dropping his head back. “Why is everyone in this house a cockblock? I didn’t even get to cuddle her last night ‘cause she went to bed early!” He bounced you a little on his lap like proof of his suffering.

Geto finally looked up from his notebook, smirking. “Then maybe don’t act like a spoiled brat when she wants to just sleep.”

Gojo gasped, pointing at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Suguru.”

“I’m never on your side.”

Before Gojo could whine more, Geto asked calmly, “So, when’s this friend of yours coming?”

“In a few minutes,” you said quickly, adjusting your hair. “It’s just, it’s the first time one of my friends is coming over, so I wanted the house neat, y’know?”

Gojo pouted deeper. “Should’ve told me, bunny. I would’ve helped you—”

Both Nanami and Geto scoffed at the same time.

“Helped her how? By throwing your dirty socks behind the couch?” Nanami deadpanned, not even glancing up from his chopping board.

“Or by drinking all the soda so she’d have one less thing to worry about?” Geto added smoothly.

Gojo pressed his hand to his chest like they’d stabbed him. “Wow. Attacked. Y/n, see how cruel they are?” He buried his face back into your neck, kissing sloppily up the side, ignoring your half-hearted push.

The doorbell rang.

You blinked. “Ohh, he’s here.”

Gojo’s whole body went stiff. “…Yeah, I think—wait. What?” He pulled back, eyes wide.

“What?” you asked innocently.

“Did you just say "he" ?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, starting to stand. The bell rang again, sharper this time. “I should get the door—”

You slipped off his lap, smoothing your clothes as you padded toward the entryway.

Gojo twisted around, looking at the others like he’d just been personally betrayed by God. “Suguru. Did you hear that?”

Suguru shut his notebook with a smirk. “I actually did.”

Gojo flailed his arms. “It’s a guy. She’s bringing a guy friend into this house. Nanamin, Suguru, call Toji, I need backup.”

Nanami just sighed, muttering, “Pathetic.” 

You open the door with your heart thumping a little faster than usual. And there he is—Yuji Itadori, sunshine in human form. His pink hair almost glows in the daylight, his smile so warm it feels like he’s carrying the sun with him. He’s holding a small bunch of flowers, nothing fancy, but the gesture makes your lips twitch into an instant smile.

“Hey,” he says, his voice light and bright, “these are for you.”

Your chest flutters at the thoughtfulness. You accept the flowers with both hands, muttering a soft, “thank you, Yuji.”

Behind you, Gojo whispered like he was narrating a murder mystery. “…He brought flowers. Flowers. Suguru, he’s trying to date her.”

Suguru chuckled, leaning back in his chair, eyes flicking between you and Yuji. “He’s definitely trying to impress her.”

Nanami muttered under his breath, “He’s just being polite,” but his jaw tightened anyway.

Gojo pointed, whisper-yelling like you couldn’t hear him from the doorway. “Polite? That’s how it starts, Nanamin! First flowers, then he’s gonna ask to grab a coffee, then—boom—he’s stealing our bunny.”

You glanced back at them, cheeks heating, before turning to Yuji with a flustered smile. “Come in, Yuji.”

He stepped inside, bright and clueless, and Gojo sank back into the couch with his hand over his face. “Un-fucking-believable. She brought a fuckin' boy into our home.”

Suguru hummed. “This should be interesting.”

Nanami’s knife hit the cutting board with a sharp thunk. “Not a word, Gojo.”

"Fiiiiinnneeeeeee. . ." 

You stepped aside to let Yuji in. His sneakers squeak against the floor as he enters, eyes wide at the size of the apartment.

“C’mon, sit down,” you tell him, pointing to the couch.

But of course, Gojo Satoru is still sprawled gloriously across it, limbs spread out like he owns every inch of the fabric. He hasn’t moved an inch since Yuji walked in, one arm tossed behind his head, the other lazily flipping through his phone. His blue eyes fixed on the screen like he couldn’t be bothered.

You stop in front of him, flowers still in hand, and give him the look.

Gojo finally glances at you, sees that glare, and lets out the most dramatic tch. With an exaggerated groan, he pushes himself up into a sitting position, legs spread, still taking up more space than he should.

“There. Happy?” he mutters.

You ignore him and gesture to Yuji. “Sit here.”

Yuji looks between the two of you, a little awkward, then plops down on the couch beside Gojo. He smiles politely at the tall man, and you know instantly that Gojo doesn’t like it.

“Guys, this is Yuji,” you say, holding the flowers close to your chest for now. “He’s my classmate. Yuji, this is Sato—”

Gojo cuts you off with a lazy hand wave. “Yeah, that’s me. Satoru.” He rolls his eyes, like even introducing himself is too much work.

You huff softly, moving on. “And this is Suguru.”

Geto, seated comfortably in the armchair with his notebook still balanced on one knee, offers Yuji a warm smile. “Hey. Nice to meet you.”

Yuji visibly relaxes, smiling back. “Yeah, nice to meet you too.”

That’s when Nanami steps out from the kitchen, apron tied snug around his waist, a faint smell of something rich and savory wafting behind him. He dries his hands on a towel, his expression calm but kind.

“And this is Nanami,” you say quickly, “you’ve seen him a few times, right? When he drops me off at college?”

Yuji nods. “Yeah, I remember.”

Nanami walks straight over, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you, kid.”

Yuji stands quickly to shake it, looking oddly respectful. “Nice to meet you too, sir.”

Gojo makes a gagging noise behind you, but you ignore it.

Nanami studies Yuji for a moment, then asks in that steady voice of his, “You live nearby? Did you walk here?”

Yuji scratches the back of his neck. “Ah, yeah. Just a few blocks down. Wasn’t too bad.”

Nanami nods approvingly, like he’s already filing the information away. “Good. Always better to walk when the weather’s decent.”

Meanwhile, Gojo leans close to Suguru, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Bet he still wets the bed.”

You shoot him a glare, mouthing, stop it. Suguru chuckles lowly, shaking his head but not correcting him either.

Nanami then gestures toward the kitchen. “I’ll make some drinks. You will be staying for lunch right?”

Yuji waves his hands. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary—”

“Yes, he will,” you cut in quickly, almost too firmly. “He’ll be here for lunch.”

Nanami gives you a small nod, taking your word as final, and disappears back into the kitchen with the towel still draped over his shoulder.

Yuji sits back down, a little flustered but clearly happy, while you arrange the flowers in a vase you grabbed from the counter. Behind you, you can feel Satoru’s eyes burning holes through the back of your head, his knee bouncing impatiently as if just the idea of this boy being here is the rudest intrusion.

And you were smiling without even realizing it, because honestly? You were just so happy to bring someone home for once. Not just anyone, but Yuji Itadori. Your little guest.

Yuji wasn’t just “some classmate.”. Yuji was that boy who always saved you a seat beside him, who passed you his neatly copied notes when you’d been too sleepy in lecture, who whispered dumb jokes just to make you laugh when the professor droned on for too long. Yuji Itadori was the sweetest guy, the one who always carried your bag when you looked too tired, who once even skipped lunch to walk you to the library because you said you didn’t like going alone.

And, okay, maybe you didn’t know it, but the boy had a massive crush on you. He wasn’t slick either—well, maybe a little slick—because there was no way it was pure coincidence he ended up paired with you for this presentation. Maybe or maybe not, Yuji had pulled a stunt or two, all so he could spend time with you. So here he was, sitting on your couch, eyes darting around the apartment like he’d stumbled into a palace.

You, on the other hand, were just… excited. It was the first time you’d ever brought a friend home. And it felt nice—normal, even.

Not that you couldn’t have brought one of your girlfriends over before. In fact, some of them had asked plenty of times. Especially after they’d seen your gorgeous roommates dropping you off or picking you up from college. You still remembered the way their voices dropped into conspiratorial whispers, the way their eyes lit up like hungry magpies.

“Who is that?” one had gasped when she saw Satoru leaning casually against the car, sunglasses perched low on his nose, waving at you like you were the only girl in the world.

Another had nudged you too hard in the ribs when Suguru walked past, his calm smile enough to make her sigh like she’d just seen an idol in person.

And Toji? God. Half your friends nearly fainted when they saw him once, straight from the gym, broad and terrifyingly attractive. Even Nanami had his quiet fan club, the mature, responsible type with his neatly pressed shirts and gold frames.

They all had eyes on your men.

But you? You’d always brushed off their requests to come over. You always found an excuse. Because the tiniest little knot of jealousy deep inside you, one you’d never admit out loud, just wouldn’t let them near your house.

On the outside, you were soft. The good girl. Their bunny. Naive, pliant, always nodding at whatever they asked or said. But inside you were selfish. A little brat, even. You wanted them to yourself. All of them. The thought of any girl—even a close friend—swooping in, laughing at Gojo’s dumb jokes, leaning too close to Geto’s calm voice, feeling toji's muscles or catching Nanami’s rare smile? It made your stomach twist.

No, they were yours. And you weren’t sharing.

So poor Yuji didn’t stand a chance.

The boy thought this was his golden moment. That he could maybe—just maybe—shoot his shot. Sit close to you, hear your laugh echo in a room that wasn’t a classroom, maybe learn what your favorite snack was, or what kind of music you hummed while studying. Spend the whole day basking in you.

But Yuji didn’t know where he’d just stepped into. Didn’t know that the men lounging around the living room weren’t just your roommates, but something much more complicated. Much more possessive. And this house was their territory.

**********

“Yuji, let’s just go to my room, my laptop’s in there”—the second the words slipped out of your mouth, it was like the whole air shifted.

Gojo, who had been sprawled lazily across the couch like a king, suddenly stood up so fast his shades almost slid off his nose.

“Whoa, whoa, wait. What did you just say, bunny?” His voice was sharp, but he still had that teasing tilt to it, like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard.

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “Uhmmm… we’re gonna work on the presentation?”

“Yeah, I heard that part,” Gojo shot back, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, “but why your room?”

“Well… my laptop and notes are in there, so—”

“So?!” Gojo cut you off, already gesturing at the wide open space around him. “Nah, nah, not happening, bunny. Look around, plenty of room in here. Big ass couch. Big ass table. Why do you gotta take him into your room, huh?”

Your lips parted, confusion flashing across your face. “But Toru—”

“Nope. Not happening. Living room’s perfect. We’ll even be your audience if you wanna rehearse. Right, Suguru?”

Geto just raised his eyebrows from where he was lazily flipping his pen between his fingers, clearly entertained. “Don’t drag me into this.”

“Toru,” you sighed, already pouting, “I wasn’t trying to—”

But before you could finish, Nanami’s voice cut clean through the tension like a blade.

“Gojo. That’s enough.”

The sharp tone alone made Gojo freeze for half a second, but Nanami wasn’t done. He set down the kitchen towel he’d been wiping his hands with, stepped out just far enough for everyone to feel his presence, and fixed Gojo with that calm, dangerous stare.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You went quiet instantly. Gojo opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but Nanami’s gaze was already back on you, softer now.

“You two go work on it. All the best.” He even smiled—small, reserved—but warm enough to make Yuji’s eyes light up like he’d just been personally blessed.

“Y-yeah, thank you, sir,” Yuji stammered, standing up straighter like a soldier called to attention.

You couldn’t help but smile back, nodding quickly before tugging Yuji along. “Come on, let’s get started.”

You led him toward your room, and you could feel Gojo’s stare drilling into the back of your head the whole way. Sure enough, the moment your hand touched the doorknob, he was right there behind you.

“Yo,” he drawled, suddenly towering over both you and Yuji, one hand braced against the doorframe. “Keep the door ope—”

But Yuji didn’t even let him finish. He gave the friendliest little “thanks again!” to the room and then—click—shut the door right in Gojo’s face.

Silence.

For about three seconds.

“WHAT THE FUCK.” Gojo nearly lunged at the door like he was ready to kick it down, but before his hand even touched the knob, Suguru slid in smooth as ever, hooking an arm around his waist and dragging him back.

“Let me go, Suguru!” Gojo barked, thrashing like a cat thrown in the bath. “He shut the door! In my fuckin' face! Did you see that?!”

Suguru only chuckled, holding him with frustrating ease. “I saw it.”

“Then why the hell are you calm?!” Gojo snapped, pointing wildly at the door. “Our bunny just dragged some random guy into her room, and you’re just sitting there like it’s fine?!”

“He’s not random, Satoru,” Suguru said lazily, steering him back toward the couch. “He’s her classmate. He brought her flowers. Seems polite enough.”

Gojo whipped around, glaring at him like he’d betrayed him. “Whose side are you on, huh? You’re supposed to be with me on this! You saw the way he looked at her, those sparkly-ass eyes, that dumb little smile—he’s plotting something, I know it!”

Suguru didn’t answer. He just pushed Gojo down onto the couch like a misbehaving toddler.

Gojo immediately sprawled out again, throwing his arms dramatically over his face. “Unbelievable. I can’t believe this is happening. My bunny. My sweet angel baby in there with some pink-haired punk who thinks he’s got a chance. This is betrayal. Treason. I’m gonna die.”

Nobody paid him much attention. Nanami had already gone back to the kitchen, and Suguru was back to doodling in his notebook, only giving Gojo the occasional amused glance.

But Gojo didn’t stop whining. Not even close.

It had been exactly seven minutes and forty-three seconds since you and Yuji disappeared into your room. And he was losing his goddamn mind.

How could he sit still when his woman—the love of his life, his sweet bunny, his soft little angel—was in there with some other boy? Not just any boy, either. A boy who brought you flowers. A boy who clearly had a crush written all over his stupid sunshine face. A boy who got to sit on your bed right now while Gojo was stuck out here, pacing grooves into the living room carpet.

It wasn’t about trust. He trusted you. You were his everything. It was the other bastard he didn’t trust. He didn’t want anyone breathing the same air as you when he wasn’t there to guard it. Hell, he already tolerated more than he ever could—sharing you with his roommates was already pushing the limits of his possessive heart. But that was different. That was them. This? Some outside boy? No fucking way.

“Suguru…” Gojo’s voice cracked with dramatics as he turned, tugging at his own hair. “What if—what if he tries something with her??”

Geto didn’t even look up from his notebook, pen still moving across the page. “For god’s sake, Satoru, not everyone’s a pervert and horny bitch like you.”

Gojo froze like he’d just been slapped. “The fuck??” He pointed a finger at Suguru, his shades sliding down his nose. “Don’t tell me you’re not feeling it too. Don’t play dumb—we’re boys, we can tell. That kid is onto something. He’s in there plotting, I can smell it.”

Finally, Geto paused, looked up, and smirked lazily. “…Well. I agree he’s got a crush.”

“See?!” Gojo practically shouted, throwing his arms wide like he’d just been vindicated by the gods.

“But,” Suguru continued, calm as ever, “let’s see what happens. No need to storm the place yet.”

Gojo’s jaw dropped. “That’s it?? That’s all you’ve got?? Let’s see?” He groaned, flopping onto the couch like he was on the verge of death. “Ughhh, Suguru, seriously… I don’t like that kid. I don’t like him one bit. He’s too smiley. He’s too nice. He’s too—everything. He’s got that dumb golden retriever energy and I hate it.”

Suguru just hummed in amusement, clearly enjoying watching Gojo unravel. And Gojo was two seconds away from clawing his way into your room, Nanami’s warning be damned.

Meanwhile in your room, Yuji had no clue about the absolute war zone he’d set off in the living room just by showing up. He was just trying to make the most out of this golden chance.

“Y/n… is it okay if I sit here?” he asked, frozen stiff in the doorway as you patted the edge of your bed.

“Yeah, sure, Yuji. Just sit.”

You were busy walking around, gathering your laptop and notes, tossing a pen onto the sheets before climbing up next to him. Yuji sat like he was on holy ground, hands flat on his knees, back straight like he was waiting for a teacher to scold him.

He couldn’t believe this. Your room. He was in your room. Your bed. The place you slept in. The walls smelled faintly like your perfume, the blanket soft and messy from how you must’ve left it last night. His chest was thudding so hard it was embarrassing.

Yuji always had his eyes on you—since the first week of class, since the first time you smiled at him, since you tucked your hair behind your ear during lectures. But it had taken him forever to actually talk to you. Now here he was, sitting next to you, he couldn't believe his luck.

Still… he couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d seen earlier. Those roommates of yours. Those men. It was weird—strange even—that you were living with them. All of them older, all of them good-looking in their own way, but especially that white-haired one. Gojo. He was practically radiating irritation the second Yuji stepped inside. And honestly? It crushed him a little. If you lived with people like that, how the hell could Yuji Itadori even stand a chance? Your standards must’ve been sky-high.

His spiraling was cut short when you tilted your head. “Yuji?”

He blinked. “Oh—yes, Y/n?”

You smiled, setting your laptop between you. “Let’s start?”

“Well… actually—can I ask you something first?” He rubbed the back of his neck, his voice lower than usual.

“Sure.”

Yuji hesitated. The question had been eating him alive for a while, and he couldn’t stop himself. “…Is the white-haired guy… is he your boyfriend?”

Your breath hitched. “W-what?” That one caught you so off guard you nearly dropped the pen in your hand. Boyfriend? Of all the things he could’ve asked… he was asking if Gojo Satoru was your boyfriend. 

“Uhmm well…” you tried to steady yourself, eyes flickering to his nervous face. “Why do you ask?”

Yuji looked down at his hands, fiddling with a thread on your blanket. “It’s just… I think he didn’t really like the fact that I’m here.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Noooo, Yuji. Nothing like that. He’s just like that always.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t mind him.”

“…Okay,” he said softly, though he didn’t fully buy it.

Poor boy. He really was upset about the fact that he didn't feel welcomed in that house. He thought it was just Satoru who had a problem. What Yuji didn’t know was that it wasn’t just him but not a single one of your roommates appreciated Yuji sitting on your bed. Gojo was just the only one who made it loud and clear, pacing and whining like a dog without a bone. 

Even Nanami didn’t like the idea either. The difference was, Nanami was a man who would always let you do whatever you wanted. He’d swallow his irritation and let you be.

Suguru, though—he was another story. He wasn’t exactly worried. He was just amused, sitting back and waiting to see how the whole thing would turn out. Watching Gojo lose his mind was a sport he never got tired of. Typical of him.

And Toji… well, you were lucky he wasn’t awake. If he had been, poor Yuji would’ve been terrified silent under the weight of Toji’s stare. One glance from him and that boy would’ve found an excuse to leave.

But what could you even say if Yuji pressed harder? That Gojo wasn’t just some jealous roommate, but your boyfriend? That Nanami was too? And Suguru? That even Toji was tangled up with you too? What could you say about the little arrangement you had going on in that household?

How could you even put it into words—that not just Gojo, but every single one of them was your partner, your lover, your everything? That every day, you spent your nights with them, in one of their beds, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Would Yuji think of you differently if he knew? Would he think badly of you? 

You shoved the thoughts down, deep where they couldn’t claw at you anymore. You had a big-ass presentation tomorrow, no time to sit here overthinking. Work first. Everything else could burn later.

Back in the living room, chaos had a new player. Toji had finally woken up, padding in with that heavy, lazy stride, rubbing his neck like he hadn’t just slept half the day away. First thing out of his mouth wasn’t “good morning,” wasn’t a grunt, it was about you.

“Where is she?”

Gojo didn’t even bother to look at him, too caught up in his own anxious spiral, fingers tapping against his knees, foot bouncing. “She’s… busy,” he said, voice sharp and dismissive, like even forming the word busy was choking him.

Toji stopped dead. His head turned, slow and sharp, like a blade twisting. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Suguru sighed, already knowing where this was going. He leaned back, arms crossed, tone casual like he was stirring a pot just to watch it boil over. “She’s in her room. With a "guy" friend. Kid came over for a project.”

For a second, silence. Then Toji barked out a short laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “No fuckin’ way.” He didn’t wait for anyone’s permission, didn’t care that Nanami’s calm voice cut in with a low, “Toji, let her—” because Toji was already marching down the hall.

The door creaked open, and poor Yuji damn near jumped out of his skin. Kid looked like his soul left his body the second he met Toji’s eyes—those sharp, flat green eyes full of wrath that could gut a man without lifting a finger.

Toji’s voice was a low growl, dangerous and heavy. “Why the hell is this door closed?”

Yuji scrambled to his feet so fast he almost tripped over himself, hands raised like he was about to get arrested. “H-hi! We were just—uh—we were just—” His stuttering only made the tension worse, air thick enough to choke on.

And you—oh, you knew better than to think Toji could be brushed off like Gojo. Gojo might throw a tantrum, whine, stomp his feet. Toji? He’d burn the whole room down without blinking.

So before it could get ugly, you slid off the bed, soft but firm. “Yuji, can you just… put the points we discussed into the slides? I’ll be back in a minute.”

Yuji latched onto the lifeline like it was oxygen. “Y-yeah, sure, Y/n,” he answered, voice shaking as bad as his hands.

You didn’t give him more than a smile before moving toward Toji. He didn’t wait. His hand wrapped around your wrist—warm, big, rough—and he tugged you out like you weighed nothing. The door slammed shut behind you with a sharp click, Yuji trapped on the other side, heart hammering against his ribs.

Nothing made sense to him. But the weight of Toji’s rage hung so heavy in that room he didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare breathe wrong. Poor boy just sat back down, eyes glued to your laptop, forcing himself to work on the slides while his mind screamed at him to run.

**********

Toji doesn’t even give you room to breathe. He's got you pressed against the wall before you can blink, the solid weight of him caging you in, his hand gripping your jaw tight enough to make your cheeks squish. His thumb drags over your lips, slow, rough.

“Why the fuck’s a boy in your room, doll?” His voice is low, gravel scraping against your skin, dangerous. His forehead almost touches yours, breath hot. “Care to explain?”

“Tojiii—” you whine, muffled against his hand. “He’s just a friend—”

“Ohh, a friend?” His laugh is sharp, bitter, mocking. “That why he was sittin’ all close to you, gettin’ cozy? Hm?” He rubs his fingers along your cheekbone, smearing the warmth of your skin like he wants to wipe Yuji off of you.

You shake your head fast. “We were working on something for college, I swear—”

“College, huh?” His hand drops from your face, slides down your side, heavy and rough like he owns every inch. “Why can’t you just ask Nanami? Or Suguru? They’re right there.”

“It’s not like that—”

“Then what’s it like, doll? Enlighten me.” His eyes flick over your face, sharp, hungry, waiting for you to crack.

You swallow. “Me and Yuji… we’re partnered up. We need to work on it together.”

“So?” He cocks a brow, smirk twisting his mouth. “So why the fuck is he in your room? With the door shut. What did I tell you about that, huh?”

You pout, voice tiny. “It’s just… Satoru was being mean to him, so I thought—”

He cuts you off with a scoff. “Want me to scare your little friend away? That it?”

“Tojiii, you’re so mean, don’t do that,” you whimper, pushing lightly at his chest.

“You expect me to sit still when you’ve got some boy in there with you?” His hand tightens around your waist, dragging you closer. 

“It’s not like we’re doing anything,” you argue weakly, your pout trembling, betraying you.

“What if he tries somethin’, doll?” His mouth brushes your ear, his voice dropping. “What then?”

“He’s not that kinda guy,” you whisper. “I’ve known him a long time—”

Toji chuckles dark, mean. “Is that so? Known him longer than me?”

“Technically… yeah—”

That makes him snarl. He presses his forehead to yours, teeth gritted. “That shit makes me more jealous, doll.” His hand is already sliding up under your top, palm rough against your soft skin. He grabs a handful of your tits, squeezing like he owns them, fingers rolling your nipples till they pebble hard against his calloused touch.

You gasp, trying to cover your mouth with your hand, muffling the sound because Yuji is just on the other side of that door. “Tojiii—”

“What? Can’t let your little friend hear you moaning while I play with your tits?” His voice drips filth, blunt and cruel. “Bet he’d cream himself if he did.”

“Stoo—stop, he’s in there—”

Toji shuts you up with a sharp bite at your neck, sucking hard until the sting makes your knees shake. His other hand is already sliding down, shoving under your waistband with zero patience.

The second his fingers brush your folds, he groans, low and mean. “Fuck, doll… you’re wet.” His thumb rubs against your clit, slow, cruel circles that make your thighs tremble. “You gonna go back to your little friend like this? Dripping down your thighs for me?”

You shake your head frantically, eyes wide.

“No?” He smirks, teeth flashing as he pushes two thick fingers inside you without warning, filling you so fast you cry out, muffled against his palm as he slaps a hand over your mouth.

“Shhh, doll. Don’t want lover boy hearin’ how lewd you sound, huh?” He thrusts his fingers deep, curling them just right until your body betrays you, hips grinding down, chasing the pace.

Your muffled moans spill against his palm, hot and desperate.

“Such a good bunny,” Toji growls, breath heavy in your ear. “So fuckin’ needy you’re creamin’ on my fingers with another guy sittin’ in your room.” His thumb circles your clit harder, faster, relentless. “Bet he’d piss himself if he knew what his sweet Y/n was really like. My slut. My doll.”

Your body arches against the wall, sweat damp at your temple, thighs trembling around his hand. He’s ruthless, fingers fucking into you harder, his palm grinding against your clit until your vision blurs.

“Gonna cum, doll? Hm?” He’s panting now, his mouth hot at your throat, biting, licking, claiming. “Gonna make a mess on my hand while your friend’s waitin’ for you in there?”

You nod desperately against his palm, muffled whines spilling.

Toji groans, smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Do it. Right here, come on, doll.”

The knot snaps, your body jerks, and you’re shaking against him, your moans smothered under his rough palm while he fucks you through it. Your cunt clenches around his fingers, soaking his hand as you ride the waves, body trembling.

When it’s over, he pulls his fingers out slow, messy, coated in slick. He drags them up your thigh, smearing it on your skin just to mark you. Then he holds them up to your lips, pressing against them until you taste yourself.

“Sweet as ever, doll,” he mutters with a grin, licking his thumb. His eyes narrow, sharp and mean. “Now… how the fuck you gonna walk back in there and look that boy in the eye?”

“t…tojiii—”

—but he doesn’t let you finish. Toji smashes his mouth against yours, sloppy, devouring, all teeth and tongue. Whatever scraps of stability you had left shatter on the spot. You’re clinging to him, melting, ruined in his hold, while he kisses you like you’re something he owns and everyone else should know it.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a laugh rumbling from his chest, mean and satisfied. He licks his fingers slow, exaggerated, like he wants you to watch the way he tastes you. And then, without another word, he strolls out to the living room.

Gojo is sprawled across the couch like a corpse, eyes glued to the ceiling, looking absolutely done with life. He notices Toji sucking off his fingers, squints, then asks flatly,

“…What are you eating?”

Toji’s smirk is sharp, feral, when he drops down onto the couch. “Her.”

Gojo shoots up straight, eyes widening. “Huh?? What the fuck—I want it toooo!” He jumps to his feet, already halfway to storming toward your room, but Toji doesn’t even let him get that far. One yank to the collar, and Gojo’s slammed back down onto the cushions with a grunt.

“Sit back down, blue eyes,” Toji growls, one arm thrown lazily over the couch’s backrest. “Let her do her thing. Don’t disturb.”

Gojo glares, pouting like a kicked puppy. “You’re one to fucking talk, Toji! You just—ugh. I’m saying it again, everyone in this damn house is a fucking cockblock!”

Suguru doesn’t even glance up from his phone, thumbs scrolling smooth. “I agree.”

Nanami, sitting calmly in his chair with a book balanced in one hand, lets out the heaviest sigh of his life and flips a page. He doesn’t even waste breath on them anymore, clearly fed up with all of it.

That's when the faint creak of your bedroom door cuts through making all of their ears perking.

Toji doesn’t miss a beat. He tilts his head to the side, raises his voice just enough to carry down the hall.

“Keep the fucking door open!”

There’s a beat of silence, and then—trembling, soft, high-pitched—

“Y…yes sir.”

Every man in that room smirks, satisfied for different reasons.

And poor Yuji Itadori, wide-eyed and hopeless, is left sitting stiffly on your bed. He came over with plans—dreams, even. A whole day where maybe he’d get closer to you, sit beside you, bond with you. But Yuji never stood a chance. Not here. Not in this house.

Because as long as those men exist, those possessive, jealous, insatiable men, you’re theirs. 

And no boy with a crush, no matter how sweet, is going to change that.